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the first time Sal had ever done it was when he was ten, his dad had come home, drunk again. Sal was angry, his hands balled into tight little fists, and without thinking, Sal was bashing his fists against his head.
He should have hated the headache it gave him. He didn’t. Sal had felt like he was making things right, letting his anger out. At least some of his father’s drinking had to have been his fault, after all, he was the one who wanted to pet the dog.
And so the habit had grown along with him, he’d hardly given it thought, not really. He wasn’t hurting anyone else, he wasn’t dying. It was fine.
When Sals friends had given him the nickname, when they had bullied him and laughed about him as if he wasn’t there, Sal didn’t say anything. He bit his cheek, and when he got home, he put a lighter to his skin. It wouldn’t help to lash out on his friends, this was a way to get his feelings out. It was comforting. He felt that way, even as tears pricked at his eyes from the pain.
Sometimes, it wasn’t only when he was angry, or even sad. Sometimes his feelings were so big and strong, even if they were good, that he just had to do something about it. When Sal had felt finally accepted by his gang, when he found people who stood up for him and laughed with him until his stomach hurt, it felt like too much. The love he had dreamed of, the kind he thought wasn’t real for him. It was too much. He’d taken out the box cutter from his drawer, pressed down on his skin, and swiped. As the blood seeped into the white of his skin, and then drooled down his leg, his feelings felt more manageable, if only for a moment.
now, Sal is sitting on the toilet, biting down on his arm. His jaw hurt from biting down. tears slipped out of his eyes and wet his prosthetic. Snot was caught between his skin and the hard plastic.
he wanted to die.
he wanted to die.
he needed to die.
It hurt. It all hurt too much.
The bathroom door was thrown open and slammed against the wall. heavy footsteps walked in, Sal peeked through the crack in the stall and blinked hard as he caught an eye full of blinding green shoes. It was Travis, then.
Sal was expecting Travis to take a quick piss, then leave, but he wasn’t surprised when travis shuffled into the stall next to him, threw himself onto the floor, and promptly started sobbing.
Sal sat awkwardly, snot and tears were still sticking to his skin grossly. Sal debated trying to talk to Travis, going on with his business, or cleaning up and leaving. Travis would probably murder him if he realized Sal was listening to him cry, and it felt too awkward to continue biting himself while someone else was in the same room. Sal unbuckled his prosthetic as quietly as possible and wiped it and his face with toilet paper. Sal flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall while buckling his mask back on. Travis went silent, Sal washed his hands, or started to, until Travis open his stall and glared at him, though his scowl softened slightly when he realized it was him.
“The fuck are you doing?” Travis hissed.
“ehm…washing my hands,” Sals voice was muffled slightly through the prosthetic.
He watched as the taller boys jaw worked, he could almost hear him grinding his teeth together.
Sals hands twitched as he realized Travis wasn’t going to say anything. He turned around and leaned his back against the sink, he tilted his head up to peer at the other boy. His face, which was typically dark and tanned, but somehow sickly and pale looking, was flushed red. His eyes were red and puffy, his left one much more so as it had almost always had a black eye.
“Are you okay?” He asked as softly as he could manage, while still recovering from his own meltdown.
Travis responded with a shrug and mumbled, “Don’t tell anyone,”
“I won’t, of course not.”
“Are you okay?” Travis asked back.
Sal felt a bead of sweat slide down his back,
“What do you mean?”
“You look..” Travis waved his hand around, “anxious?”
Sal picked at his cuticles,
“Yeah, I mean, y’know,” Although Sal was glad he and Travis were on better terms, he still wasn’t sure how much he should share.
Travis shifted his weight.
This was awkward.
“Listen if-“
“I heard-“
They both started talking at the same time. Sal wanted to bash his head against the wall. He gave Travis a ‘continue’ hand motion.
“I heard you sniffling. Were you crying?”
Sal was suddenly very interested in the color of the bathroom floor.
“Yeah, I was.” Sal mumbled.
There was a pause, and Sal continued was he was going to say earlier.
“We can forget this happened, we don’t have to talk about it.”
Travis seemed to consider for a moment, leaning towards the exit, before deciding to sit on the floor. Sal watched in slight amusement as Travis opened his mouth, furrowed his brow, and seemed to forget how to talk.
“I want to…Help if I can.” Travis finally managed.
Sal sat across from him on the floor, he tried not to think about how gross the ground must be. Or how their feet were slightly touching.
He watched as travis shifted uncomfortably, his face shifting to an angry expression, before he breathed and his brows unfurled again.
“Im not sure if you can help,” Sal admitted.
“when- the first time here..in the bathroom…talking made me feel better.” Travis seemed to be trying desperately to say something good. It was obvious that ever since his and Sals first meeting in the bathrooms, Travis was making an effort to be somewhat nicer, although he still slipped up occasionally.
Sal sighed softly,
“Just been feeling down, I guess. I don’t have the best coping skills, and I told Larry I would stop, I don’t want to worry him and tell him I haven’t stopped.” Sal didn’t look at Travis. He jumped a little when the other started talking
“What are the coping skills?” Travis asked innocently.
Sal laughed despite himself. Travis glared and looked as if he was about to stand up.
“No no, sorry, it’s not you, i’m just really shit about talking about my issues,”
Travis bumped his foot against Sals.
“me too.”
They looked at each other for a moment, Sal decided to throw his concerns out of the metaphorical window.
“I hurt myself,” Sal coughs, “When i’m upset.” He adds
He watches as the blonds face contorts in confusion.
“why?” He asks.
Sal tugs at his pigtails, “Hmm,” He tries to find an answer that wouldn’t take hours to explain it all. “it calms me down, makes me feel like I’m doing something about it,”
Travis nods slightly.
“I guess i’m the same way…With- hurting others,” Travis scratches his neck. “makes me feel better, like the anger comes out when I hit something.”
Sal considers this for a moment, he supposes it makes sense. They both take their feelings out physically, one on himself, and one on others. Two sides of the same coin.
They take a moment to look at each other, Sal feels strangely understood. Not something he was expecting from talking to Travis, they seemed so different, after all.