Fire Breather || Salarry

8 • bitten when it beats

a year earlier

Larry's father was still angry with him... about the incident with the rabbit. His mother had already left the apartment and started work for the day, so it was only the two of them, trying not to be too awkward even though he knew Dad was fuming.

Larry still couldn't feel bad about sneaking out. The night had been long and fun and hot, and he didn't think he'd ever get to experience something like that again. And as the sun rose in the kitchen, covering their floor in gold as they silently ate their cereal, Larry tried to find it in himself to say something, to feel something. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He shot hopeful glances up at his father, hoping for him to say something in his stead.

At one point, Larry caught his gaze, and instantly his father's face softened. The lines smooth in between in his brows and he let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He sets down his spoon, and leans back to look at Larry.

Awkwardly, Larry shifts around in his seat, waiting for his dad to say something, say anything, not just sit there and study him. His gaze wasn't pointed. He was looking at Larry with a curious gaze, like he couldn't figure something out.

Finally, Dad spoke, breaking the tension that was building up in Larry's chest. "Don't tell your mother," he started. "But I'm not that angry that you snuck out."

That gave Larry pause. "What?"

"When I was your age, I wanted to be in a band, too."

"You did?" Larry asked. "Why didn't you every tell me?"

"I never really got a band together. Just sort of drifted away from it all. Sold my guitar for a new pair of shoes. Lame, I know. But... Seeing you following what you want to do. It makes me proud, son."

"I thought you liked your job."

"My job is pretty great, but I'm living this life until I die. And at the end of the day... What do I have to show for it?"

"I think we have a nice life."

"You're right, we do. That's not what I'm saying." His father grows serious. "I don't have a lot to show for what I've done with my life. I have your mother, and I have you. We've never been anywhere outside of the state, though. Never been to Disney World or California."

Larry laughs. "You can't think that matters honestly?"

"I've lived in this area for my whole life, and I don't think I'll ever leave it."

"Well, let's plan a trip to the beach or something."

His father shakes his head, "Forget all that, Larry, and listen to this. I want you to be the exact opposite of me. I want you to do everything that you want to do, and don't worry about anything. Don't worry about money or what people think of you. Your mother wants me to be angry with you for sneaking out and doing something that you love, and I just can't. At least, you weren't out doing drugs. Like this is a good thing."

Larry smiled and laughed a little, choosing not to tell his father everything that he did last night and hoping that he does continue to travel down that path. His father's gaze drifted off, and the air between them was infiltrated by silence. Larry was left in this silence, trying to decipher what his father was actually trying to tell him.

"Money ain't worth anything..." He said after a moment, "Not really." He shook his head, like he couldn't think of anything else to say, a sad smile on his lips as he looked back at his son.

There was no moment of clarity in their conversation.

And he thinks about it all the time. More so now than ever. Larry never had an idea for the future. It was always a very opaque cloud of smoke that he was just inching closer and closer to, waiting to reach it. And after his father passed away the cloud of smoke grew darker. It grew blearier, and he just never looked that way again. It was too painful and his words were growing louder and louder by the day. Larry wished he'd asked more questions; wished he'd kept him talking. Wished that he didn't let him get up from the table and walk away. He wanted that clarity, but he knew that he'd never get it.

He told Sal about it one day when the room was filled with smoke. Smoke so thick that there was a visible white film covering his vision, opaque. His brain was fuzzy, and Sal's mask had been unclasped and set neatly to the side. His eyes were closed and his head was leaned back against the side of Larry's bed. They were both sitting on the floor, passing a joint back and forth, listening to the new Sanity Falls album that had come out last week. They'd each been saving up for it since its announcement, and they'd decided to have a nice sesh before zoning out and letting the music fill their heads.

It was Friday night, and they had no intention of doing anything else. The joint had been smoked, and their brains had officially turned off for the evening. Not set to turn back on until Monday morning.

His mind had been reeling all day, and all night before that. He'd been caught in this thought loop for longer than normal, and not even weed and Sanity Falls could bring him out of it. So he'd let the worries of all of it fall from his lips and onto Sal's shoulders. Just for a little bit, he thought. Just so I can take a breath.

He regretted it immediately. As soon as the words cut through the music, Sal's hand instantly reaches out and turns the volume of the stereo down, sitting up straighter and turning to Larry.

"If I'd known you wanted to talk about this, I wouldn't have smoked so much." Even from this distance, Larry could see the red in Sal's real eye where the white should've been.

Larry laughed a little, trying to put back on the mask that had just slipped for a second. He didn't even know why he'd said anything in the first place. It was like he was so sick of hearing it in his head, and wanted to hear it spoken out loud for the first time since his father had spoken them to him over a year ago.

"Just forget about it," he said easily, trying to ignore that shaking in his voice. "Forget I said anything. Turn the music back up."

Sal didn't move, didn't say anything for a little bit, didn't look away from him. The silence reminded him of when his father drifted away from him in the conversation. And suddenly the thought of losing Sal in the same way... A new thought that he couldn't bear to have stuck in his own thought loop as well as what he was already struggling to comprehend.

He could feel his heart speeding up, the weed making his brain slow in the understanding that he was most definitely not going to lose Sal the same way he lost his father, that Sal was sitting right here in front of him, safe. Sal was trying to say something, but the intrusive thoughts were not leaving him alone. He could feel his chest heaving, his ribs aching as he tried to take a breath.

Sal was much closer to him now, telling him to breath with him, and it was only then did Larry realize he'd thought himself into a panic attack.

So much for a chill day listening to the new album they'd spent a couple weeks saving up for.

"You're okay, Larry. Keep breathing like that." Sal sounded gentle, peaceful, and it made Larry remember something his father told him when he was young, way before he had to worry abou the real world and what it thought of him.

"Be a bottle of water. Not a bottle of coke. When you shake up a bottle of coke, it'll explode when you open it. When you shake a bottle of water, when you open it, it is still the same calm water. Don't let anyone or anything disturb your inner peace."

Sal leaned into him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an imbrace. "It's gonna be okay."

And for just a second, Larry believed him.