Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

3

Sal laid on Larry's bed with the top half of his body hanging limply off of the side of it. His sheets were stained with dry acrylic paint of all different colors.

He watched eagerly as Larry pounded on the buttons of his controller, shoulders tense as he stared at the illuminated screen.

Sal's pigtails dangled upside down on either side of his head. "Dude," he chuckled, voice light and airy, "You're gonna break it if you keep being so rough."

His stepbrother didn't flinch or let go of any tension. He sat cross-legged on the carpet. "I'm about to beat it!" Larry insisted, eyes wide and focused, "I've never gotten this far."

Sal flipped over onto his stomach in one motion, letting out a grunt in the process. The bed squeaked under him. He used his arms to push his upper body up so that he could see the game properly, "Oh damn," He remarked quietly, "you're right. This is level 46, right?"

Larry didn't answer. Sal stared at the back of his head as he mashed the buttons loudly. His dark hair was down and fell somewhere around his waist. Sal fought the urge to reach out and braid it. Instead, he looked up at the screen and sat up straight.

The two of them stared with wide eyes at the screen. It was the only light source in Larry's dark bedroom and it lit up both of their faces.

Sal's chest had something warm glowing in it. This was about as brotherly as you could get. He reached out for a chip bag rolled on the floor and flinched slightly as Larry screamed out with joy.

"I did it!" He exclaimed, grinning wide, "Jesus fuck, finally!"

Lisa shouted out a half-hearted complaint about the volume from upstairs and Sal laughed.

"Nice!" He slid down from the bed and onto to floor next to Larry. He pulled his knees tightly to his chest. "New high score!"

Larry's body finally relaxed and he slumped over into his usual slouched posture, letting out a breath. The controller, hot and slightly moist with Larry's sweat laid in his limp hands. "About time," he grumbled, "I've been trying to beat that Mario level for days."

Sal smiled under his prosthetic and rested his chin down on his arm. Friday was his favorite day. Fridays meant staying up all night with Larry. They meant playing video games together until his eyes burned from the light of the screen. Friday nights were just for him and his brother.

Alternatively, Travis usually spent his Friday nights alone. Well, he'd say usually, but what he meant was always.

His father was busy with church stuff all weekend, starting on Friday nights. Meetings of some sort.

Travis wasn't allowed to get involved. It was, as his dad put it, grown-up stuff. He was seventeen, but apparently, he wasn't allowed to participate in those sorts of church activities until he was a legal adult, as if the few extra months would make a significant difference in his maturity.

He hated Friday nights, and surprisingly, it wasn't because of his ban from those secret church meetings. It wasn't because he was lonely either.

The real dilemma was that Travis hated the thought that he had nothing to worry about other than his internal turmoil regarding his sexuality. At least, when his dad was home, he could spend time worrying about how his father perceived him, or about his report card, or about what he was going to say when his dad asked him how his day was.

   But when he was alone, there was nothing to worry about other than the things he could, under no circumstances, tell his dad.

  Secret, personal things, such as his painful crush on that blue-haired rock kid with the prosthetic face. Things like his lack of faith in the church.