Disciple (Sal x Travis)
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- Parts 22
#1 in Travis Phelps!
"Now I know what this is all about." Sal's voice shakes as he speaks, looking at me with sadness in his eyes. "You don't love me, Travis."
My lungs feel like theyre filled with barbed wire and warm tears pool in my eyes.
"Sal, p-please.. I love you so-"
"YOU WHAT?" He shouts, a sob catches in my throat and his next words break my heart,
"I can't believe I thought you had changed, you fucking asshole."
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Sal screamed so loudly that it hurt Travis's ears and echoed in his head for several minutes after it had finished. The sound was unlike anything he'd ever heard on TV, unlike anything he'd ever made when his father beat him. It was visceral, primal. Filled with the most basic of instinct from any living thing: fear. A kind of it that was so deep, it lacerated Sal's vocal cords as it tore through his stomach and out of his throat, loud enough to reach heaven, desperate enough to be a prayer. It was the sound of death. ========== Sal can't find his anxiety medication on the fourth of July. He subsequently proceeds to have one of the worst breakdowns he's ever had in Nockfell, directly in front of Travis Phelps. (25,288 words) CONTENT WARNINGS: This fic contains graphic depictions of PTSD flashbacks, panic attacks, suicidality, and descriptions of child abuse, harm and trauma. (Cover art is my own)
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