Beneath the masks | 𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗶𝘀

12. alone

Travis pov

After I saw Sally standing there, I felt like my stomach had dropped out of my body. Of all the people to run into tonight—of all the nights—why him?

At first, I thought I was imagining it. That maybe the booze was messing with my head, making me see things that weren't there. But no, it was him, standing just a few feet away, looking at me like I was some kind of lost puppy. I hated it. Hated that look in his eyes. Pity. I didn't want pity. Not from anyone, but especially not from Sally freakin' Face.

I tried to tell him to go, tried to make him leave, but the words felt weak, like they didn't even belong to me.

He didn't move. Didn't leave. He just stood there, looking at me with those weird, unreadable eyes of his behind that mask. He asked me if I was okay, and something in me snapped.

"Why do you care?" I muttered, not daring to look at him. My voice came out shaky, which made me even angrier. I wanted to scream at him, push him away, make him leave me alone. But I couldn't. My chest was tight again, my mind racing, and all I could think about was how much I hated myself for falling apart like this. In front of him.

"I don't know," he said, almost too softly. "But... I do."

What the hell was he saying? Why did he care? He shouldn't care. I've made sure he knows how much I hate him, how much I want him gone. He's always been this weird kid, the one everyone whispers about, but seeing him look at me like I was the freak for once... it messed with my head.

"You're such a freak, Sally," I spat, trying to push him away with the only weapon I had left: words. The words that usually worked. But this time, it didn't feel right. The insult hung in the air, hollow, like I was saying it more to myself than to him.

And then he did something that threw me off even more. He sat down. Right next to me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to make me feel cornered, like there was nowhere else to run. He didn't say anything else, didn't even look at me. Just sat there in silence, staring out at the empty park like we weren't two messed-up kids sitting in the middle of nowhere.

I wanted to get up, to leave, to run. But my legs wouldn't move. My chest still felt heavy, my head still spinning from everything that had happened today, and the alcohol wasn't helping anymore. I was trapped inside myself, and now... now he was here too.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. I could hear his breathing, slow and steady, while mine was still shaky, uneven. The silence between us felt weird, but not in the way I expected. It wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't anything, really. Just... there.

And in that silence, something in me broke.

I don't know what it was, but suddenly everything I'd been holding in—the anger, the fear, the shame—it all came crashing down at once. My hands started shaking again, and I pressed them into my knees, trying to stop them, trying to keep it together. But I couldn't. Not this time.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. "I'm not okay," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded, but it was the truth. I wasn't okay. I hadn't been okay for a long time.

I didn't expect him to say anything, and he didn't. He just sat there, still as a statue, listening. Not judging. Not laughing. Just... there.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because for the first time, I wasn't the one in control. For the first time, I didn't know what to do. I'd spent so long pushing everyone away, building up walls around myself, telling myself I didn't need anyone. That I was fine on my own. But now, sitting here next to Sally, feeling more broken than I ever had before... I wasn't sure if that was true anymore.