|| This isn't about Sal ||

The Songs On The Radio Are Okay. But My Taste In Music Is Your FACE

Travis walked through the dreaded hallways of high school, you could say he was trying to avoid something. His eyes darting around viciously and the quick step in his pace was easy to catch with a first glance at the teen. He looked like an anxious criminal trying to leave the scene surrounded by cops unnoticed. It was lunch break, the bell had already rang about five minutes ago but the blonde had tried to leave as late as possible so the halls would be mostly deserted.

His black eye was still blooming but starting to soften. There was nothing new, he just looked a bit... Rough. which suited the mental state he was in. Yesterday he'd met Sally Fisher in the bathroom stalls, at his most personal moment of the day. The boy found his letter and it left him on edge. If he had just taken the time to actually put it INTO the bin instead of throwing it AT the bin This all could have been avoided. He didn't want to make contact with Fisher and his little gang of losers today. Only God knows what Sal had told the goons. Though he doubts Sal would intentionally decrease Travis' odds of getting through high school alive.

He snarled at everyone he met in the hallway, which fortunately weren't many since most of the pupils would be at the cafeteria by now and the teachers having a ball in the lounge. Because why would they actually fucking watch a collection of monkeys rampaging around all in one place.

Travis finally reached his locker, quickly yanking it open to switch his books and hoped to find a spot to eat, by himself, and in peace. But the freeing thought was soon interrupted by his name being yelled from halfway across the hall. It startled him slightly, a small spasm made him drop his books into his locker before turning his vision towards the corner of his eyes to look into the direction the sound echoed from. A deep uninviting frown made its way onto his face when he layed eyes onto the taller slanky looking figure walking towards him. His hands in his pockets, leaning back in his stance as if his head weighed too much. His stupid smooth long brunette locks and the hideous merchandise shirts he always wore, paired with that mockingly calm face and the speck under his right eye, those... heavy... hazel brown eyes-... Travis didn't even register how close Larry had already gotten. Quickly snapping out of it and composing himself to face the unwanted attention.

He cleared his throat and closed his locker, looking at the cold bumped in iron door for a second before finally turning to Larry, who had sloppily leaned his shoulder to the locker next to Travis'. His eyes locked on the Christian already, clearly not having the boy's attempt to glare daggers.

Some sort of blockade already formed in his throat. He couldn't stand looking at his face. It made his mind run wild, This shouldn't be so hard-- he put his chin up to give off a sense of superiority while he frowned at Larry. "What do you want Johnson" he spoke with a stern and foul undertone. He knew exactly what Larry was here for, the slight frown on the others long face made his mission loud and clear. Larry wasn't here for a friendly chat, he was here to spew fire at Travis for his half-brother of course. The brunette was quite the protective type, that much Travis had gathered. They have had their little encounters many times before already. It had started getting more and more of a personal grudge as time went by. Which Travis couldn't deny had actually been an underlying motive for picking on Sal all the time. Yes he was an easy target, there was just a lot about him to nag at. And picking on Larry himself wasn't the best option. He wouldn't be able to overpower The metalhead in a fight, and Larry could be quite the tempered one. Either that or he'd completely ignore whatever words Travis threw at him. He didn't exactly come off as the type to fuss about being called out for something.

Travis really didn't want to talk about this- his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve and he felt anxiety creep up his spine. He didn't show any means of backing down or feeling cornered, he stayed with his stance and just hoped this would be over soon. He liked it much better if Larry wasn't alone, it would make it easier to keep to himself. To down whatever feelings stirred in his stomach.