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Sal didn't mean to,
Honest to god, He didn't mean to.
Sal was in a good mood that day, and he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat, a rare but not uninvited occurrence in his unnatural day-to-day life.
He had gotten up, dressed himself in his usual black long-sleeve T-shirt and maroon jeans, and put his glass eyeball in when the walkie-talkie he had (Courtesy of Larry, of course.) had crackled with noise not too dissimilar to that of a trashy TV.
“Sally-Face!”
Sal grinned and responded instinctually, gripping the walkie-talkie button, “Larry-Face!”
The walkie-talkie crackled again, and the familiar but static-like voice came through.”Dude, my Mom is going to be out like all day. She left me with a few bucks for pizza; you wanna come down and hang?”
“For sure, dude. I’ll be down in 5.” Sal responded; this day seemed to be getting even better for him. As long as there were no red-eyed demons, bloody ghosts or otherwise disturbing events today, it seemed like everything could be relatively normal for him, for once.
If he was lucky, he’d only have one or two ‘glitches,’ as he called it. (Where he’d completely white out for a minute, hear a muffled and rattled voice, and then come back to reality again. Usually, it had side effects, like a stronger intuition, as Todd called it.)
Right, I’d better start getting ready; I said I’d be down in 5.
He reached for his mask, not bothering to put his hair into pigtails today. Sal didn't usually go for the hair-down route, but he didn't think he’d really have time to do that now, even though Larry would probably be perfectly fine with him being, like, 8 minutes instead of 5.
He clipped on his mask, shuffling it to get the field of vision to his liking while also reaching to grab his shoes. The dusty-blue off-brand Converse were dirty and old, but they still fit like a glove.
Slipping on his shoes and tying them into neat little bows, and headed for the front door, nearly tripping on Gizmo on the way out, but the large ginger cat only meowed indignantly.
“Sorry, Gizmo. I’ll give you extra treats when I come back, promise.” Sal said while pushing the door open.
Gizmo only meowed in acceptance, moving onto the couch when he closed the door and began descending the hallway.
Sal reached into his pocket, pulling out the keycard- the one to get into the basement, where Larry’s apartment was.
The elevator opened less than a minute after he pressed the button, which was a common experience. The elevator was, more often than not, barely in use. Most of the tenants of the Addison Apartments stayed inside their apartments most of the time.
Slipping the card into the slot provided, it dinged, and a green light flickered. It only worked occasionally, but the apartments couldn't even afford to renovate the 5th floor, let alone fix an elevator, and nobody had the heart to bring it up to Terrance; he had enough on his plate.
Sal tapped his foot, waiting for the elevator to reach its destination; if he were going to be honest, the elevator was kind of.. Dindgy? The thing had yet to be replaced since the first version of the standard elevator came out, and he would not be surprised if it was the first; the way it creaked and occasionally rocked freaked him out.
Eventually, he reached his destination, the off-white walls a bit more yellow around the edges and ceiling, probably residue from before the ‘No Smoking’ societal standard had imposed itself in most buildings. (one thing he was glad was a standard in society: when you have half a nose, smoke has a way of becoming more suffocating.)
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he walked without thinking too hard about where the door was. Larry’s apartment was like his second apartment at this point. He’d go over whenever he could; Larry’s room was larger, and he had a radio to play their favorite bands on. All he had was a few posters (gifted by Larry in the first place. He said something about getting extras when they first came out, for whatever reason.)
Larry had only been to his apartment a handful of times once he really thought about it. Neither of them found it strange, though. Dad had always been more sensitive to their shared music taste, and it always seemed to get knocks on his door, begging Sal to turn it down so he could work on some crucial deadline at his job.
In fact, he doesn't think that Larry has ever actually met his Dad. Whenever Larry had come over, his dad had been either out working or just working on the computer. They’d never actually had a conversation. The most they’d ever said to each other was a simple ‘Hey, Mr.Fisher, ’ and usually his dad would respond with a simple ‘Hey.’
Sometimes, he wishes his dad was more like Larry’s mom, Lisa. She always made time for him, even with how busy she was.
Oh.
He was already standing in front of Larry’s apartment- how long had he been standing there? Was he that deep in thought? He hoped he wasn't too late.
Sal opened the door. (It never did have a lock on it, considering nobody ever came down here.) He could already hear the muted blasting of one of their favorite Sanity Falls songs. It was the first one Larry had played when they had first met and remained Sal’s favorite, even if it was just for sentimental reasons.
He sped-walked down the hallway. The intro to the song was long enough they could go to the treehouse and back before the music started beyond just the instruments.
Sal knocked, as he always did. No matter how close he and Larry may be, he could never swing open the door like nothing else in the world mattered.
Like always, Larry shouted, probably a bit louder than he should, “Come in, Dude!”
Sal pushed the door open, and Larry got up to greet him.
“Man, I don't know why you knock every time; you can always just come in, you know,” Larry said, but Sal only shook his head.
“No way, Larry. I always gotta knock. I don't want to walk in on anybody doing anything. I don't think I’d like it if somebody walked in while I was putting on my mask or something.”
Larry made an ‘Ooh…’ sound in realization. “I guess that makes sense; it's kinda like changing. It’d be real awkward if somebody just came in while you were like- putting your pants on.”
“Exactly!” Sal exclaimed; somebody had finally understood what he meant. None of his other ‘friends’ from ‘Jersy had ever quite gotten what he meant by that.
Larry was unlike any of his old friends. He actually cared about what he liked. Most of his old ‘friends,’ if he could even call them that, had never cared about his interests. They mostly just made friends with him to earn ‘I made friends with the disabled kid with none!’ social points.
“Oh fuck, dude, it is getting to my favorite part of the song!” Larry exclaimed, shaking Sal from his life-contemplating thoughts.
“Shit, Larry, this is the best part.” Sal was getting excited; he was listening to his favorite song with his best friend on a good day. Honestly, he couldn't have asked for more.
Like most ‘metal-heads,’ as Larry called it, he began head-banging. It's not something he understood too much, but it almost felt like it added more hype to the song, so Sal followed suit.
He must’ve been going a bit too fast- or maybe he hadn't fully buckled his mask on his way out the door, but his mask flew straight off his face.
Even worse, it hit Larry directly in the nose, almost toppling him back onto the beanbag behind him.
“Oh- shit!” Larry shouted, gripping at his nose- which had very obviously started bleeding.
Sal gasped, Oh Fuck. he quickly went to Larry’s side (almost tripping over himself in the process.)
“Dude- fuck. Fuck- I’m so sorry!” He scrambled to find the words while looking for something to stop the bleeding. Surely he had a box of tissues around his room somewhere?
He rummaged and found a box of toppled-over tissues next to his dresser. There were only a few left, but it would be enough to stop the bleeding. But when he turned to Larry, he was just staring; he looked shocked.
“Wh-” Sal was about to ask why he looked so shell-shocked when he looked at Larry’s hands, his mask being held meekly by his left hand while his right cradled his nose.
“Oh. Oh- fuck. I- ’m.”
He wasn't wearing his mask. Larry had seen everything.
And he didn't look away.
“Shit, man. I shouldn't stare. My bad,” Larry caught on, but Sal barely heard him over the ringing in his ears. Larry had seen his face- his mangled- ugly, ugly face.
He nearly fell backward but was caught by the closed door. Bringing a shaky hand to his face, he tried to cover himself to the best of his ability, but he knew it was futile. Larry had seen how bad it was.
He was so wrapped up in his own head he didn’t even notice how Larry had knelt down in front of him until he put a hand on his shoulder- it was so secure. How did he seem so sure of himself? Didn't he want to run?
“I- i-.” He tried to speak, but his words were only cut off with a sob- he didn't even notice he was crying. Tear droplets rolled down his cheeks and in between his fingers.
“Hey dude- it’s okay, man. It barely even hurt.” Larry said. He sounded so… Genuine. Sal didn't understand. Why wasn't he upset? He couldn't wrap his head around the idea.
He sniffled, trying to choke out the words to all his questions at once, but all he could get out was a measly, broken, “Wh- Why?”
He felt so pathetic. He couldn’t handle being seen without his mask, but he could see dead bodies with no problem. It was so fucking stupid. He didn't understand just why he had to be this way.
A light tug and a warm embrace pulled him out of the rabbit hole of his thoughts.
Larry had pulled him into a tight hug. He resisted the urge to push away and curl into himself and eventually found himself... Comforted by the embrace.
Sal returned the hug as tightly as physically possible, melting into his best friend’s- no. Brother’s arms and let himself sob. It was like he had broken a dam of tears that had been cultivating ever since the day he woke up in that hospital bed.
Larry only pulled him closer, and he welcomed it.
Neither one of them is sure how long they sat there until he had run out of tears and energy. Sinking into Larry, his sobs reduced into sniffles.
Sal broke the heavy silence that had fallen upon them. ”I’m sorry.”
Larry looked just as shocked as when he had been slammed in the face with Sal’s flying mask. “Dude, you have nothing to be sorry about! I shouldn't have stared at you. It was rude.”
Sal looked up at Larry. It was slightly uncomfortable to crane his neck up that way, but the idea of moving seemed much less appealing. “No. It's fine. I’m glad you stared.”
“You’re glad?” Larry was so confused. If he wasn't as upset as he was, he probably would’ve laughed at the look on his face.
“Everybody else looks away. Like they’re pretending not to be freaked out.” Sal whispered. Shouldn't this be sort of obvious? It’s common sense that people would freak out and look away.
“Oh,” Larry whispered.
“..Do you want to move to the beanbag? It’s comfier than the floor.” Larry offered after a moment, and Sal accepted with a tiny nod.
The two shimmied over; it was uncomfortable, but neither wanted to let go of the other, and they eventually made it over.
“Thanks,” Sal murmured. It was barely loud enough to hear, and his voice was hoarse from sobbing, but it got the point across.
“Yeah, no problem, dude,” Larry said, pulling his little brother closer.
They realized, a few hours later, when both of them had woken up, they never did order the pizza they were given money for, and they laughed about it.
It was the first time Larry had ever seen Sally-Face grin.