Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

1

   Well, that was fucking embarrassing.

   Travis's heinous, neon green shoes squeaked against the filthy linoleum floor of the boys' bathroom as he shuffled towards the sink. He huffed and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought that Sal had just shown up and comforted him through the toilet stall like a mother would a child.

   He had been caught red-handed. Maybe, his "quiet" sobbing into his palm was too loud. Maybe, Sal just happened to be walking in when he heard him in the stall.

   Either way, The situation was utterly humiliating.

The water from the faucet was cold, and while Travis would typically prefer warm water on most occasions, he found that the coolness was a nice contrast to how hot his face was burning.

He half-heartedly splashed some water on his skin and then angled his head up to stare at himself in the mirror.

  Travis met his own eyes in the reflection, and for a moment, he faintly heard Sal's gentle voice in the air of his thoughts.

  "I think under all of that anger, there's a good dude who's afraid to be himself."

   He could still imagine that familiar head of blue hair leaning against the other side of the stall door. Travis could still hear the tenderness of his words, the intentions behind them.

   He shivered. Sal Fisher couldn't have been more wrong.

   Travis tore his eyes away from his reflection and directed his gaze down at something nestled at the crease between the garbage can and the tile floor.

   There it was, in all of its glory; his sad, little, crumpled note, nearly forgotten on the ground.

   Travis stared at it tentatively from across the room, something uncertain brimming in his eyes. Hell, what was the point of picking it back up anyway?

  He sighed and shut off the sink, shaking the water off of his hands haphazardly.

   Sal Fisher probably read that stupid note. He probably read it and knew that Travis was the one that wrote it.

   He felt his chest tighten with anxiety. Sal probably knew that the letter was meant for him.

    Travis's head spun as he remembered the things he'd scribbled there on the sheet torn from his algebra notebook.

  "I'm crazy about you!"

   "But I know these feelings I have are wrong. It's not the way a boy should feel."

   Shame bubbled up through his chest and into his throat. Sal wouldn't tell anyone, would he?

   Maybe he would.

   He let out a breath and pulled his eyes away from the note and towards the bathroom door. Muffled sounds of laughing, chatting students rang through the wood, and Travis twisted the toe of his shoe against the tile.

   Well, he couldn't stay in here forever.

He glanced back at his reflection in the mirror. The skin around his right eye was purple, blue, and swollen, throbbing in pain.

Travis's left eye didn't look so hot either, puffy and pink from crying.

There was nothing he could do about it now.

Travis swung open the bathroom door, actively attempting not to do so in a way that made him look shy or hesitant, and joined the masses of kids crowding the hallway. The smartest thing to do was to go about his day and pretend that the Sally Face situation never happened.