Fire Breather || Salarry

5 • blah blah blah

An: hahaha yes I'm back, no I will not impulsively unpublish this fic again,,, unless?? Also I wrote this in a notebook first and then typed it on my phone so I'm sorry if it's ass.
If you guys like my writing go check Rorschach Sheets on AO3 it's another salarry fic but this time it's actually finished Lmao

The acoustics in the treehouse weren't exactly better than the ones in his room. Larry would argue that the wooden walls and empty window panes made his guitar sound worse. Made the notes sound distant and wrong even though he made sure his instrument was tuned three time before actually playing his first chord. He supposed it was a metaphor for something or other.

It was still quite early in the morning. The sun has just risen, and there was a chilly bite in the air. Larry plucked out the notes of an old song as he remembered why he was out there in the first place.

Sal has come down to his apartment with an armful of DVDs asking if they could have a movie night. He knew that Larry was having a rough time. He didn't know why, but it was almost like it didn't matter. He'd built a fort using blankets over Larry's bed, and Larry's mom helped them move the DVD player into his room. It was all so nostalgic and grand that Larry was actually able to forget about all his problems for just a little while. Sal had brought popcorn and all of his favorite movies. From Coraline to Kill Bill to Pink Floyd's The Wall. They made sure to sneak out after his mom went to sleep to speak up a joint. No sense in watching these movies completely sober.

He'd fallen asleep maybe an hour after Sal has. At first, he hadn't realized the movie was over, and he watched the main-menu screen loop at least a dozen of times before he turned over to inform Sal only to find him snoozing, his mask placed gently by his head.

And Larry, though he'd never admit it, stayed there, looking at Sal. It wasn't like he was staring. He simply got lost in thought looking at Sal's face, his scars, his eyelashes, the way his hair falls agains his cheek. And he doesn't remember what he was thinking about. But he must have fallen asleep looking at Sal because he woke up with a strange feeling in his chest. A bizarre thing that he couldn't work out.

A quick glance told him it was nearly five thirty in the morning and that Sal was still asleep beside him. He had the strangest urge to lay back down and repeat exactly what he did the night before: look at Sally Face until all of his thoughts ceased to matter. And he could get lost again.

No. What was wrong with him? He couldn't stay here. He had to grab a smoke or something. He needed to be alone. Yeah. Alone. He grabbed the Camels and then his guitar, and he headed for his treehouse.

Now, he watches the sun rise, and he knows Sal will be loosing for him soon. And Larry hates to admit it, but he's out of cigarettes and no close to understanding what this feeling is in his chest.

Sal approaches the treehouse a couple hours later, still in his pajamas and a blanket wrapped around hind he climbs up the ladder slowly as Larry continues to pluck out random chords from his guitar. He stops when Sal's head pokes up from the floor. He's got his mask back on, and Larry's heart is hammering in his chest.

"That was a nice song," Sal comments before scurrying the rest of the way into the treehouse. "Did you just come up with that?"

Larry shrugs half-heartedly as he looks down at his calloused fingers. "Just fucking around, I guess." He sniffles. "Trying to interpret my thoughts through music."

"Oh," Sal replies simply. "It sounded so sad." He didn't say it as accusingly as it sounded. More defeated than anything.

"That's not your fault, Sal," Larry tried to reconcile, but he didn't need to see Sal's face to know that he was hurt. And in such few words, Larry had upset him. Even though Sal had tried so hard to make Larry feel better, he'd just admitted to still being... not happy. Not right. Guilt was a feeling he was more familiar with. As well as a feeling that he couldn't bear. "Sally, it's not like that at all. I'm just not feeling like myself lately. I'm sure I'll get over it."

Sal doesn't say anything. He just crawls over to Larry's side, wraps his arms around his torso. He rests his head in the crook of his neck and squeezes him.

In a voice so small, Larry can almost convince himself he imagined it, Sal whispers, "You know I'd do anything for you."