Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

28

    It was the sixth of April. Travis's eighteenth birthday fell on a Friday, which was largely unfortunate, given his current living situation.

   Kenneth wouldn't be home tonight; that much was a given with his increasing number of midnight church meetings, but he wouldn't be leaving nearly as early as he did on Saturdays and Sundays.

Sal insisted on buying tickets for Saturday instead out of hope that it would be a safer situation, but Travis was immeasurably stubborn about Friday and so hopelessly eager that he unintentionally shut down all of Sal's attempts at convincing him otherwise.

It was Travis's birthday after all. If it was that important to him that they went on Friday, Sal would honor that.

In order to get to the music venue in time, Travis had to leave the house at the same time as his father, which meant he'd have to use the window.

It was a risky endeavor, sneaking out onto the roof, crouched down, and watching Kenneth's yellow headlights illuminate the street in front of their little, beige home.

Sal's porcelain face turned to him in the moonlight. He was so beautiful, kneeling on the roof paneling, leaned so close to Travis's face that he could smell the cedar shampoo in his hair, which was down, for once, the pieces unrestrained by his prosthetic blowing loosely around his head.

"You know," Sal said cheekily, his voice muffled and soft, his prosthetic practically glowing white in the dark, "You do look older already, like a legal adult."

Travis had initially been embarrassed to learn that Sal was, in fact, just over three months his senior.

   Sally Face had been eighteen for some time now, since the end of December, and Travis liked to think that his older age was the cause for his advanced emotional intelligence.

   Secretly, he knew that Sal was simply better at that sort of thing because of who he was, not because of his age, but Travis couldn't help but hope that he might catch up at some point.

"Your-" he stammered awkwardly, his eyes fixated on Sal's full, wavy hair, wondering if it was as soft as it looked but too timid to reach out and touch it, "Your hair looks good- Pretty."

Sal perked up, chuckling happily as he reached his hand up to wrap one of the loose curls around his index finger, "Oh, thanks, Trav!" he said, "I blow-dried it!"

Travis smiled wryly, imagining a maskless Sal in the solitude of his bathroom, tipping his head upside-down and blowing air up into his thick head of blue hair.

"You-" Sal's eyes softened, the moonlight shining in his irises. Travis could tell he was smiling, "I missed you, you know?" It was more of a statement than it was a true question, calm and monotonous.

The blonde blinked, "You saw me earlier today."

"In the hallway between first and second period," he didn't bother to add.

Sal's shoulders rose and fell, "I know," he said, shuffling over to the edge of the roof, "but I wish I could see you all the time."

Travis watched as he leaped down from the roof to the top of the closed garbage can, to the grass. His face was hot and tingling, and out of fear that it would make him overheat, he didn't stop to consider whether or not Sal actually meant what he was saying.

With a small grunt, he followed Sal down into the grass, making sure to close his bedroom window behind him.

"I've actually, um, wanted to do this for a really long time," he said as they started down the old, faded sidewalk, towards the bus stop at the end of the block.