Disciple (Sal x Travis)

Promises

Sal
My fucking head was killing me.

Sitting through an hour and a half of droning about the Nazis- was only adding to my migraine.

The teacher continued on through her spill about concentration camps, gas showers, starving children.. With the pain my head is giving me, a gas shower sounds lovely.

"Hey, dude.." Larry whispered, reaching across the aisle between our desks to poke me.

I grunted back in response.

"You good, Sal?"

Most people can't tell when I'm not feeling well. The lack of facial expression- or emotion in general- made it a challenge to understand my moods.

Larry was really good at being able to tell, though. It was sweet.

I sighed, slipping a finger behind my prosthetic to rub my eye. "I have a headache from hell."

"Boys!" Ms. Holly's shrill voice pounded in my skull,
"I sure hope you're talking about the requirements of a German soldier during World War two."

Other students turned in their seats to look at us. Larry rolled his eyes, mumbling a very insincere apology. Holly went on with her lecture.

I laid my head down on the desk, closing my eyes from the lights.

Travis
Standing patiently at the usual meeting spot, I continued to check my watch.

3:13..

My stomach grew tight and I leaned against the brick wall. Did I mess something up?

It was such a gloomy day to begin with. The sky was dark, a thick layer of storm clouds covered the sun. It was cold, a hard wind blew my hair in every direction.

Leaves scattered across the ground with little click noises. Trees limbs swayed to the side. Like a serious storm was coming.

Mother Nature was deceiving. Something so dangerous looking can be the most trivial. Vice versa.

"Travis." A low voice croaked from behind.

Instantly I smiled, turning around. Only to be let down.

"Larry?" My smile dropped and my eyebrows furrowed.

Larry had a red jacket on, hood up, hands in his pockets. My first thought was that something bad had happened.

He leaned into the wall beside of me. "Sal has a migraine. He doesn't feel good enough to walk down here today, told me to come tell you."

He pulled a hand out of his pocket to flip open a carton of cigarettes. Bringing his mouth down to pluck one out. He looked up at me, seeing me staring, and held the carton out to me.

I shook my head and adverted my gaze to the trees. "So.. he's not upset with me or anything.. right?" I asked quietly.

The way I sounded- like I was weak, and vulnerable. Scared of a boy being angry with me. I hated feeling so dependent on someone else.

Nevertheless, Larry shook his head as he replaced the cigarette pack into his pocket and retrieved a lighter. "Nah. He just isn't feelin' so hot."

I nodded curtly.

It felt awkward- and rude- to just leave, so I stood around for a while. Larry puffed on his cigarette, his hair blowing in the wind with the smoke.

What was even more awkward was the silence. The only sound was the whistling breeze and the trees rustling in it.

Larry finished off his smoke. He pressed the cherry into the wall to extinguish the flame, then flicked the butt out into the grass.

He turned around like he was going to leave, but stood in place. "Travis." He looked back to me. Larry always looks so tired.

"Uh.." I raise an eyebrow, "Yes?"

Larry turned his body back around to face me. "You don't plan on screwing Sal over, do you?"

His voice was aggressive and intimidating, but his eyes held concern.

I shook my head, "No.. of course not." I looked at my shoes. "I promise." I added.

Sal
I felt super fucking bad about not going to go meet Travis. Larry said he'd go tell him that I wasn't feeling good.

Goddamn, was that an understatement.

My temples throbbed, every move I made felt like a dagger was stabbing through my skull. Right between the eyes.

I laid on the couch in the dark with a throw blanket over me. Gizmo sat curled into a tight, fuzzy, orange ball at the end of my feet. He purred happily as he slept.

Dad barged in through the door. The door didn't really make much noise, but at the moment, every little sound was intensified. I grimaced at the thud in my head.

"Hey bud- you okay?" Dad had bags of groceries in his arms, he shut the door with his foot.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. My prosthetic lay on the ground beside the couch. That damn thing didn't make my head feel any better. So I took it off as soon as I got inside.

"Headache?" He asked softly. Suddenly being extra quiet with how he set the bags on the counter. He's great.

I nodded from beneath the fleece, "Yeah." I croaked out. I listened to Dad rummage around in the cabinets for a minute, then felt him tap my head through the cover.

I let the blanket fall from my face. He held his hand out, and in his palm were 3 red circular pills. I smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness.

The pills went down dry, and I laid my head back down. Snuggling into the couch. Dad finished putting away the groceries and headed for his room.

"Let me know if you need something, Sal." He called out through the door. I assured him I would be fine, and not to worry about it. With that, he closed the door.

And I took the best fucking nap of my life.