Fire Breather || Salarry

4 • Bad Angsty Poop Face

An: if i'm being honest i really don't understand why people keep reading this but all of your comments had me laughing so fucking hard. also
admission: i was dissociating mad hard while writing this so if ur wondering why it doesn't make any sense, there u go :)

Larry tried really hard not to let people know when we was sad. If he was having a rough day, he'd lock himself in his room until he was feeling better. And he wouldn't let anybody in. Not Sal, or Todd, or even his mother. His only friends were the walls and the only thing keeping him in his room was the lock on the door. Not that he had locked himself in; he could get out anytime. It was more of a metaphorical thing; like an angsty teenager thing.

Sometimes, on the bus ride home from school, before he ever got a chance to make a break for his room, he would catch Sally Face's eyes and the other boy would just know not to let Larry out of his sight.

It all started the same way: He would look down at his knees, where his iPod was sitting on lap, and follow the headphone chord all the way up until it split in two different direction. One went to his own ear, but he would never continue his gaze that way. He would always follow the wire up to the other ear it was stuffed into. Usually he would see blue hair tied up into pig tails and the Velcro straps of his best friends prosthetic mask. Usually. But not always.

Sometimes he would meet Sal's dual-colored eyes staring back at him. It was, somehow simultaneously, comforting and eerie. Familiar would be the only way to describe it.

And when they both got off the bus, Larry would try to speed ahead, to try to get to his room before Sal could follow him. He didn't actually want to be alone, and deep down he knew that Sal knew that. That's why he felt a jolt of glee when Sal caught up to him and linked his arm in with Larry's.

"I trust you're not too busy this afternoon," Sal said amiably, his pigtail swinging back and forth.

"Who said?" Larry grunted, not willing to give up the moody act just yet.

"Uhhh, you're never busy." Sal got to the door before him, opening it up and gesturing for Larry to walk through first.

"What if I happen to be busy tonight," Larry continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What if I have homework?"

"Then we can work on homework together." Sal replied just a little too chipper for Larry's current state of mind. His lack of response must have said more than words ever could have because Sal then said, a bit more meekly, "Unless you don't want to."

Larry sighs as he steps into the elevator, Sal stepping in behind him. He pressed the button to the basement, noticing that Sal wasn't making a move to press his own floor's button. Guilt started to settle in his chest because of his reluctance to be happy. Sal didn't deserve his shitty attitude. He cleared his throat. "No, I-I want you to. Sorry, just—rough day."

Sal snorts, laughing. "Yeah, I can tell just by looking at your angsty poop face that it had to be pretty shit."

Larry can feel his face heat up, but he can't bite back the grin that steels it's way on his face. "My angsty face is way moodier than my poop face. And *both* of them are better than your brooding face."

The elevator dings, and the doors open. The two boys step out, making their way down the hall to Larry apartment. The way was so familiar that both of them didn't have to think about it. Their feet just instantly carried them to where they needed to be.

"When have you ever seen me brood?" Sal asked, still trying to keep the flood of giggles from trying to escape his mouth.

"I see it all the time." Larry answered matter-of-factly. "It's in your eyebrows."

"Shut the fuck up." Sal laughed.

They both entered Larry's bedroom. Larry threw his bookbag into the corner, not planning on touching it again until he had to go back to school tomorrow. He plopped down on his bed, covering his face with his arm. He groaned, feeling how stressful the day really was as he finally got the chance to lay down.

"That bad, huh?" Sal asked, still standing in the doorway. Larry looked up, blinking slowly and nodding. He patted the space beside him, an invitation for Sal to sit down. He does. "Hey, I get it," he continued. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, not really." Larry mustered. He honestly didn't think he had the energy to talk about the shit show that happened today.

"Well, I might talk a lot of shit about your face." Sal's voice lowered, and his eyes met Larry's, comforting and eerie. He spoke softly. "But I really don't like seeing you sad. If there's anyway I can turn that frown upside down, just let me know."

Larry couldn't help the side smile that spread across his features. What did he ever do to deserve a friend as cool and awesome as Sal?

"Thank you, Sally Face. You're the truest bro." Larry was the luckiest person ever, and already he was feeling loads better.

He could see Sal blink, and then he turned his head. "Uh, yeah... thanks."

Still, Larry never claimed to be a very smart individual.