Wait A Minute

Chapter Six: Studying Pages

a/n: mild sexual content towards the end

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Larry's hands were curled around the leather bound book that had turned up in his room a couple days ago as he sat cross legged on his bed. He still held the journal unopened, afraid that taking another peek in would just continue to wreck his life. His fingers began to drum on the cover as he weighed the options in his head.

Him and Sal weren't on talking terms. After lunch, he hadn't been able to spot his friend. Ash had texted him after the school day ended, explaining that the male had gone home early. Larry had debated going to Sal's apartment but decided against it. He seriously doubted that he'd be welcome after the way he had spoken to the other.

Instead, he had sulked to his apartment where he finally looked at the piece of paper that Travis had given him. All that was written on it was a phone number, most likely the blond's. Larry had rolled his eyes and flicked the note into his trash bin.

His fingers drummed on the book harder, and the brunet let out a sigh. He hated everything that was happening. He hated that he and Sal were fighting and that he couldn't talk to the other. He hated the disappointed glances that Todd threw him when they had classes together. He hated himself for lashing out at Sal when the male had done nothing wrong.

He just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been.

He finally cracked the book open and flipped to a random page. He chewed on his bottom lip as his stomach churned, disbelieving that he was going back to the thing that started this whole mess. Despite the growing apprehension, he began to read the first entry on the page. It was dated only half a year back.

Well Addison Apartments, you've won. You have bested me. I'm done with this shit.

As much as the gang loves to explore all this cult shit going on, they don't understand how dangerous this actually is. And, I don't know how, but I know this cult has something to do with me. Whatever's going on here is bigger than we can handle.

I'm sick and tired of continually putting their lives at risk because of me, so I need to take 'me' out of the equation.

That's where the passage ended. Larry bit on his lip harder, not liking the sound of that last line. He immediately began to read the next passage, dated the day after.

Larry fucking Johnson.

I hate you, you selfish prick. What if I hadn't gotten  there in time? And what kind of maniac calls their friend to tell them their intentions before going through with it? That's what a suicide note's for, you dumbass.

Tear stains wrinkled the remaining lines.

And what was even the fucking motive? You always complain about me not being open, and not once, had you ever told anyone you were feeling this bad.

Lisa's sick with grief over this and keeps telling me how grateful she is that I got there. I can't do the same to her. She'd be devastated. And obviously, I can't leave you either yet. There's no point in me offing myself to try and protect you if you'll just kill yourself afterwards.

Larry slowly blinked, trying to process what he had just read. His brain felt sluggish as the ink filled page stared back up at him. He wrinkled his brows together.

Sal was going to kill himself.

No, that couldn't possibly be right. Larry reread the passage. He didn't realize he had started crying until the tears rolled off of his cheeks and onto the book below him. His vision grew blurry from the tears, and the ink below him grew smudged. He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his face, trying to placate his crying before it turned into actual sobbing.

He didn't notice that he had dropped the book to the ground, or that he had left his apartment. It only clicked into Larry's brain what he was doing until after he had ridden the elevator up and was outside of Sal's apartment door. His hand was hovered over the door in a fist, ready to knock. However, as he remembered their current situation, he hesitated. He rested his forehead against the door instead and let out a shaky breath.

Less than a year ago, his best friend had wanted to take his life, and he had been none the wiser.

Larry knew he was a hypocrite in every essence of the word. He knew he had no right to be worried about the other after everything he had said to him, and he knew he had no right to be aggravated about Sal not opening up to him when he had tried the same thing. However, the brunet was both of those those things as he stood outside the door. Still, he couldn't dare open it.

Luckily, Sal opened it up for him. The shorter male was startled to say the least as he swung the door open. His blue hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a black jacket on, obviously headed out somewhere. Larry started dumbly at him, and Sal stared back through his prosthetic. "What the fuck Johnson?"

"I," he stumbled over himself, not knowing what to say, "didn't know you were going to be coming out."

Sal looked down both ends of the hallway before back at Larry. "So was the plan to just stand and sulk at my door then?"

"There wasn't a plan," Larry admitted. One of his hands went to rest on the back of his neck as a tension settled in the air.

"Obviously," Sal huffed out. The shorter male waited a second, but Larry never replied. "So why are you here?"

"To say I'm sorry," Larry sighed out. The hand on the back of his neck tightened its grip. Sal crossed his arms over his chest.

"For what part?"

"For all of it," the brunet began. "I've been a real dick. I shouldn't have used you that night, and I don't know why I was such a bitch at school. I'm sorry for all of that."

Sal tilted his head as if in contemplation. Larry grew nervous at the seconds started to tick by. "Okay," the other finally replied.

The brunet looked at him in confusion. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sal echoed back, nodding to himself. "We were just stupid hormonal teenagers yesterday and even stupider today."

"Yeah," Larry agreed. The brunet was unnerved by the short response from the other. It was uncharacteristic from his friend.

"But Larry, you were wrong that night. I know you're not gay, and I'm not gay either," Sal started as he took his phone out of his coat pocket. He began to swipe through it as he talked to the taller male. "And I'm kind of offended that you suggested I was going to confess my undying love for you."

The blue-haired male put away his phone and leaned against the doorframe. Larry's phone suddenly chimed from his back pocket, signaling he had received a text message. He hesitantly pulled it out and unlocked the device, confusion clear on his face as he noted it was from Sal. The other simply waited as Larry opened the message. The brunet's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I just wanted to know if we were on the same page Lar Bear," Sal sneered, sarcasm exuding from his voice. "It's not gay, like you said. It's just helping a bro in need out."

On Larry's phone was a picture of Sal. The male was posed in front of a full body mirror in his apartment bathroom. The only thing he was wearing was his prosthetic which one hand had pushed up to expose his lips twisted into a shit-eating grin. Larry's eyes trailed down his friend's body in the picture and stopped where Sal's half-hard cock had been pressed against his thigh. In the steam of the mirror, the phrase 'fwb?" had been traced out. The brunet swallowed hard and looked back up at Sal. "F-w-b?" He unintelligently questioned.

"Friends with benefits," Sal stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Are we on the same page?" He mocked.

Larry's response came before he had time to reason it out, and he instantly regretted the one word that left his mouth. "Yes."

He had been right. He never should've reopened that damned diary.