Sal Fisher was Travis's friend. They were friends.

The idea made Travis's head spin, made his palms sweaty and hot.

He couldn't say he knew for sure what friendship entailed. The word was a nebulous image in his head. It had been a while since he called someone that after all.

The closest things he had to a friend were the nice ladies at the church that worked alongside his father.

His already preoccupied brain abruptly became filled with frantic worries. Being Sal's acquaintance and deskmate was difficult enough. He already had a hard time coming up with things to say. He was already unsure of how to act around him.

Friendship was more personal, more special. Just what would be expected of him now that they were friends? And what if he wasn't able to pull it off?

What made it worse was that today was February 14th, Valentine's day.

It was a holiday that Travis had never himself participated in. Obviously, he didn't have anyone to celebrate it with and the only holidays that were of any importance in his house were Christmas and Easter.

Was it normal to give friends gifts on Valentine's day? He had seen other kids exchange candy and toys and whatnot, but the last time he'd received anything like that was when he was a little boy when his mother was still around. He still had the little stuffed bear she'd gotten him. It was perched in the corner of his bed, the only stuffed animal he owned.

The bear was light brown with a cream nose, and the faux fur covering it was a bit ratty and not nearly as soft as it had once been. Its once shiny, plastic eyes were now dull and unpolished. Sleeping with the same stuffed animal for ten years did that sort of thing.

   Luckily for him, Kenneth was an infrequent visitor to his bedroom. Travis doubted that he knew that he slept with the stuffed animal his mom had given him, or maybe he did know and was giving him an inch of slack for once.

   Travis got on his knees beside his bed and began his morning prayers. He hated himself for how onerous praying had become. He hated how uncomfortable he felt recently when he got down on the floor and clasped his hands together.

   He wasn't deserving of God's blessings. He wasn't worthy of forgiveness, no matter how ashamed he was.

   Sal's porcelain face was clear as day in his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut, actively interrupting his carefully rehearsed routine.

   Travis's hands clutched around each other, his fingernails digging into the tender skin along his knuckles.

   But Sal's voice and eyes and soft blue hair didn't leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. 

   Travis sighed, letting his tingling hands go flat on the blanket. His gut twisted up into a knot.

Well, what did he expect anyway?

   It was only natural that he would be too consumed by sin to hold even the simplest of prayers.

   Today, he was wearing his purple sweater, the one with the pink bands around his biceps. He frowned at it as he stood in front of the mirror.

  He hadn't worn it since he'd spoken to Sal in the bathroom on bologna day.

  Under it was a white button-down shirt, to protect him from the scratchy, cheap sweater fabric.

   On top of both items was his rosary. After he neglected prayer just moments before, he felt embarrassed to even have it on. It laid between his collarbones, bright and flat and the reflection from the window bounced off of it, like a beacon shining in his face, like it was taunting him, like God knew how disgusting he was.

   Travis turned away, letting out a weak breath. It was going to be a hard day.

He grabbed his bag and jolted at the sound of his phone buzzing from underneath his pillow.

Great.

Sal Fisher: hey, good morning!!!!! :)

Sal Fisher: and happy valentines day ofc

Travis shivered, thumbs hovering above the shiny, black buttons hesitantly.

Sal Fisher: for no reason at all... what's your favorite color?

Travis's head buzzed with curiosity, with something that felt a lot like suspicion, with fear as his father's footsteps sounded down the hall.

   He typed quickly, hoping he wouldn't be caught texting a friend this early in the day.

travis: It's purple, and good morning.

   He flipped his phone closed and slid it in his jeans pocket, hoping the rectangular outline of it wasn't too noticeable.

   He pulled on his socks and then his shoes, actively choosing to ignore a new, dull buzz from his cellphone.

   It sounded like Kenneth was in the laundry room, which was down the hall, diagonal from where Travis was sitting on his bed, tying his laces silently.

   He glanced back at the bear sitting on the corner of his bed, beside his pillow and for a moment, his heart ached for his mother, wondered where she went off to, wondered why she didn't take him with her.

   Travis dismissed the pit of nausea in his stomach and tore his gaze away from his stuffed animal and onto his closed bedroom door. Those were thoughts for later. Right now, all he had to worry about was getting out of the house without pissing off his overtly religious, ossified father.

   He stepped silently into the hallway, closing the don't with a click behind him. His legs were seemingly gelatinous under him as he walked forward, standing up straight instinctively as he approached the laundry room. He'd been scolded enough for it in the past.

   Kenneth stood not far from the open door, meticulously folding a black clergy shirt, similar to the one he was currently wearing.

    Travis swallowed and dug the toe of his sneaker into the floorboards, "Sir?" he piped up softly, suddenly very aware of the dark bruise on his jaw.

   Kenneth tilted his head towards him, sparing him a quick glance with those icy grey eyes of his.

He didn't say anything, so Travis continued to speak, "Um, have a good afternoon. I'm headed to school now."

   The only thing keeping him from throwing up was the thought of his father's reaction to it.

    "Remember you have choir rehearsal tomorrow," Kenneth hummed, and Travis sighed so quietly that it was almost silent, taking a few steps past the door.

   You see? It wasn't so bad, a gentle voice in his head coddled him, don't get so worked up, okay?

   "Travis."

   Fuck.

   His whole body jerked and he spun his head back around to stare into the doorway, hands balled into tight fists.

   Kenneth's eyes bore straight through him like a dagger buried into his chest.  "Don't forget what I told you," he said firmly, "about your grades."

   Travis's jaw still ached as a reminder. He nodded instantly, muttering a timid "yes sir" with his head down.

  And so, he tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door.

   He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning under his blanket, plagued by indistinct, clouded dreams of spiraling darkness, of fear.

   Travis felt crankier than usual because of it, and much more tired than he normally would be. He approached his unwieldy bike, which was leaning against the side of his house, and tugged it towards him with a huff, already feeling sweaty.

   He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to look at the message that he had felt Sal send earlier.

   Sal Fisher: ah okay that's what I assumed lol

    Travis furrowed his brows, free hand tightening around his bicycle's left handlebar.

   travis: Okay.

   He knew that the way he texted was awkward and formal, like he was trying to get all of the grammar points in an essay.

   Sal made it look so easy, so casual and unapologetically from the heart. When he wrote, it didn't seem like he had been sitting there with a tight chest, racking his mind for something to say. When Sal sent messages, it was natural. It was real.

   Travis sort of envied him. No, it was more than envy. He cared for him. A lot, obviously. He really appreciated him. He was charming and gentle and cool and he had this energy that radiated off of him that Travis was admittedly sort of addicted to. In his usual panic and nervousness, Sal's calm demeanor centered him. He liked him so much that it hurt, so much that it clouded his vision.

   What he didn't like, of course, was the fact that he did like Sal Fisher. Well, that, and the feeling in the air as he walked into school that morning.

   Valentine's day. It was an excuse for couples to flaunt their love in everyone's faces. It was gross. Travis was even more disgusted to be in the building than usual.

    Tightfisted, lowlife boyfriends waited outside the doors to give flowers to their girlfriends. It was probably the only nice thing they'd done for those girls ever, Travis realized.

   Although, he didn't have much room to talk. He was overwhelmingly capricious and his expression rarely ever diverted from his usual scowl. He couldn't remember the last time he was nice to anyone at school other than Sal Fisher, and that in itself was a stretch.

    Maybe you should work on that, a voice in his head sneered.

   For once, he didn't object.

     Today, Sal was waiting for him in Algebra.

   Travis briefly noted how strange it was that he was here early. Usually, the classroom was nearly empty when he came in since the class that came right before math was not far away.

   "Hey, Trav!" Sal waved widely at him, plastic prosthetic shifting over his grinning face.

   Travis's heart leaped in his chest, urging him to step forward into the room. His wobbly legs said otherwise.

  Sal's hair was tugged above his neck into some sort of intricate bun. He was wearing a pink sweater with red hearts on it. The fabric just barely hung around the edges of his shoulders.

   Travis might have melted into the floor if he didn't have the wall to lean back against.

   Sal blinked his pretty blue eyes up at his face and then down towards his chest, "Hey, I know that sweater!" He exclaimed.

   He noticed.

   Travis shifted his weight, tugging on the sleeves of his purple shirt. Memories flashed in his head, of his blurry vision as he cried, crumpled into a ball on the sticky bathroom ground, of the squeak of Sal's sneakers on the other side of the stall door.

   He struggled to clear his throat, still distracted by the thin chain hanging around Sal's neck and the metal heart sitting right in the middle of his chest.

  "You look good," he blurted out.

   Sal's eyes widened.

   Travis wanted to stop existing, deciding that things would be far easier if he was one with the soil. Maybe if he shrunk down onto the floor, all of his problems would go away. Maybe then, Sal wouldn't be staring at him with that expressionless face of his, trying to think of something to say.

   So much for your crush being a secret, one of the assholes in his brain piped up.

   "Oh, thanks, Trav!" Sal smiled again, twisting one of the pink, beaded bracelets that sat prettily on his wrist. "You look good too!"

   And he sounded like he meant it.

Travis's whole body shivered and like clockwork, the fragmented voices in his mind began to tear the statement apart right before his eyes, trying to rationalize it.

"Well, come over here," Sal's voice was as kind and gentle as always, "I have something for you."

Right, Travis's thin, probably sweaty back was still pressed against the opposite wall of the room, as far away from Sal as humanely possible, it would seem.

And what was that Sal was saying about having something for him?

Feeling much like a little kid, Travis approached him silently, eyes wide with curiosity.

Sal's thin, pale hands were buried somewhere in his book bag. He peered into pockets, rifling things around with one leg crossed over the other.

Travis sat down beside him and glanced past his head as the other students began to file in. His fingers scratched awkwardly at each other as Sal pulled the bag closer to him, allowing him to see inside.

He felt a wrenching in his gut, realizing that Sal's nails were painted alternating red and pink.

"I had a feeling your favorite color was purple," He said with a hushed chuckle, "Because," His eyes flickered up to his face, down to his sweater, back to his bag again, "you know." His voice smiled at Travis warmly.

And sure enough, in the second-largest pocket of his backpack, five or six cellophane baggies were arranged beside each other, each with a different color ribbon, one of which was purple.

Travis's head felt like it was about to fall off.

"I wanted to make sure though," Sal said, "Since, well, the purple thing was just a hunch anyway." He pointed to one of the bags, which was tied with a dark green ribbon, "This one is for Larry." He noted softly, "His favorite color is green," His finger moved over to the next one, which had a red ribbon, "and this is for his boyfriend, Spencer."

The word made Travis feel sick to his stomach, especially since up until now, he hadn't even known Larry had a boyfriend. Both the phrase itself and how causally it had slipped from Sal's mouth hit him like a freight train, and he was still hung up on it as Sal pointed out a bag for Ashley, one for Todd, one for Chug, one for Maple, and- Jeez, this guy had a lot of friends.

"Aaaaand," Sal dragged out the word, settling on the clear baggie with the purple ribbon, "this guy over here is for you." He pulled it out gently and supported the bottom of it with his free hand.

Travis stared down at it like it was going to bite him if he wasn't careful. His eyes caught on the satin purple ribbon tied neatly into a bow, staring him in the face.

"I asked to be released from class early, so I could get here to give it to you and talk to you before the period started," Sal explained, twitling the ribbon around his index finger.

Travis shook his head, back stiff and aching from spending so much time slumped over. "I don't have anything for you." He said simply, quietly, chest heavy and suffocating.

Sal simply smiled and placed the baggie on his desk anyway, tilting his head, "That is A-okay, my guy." He zipped up his bag and placed it back on the floor, beside his foot, hidden within a shiny combat boot. "Happy Valentine's day. Hey," he mumbled, "don't open it and read the note right now though, okay? I'd be embarrassed."

Travis reached out for the cellophane baggie, hesitating immensely. He glanced up at the blue-haired boy carefully, swallowing back his anxiety, "Thank you, Sally Face." He said and truly meant it. Through the clear plastic, he could see all sorts of candy and little toys, and situated against the side of the bag, A folded piece of paper with his name on it.

Sal smiled just like he always did, with crinkling blue eyes and with the shift of his mask, and just like always, he cleared any lingering doubts from Travis's head. "You're very welcome," he said.

Travis decided that Sal was very welcome to do just about anything he wanted at this point.

He felt a chill rush down his spine, and without even thinking, he offered Sal a smile.

Sal returned the gesture, eyes narrowing until they were almost closed, and then he bent over slightly, digging in his bag, "Now, where's my notebook?" He mumbled to himself.

Travis's lips quirked down into a frown as he took in the sight of his deskmate, as caring and gentle as always. He had gotten all dressed up, went out of his way to make him something for Valentine's Day, and Travis didn't have anything to offer in return.

He knew what Sal would say too.

"You being my friend is gift enough."

"I'm happy just to give you something."

Something utterly depressing like that.

This, Travis decidedly thought, would simply not do.

He held onto that thought throughout all of Algebra class, through every smile Sal presented him with when Travis went to steal a glance, sure that he wasn't looking.

And when the bell rang, he was out of the room, rushing to the boys' bathroom at record speed.

He admittedly did feel bad about abandoning Sal before lunch, but it was for good reason.

He crouched in the corner of one of the bigger stalls, pulling out a pencil and his black composition notebook (which was used for his Language Arts class). This was close enough to Language Arts, he supposed.

He got to writing immediately, scrambling to express himself in a way that wasn't too revealing of his personal afflictions.

Sal deserved this, at least. Especially since they were friends now.

Travis's heart raced as he remembered the truth behind that sentiment.

They were really friends.

"Dear Sally Face,"

Too affectionate. He erased it and started again.

"Sally Face,"

No, maybe that would come off as rude. Too direct. He dragged his eraser against the paper again.

"Dear Sal,"

Travis sighed. It would have to do. His back felt freezing against the tile wall. He tried to ignore his goosebumps, pressing his pencil down to write the next line.

"Happy Valentines Day. Thank you for the gift. It made me really happy."

He cringed.

"Happy Valentines Day. Thank you for the gift. It was very nice of you to think of me."

Better.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you. I thought maybe I should write something to tell you how I feel."

Hell no. He scribbled out the last part of the sentence.

"I thought maybe I should write something for you instead. Thank you for treating me like a friend,"

If he wasn't careful, he was going to pour way too much emotion into this.

"Thank you for treating me like a friend, even though I don't really deserve it."

Well, it wasn't a lie. Even so, dread crawled up Travis's skin like a sprinting spider.

"I want to be good for you."

He shuddered. Didn't that sound a bit too romantic?

"I want to be a good friend and I really am sorry about the gift thing. I didn't know you had something planned for me. Honestly, I thought you'd think I was a freak if I gave you something."

Freak. Yikes. He'd remembered using that word in the past.

"Honestly, I thought you'd be weirded out if I gave you something. I'm sorry."

Jesus. He sounded pathetic.

Travis sighed and stared down at the page. He had already written too much to scrap the whole idea. Besides, he really did want to be able to have a friend, like a normal person. Even if he had undeniable feelings for Sal Fisher that were far from platonic.

"If I'm able to go with my dad to the convenience store soon, I'll pick up some candy and stuff for you, but you know how it is at home and-"

What the fuck was he thinking? Travis aggressively scribbled out the line.

As far as he knew, Sal didn't know about his home life at all anyway.

"If I'm able to go to the convenience store soon, I'll pick up some candy and stuff for you. Thank you again for the Valentine. It means a lot.

Love, Travis