Travis POV:
The selcouth feeling of Sal's bedroom overwhelmed Travis, it felt so strange, so odd, so...different; but it invited Travis in nonetheless. He intently watched Sal pick up the tv remote and type in different channels, landing on a crime channel.
Travis stayed silent as Sal rambled, listening unintently. He was too exhausted to pay attention to anything, slowly becoming drowsier by the second.
Eventually Travis began to yawn, immediately following that by nearly yelping in pain. And I'm an attempt to recover from that, he placed a hand on his chest, also immediately regretting that.
"Mother of fucking Christ—" Travis mumbled as Sal simply watched the scene play out in front of him, concern washing over his face. "Dude, you are not okay. Like...at all."
"I'm aware, dipshit.—" Travis hissed, not sure how to make the stinging pain stop. "Man—I hate this shit. I'm just constantly fucking hurting." Travis complained, sitting up straight in an effort to stop the pain.
"If you let me actually clean your wounds it might help."
"I'm not taking off my shirt."
"It's not gay if you could die."
"There's no way your getting me to-"
"50 bucks."
"I—no way."
"60."
"Still no, I'm not gonna be a faggot for money."
"80."
"Sal, you don't even have that much money."
"You don't know that."
"I know a 15 year old does not have access to that much money."
"I have my ways."
Travis raised an eyebrow, contemplating in thought.
"Do my algebra and geometry homework and it's a deal."
"Yes! Fucking finally. You could've gotten syphilis or something."
"Syphilis is an std, dumbass."
"With injuries like yours, you never know."
"I can't get an std from injuries by my dad beating the ever living shit out of me."
"Once again, you never knowww." Sal did jazz hands as he walked towards his bathroom, grabbing medical supplies. They were outdated, and had the small chance of being expired, but it was better than nothing.
Sal sat back down on the bed, positioning himself to be infront of Travis, laying out all the utensils.
"Sal I'm scared."
"How come?"
"I dunno, I just..I'm embarrassed. And scared. No one's ever really done this for me before."
"Travis, if you're scared of me judging you, don't worry. I'm the least judgmental person to ever walk the planet—for example, my prosthetic."
Travis nodded, and went silent for a moment. "But, what if you're grossed out?" His eyes look away, an noticeable scowl on his face.
"I could never be grossed out by you." Sal said, patting his shoulder. "You don't know that." Travis mumbled, adjusting his sitting position on the bed. "I'm sure."
Travis felt his hands shake and his heart race as he looked at Sal, seeing his eyes crinkle—a tell-tale sign that he was smiling. Though it only made Travis frown further.
"Do you need me to look away?" Sal asked.
"Yeah." Travis replied, waiting for Sal to turn his head. And once he did, he quickly pulled the sweater off, immediately embarrassed.
"This is so embarrassing." Travis sneered as he folded the sweater and sat it in his lap.
Detailed stuff abt abuse starts now.
Sal turned to face Travis now and stared at what he had to work with, instantly filled with shock. "Travis he's broken your ribs, like..actually broke your ribs." Sal said, pointing to each bruise.
There were dents and divots, near holes poked into his skin all around his waist. They were purple and blue, laced around with yellow and brown. Some were so bruised they had scabs from bleeding, and some were so swollen they looked like they could pop.
Sal looked closer into the damage and looked at his collarbones, seeing the imprint of Kenneth's boot, each grove messily printed onto his chest. He looked further and saw scabs traced around the imprint, too. Like the force of the boot had been so intense it cut into his skin.
Detailed stuff is over.
"I'm aware they're broken, I'm used to it." Travis mumbled, looking away. "I don't like you staring at me, I feel exposed." Travis said, picking at his jorts, pulling back the fabric and tearing holes into the cloth.
"I'm gonna have to stare, Travis. But I'll be quick." Sal reassured Travis as he grabbed a clean cloth and hydrogen peroxide, disinfecting each wound.
Travis flinched multiple times when it came touching his ribs and waist, freaking out so much from the pain he almost made Sal stop, but he knew it was good for him.
Sal finally finished the worst part and moved on to cleaning Travis' collarbone and chest wound.
"I'm sorry your dad does these things to you. If I could I'd kidnap you and keep you all to my self."
"That's a weird thing to admit, Sal."
"I'm aware."
"And you're fine with admitting that?" Travis asked, raising an eyebrow—a barely noticeable smile on his face.
"Yep." Sal laughed beneath his prosthetic as he dabbed the rag on the scabs, causing Travis to hiss in pain.
"I think...I think he cracked my collarbone, too."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"I think I'm going to skip school tomorrow, maybe."
"That'll be fine." Sal replied, opening a bottle of ointment and applying some of it to Travis' waist.
"Will you stay with me?"
"Probably, I assume Larry's still pissed off at me."
"Why didn't you side with Larry?"
"Because you're my friend, too. And I'm not one for backstabbing."
"Didn't you back stab Larry, though? For hanging out with me, I mean."
"It's not a law that I can't talk to you, Larry holds some grudges because you've knocked me out a few times, but who cares? I don't."
"I do." Travis said as Sal rubbed ointment onto the boot-imprint on Travis' chest.
"Well, don't. I'm not mad anymore."
"I am."
"At who?" Sal raised an eyebrow.
"Myself."
"How come?"
"Because I hurt you. You didn't deserve that, and look at you now. I beat the tar out of you and the one time I'm hurt you help me."
"It's called forgiveness."
"I don't forgive easily." Travis mumbled, looking away.
"I can tell."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I can see that you feel guilty, and you don't know how to let go of that. You need to, though. You'll never be happy if you don't."
"I don't think I'll ever be happy, Sal."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't deserve happiness, according to literally every person in my entire life."
Sal paused for a moment, leaning towards Travis and placing a hand on his cheek. It nearly drove Travis mad, but he held his composure.
"Travis, you deserve as much happiness as any other dumb fucker in this entire world. You are a great person with a shitty dad and anger issues. Yes, you fucked up. But I forgive you, and you need to forgive yourself."
Travis swallowed hard, a pit forming in his stomach. "...Okay."
Sal leaned away and relief washed over Travis, slight nausea hitting him from the rapid change.
"You should be good to go now, all you need to do is rest. Tomorrow we'll skip and just have a chill day, We'll order fast-food or something."
"Actually, can I cook tomorrow? I have money to pay for ingredients..somewhere."
"Sure, I don't mind. Just as long as you don't burn down the house."
"Nah, I'm a pretty good chef."
A/N: I'm sorry I know this is mostly a filler chapter I'm sorry 😭 at least it's fluff😔😔