blue hair and bruises.

6 - Broken (Like Me)

Oh no...

They probably heard that...

Travis began to tremble. The anxiety was setting in, but the stranger said nothing. For a minute, Travis was hopeful. Maybe they didn't hear. Maybe I'm safe... But, of course, the sound of movement began to echo through the quiet bathroom. Cautious footsteps grew louder and louder.

Yet the stranger still said nothing as blue converse came into view from under the door. There was a pause. A small folded slip of lined paper, torn from the corner of a schoolbook, was placed on the door's hinge. Presumably a note. Travis now had a feeling he knew who it was. He stood up, took the paper and read, frowning.

Are you ok?

"F-fuck off, Fisher," he cursed, screwing up the note into a little ball and kicking it under the door, "Do you realise how weird this is? Jeez, a little privacy would be nice..."

There was another pause. Another piece of paper replaced the first.

Don't give me that. I know about the history here. What are you doing in there?

"N-none of your business... and stop with the paper thing, creep. It gets old fast."

The wrinkled remains of the paper Travis had discarded appeared again, with another message on the other side. The words were smaller and messier.

Then open up and tell me about that fresh blood on the floor, or I'll get a teacher and let them deal with this. You know I can't just leave you here. You sound hurt.

Travis gulped. He would too. Damn him. Of course, the last thing he wanted was to have the teachers tell his father. Who knows what would happen then. But he sure as hell didn't want some sketchy weirdo he didn't even know butting in.

But say he did open the door. What then? Would he then have to suffer the shame of his weakness? There was only one way to find out.

Travis swallowed his pride. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, and his legs were weak. With a shaky hand, he slowly turned the lock and let the door swing open.

Sal was there. This he already knew would be the case. The blue boy stared wide-eyed at Travis's arm, which he kept firmly pressed to his stomach. In a weak, defeated voice, he muttered: "What do you want from me, Fisher?"

There was another silent pause before Sal turned away and started to walk away from the stall. Travis caught him by the sleeve. "W-wait, what are you doing?"

Sal turned to him, looked him dead in the eyes and lightly placed a hand over the one gripping his sleeve. Then, he was walking away again. Travis watched, confused, as he took several paper towels from the dispenser and dampened them under a tap, then made his way back to the stall.

He pointed to Travis's bloodied arm. Travis blinked. It took him a moment to realise. He frowned, defensive. "No."

Sal glared, demanding, unwilling to let up. Travis sighed, realising he was never going to budge. Reluctantly, he showed him his wounds. As gently as possible, Sal pressed the paper towel to Travis's inner arm. It stung. Travis flinched, but didn't pull away. He just gazed at him.

"But... w-why would you...?" he began to ask. It was Sal's turn to sigh. He stopped to pull up his own sleeve.

The same pink scars and red cuts that covered his hands littered his arm all over. Travis looked back up at Sal. His stare was soft and full of understanding. It was at this point that everything Travis had been holding back, that had been building up behind the eyes, finally started to spill from his eyes. His legs buckled beneath him.

Arms wrapped around him, keeping him stable and lowering him gently to the ground. He sunk, leaning against the wall. Sal sunk with him, never letting him go. Instead, he pulled him into a hug and let him cry into his shoulder. Travis instinctively reached for something to hold onto. He feebly gripped Sal's arms. He shook violently as he choked on his sobs and salty tears ran down his cheeks.

Sal sighed. What a hopeless sight. But it was the hopelessness he understood too well. He knew this familiar feeling like the back of his hand. The least he could do was stay here, on this dirty bathroom floor, and try to help.

~

((A/N: Dear lord this chapter has been through a lot. I'm still not entirely happy, but this is the best I can do for now. I'm not great at writing))