east of eden 𑁋 salvis.

XXVII

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The two quickly get bored with just walking around Hollywood, though Travis quickly found how refreshing it was to be able to walk around holding Sal's hand and not get any dirty glances from anyone. Sure, Sal looked and sounded like a girl, but it was still just nice. No one here knew Sal was trans, no one here knew Sal was actually a boy, and while it was probably suffocating for Sal to know he had no supporters here other than Travis, it was nice for Travis to be able to be himself. Even if he was the only one that knew he was being himself.

There was a bit of anxiety resting heavily in Travis as the two walked freely. He was worried that surely any moment now a police officer would come rushing out of nowhere and cuff the two, drag them off to Nockfell. Yet, surprisingly, no one even took a second glance at Sal and Travis. It seemed that no one cared. Either that, or they somehow hadn't seen the news yet. That wasn't very likely, Travis was sure. Maybe people running off to Hollywood was so common that people there just didn't care about seeing runaways. Who knows. Travis was just glad no one had caught them.

They end up at a art gallery after a bit of walking around. Somehow, it was free- Which was surprising, but not unappreciated. They needed to save their money as much as possible, and Travis was just glad in the moment that they managed to find somewhere that wasn't too crowded. After walking around for a while, Sal had started to complain about his chest hurting, so Travis had practically pushed him into the nearest building that contained seating. It was just a lucky occurrence that the place they found was also quiet. Travis remembered Sal offhandedly mentioning to him at some point that he didn't like loud places.

Travis drags Sal to the nearest bench, smiling tensly to the employee standing right by the doors, staring harshly at the two. Travis isn't sure why she's staring so hard at them, but he is sure that whatever the reason, it's probably not good. All he can focus his worry on right now, though, is Sal's hurried breathing. It's clear his condition is getting worse, and fast. Travis debates, as he watches Sal's hands shake, if they should go home now. But what good would that do? They'd just be miserable in Sal's last little bit of life.

Sal wants to live for the short amount of time he has left, and fuck, Travis isn't gonna tell him no. Though all Travis wants is to stand from this bench, walk out the glass doors of this place, and turn them in to the nearest police station so he can go home, he knows that wouldn't do anything. Sal can't get medical care for this. He can't afford it, and no one in Nockfell can give the money for it, either. No one except Kenneth Phelps, who wouldn't. Kenneth wouldn't cough up that money for anyone but himself.

Footsteps thud against the linoleum, coming closer and closer to the bench Sal and Travis are sat on. Travis tries to ignore them, hoping that whoever it is will just walk away. He knows that's not too likely, but he'd really rather focus on the dying love of his life than some random person that's probably gonna be way too far into their business.

His hopes are fizzled out when a hand lands on his shoulder. He flinches, an instinct. After being abused for so many years, after having so many stern hands on his shoulders as a warning to stop while he's ahead, as a warning for what's coming when he gets home, he can't just not flinch when a hand hits his shoulder. It doesn't move, though. This person is persistent, clearly just has something so important to say that they can't leave Travis alone while Sal's clearly not doing okay.