When Travis woke up on Friday morning, his body was already racked with nervous, cold shivers. His hair was sticky and plastered to his forehead, his chest heaving. The thin blanket was draped over his chest, the back of his head pressed deep into his pillow. His breaths were shallow and quick-paced.

   He had dreamt of shiny blue eyes, of wandering, gentle hands, adorned with black nails, of a silvery mask nestled into his neck, whispering, humming, laughing.

   It was warm, so warm. It engulfed him entirely, made him smile, made him feel safe, and the thought of that was, well, sickening, to say the least.

   He awoke to a cold room with clammy palms and a swirling pit of horror in his stomach.

   The dream was no nightmare, but the aftermath certainly was.

   He huffed, swiping the thin layer of sweat off of his forehead, realizing that the visual of Sal smiling at him with his eyes, the visual of him laughing and leaning against his chest, lacing their fingers together, brushing his hair out of his eyes, was one of the best dreams he'd ever had in his life. The reality of that was terrifying, to say the least. It replaced the warmth and comfort with a polarizing cold and confused frustration.

The sound of his father marching around downstairs just made it worse.

Travis swung his legs off of the bed and stood up, rubbing a trembling hand over his face and wincing when his fingertips grazed the seemingly permanent, aching bruise that encompassed his right eye.

All he could think about was how much gentler Dream-Sal's fingers were as he cupped his face with all of the care in the world.

Travis shivered. He'd have to ride home with him today.

He couldn't back out now. He didn't want to ride home in the snow, and he desperately didn't want to put up a fight with the Fisher-Johnson brothers. A twisting of his stomach made him aware of the fact that he didn't want to see Sal's blue eyes frowning at him through the prosthetic either, disappointed and upset.

He sighed and went about getting ready for the day. He messed with his dry, dead mess of bleach blonde hair until it looked semi-presentable. Afterward, he brushed his teeth and cleaned the anxious sweat he'd accumulated upon waking up from his dream off of his face.

When he walked back into his bedroom, a faint buzz sounded from under his pillow.

Knowing it was a notification from Sal, Travis attempted to quell the vigorous thumping in his chest and turned towards his closet, pulling out a selection of neatly folded clothes.

As he pulled off his t-shirt, he glanced into the tall mirror to his left, taking in the sight of his upper body.

He was scrawny with a smooth, flat stomach and slightly protruding joints. His cross was still dangling around the base of his neck, glimmering in his reflection. For a moment, Travis paused and ghosted his fingertips over the blue and yellow bruises scattered on his chest before turning and angling his head over his shoulder to look at the larger ones on his back.

They were healing, aching only when he bent over or twisted into unwise positions.

Travis looked away from his reflection to pull a clean shirt on. He swapped out his pajama pants for jeans a moment later and put his nighttime clothes in the laundry basket tucked into the corner of his closet.

   Once he was clean, dressed, and finished with his morning prayer, he turned back to his pillow and swallowed, pulling his cellphone out from where it was buried under it.

  Sal Fisher: good morning trav :)

   Sal Fisher: i was wondering... do you wanna stop at the gas station on the way home from school?

   Sal Fisher: we could get slushies or smth lol

He stared down at the messages and felt his stomach turn.

travis: Sorry, I actually don't have any cash right now.

It was better to get the ride over with as quickly as possible.

His phone buzzed again, almost immediately after he sent his response.

Sal Fisher: oh don't worry about that man

Sal Fisher: they're less than two dollars each and larry's got a stash of spare change in his car.

Sal Fisher: hey thanks for agreeing to this btw (• ◡•) i'm glad you don't have to ride home in the rain now! :)))

   Yeah, it was way too late to drop out.

   Travis felt sick. He was going to be expected to maintain a conversation with Larry Johnson and Sal Fisher.

   One of which he openly, verbally disliked, and the other he had a raging crush on.

  He had a complicated (and recent) history with both of them, and while Travis doubted that Sal liked actually him, he knew Larry had a much lower regard for him.

   He made his way out the door without running into his father.

   Travis would have to walk to school today. There was no point in riding his bike there if he was going home in a car.

   Walking was fine. He didn't live very far from the school building, and while it was cold, there wasn't any snow or ice on the ground, so he could walk easily. It was a good opportunity for daydreaming anyway.

   It took him just short of fifteen minutes to make it from his creaking, dysfunctional household to the school building. Today, he wasn't sure which place he'd hate being at more.

   The main hallway was a lot warmer than it was outside, which was a relief, and as the other kids crowded around him, screaming and laughing, somehow already reeking of sweat, Travis kept his head down and recognized that he had bigger things to worry about.

   In Algebra, Sal smiled with his eyes and waved to him as usual, and when he sat beside Travis, he seemed a little closer than he normally was.

   "How are you doing in this class?" Sal asked, leaning his prosthetic face against the smooth curve of his palm. 

   Travis couldn't help but detect the cautiousness in his voice. He must have discovered how much he was struggling. Maybe he noticed Travis's dark, shy eyes flickering over to his papers to copy the work down. The thought made his ears turn red. "I'm failing." He blurted out suddenly, wanting to smack himself in the face a moment later.

   "Oh, for real?" Sal seemed surprised that he was being honest. He lifted his head from his hand slightly. His nails were painted differently today. They were a shiny, flawless shade of blue rather than his usual black. He must have done them after school yesterday. "Is there anything you need help with specifically, man?" He asked calmly, gently. "If you want, I could go over it with you or something, to get your grade up."

    Panicked annoyance bubbled up in Travis's chest. The various voices in his head argued, tossing nervous ideas around.

   Sal was treating him like a little kid. He was purposefully pretending to be nice to him to make him confused. Sal didn't like him at all. He was just trying to placate him, to keep him calm as if he was a ticking time bomb on the verge of detonation. He was an asshole and Sal was afraid that if he wasn't kind, Travis could blow up and punch him square in the face again. He was being nice because he had to. That was all.

Travis shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Sal didn't want to be his friend. If he did, he wouldn't be talking to him like he was a baby. He wouldn't speak like he had his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn't-

   "You alright?" Sal's frustratingly soft voice cut into his thoughts. His sapphire eyes were narrowed in concern.

  The rational side of Travis's head finally shushed the others, and a moment later, he remembered what Sal had said to him on Wednesday, the words flooding into his mind.

"When I say I like speaking to you, it's not because I pity you or I feel like I have to or I'm trying to baby you. I just enjoy your company."

He had said it with so much confidence, as if it was obvious, as if Travis didn't have to worry about anything at all.

   Maybe he didn't.

   He forced his eyes back up to meet Sal's, and with his heartbeat thundering in his chest, his shoulders finally slumped and he looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time.

   "I'm okay," Travis said, offering a faint shake of his head, "I'm sorry."

   Sal's eyes stared back at him with something that looked a lot like a smile brimming in them. He reached his hands up to braid a small section of his hair. "What for?"

   Travis blinked at him, letting out a breath. He shook his head again. this time firmer as he struggled to communicate his thoughts, "Just," he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

   Sal hummed at this and tilted his head to the side. He stared at Travis, probably right through him and into his core, before lowering his hands again with a shrug, "Well, alright," he said at last, "but you don't have to apologize to me for anything."

   Yes, I do, Travis insisted in his mind. His leg began to tap as Sal looked away, pulling his worksheet towards him.

   "So," he said, looking over the algebraic equations as he crossed one leg over another, "Do you wanna do the problems together?"

   Travis decided that working together sounded great.

   At the end of the day, he instinctively followed the route of the school building that lead him to the rack where his old, rusty, red bike usually was chained up, only realizing that he was going the wrong way when he was already halfway there.

   Today, he was going out the door on the other side of the school. That's where the seemingly infamous Johnson minivan was going to pick him up.

    He shivered, turning on his heel in the middle of the hallway and walking in the correct direction, brushing past the other students.

   When he opened the back door to step outside, he could already see them there in the rain, Larry in the driver's seat of his tan minivan and Sal standing outside of it, laughing with his brother through the open window. He held a green umbrella over his head. Travis couldn't help but notice that he was wearing his windbreaker again.

   The Fisher-Johnson brothers turned to look when the school doors opened, and Travis fought every screaming, pleading voice in his head that told him to turn back around and walk home in the rain by himself.

  Instead, he shivered in silence as Sal called out to him, beckoning him with his hand. "Hey, Trav!" He waved, tilting the umbrella towards him, "Come here. You're gonna get soaked."

   Larry kept his eyes on the steering wheel.

   Travis obeyed hesitantly. stepping out from under the covering of the school building that shielded the doorway from rain. He walked a few feet until he was under Sal's umbrella with him.

   It was fairly large. but Travis was still crammed in pretty close, close enough to feel the sleeves of Sal's windbreaker against his arm. His heart pounded violently.

   "Do you wanna sit in the front?" The blue-haired boy offered gently, looking up at him.

   "No, thank you." Travis shook his head instantly, firmly, as if it was built into his inner programming to avoid any possible situation where he'd be seated in a car next to Larry Johnson.

   "Alright," Sal was his typical, calm, levelheaded self as he nodded to the back door, "you sent me your address right?"

Travis nodded and shivered, pulling the door open as the blue-haired boy made his way to the other side of the car, sitting in the passenger seat beside Larry.

   He ran an anxious hand through his blonde bangs, damp with rain. Sal closed the car door and squinted at his stepbrother, "Let's stop at the gas station. I'll pick you up pork rinds."

  Travis swallowed and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his seat, "Hey, Larry," He mumbled awkwardly.

   Larry glanced up at Travis quickly through the rearview mirror. His eyebrows twitched together for a moment and Travis wondered where he stood.

"Sup," Larry blinked after a while, eyes flicking back down to the black steering wheel and then to his brother, "Yeah, we can go to the gas station."

Larry's van had a cream interior. It smelled like McDonald's fries and Axe body spray, and the floor of the back seating area was littered with paper cups from various fast food places. The outside of the van itself had a massive dent in the side of it.

Travis wrinkled his nose and stared out the window as Sal fiddled with the radio, shuffling between different songs, none of which Travis had ever heard before.

They were brash and loud, so loud that they made the seat rumble beneath his legs and sent chills up his spine.

His chest tightened as Larry began driving and Sal turned over his shoulder to grin with his eyes. "Do you like music, Trav?" He asked, elbow resting on the cupholder. His blue hair cascaded wildly over his shoulders.

Upon further investigation, Travis found that even though Sal Fisher was kind and calm, the heavy, energetic music suited him.

"Me?" He bit his tongue, eyes widening slightly, "I- Yeah, I like music."

"Yeah?" Sal cocked his head to the side in a welcoming way that the blonde thought was undeniably, sickeningly adorable, "What genre are you into?"

He stiffened slightly, shrugging. His bangs tickled his forehead and he fought the urge to sweep them off of his face, "Uh, I don't know," He said quickly, "Lots of stuff is good, I guess... Maybe."

Although, the current music selection made him want to scream and explode with anxiety and cry on the floor all at once.

Finally, Sal turned away, back towards the road. His fingers tapped against his thigh gently to the thundering of the music, "Hm, I do find that a little bit of everything is the way to go." He said softly, "There's definitely a different mood that goes along with every song."

"Oh, yeah?" Larry chuckled quietly, speaking up for the first time since he began driving, "And what's this song's mood?"

Sal processed this for a second, and Travis lazily scratched at his wrist as he watched the boy look up at the cream roof of the car in thought.

Then, all at once, the blue-haired boy seemed to finally make his decision, angling his head back down and curling his middle finger, ring finger, and thumb inwards in the classic rocker pose, "Metal," he said smugly.

Larry laughed and shook his head and Travis chuckled along awkwardly even though he didn't understand what was going on.

He watched intently as Sal rolled down the window and stared out as the buildings and trees disappeared behind them.

His long hair twisted and turned in the air, floating around his head like a raging sea.

Travis found that he didn't mind the cool air (and sprinkle of mist) leaking in from Sal's open window. Maybe it was because Larry's minivan was already so warm or maybe it was because he was caught in a trance, staring in awe at the boy that he knew was unattainable.

Larry's fingers drummed against the steering wheel and he angled his head back against the seat as he drove.

Travis felt the vibration of the music rush through him, buzzing in his bones like excitement, spinning around his head like-

"What're you smiling about, Phelps?"

Larry was staring at him through the rearview mirror, one thick eyebrow cocked, a smirk pulling on his cheeks.

Travis blinked and caught a glimpse of his reflection. He had been grinning ear to ear, blonde hair whipping around his head slightly due to the wind coming in from Sal's window.

He flushed and twitched his mouth back down into its usual resting expression, heart still pounding, "Oh, I don't know- I don't know, I just..."

Sal swiftly turned back around to look at Travis, snapping his fingers once he saw his face, "Damn, I missed it." He chuckled softly, shifting back to be facing the road again.

"You sure did," Larry smiled with a slight shake of his head. His dark eyes peered up into the rearview mirror again, "I like it, Phelps," He said firmly, teasing him slightly, "it's a good look."

Travis was pretty sure he was about to spontaneously combust.

They pulled into the gas station parking a few moments later, and Sal opened the glove compartment to dig into a seemingly endless void of coins.

  Larry got out of the van almost immediately and began to fill up the tank.

   Sal emptied coins into the pockets of his windbreaker and glanced back at Travis with a smile twinkling in his eyes, "You coming in?"

   He sat up a little straighter and shrugged his backpack straps off, offering a hesitant nod. It sure beat being stuck in the van with Larry on the other side of the door. Besides, the idea of going alone with Sal into the gas station made his pathetic little heart soar to heights he didn't care to admit or explain.

   Travis got out of the car, following Sal. He closed the door behind him and sheepishly turned his head towards Larry, who was already looking at him, gaze firm and calculated. Both of them looked away simultaneously and Travis took long strides to walk up to Sal, who was standing in front of the van.

   "This is my favorite gas station," The blue-haired boy noted, walking beside him with his umbrella. He was standing so close that Travis thought he might bump shoulders with him if he wasn't careful.

   Sal glanced up at him, "It's the first one me and Larry ever went to."

   Travis nodded, not quite understanding why that was significant. He listened to the quiet tapping of their feet on the wet pavement.

   "We come here a lot," Sal went on, staring ahead calmly, "I have a lot of memories from this place," He glanced back up at him and when he did, his eyes were bright blue against the grey sky, against the dark pavement, "and now you're one of them too."

   Travis's palms were sweaty. Ignoring the comment about himself, he held the door open for Sal, feeling his heart pound, "Are your parents married? Uh, you and Larry."

   Sal nodded, taking a few steps in front of him, "Yeah," he said calmly, "their wedding was a few months ago."

Travis followed him down into one of the aisles. The shelves were lined with candy and packaged pastries. He watched as Sal looked up and down at the selection.

"Do you like candy, Trav?" He asked softly.

Travis shifted his weight and reached up to anxiously rub the neck of his neck, the pads of his fingers brushing against the shorter, dark hairs growing in there, "Oh, uh," he looked down, "I guess... I dunno."

Sal looked at him over his shoulder, raising his brows, "You don't know?"

He sucked in a breath and looked around him again, familiarizing himself with the rows of gummy bears, chocolate, packs of gum, and lollipops, "My father is very strict. He doesn't really allow candy in the house," He mumbled, "So I... I don't know. I don't have it very often."

  Sal hummed, appearing to be unaffected by Travis's confession.

   The blonde furrowed his brows. Was that noise really all he got from working up the courage to admit something like that out loud? His nervousness bubbled up inside his chest, preparing to overflow into his throat, and then calmed all at once as his eyes settled on something tucked into the shelf.

  It was taffy, the three-striped kind that came in a parchment paper-like material. More notably, it was the same brand that he knew his mother loved. They were