|-| IDFC |-| Travis x Larry

Chapter 2: Treehouse

[Treehouse]

When I opened the door, I saw Travis leaning on the wall for support. Holy shit, what the fuck happened him?! His nose, mouth, and head were bleeding profusely. He was clutching his arm, and it looked like looked like his leg was in pain. His normally purple sweater had turned dark brown around his arm and torso. "Larry! Please help me, I-I don't know how to fix these, and I can't go home," Travis rambled. His face was red and blotchy from crying, I assume, and he looked like he was about to start crying again. It was so strange to see him like this, vulnerable. It freaked me out. The heavily religious, homophobic kid who fucking punches my friends is now bloody and bruised, begging for help. God this is weird.

"Jesus Christ, Travis! What the fuck happened?!" I yelled. I started panicking. I've only fixed a few really bad injuries before, what if I fuck this up? "Larry, is that really fucking important right now?! Please, for the love of god, help me," Travis cried. I nodded. Well shit, I guess we're doing this shit. I ran next to him and wrapped my arm around his waist and let him lean on me. This isn't awkward. Travis winced as I did this. "Oh fuck, sorry dude," I said. He simply gave me a thumbs up. I guided him to my bathroom and told him to sit on the counter. He simply stared at me for a minute.

"Larry, does it fucking look like I can get on the counter? My leg is either broken or sprained, and my arm hurts really fucking bad." Travis sneered. I couldn't help but snicker. "Sorry dude, I a bit unprepared for this." He gave me a small smile that made my chest tighten. Whatever, not in the mood to deal with this bullshit. I looked back at him. "Okay, so I'm going to pick you up and put you on the counter, so please bear with me." I explained. This. Isn't. Weird. Travis blushed lightly but nodded slowly. I put my hands on his waist, picked him up, and quickly sat him on the counter. He hissed in pain slightly, but then gave me thumbs up again.

I got on my knees and opened the the cabinet under the counter. I pulled out rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, bandages, and stood up. "Okay, dude, you may have to take of your sweater so I can take care of the shit on your waist and stomach." I said. Not weird at all. Travis stared at me blankly. "What? Larry, isn't that..gay?" I laughed. "Way to make this awkward, dude." I said. He blushed and muttered an apology. Travis reluctantly pulled of his sweater and carefully placed it on the floor. Holy shit. His torso was covered in black and blue bruises. There were small cuts all over his stomach. Oh god the blood. "Holy fuck, Travis! What the hell happened?!" He laughed bitterly. "Ran into a fucking door. Can you please just fucking help me now?" I shook my head, but finally coated a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol. He's a bad liar.

Travis hissed in pain every time the cotton ball touched a cut and scooted back. Now, normally I would never give a fuck if he was in pain, but it started to get annoying every time he would have to sit there for a minute before scooting forward again and the process starting over again. I sighed, clearly annoyed, as Travis scooted away yet again. I looked up at him. "Travis, I swear, if you don't stay the fuck still, I will throw you out the window. He scowled and crossed his arms, looking down. I smirked and shook my head. I pressed the cotton ball back to one of the cuts. Travis swore under his breath and dug his nails into my forearms, but hey, at least he isn't scooting away.

By the time I had taken care of all his cuts and wrapped them with bandages, my arms were covered in reddish, crescent marks from Travis's nails. I handed him a red Sanity Falls shirt and some worn blue jeans for him to wear. He offered to wear his blood stained sweater, but I wouldn't let him. I feel like I might gag every time I see it. Travis thanked me and changed in the bathroom. As he was changing, my mind wandered. Who did this shit to him? I mean, he's an ass, but I don't think he deserves this. Other than me and Ash, no one really even thought of hurting him. Was it his parents? I know his dad is an ass, too, and a pastor. Maybe Travis's not as bad as I think he is. Maybe. Also, why did he come to me?

Travis brought me back into reality as he slammed the bathroom door opened. I winced, worrying if there was now a hole in the damn wall. "Not a word, Grease Ball." Travis yelled. I looked over and snorted. My shirt was swallowing him. Thank god the jeans were okay. He still had the same cross around his neck that he wears every day. Travis rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Fuck off, Larry." I faked a gasp and dramatically fell on my bed.

"And here I was, thinking we were friends!" I yelled. Travis smiled and sat next to me. "Hey, Larry, thank you. I don't know where I would be right now if you didn't help me. I know I've been a dick, but I'm going to try and be better. There's a lot of shit going on right now, and I don't know what to do." Travis drew a shaky breath as he ran his fingers through his short, blonde hair. I thought for a moment. He's going threw some shit, apparently. I know how he feels. I stood up, grabbed my red jacket, and threw it at Travis. "Put that on, and come with me. I want to show you something." He looked at me curiously as he slid on the jacket.

"Are you sure this is okay? My leg isn't working too well." Travis asked as I guided him behind the apartments. "It's not that far." I'm really going to show him a place that only Sal and I know about. God, this is going to end horribly. This is something so important to me, and I'm about to show it to Travis, the schools bully. A cliche one too. Every few seconds, he would ask where we were going, and I responded every time with 'somewhere special to me.' Eventually, I stopped and Travis bumped into me. He looked up and gasped.

"We're here. This is my treehouse. I come here whenever I need to be alone or clear my head. Or whenever I need to smoke pot and my moms home." I explained. Travis looked at me, visibly shaken. The fuck is up with him? "Why are you showing me this? I'm an ass." He asked shakily. I sighed and looked down. "Well, you're an ass yes, but one who came to my room covered in bruises and blood. You're going through shit. You need help." I explained. Travis grinned. "Thanks, Larry." I nodded, grabbed his hand and helped him climb into the treehouse.

Travis stood in the treehouse and looked around, still leaning on me from trying to climb the tree. He smiled. "This place seems nice." I nodded. "My dad helped me build before he left.." my voice trailed off. Travis stared at me. Fuck. "Larry? Are you okay?" I sighed and nodded. "Sorry, I'll tell you later. Now, let's talk. What the fuck happened?" He sighed and looked down. His eyes were glazed over. I reached out and grabbed his hand. Travis looked at me, his face now blotchy from crying and scarlet from blushing, and smiled weakly. I squeezed his hand and offered him a patient smile, ignoring how warm my face felt. This is normal. Totally. He took a few deep breaths and nodded. "Okay, I think I'm good now. My dad is a pastor and apart of something awful, but I don't think I can really relive that shit right now. He's also, of course, not too fond of gays. Yeah, he thinks I'm gay, and today he said something really fucked up, like really, and I defended gay people. He beat the shit out of me. I ran the fuck away, and came here." Travis explained as tears ran down his cheeks. I blinked slowly. This doesn't make sense. This guy is the most homophobic man I've ever met, and he stood up for gay people? That's bullshit.

"Travis, why did you stand up for gay people? I thought you were homophobic." I asked, a bit of edge in my voice. I have to remember, he's a homophobic bitch. He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "No, I don't. I have to act this way, keep up my reputation or my dad will kill me. I feel like shit, and I'm a horrible person." Well shit, there goes that excuse. I squeezed his hand again as more tears fell from his eyes. He squeezed my hand and let out a loud sob. Damn, his dad is worse then him. Then it hit me. "Travis, be honest, are you gay?" I asked slowly. Travis flinched and hesitated for a full goddamn minute before nodding meekly. Holy fucking hell I was right. I awkwardly rubbed circles on his back as he cried. This is normal.

A change of subject, two hours later, and we're both laughing hysterically as I'm trying to help Travis down the steps of the tree. I'm not even sure what we were laughing at, but damn, apparently it was hilarious. At this point I'm basically fucking carrying him trying to get down. Travis snorted and I fucking lost it. I slipped on the last step and fell on the ground. Travis screamed before laughing his ass off, his head laying on my chest. I became a bit more aware of our position. His head was pressed to my chest and his arms were wrapped around my neck. This is fucking normal. Travis's dark eyes creased and twinkled as he laughed, his blonde locks falling in his eyes. Why do I notice this shit?
After the shock of falling wore off, I started laughing too. We continued like this till we heard an obnoxious click from behind us. "Shit," a familiar voice muttered. Goddamn it, Sal.