The old stereo blared with heavy metal, making the pictures in the next room shake. Smoke fills the dark room with little swirls here and there coming out of the mouth of Larry Johnson. His redlined brown eyes stare at the pallid colored ceiling. He pulls the joint from his lips and lets his thoughts wonder. In the dark he spots the sweater his friend Sal left the other night. Larry is off his head, but some common sense lingers. He pushes himself off the bed and over to wear the small black sweater lay. His long, boney fingers trace over it, suddenly he wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his face. The most non-Larry thing happens; he smells the little guy’s sweater. It smells of a men’s cologne that no one can ever fucking name, but when someone says cologne they know the exact smell. It also smells like patchouli and vanilla. The smell put a wide smile across Larry’s face. He falls back onto his bed and grabs his blunt from the nightstand. He takes another hit and stares back at the ceiling, this time with a Sal smelling sweater by his side. His thoughts form a memory in his eye of vision; almost like a projection screen pointing at the ceiling. Larry realizes when this is immediately; it’s when he first saw Sal’s face, under his prosthetic.
Of course Sanity Falls is fucking blasting over the stereo. Under the swinging brown hair Larry can just see Sal’s shaking blue head. He’s really into the song! Fuckin’ great! Larry thinks and continues head banging. A few moments continue into their jamming and Larry is oblivious to the snapping sound. Abruptly, something smashes into his face. He stops and immediately covers the spot that hurts with his hand. He looks down at the white mask that lay on the ground. “Uh, Sal?” He goes to grab the mask, but is forced backward, “Oh my God! Larry, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” A pale, black-tipped finger rubs some of the blood from the top lip of Larry’s. Warmth swarms in his face, but he tries forcing the feeling away. He stares at Sal’s face and takes in the uniqueness. The deformed skin on the right side of his face and his bright blue eyes. Larry fell right into them. His trance was soon over when the beautiful blue eyes filled with blue tears. “Sal? Sally? What’s wrong?!” Sal’s blue eyes fill with happiness and relief, “You didn’t look away…”
“Why would I?”
“Look at my face, I look like a fucking lasagna.” Larry immediately punches Sal in the arm, “No you don’t. Shut your damn mouth. You look badass.”
“If you think getting your face ripped up by a dog is badass, by all means, go ahead.” They both chuckle for a long time. “Damn, I had no idea. I never wanted to ask you why you had the mask because I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“Well, I’m comfortable with you Larry…” Sal smiles and wraps his arms around Larry. He rests his blue head against the taller boy’s chest. Larry loses all control of his feelings and his face turns red and a smile is glued to his face.
Larry smiles at the memory; they hugged for like ever. A weird thought crawls into Larry’s mind, a thought that has been there once or twice. The thought that he didn’t really want to think about, because it was only a thought, nothing would ever become of it. Larry likes Sally Face, but not merely as a friend.
There were multiple reasons why nothing would ever happen between them; one, they were step-brothers; two, it’s obvious Sal has the hots for Ashley; three, Sal and Larry we’re just… too good of friends to have any romantic connection. But is reason three really a reason? Larry sighs and squeezes his eyes shut.
A squeak wakes up the young adult. He sits up on his bed and rubs his sore eyes. The only time he seems to get sleep is after he’s off his fucking head. The living room light shines on his floor from the slightly cracked door. His room light clicks on and he reacts with a hiss. A chuckle sounds through the room. “What’s up Larry? Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I was high man, and I actually fell asleep.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. You’re like… never asleep so I didn’t think-“
“It’s alright Sal. What have you been up to?”
“Well, I’ve come over to help you move your stuff, but it seems like you haven’t even started packing.” Larry groans at himself, “Damnit, I’m sorry little bud. Fuck, I got high instead of doing more important things.” Sal looks over at his troubled friend. Above his bags and in the center of the redness around his brown irises, Sal can see more than just pain and stress. He sees some happiness, but very little. Larry stares at him and the look in his eyes grow. “Are you alright?” Sal’s question seems out of the blue, but Larry answers him anyway. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I mean I guess moving out of the basement is a little sad, because I’ve lived here for basically my whole life.” The shorter boy glares at his friend, but Larry can’t really see it. “There’s something else Larry, what is it?”
“It’s nothing.” He wraps his hair in with his index finger; the one way Sal can tell if he’s lying. “Hah! You’re lying! I can tell, every time you mess with your hair, you’re lying!” Larry suddenly stands from his bed, “What? No!”
“Larry! Tell me what’s wrong! Come on, I’m your friend. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
“Of course I do, it’s just…” His brown eyes stare at the posters on the wall, his heart pounds in his ears; he can’t tell Sal about his feelings, never. “What is it?” The laces on Sal’s blue high tops swing as he makes his way over to Larry’s bed. He plops down beside him and notices his sweater. He grabs it and chuckles, “Oh! I must’ve left this here last night. I’m sorry.” Larry doesn’t reply to Sal’s finding. Instead he turns on his bed and stares at Sal. “Larry? Are you alright?”
“No. I will never be, but with you here the world seems a little better.” His friend’s words makes a small smile appear Sal’s face. “Well, the same goes to you Larry. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” Larry looks down and away from Sal. He swallows a lump in his throat and twiddles his thumbs. “Sally, I… God this is so stupid…” Pale, black-nailed hands grab onto Larry’s wrist. Brown eyes lock up with blue ones, “Nothing that comes out your mouth is stupid.” Larry wanted to right then and there rip off that mask and kiss Sal, but that would probably go down real badly. He could at least confess his feelings. “I… like you…” Larry hides his face with his hair and speaks so quietly that he could barely hear himself. He wants to run away before Sally can react, reply, or barf, whichever would happen first. The silence kills him slowly; he should have smoked another blunt before confessing his feelings. It’d help him take the rejection.
A cold hand makes Larry jump, but he relaxes when he realizes it’s Sal’s hand. He pushes the chunk of brown hair covering Larry’s face, behind his ear. His hand rests on his cheek as his free hand undoes his mask. It slips over, revealing his real face and a smile. His hand then moves down to Larry’s hand. His fingers intertwine with his as his lips slowly meet with his. Sensation flows through both of them. Neither one of them can get enough. Sally removes his hand from Larry’s and to his face. He pulls his legs up so he is sitting on Larry’s lap. He pushes slightly on Larry and they both fall backwards onto his bed. Blue and brown hair combine into each other’s faces. Larry uses his hands to hold Sal’s hair out of his face as their lips connect and disconnect over and over again. Heavy breathing fills the quiet room, but the breathing is soon replaced with small chuckling. “St-stop, Larry that tickles!” Larry’s lips against Sal’s neck make him squirm, but in a good way; along with the little scruff on Larry’s chin. Sal laughs out loud, his laughter is contagious and makes Larry start chuckling along. “What are you boys up to?” Lisa shouts from the living room. Both boys go silent immediately and then they answer at the same time, “Nothing!” This makes them laugh even harder. Sal falls onto Larry’s chest in his fit of laughter. He lifts his head up and pushes Larry’s hair back, “I like you too, Larry.”
