Beneath the masks | 𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗶𝘀

5. hidden

Travis pov

I barely made it out of the classroom before the walls started closing in on me. My hands were shaking, my chest tight, like I couldn't catch my breath. I didn't even know where I was going—just that I had to get out, had to be anywhere but there.

I pushed through the doors and stumbled into the empty hallway, the noise of the classroom fading behind me. My feet moved on their own, faster, until I was practically running down the corridor. I hated how I felt, how out of control everything was. My mind raced, trying to make sense of why I even left like that, but I couldn't find an answer.

I stopped by the back stairwell, slumping against the wall, my head spinning. Why was this happening? Why was everything catching up to me now?

I wanted to scream, to hit something, to get rid of the weight pressing down on my chest. But all I did was slide down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor, burying my face in my hands.

I didn't want to be like this. I didn't want to feel like this. The tough guy, the bully—I wasn't even sure who that was anymore. The mask I'd worn for so long felt like it was cracking, and underneath it... I didn't know who I was.

What the hell was wrong with me?

The truth hit me like a punch to the gut. I was scared. Of everything. Of not being good enough, of being alone. I'd pushed people away, made them fear me, just to keep control. But seeing Sal, seeing someone who wasn't afraid to be different, to not fit in... it made me realize how empty all of this was.

I was the one who was afraid. Not him.

The tears came before I could stop them, hot and angry, and I hated myself even more for it. I couldn't hold it together anymore. The more I tried, the more everything fell apart.

I'd spent so much time building walls, trying to be strong, and now here I was—broken, shaking, hiding in a stairwell where no one could see me. Because if anyone did, if they knew what was really going on inside me, they'd see the truth.

That I wasn't strong at all.

I was terrified.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to pull myself together. The stairwell felt too quiet, too suffocating, so I forced myself to stand up, my legs shaky beneath me. I didn't know what I was going to do, where I was going to go—I just needed to get out of there.

I pushed open the side door and stepped outside into the cool air. The school grounds were mostly empty now, just a few stragglers heading home. I started walking, trying to keep my head down, hoping no one would notice me. My heart was still pounding, but the fresh air helped a little, gave me something else to focus on besides the mess in my head.

As I walked towards the parking lot, I saw him—Sal. He was sitting alone at the bus stop, staring off into the distance like he was lost in his own thoughts.

For a second, I froze. My stomach twisted as I watched him, completely unaware of my presence. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave before he saw me, but my feet stayed planted where they were.

He looked so... calm. Even after everything. Even after what I'd done to him.

And that hit me harder than anything. How could someone I'd tried to tear down look so at peace, when I was the one falling apart?

I stood there, watching him for what felt like forever. My heart was still racing, but now it wasn't just from panic—it was from this crushing sense of guilt. I didn't understand how I could hate him one minute, but feel this... sadness the next. Maybe because deep down, I knew that Sally wasn't the problem. I was.

I wanted to say something, to apologize or explain myself, but what could I even say? How could I explain what I didn't even understand? Instead, I just stood there, rooted in place, feeling this huge knot in my throat.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel strong. I felt small. Like everything I'd been holding together was crumbling, and Sally—this kid I barely knew, this kid I had bullied—was the only one who could see it. Even if he didn't know I was there.

I took a step forward, hesitating. Part of me wanted to reach out, to try to make things right, but fear held me back. What if he rejected me? What if he saw me for what I really was?

I stood there, torn between running away and facing the mess I'd made. But for now, all I could do was watch him from a distance, unsure of how to bridge the gap I had created.