If I Could Tell Him (Sal x Travis Fanfiction)

Ugly Wretched Thing

Sal
"Just good?" Larry says, slowly painting a line of lavender on his newest piece. It's looking like a mess of cool colors, but he had just started an hour ago.

"Yeah, it was good," I reply from the couch. "We just studied up in his room and then I met his parents."

Larry looks over his shoulder, strands of his brown hair framing a toothy grin. "Really? How were his folks?"

"His mom was nice," I say, vividly remembering the pleasant interaction I had with Adeline. "Real nice. And pretty. Her name's Adeline."

Looking back on it now, I realize a lot of quirks about her that remind me of Travis, like her slim hands and button nose, and the way her eyes move when she smiles. It's a little sad to think that I won't see her again for quite some time.

"And his pops?"

The thought of the wrinkly faced Mr. Phelps nearly makes me cringe; the look in his eyes, the way he spoke... it sends an icky shiver down my spine.

"Uh..."

If anything, he and his wife are complete opposites. I have no idea how they could stand each other.

"I didn't really get to talk to him much," I say slowly.

Larry slides off the stool, throwing his head back and pushing loose waves of his greasy hair out of his face.

"I dunno, from what I've heard he sounds like a fucking shithead."

I let out an involuntary snort. "Oh my god, dude, he is the literal epitome of a fucking shithead."

There's the sudden stench of weed and laundry detergent as Lar hops next to me onto the couch. It's not a pleasant smell, having both of them just slap you in the face like that.

"Anyway," I go on, instinctively grabbing one of my pigtails and twirling it between my fingers. "I felt bad leaving Trav alone with his dad. He was so fucking uncomfortable to be around, dude. I nearly imploded."

"Oh shit, man, that sounds awful," Larry says. His pitying look fades back into a devilish grin. "To me it kinda sounds like he's due for some karma."

"Karma?" I chuckle a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing," he sighs, leaning back into the arm of the couch. "Hey, are ya thinking of staying the night here? I think my ma's gonna be out late tonight if you wanna play video games at an annoyingly high volume."

Shrugging off the whole karma thing, I give him a hidden smile. "Nah, not tonight, Lar. Not really feeling up to it. Sorry."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He sits up and gets close to my face, narrowing his eyes. "You sure?"

I push him away, chuckling. "Dude, back off. I'm fine, seriously. And you smell."

"Alright, Sally Face. Just call me if you need someone to cuddle with."

I pull myself up from the couch, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. "Okay. You'll be the first to know."

I leave the basement with the sounds of a clunking washing machine playing me out. Even as the doors close, my chest feels funny, my senses heightened like something bad is going to happen.

But nothing does as the elevator beeps once more and welcomes me to my floor.

Ugly, wretched thing.

I slowly turn my head to look down the empty halls of floor four, but no one is there. Just the slight smell of mold and rain.

I swear I heard... Mr. Phelps.

I know I wasn't even around the prick for a long amount of time, but even now it feels like he has some sort of... power over me. It's stupid.

Walking through the halls of Addison, I can still feel his stern eyes digging holes in the back of my head. This buzzing sense of dread in the middle of my chest.

While jiggling the apartment key in the door knob, I slowly scroll through the numbers on my phone, searching for a specific one.