Beneath the masks | 𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗶𝘀

4. Empty and empathy

Sal's pov:

I walked into our final class of the day, a mix of relief and dread bubbling up as I prepared for what was sure to be an uncomfortable hour. To my surprise, Travis was already there, sitting in his usual spot at the back. He was hunched over his desk, his fingers tapping anxiously on the wood.

I took my seat a few rows in front of him, trying not to make eye contact. I knew he'd been in a strange mood all day, but seeing him now, it was almost like he was on edge. The teacher started the lesson, but Travis wasn't paying much attention. His eyes darted around the room, and his foot kept tapping nervously.

It was clear something was bothering him, but I wasn't sure if I should say anything. I didn't want to draw attention to myself or make things worse. The tension in the room grew, and I could see Travis's agitation intensifying.

Suddenly, without any warning, Travis shot up from his seat. He grabbed his backpack with a jerky, almost frantic movement. I glanced over, noticing the panic in his eyes, the way his breath was coming in short, uneven bursts.

"What's going on?" I thought, my heart skipping a beat.

Travis's gaze locked onto the door. He was shaking slightly, his face pale. He didn't look at anyone, didn't say a word. It was like he was trapped in his own world, overwhelmed by something beyond the classroom's walls.

Before anyone could react, he dashed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. The classroom fell into stunned silence. Whispers started immediately, students exchanging puzzled glances and speculating about what could have caused such a sudden exit.

I sat there, frozen. Part of me wanted to follow him, to understand what was happening, but another part of me was held back by the fear of making things worse. I caught Ash's eye; she gave me a worried look but stayed put.

The rest of the class continued in a haze. I tried to focus on the lesson, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Travis. What could have possibly triggered such a reaction? The image of his panicked expression stayed with me, unsettling and raw.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school day, I packed my things slowly, my mind racing. I glanced down the hallway, hoping to see if Travis was still around, but there was no sign of him. The students around me were talking animatedly, their chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil I felt inside.

As I walked out of the building, I couldn't shake the worry that had settled in my chest. Travis's reaction had been intense, and I couldn't help but wonder what was driving it. The school had its fair share of drama, but this felt different—more personal, more urgent.

I headed towards the bus stop, still pondering the day's events. The image of Travis's desperate exit kept replaying in my mind. Whatever was going on with him, it was clear that it was more than just a bad mood or a fleeting moment of anxiety.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to try to understand what he was going through, but I wasn't sure how.

As I stood at the bus stop, the evening air felt colder, and I couldn't shake the image of Travis's panic. Why did his distress affect me so much?

I whispered to myself, "Why do I even care?"

It hit me then. Maybe it wasn't just about him. Seeing him so scared reminded me of my own fears, my own moments of feeling completely lost. Even though he'd been unkind to me, seeing his pain made me think of my own.

I realized I cared because I knew how it felt to be overwhelmed and alone. In a strange way, it connected me to him, even if he'd never understand.