Denial (Salvis)

He Who Wields the Sword {35}

"Who's to say?" He shrugged, "I guess I believe that it's true."

The blond pushed himself off the floor, "I'm gonna go take a walk."

"Have fun."

        Travis shuddered as he walked into the corridor of the ancient catacombs. There was something about the feeling of the cold, stale air brushing against his face that made him feel more than apprehensive. He adjusted the hood back over his grown out, fading blond hair; hoping it would conceal the thousands of thoughts swarming his brain. Travis recalled that Todd once told him that breathing deeply was scientifically proven to calm the mind, but it didn't seem to make any difference in that moment. His thoughts shifted from Todd to the rest of his friends. No words could describe his longing for the past, for simpler times. Travis would've given anything to go back to the way things were, he wished to return to Sal and feel the warmth of his love, but it was already too late. 

        By the time Travis recovered from his daze, he found that he'd mindlessly wandered into the dungeons. Rows of barricaded cells lined the walls, presenting their victims like trophies on a shelf. His eyes examined each occupant as he slowly walked by, being careful to note every detail of the prisoners. Though they all came in different ages and walks of life, they all had one thing in common. They were all innocent, nothing any of them had done in their lives made them deserve the fate that was undoubtably coming for them. Travis' eyes stopped when they reached familiar, lightning blue hair.

"Oh my god, Philip?" He called out, clasping his hand over his mouth in shock.

The boy turned around to look towards Travis. His face was horribly beaten and bruised, though his bright smile somehow protruded from the jumble of swollen skin and blood.

"Travis! How have you been, man?"

"How have I been?" Travis repeated, why was Philip concerned about his wellbeing, when Philip himself was beaten to a pulp. "What happened to you?"

Philip laughed softly, "it's a long story, I'm so glad to see you! What have you been up to recently?"

"Now isn't the time for catching up! I need to get you out of here."

"No, you can't do that. Someone will notice." He argued, gripping the metal strips of the door with his hands.

Travis dropped to his knees in front of Philip, carefully placing his hands on the metal as well. "So, what can I do then?"

"Stay with me? Only for a little bit, I don't want to be alone again."

"Of course, I'll stay as long as you need." He fought back tears. The last thing Travis expected to see was his childhood friend bruised and bloodied, rotting inside a cage.

"What have you been up to recently?" Philip repeated.

"Mostly just cult stuff, do you remember Sal Fisher?" 

Philip grinned, "the kid you had a massive crush on, how could I forget?"

Travis felt his ears burning from embarrassment, "well, I don't think it was that obvious but-"

"It definitely was, but go on." The blue-haired boy interjected.

"Yeah, whatever. We've kind of been going out together for a bit" He knew that Philip was nothing but supportive, but Travis' heart still raced as he admitted his secret.

"That's so amazing, Travis! I'm proud of you, I always knew you guys would look great together." Philip's enthusiasm brought back Travis' confidence.

"It's been amazing, but enough about me. I thought you were supposed to be in Washington, what happened?"