Sally Face Oneshots [COMPLETE]

t.p

-T R A V I S-
Fluff | Even You Can Love | G/r
READER'S POV

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I've always been alone. Some say it's because I'm dumb, stupid, no one likes me, but I'm just plain out too shy. The thought of nearing people brings me to tears. Now a lot of people say I'm a cry baby and I hate to admit it, but it's true. I tend to cry a lot, but I have my reasons. One reason being, Travis Phelps.

He is the bully of our small school. And let me tell you, he hates me. Aboslutly hates me. I don't know why, but he has found every reason to think I'm the worst person to every be created.

The worst part of it all, I like him. I knew him when we were children, four to eight years old. And he was a sweetheart and over the years my feelings for him grew. No matter how many times he hurt me, bullied me, I still felt a tug at my heart when he neared me.

Today, I walk the halls of Nockfell high school. I'm walking to the outdoor area where I eat my own lunch. I don't exactly feel like crying today. I packed leftover pizza today. That's the good stuff, instead of the weird bologna. I swear that stuff is made of goat meat.

I sat on the grass, enjoying the chirping of the bird. Sometimes kids would come out here, but not usually. I think the last time a kid here was to hit the window with a tennis ball. He had blue hair in pigtails with some kind of mask, I think I heard people say it was a prosthetic. I don't really know.

The door creaked open and someone shuffles around. I'm hiding on the other side of the tree, out of view from anybody. The person was muttering something, hate, love, stupid. I'm not quite sure.

"Why can't I tell them."

The person said louder. The voice is all to familiar. My heart is pounding, both good and bad. He'll hurt me more for eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation.

His purple sweater comes into view as he paces. He might see me. He might hurt me. I've suddenly lost my appetite.

"I just want to love them! So why can't I?!" He punch something. I'm not sure, but it sounded like it hurt, like a lot. "Fuck. Shit that hurt." He cried out.

Should I make myself visible? Help him? Fuck it, I'm going to help! Well maybe I shouldn't. He might hate me. What am I talking about? He already hates me! Okay, screw it, on the count to three I'm going to get out of my spot.

One, two, three!

I peek my head out and see Travis is looking at a wall. This wall has a dent in it. He punched a wall? What a smart human being. Punch the wall that'll help the pain!

"Travis?" My voice comes out just above a whisper. I'm surprised he heard me at all. He looked at me with wide eyes and steaming anger. "What did you hear?! What did you see?!" I looked at his fist. It was coated in blood and bruises were forming already.

"I didn't mean to hear anything. I'm sorry." He looked at me with hatred, damn I wish it was love instead. "What. Did. You. Hear?!" He stepped closer with every word. I continued looking at his fist, avoiding eye contact. It was continuously bleeding, getting worse by the minute.

"Let's put aside our hate for one another and let me help you." I gently grabbed his arm, blushing, and dragged him towards the bench. I sat him down, he was surprisingly letting me do so. I got my backpack and brought it over. I had supplies in case something like this happened and I didn't want to go to the nurses. Which is usually always.

I brought out cloth and wet it with some water from my water bottle. I grabbed his hand gently and washed away the blood. I avoided looking at his face, who knows how badly he's glaring right now. I finished cleaning the blood and moved on to bandaging. I used some plain skintone bandaids to cover the cuts on his hand. I finally looked up to meet his gaze. He was looking right at me with a look I couldn't place. And I couldn't help but blush, to which he noticed instantly.

His good hand travelled to my cheek. I blushed a darker shade and looked away, but I didn't stop him. His thumb traced the bottom of my lip, than his hand gently gripped my chin, forcing me to look him in eyes.

"You're cute when you're flustered." He whispered. "T-thank y-you." I whispered back. "I miss you, y/n. I miss our time together," he said. "You were always the person I wanted to see after long days and fearful nights. You still are." I looked at him stunned. What does he mean? "What do you mean?" I asked in hushed tone.

"Smart but clueless. Y/n/n, I love you. Can't you see it? You're the one I want to kiss, to hug, to love. But I couldn't for the fear of losing you." I was at lost for words. He likes me? Wait, no! He said he loves me. Fuck yeah! But maybe it's a joke go play with my heart. Maybe he's lying. Does he really love me?

"You were always easy to read. I do love you. I always have. The playdates, the sleepovers, the hugs, the cuddling. I miss it all. I miss you, Y/n."

I have no clue where this came from, but I kissed him. Either the gods gifted me with confidence, or, well there is no other way. That isn't my confidence, I have none.

To my surprise, he kissed back. His hands were travelling to my waist and mine travelled to his neck. It was slow and passionate, a perfect first kiss.