Love is Painful

Broken Boy

Sal's POV
Larry catches up with me and we make our way over to my locker.  I reach inside and pull out my lunch.  As I slam the locker shut, I hear a familiar voice echo in my ear drums.

"Hey freak."

Travis.  I turn on my heals and face the blond boy with clenched fists, gritted teeth, and fire-red cheeks burning into his dark skin.  "Hey Travis," I sigh softly, wishing things were different between us.  Travis glares at me, smoke pretty much flaring from his nostrils.  "No one likes you, jerk.  You are a freak.  You're a fucking fag.  You and your stupid friends."  Travis shoves my head up against the locker.  My eyes grow wide in fear for myself and pity for this broken boy. 

"Travis, this isn't who you really are," I murmur quietly.  "I see through your outer shell."  Travis grows red and orange, his eyes widening.  "Shut up," he stutters nervously.  I look at him dead in the eyes.  "I know you're nicer than this, Travis."

Suddenly, a deep agonizing pain shoots down my spine.  A clenched fist plunges into my chin, causing my head to jolt sideways.  Blood trickles down the side of my neck from beneath my prosthetic.  "Do you call that nice?" Travis mutters, his teeth tightly gritted.  Just before he runs off, he kicks me hard causing me to fall to the floor, my back scraping against the lockers.  As he runs off, I see tears bubbling up in the corners of his coffee-colored eyes. 

Travis's POV
I did it again.  I fucked up any chance of ever getting Sal to like me.  My stupid temper.  My internalized homophobia.  My extreme fear of damning my soul and Father finding out my secret.  Why?  Why do I have to be so stupid?

I hurry through the crowded hallway, shoving people aside.  I storm into the nearest bathroom and slam the stall door shut quickly.  I fall to the floor screaming from the severe pain my heart is feeling.  I lean my head down on my arms, my salty tears soaking my sweater sleeve.  I look inside my backpack and pull out the note I was writing for Sal.  Fuck it.  I crumple up the note and toss it over the top of the stall.  I can't do it.  I'm not strong enough.  And if Father found out...

Suddenly, I hear the door creak open and light, dainty footsteps clunk against the tiled floor.  I try to cease my weeping and dry my eyes with my sweater sleeve.

Sal's POV
Instead of following my friends to the lunch room, I go to the bathroom.  I need time by myself to process what happened with Travis and try to think of how I can help him.

I step into the bathroom and gently close the door behind me.  I walk over to the mirror.  I brush my blue hair back behind my ears.  Wisps of my hair fly here and there.  I stand back, my feet crunching against something on the floor.  I look down beneath my feet.  It's a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.  I stoop down and snatch it up in between two of my fingers.  I unfold it delicately as to be sure not to tare it.  I look closely.  It's written in pen.  Purple ink.  The handwriting is dainty and beautiful; It's a perfect compound of cursive and print.  All the I's are dotted with little hearts.  If I hadn't found it in the boys bathroom - and it didn't say what it says - I would of assumed a girl wrote it.  I scan across the page with my one working eye and read it softly to myself:

I know we don't really know each other, and you probably have your opinions of me.  I thought maybe if I told you how I feel, things could be different.  The truth is, I can't stop thinking about you.  I'm crazy about you.  I think you're amazing!  But I know these feelings I have are wrong.  It's not the way a boy should feel.  Shame swallows me whole just writing these words.  My father would kill me but I can't live in his shadow forever.  I just-

The rest of the note is scribbled out, making it illegible.

Suddenly, I hear a boy crying nearby.  I turn my head sharply towards the stalls scanning around for anyone.  "Is anyone in here?" I say, a sliver of concern in my voice. 

"No duh, fuckwad, now buzz off and give me some fucking privacy!" a hoarse voice crys from the closest stall to me.  I head towards the stalls and knock on the one I hear crying from.  "Are you ok?" I whisper in a comforting tone.  Sniffles escape the boy behind the stall door, and speaking is heard again.  "Obviously not!  Just give me privacy, ok?!"  The voice is familiar.  It's Travis's voice.  I press my head up against the stall door and listen to him sob, feeling a deep bitter feeling in my gut.  An agonizing yearning for wanting to comfort the poor broken boy. 

"Travis," I begin softly, "it's ok.  I'm here for you if you need someone." 

Travis's POV
This boy won't leave me alone.  I just want my privacy!  Is that too much to ask? 

"Travis, it's ok.  I'm here for you."
Suddenly, I realize who it is.  It's Sal.  Sal Fisher.  The beautiful, amazing, sweet, intelligent boy who I so desperately long to hold hands with and lock lips tightly. 

"Sal?!" I stutter, blushing out of  embarrassment.  My heart practically cannonballs into my stomach.  My gut is swarming with butterflies.  "What-what do you want?" 

Sal sighs.  After a long awkward pause, he resumes speaking.

"I want to be here for you," he says at last. 

"I want for you to be ok."