•The Note• {Travis x Sal}

2

Travis POV:

Travis sat on his bed, earbuds in his ears and his iPod clipped to his shirt. It played scratchy Christian music that Travis had heard too many times before. But he needed a distraction. His father, not even 3 minutes ago had punched Travis in his jaw and hooked one of his braces onto his inner lip. It hurt. It hurt so bad. It burned. Blood was still oozing down his mouth, but Travis didn't bother cleaning it. He had accidentally ripped out where the braces where hooked on his lip and tore a chunk of his inner lip out.

He deserved it, he thought. It was his fault for thinking faggot-y thoughts. It was his fault for sinning and letting the devil consume him. He would be better, do better, think better.

"It is hard to avoid the devils thoughts and actions, because they are pleasurable. He will tempt you with pleasure but once you immerse yourself within his pleasure, you will burn. You will realize that the pleasure he shows you is not what is reality. You will burn in hell for eternity, no pleasure in that is there?" Kenneth would say to Travis as he beat him. He'd beat him until Travis passed out or threw up or lost too much blood. But really, there never was too much blood. At least, not to Kenneth.

It was Sunday now, and Travis has successfully convinced Kenneth that he had a cold, so he didn't have to attend Sunday church service. He had to go every Wednesday to the little kids' side of the church and teach bible verses, and on Sunday's he had to do an hour long preach. Every. Fucking. Week.

It was the same thing every week. Same preach, same words, same outfit, same people. It was so tiring, not having something new. But he was used to it, he guessed. Used to the same. The same beatings, the same school, the same lessons. Everything was the same. He couldn't stand it anymore. But he couldn't change the same, because to him, it was all he knew. It was all he was taught.

To be the same.

Sal POV:

It was Sunday, and Sunday's were boring. Normally, Larry would be off at his part-time job at a out of town gas station that he illegally stole alcohol from, and the manager couldn't really do anything because Larry was illegally working there. So it was a mostly give and take situation.

Sal laid on his bed, Gizmo piled on his stomach as he played Tetris on his gearboy. He sucked at it, but it was entertaining to try and play. He was excited for Monday, and to talk to Travis. He had tried to get him out of his head, but the anticipation kept Travis in his mind. It was funny to him, really. Travis had always acted like he hated Sal, punched him, bullied him, just generally acted like a bitch towards Sal. And Sal always forgave him. And now once Sal had found a weak spot of Travis', Sal offered to help.

And now, that's all Sal can think about. About how he could help Travis, trying to figure out ways to make Travis feel accepted of himself, happy with his life, and keep his god forsaken father away. Which was impossible, of course. Travis would never leave, it was obvious. He couldn't be separated from his father, he was too convinced that Kenneth was right.

Sal sat up, Gizmo jumping out of his lap and running off to the living room as Sal went into the kitchen. He may be smart and keep up straight A's, but god did he not know how to cook. Well, except for classic Mac n' Cheese, but, that was about it.

He grabbed the leftover bowl of mac and cheese out of the fridge, threw it in the microwave and called it a day. The microwaves alarm blared, and Sal took the bowl out, grabbed a spoon and popped his behind on the couch. "Time to watch some toons. Care to join, Gizmo?" Sal looked over as gizmo was sat in a 'father watching a sports game bent over in the most inhuman way possible' position.

Gizmo meowed, and Sal nodded, relaxing in the same pose as he smacked on the leftover mac and cheese.

Travis POV:

Travis began to cook dinner, the day was almost over and Kenneth was almost home. Travis was quite the prodigy when it came to cooking, mainly because he was forced to learn. He cooked steak, mashed potatoes and mac and cheese from scratch. He finally finished cooking right as Kenneth returned home, he sat down at the table and Travis made a hefty plate for Kenneth. Travis sat down with his own plate as his father began to say grace. "Thank you, Heavenly Father for blessing us with a delicious dinner tonight. And may you continue to bless as each day comes as we spread your gospel to those who have sinned." He took a breath in, and Travis and Kenneth both said in unison, "Amen." They began to eat, quietly. "Is your cold better, Travis?" Kenneth asked, not looking up. "Somewhat, my nose isn't as stuffy but I still have a headache and body aches." He responded sternly, a shake in his voice. "Good, you should be better by Wednesday because we have the children's game night and you need to coach, okay?" Kenneth said. "Yes, sir." Travis nodded. "Good."

Dinner was soon over, and Travis washed the dishes and placed them in the dry rack. "Make sure to put the dishes up in the morning." "Yes, sir." Travis said, a quiver in his voice. He respected his father, and was equally terrified of him. Kenneth said it was good to fear what you respect, so, Travis did just that. And Travis was off to bed.

He changed into basic pajamas. No shirt, and white and blue striped pants. He kneeled by his bed and began to pray. He didn't know what he was saying, but he was saying something. Something of a basic prayer, he hoped. He then laid down and closed his eyes. "Tomorrow will be better." He whispered to himself.

"Tomorrow..."