Redemption [Larvis]

☆°Part Five°☆

In the perspective of:
...LARRY JOHNSON...

I walked out of the bathroom with a smile on my face, despite the fact that I'd just had a literal fucking panic attack.

Usually when I had those, I'd drink some medication, or Mom or Sal would help calm me down. But no, instead Travis Phelps did. And it felt so good. Obviously other then the pain I was in at the time, the way his voice was the same as it used to be, the way his heartbeat felt against my hand.

I remember wondering if he was still the same Travis from back when we were close. And he is. He's still the same. The fact that all this was happening all at once was so shocking, of course. Last night when I messed around with him, this morning with Sal, and now this. So much had happened in less than 24 hours, it was crazy. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe I was still high. But how the fuck do you dream in a dream??

There wasn't much time to process it. But I didn't mind. I had to get my art equipment for my next class, before the bell rang.

I grabbed one of the many visual art diaries in my locker, trying to grab my pencil case from the bottom of the locker. A part of the fabric got snagged in a gap between the locker wall and floor. It wouldn't come out no matter how hard I tried, so I just opened the zipper as far as it could and took out a paintbrush and marker. I already had a pencil and eraser in my pocket.

When the bell rang, I was already outside of the classroom. The set-up for Art and culinary arts class is different from the other classes. There's a large chalkboard at the front of the room, two long desks that fit 13 people at each. Then a section at the back of the room with empty canvas's and other art supplies.

I met Ash in this class. Back then, I couldn't even draw two eyes that looked similar, or a hand. But she taught me how to, unavoidably making us closer with each other. Who made me want to start liking art in the first place though? That was Travis. Or at least, mostly him.

"UGH!!" Travis grumbled, his small hands were shaping fists at his sides.

"What's wrong Travvy?" Larry asked his friend.

Travis huffed and started erasing his drawing.

"I can't do it! Whenever I try drawing it, it looks bad." He answers, pouting.

Larry shuffled over next to Travis, looking at the left over fragments of his friends drawing.

"What are you trying to draw?"

"Miss Emma's Santa cup." Travis told him, pointing at their Daycare teachers cup.

It was red and white, shaped to look like Santa Claus, a present from Larry's mom Lisa.

"Do you want me to help?" Larry offered his friend, who nodded in return.

...

"There!" Larry said, finishing the drawing with one last circle.

His friend beside him had his mouth wide open in awe, his eyes sparkling in amazement.

"Wow! You're so good at drawing Larry!" He exclaimed, smiling brightly at him.

Larry watched Travis's face in pride. His heart racing a little while his face turned a dark shade of pink. He liked this feeling, of being praised by his friend.

He grinned at him, still blushing.

Travis giggled in reply to his friends now, very pink face.