•The Note• {Travis x Sal}

9

Travis POV:

The selcouth feeling of Sal's bedroom overwhelmed Travis, it felt so strange, so odd, so...different; but it invited Travis in nonetheless. He intently watched Sal pick up the tv remote and type in different channels, landing on a crime channel.

Travis stayed silent as Sal rambled, listening unintently. He was too exhausted to pay attention to anything, slowly becoming drowsier by the second.

Eventually Travis began to yawn, immediately following that by nearly yelping in pain. And I'm an attempt to recover from that, he placed a hand on his chest, also immediately regretting that.

"Mother of fucking Christ—" Travis mumbled as Sal simply watched the scene play out in front of him, concern washing over his face. "Dude, you are not okay. Like...at all."

"I'm aware, dipshit.—" Travis hissed, not sure how to make the stinging pain stop. "Man—I hate this shit. I'm just constantly fucking hurting." Travis complained, sitting up straight in an effort to stop the pain.

"If you let me actually clean your wounds it might help."

"I'm not taking off my shirt."

"It's not gay if you could die."

"There's no way your getting me to-"

"50 bucks."

"I—no way."

"60."

"Still no, I'm not gonna be a faggot for money."

"80."

"Sal, you don't even have that much money."

"You don't know that."

"I know a 15 year old does not have access to that much money."

"I have my ways."

Travis raised an eyebrow, contemplating in thought.

"Do my algebra and geometry homework and it's a deal."

"Yes! Fucking finally. You could've gotten syphilis or something."

"Syphilis is an std, dumbass."

"With injuries like yours, you never know."

"I can't get an std from injuries by my dad beating the ever living shit out of me."

"Once again, you never knowww." Sal did jazz hands as he walked towards his bathroom, grabbing medical supplies. They were outdated, and had the small chance of being expired, but it was better than nothing.

Sal sat back down on the bed, positioning himself to be infront of Travis, laying out all the utensils.

"Sal I'm scared."

"How come?"

"I dunno, I just..I'm embarrassed. And scared. No one's ever really done this for me before."

"Travis, if you're scared of me judging you, don't worry. I'm the least judgmental person to ever walk the planet—for example, my prosthetic."

Travis nodded, and went silent for a moment. "But, what if you're grossed out?" His eyes look away, an noticeable scowl on his face.

"I could never be grossed out by you." Sal said, patting his shoulder. "You don't know that." Travis mumbled, adjusting his sitting position on the bed. "I'm sure."

Travis felt his hands shake and his heart race as he looked at Sal, seeing his eyes crinkle—a tell-tale sign that he was smiling. Though it only made Travis frown further.