If a flap of a butterfly's wings causes a hurricane,,,
What does a hurricane do?
Sal Fisher, a boy diagnosed with severe depression who listens to metal. Most people think he might have gotten his life together.
Travis Phelps, got diagnosed with dep...
A/N: This chapter is set a few days after sal gets his tattoo
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That's his tattoo btw :)
{3rd Pov}
Larry had returned to nockfell the day after he and Sal hung out. But all he had done before he left was freak out. He annoyed Sal for hours, talking about how Travis was the tattoo guy and how he barely even noticed.
Sal could care less if the guy was Travis. He probably couldn't be trusted anyways. Phelps most likely didn't have a personality change, just because you have a few piercings and a cool look doesn't make you a good person.
But for some reason...
{Sal Pov}
I lie down on my back on my bed. I held my phone up, staring at it. I had many things on my mind, all annoying.
I had Travis' number.
I don't give two shits about the guy, yet I have an urge to call him.
He was a horrible person. No, he is a horrible person. After everything that he had done to me I shouldn't even have one single thought about him.
But when I was getting my tattoo he just acted so different, he had a calming aura. He didn't just act different, he looked different. But looks don't mean anything, right?
I didn't even start to feel that way until I realized who he was. He was Travis Phelps.
And he obviously knew it was me so he could have easily been putting on an act. He could be planning to do something.
But for some reason, I feel drawn to him. Something about him is driving me crazy. The tattoo he gave me drove me crazy... I didn't know he could be that talented...
Normally I wouldn't be able to work up enough motivation to go through with the aftercare but something about him being the one to explain it all to me made me want to do it. I haven't gone a day without doing it.
I glanced over to my tattoo. Looking back at my phone, I turned over onto my stomach. I turned it on, unlocking it.
I reached over to my dresser, grabbing the paper that had been given to me. I copied the number down and added him as a contact.
I paused, unsure of what to do. I had already put his number in.. so all that was left was to just call him.
But what if he's busy...
I groaned, going to my messages. If I couldn't call him, I would have to text him. It's not like I could wait for him to text me first, I never even gave him my number.
I started typing. For some reason I was nervous, but I wouldn't let that stop me now. Maybe just a quick "hello" would be a great start.
