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Sal’s hands were cold. Travis had no idea how or why, but Sal’s hands were always freezing . “Maybe your hands are just warm,” Sal had argued the first time, and he’d proceeded to encase Travis’ hands in his own and mumble, “Oh, wow, they are warm…,” Which had Travis blushing furiously.
This odd happenstance had led to a strange sort of unspoken language, a secret intimacy, between the two boys. Whenever Travis thought Sal might be cold, he would take one of Sal’s hands in his own to warm him up. Stealing your cold , he called it.
As hard as they tried, they couldn’t hide it from Sal’s friends, who thought it was undeniably cute. They always joked about how they were perfect for each other, how balanced they were, opposites attract , and anything else of the like to embarrass the two.
Of course, no amount of fluttery hearts and fun with friends would ever stop what faced Travis the second he stepped back into the Phelps household.
Sal knew. All their friends knew. They tried their best to soften the blows long after they’d happened, every time Travis came into school with fresh bruises and bandaids. Travis had no reasons to give them on how it just kept getting worse . Every day, he was incapacitated for a little bit longer. Somehow, the new wounds would always seem fresher. Like they were meant to last.
Travis hated when they fussed over him, because for so long he was left to deal with it on his own, and the new help was extremely disorienting. He always tried his best to downplay it, that his father’s anger would ebb and flow, but internally he had a sneaking suspicion that it got worse because he was getting older and stronger, so he could take more (though years of constant physical abuse severely inhibits a body’s ability to get “stronger”). Maybe his dad was afraid of Travis gaining the ability to make choices of his own free will.
Travis went into survival mode. What else could he do when faced with such an awful situation? He didn’t stop feeling per se, but it was like the real him as locked behind a screen while his exterior was on autopilot. His brain was fuzzy, which should have been concerning, but it made his pain hurt a little bit less.
“Sal, are you cold?” He asked through his muffled ears. He could hear fine, even normally, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his ears were clogged or refusing to pop.
“You always think I’m cold, Trav.” Sal’s scratchy voice responded. Travis nodded, staring just under one of the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria. Without saying a word, he grabbed Sal’s hand and was surprised to feel him flinch away like he’d been burned, or maybe shocked.
“Sal?”
“Sorry! Just, uh, warm. Very warm. Like usual.”
“Yeah, I’m always warm.”
“Yeah.”
“...Yeah?” Travis grabbed Sal’s hand again, genuinely confused about what was going on. He was always warm, that was his thing. Nothing had changed.
---
“Trav, I’m cold.” Was the first thing Travis heard before his boyfriend's limbs were wrapping around him and he felt his - warm? - torso against his back.
“You don’t feel very cold to me,” Travis complained, almost daring to pry Sal off of him just to be petty. It felt good, though.
“Well, I’m cold, and you have to deal.” There was a pause, like Sal was deciding what to say next. “Are you doing alright?” Soft.
Alarm bells blared in Travis’ head. Where did that come from? Should he tell Sal that he was barely coping with going home every day? That he was lying even more than usual about the severity of his injuries? That sometimes he would plead to God to just let him go?
Perhaps sensing Travis’ inner turmoil (could Sal feel the way his heart was hammering?), Sal followed up with, “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.” His thumb stroked along the top of Travis’ hand, agonizingly slowly.
Travis wanted to burrow into Sal. He was so…warm. Hot. Literally temperature-wise hot. Like a weighted blanket cultivated specifically for Travis, who gently reached up to tug on one of Sal’s ponytails. “Sally Face?”
“Yeah, Trav?”
“Are you…” Psychic? Willing to help me? To hear me out? Even though I know you are, I still don’t want to tell you anything . “Still cold?”
“No, but I’m staying here anyway.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Good.”
---
“Wh- Sal, I’m driving!”
“My hands are cold!”
“They’re always fucking cold- bitch, I’m going to crash this car and lose my license! I’ve only had it for so long!”
“Can’t you drive with one hand? You seem...distracted, okay?.”
“What- I’m not distracted , Sal. I’m focused. Incredibly, utterly focused on the highway ahead of me. I can hold your hand after our exit to get back into Nockfell.”
“Can we go to a 7-11?”
“ We just fucking passed one .”
“Oh.”
Sorry, I’m sorry, Travis’ mind screamed. My hands and back and thighs all hurt and I’m taking it out on you. I don’t mean it . “There’s one kind of near, though. We can go there.”
“Hell yes!”
Travis sucked in a breath through his teeth as Sal’s hand touched a fresh bruise on his sleeved arm.
“Trav? You okay?”
“Mhm,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re just super cold, yeah. Can feel it through my sleeve.”
Sal wasn’t that cold, actually. He was kind of…pleasantly cool. Or maybe even warm again. Travis didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.
---
“I swear to fucking god, you don’t know anything !” Sal’s voice barely raised in volume, but it pushed like hot lava into Travis’ ears.
“I know more about myself than you do, and I’m telling you that everything is fucking fine ! Leave it alone!” Please. Please, leave it alone . Travis’ hands shook as he nervously, angrily, pulled on his hair so hard that the messy curls could straighten out.
“I’m so fucking tired of you lying ! I know you are, Trav, just admit it! Things aren’t fine with you, they haven’t forever, and if you’re not going to open the fuck up to me, then why are you even here?!”
What does that mean? Are you going to break up with me? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t notice the tears in my eyes. Do you want me to leave the mortal fucking plane? Same, Fisher. Get in line.
“I don’t know!”
“Again with that! Yes, you do! You hang out with me and my friends because you like us and make you happy. You’re with me , we’re together , because I make you happy. Because you love me, right?”
Sal’s hand over his own. Burning.
“Well- yes, of course-”
Sal’s hands pressed into the hand inside them. “Then let me in . Please. You did it once.”
“I…” I can’t . Travis exhaled harshly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said firmly, maybe to cover up the thickness of his voice and how his throat was closing. He sharply jerked his hand out of the grasp of Sal’s two, immediately missing his warmth. “Everything is fine, Fisher.”
He hated how Sal’s eyes widened for a half-second before narrowing through his mask. “You’re cold, Phelps.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
In just a few moments, the only person in room 402 was Sal Fisher.
---
“Travis.” He heard Sal’s distinctive voice and the horrible scrape of the cafeteria chair on the floor, indicating that he was sitting down next to him. Travis had sat down at a different cafeteria table. His chin was resting in his palm and he decidedly proceeded to keep staring to the side instead of looking at his boyfriend. We’re still together, aren’t we? He’d been overthinking all night.
“Sal.”
He heard Sal sigh. “I’m…really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have tried to get you to share anything you weren’t comfortable with.”
Travis huffed, squinting into the distance. “Well, you did.”
Sal placed his hand over top of Travis’ other hand, which was death-gripping the seat of the chair. “‘M Cold…” he mumbled halfheartedly. Travis didn’t believe his reason one bit, but let it slide
“Fine.”
Sal used his other hand to pry Travis’ face from his hand, and he thumbed the new bandages. Travis’ face contorted into one of discomfort as he tried to move away.
“I was right…wasn’t I?”
“What does it matter?” Travis smacked away Sal’s hand. “It would have happened regardless.”
Travis dared sneak a glance at Sal’s eyes, regretting it instantly when he saw they were both hard as stone. He looked down shamefully. “Trav, it’s been getting worse, hasn’t it?”
“I guess it hasn’t been getting better.”
Travis hated how the argument with Sal had been the closest thing yet to snap him back into reality. He’d spent the whole night thinking about the argument, but he didn’t even really feel any remorse. He knew that in itself was wrong, but he was at a point where he was barely living while he was alive. He could act like he was more in the moment than he was, but he spent a lot of time thinking in his thoughts. Like right now .
“Travis?”
“Sorry, zoned out. Did you say something?”
“It just feels like you’re barely here with us anymore. Trav…you can’t stay there.”
“I don’t have a choice , Sal. It’s seriously fine. The school year ends in a few months anyways, and I’m already 18.
“But you haven’t emancipated yourself from him and you’re still choosing to go to college here .”
“Nockfell doesn’t have a college, I’m just staying in state. You’re also staying in-state. We’re going to the same college, Sal.”
“But aren’t you worried about people seeing you and recognizing you?”
“I don’t care anymore, Sal. I just need to get through this and I’ll be fine. I’m still fine.”
“You aren’t fine , Travis. You’re pretending to be. You’ve convinced yourself you are. You could seriously move in with me and my dad for the next few months.”
“I’m not doing that, you have enough on your plate. I’m not letting you take care of me like that; I can handle myself.”
Sal sounded exasperated. “I’m not sure if you can. I’m worried about you.” Before Travis could reply, he followed up with, “And don’t say I shouldn’t be. I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to fuss about you.”
Travis felt his cheeks warming in gratitude. “Um…thanks, Sal. Just a few more months in this place.”
Again, he sheepishly looked up at Sal’s eyes, only to find they were turned down to look at their hands. “Not warm enough…” Travis barely heard Sal whisper over the cafeteria chatter.
“I’m always warm?”
“Uh. Yeah! Right.”
---
Travis felt a shiver down his spine as his father, the one and only Kenneth Phelps, meticulously inspected his dorm. Travis had hidden all of his dorm decorations with Sal, who was coming up the next morning with the general move-in rush. So, in front of him was his bed with its still-rising mattress topper, the desk and wardrobe that came with the dorm, and a box of clothes.
Nothing else.
“Um-” Travis cringed at his wavering voice. “Is it to your standards, sir?”
Kenneth looked down at his son, tall frame looming over him. “I suppose I should just be glad you decided to listen to my wise advice to stay in state, given that you were so adamant about college.”
Travis waited for the caveat. His father wouldn’t let him go. God, how could he be so stupid ? He was going to beat him again, right here, right now. And then, he was going to be dragged home, practically lifeless, and-
“Goodbye, son. Good luck.”
That’s it?
His father was at the door now. He looked scary, but then again, when didn’t he?
“I love you.”
And Travis’ world stopped. He felt his heart stop with it, and then start hammering. “N-no. You don’t.”
Kenneth sighed. “Just live in ignorance, will you?”
He shut the door and left.
Travis was panting. He put his hand over his chest and tried to steady himself. What the fuck just happened ? He looked out his window, surprised to find daylight still outside when he felt like everything just shut down around him.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.
Travis sat on his bed, moving slowly and rigidly like he was made of porcelain. What the fuck, why the fuck, who the fuck, how the fuck.
He gasped for air to fill his lungs and pulled on his hair. Why did his father say that? What did it mean? What was he trying to do? Was he trying to fuck him over? How were those words even able to come out of his mouth? Did the cult replace his father- no, his father is the cult. Did his father somehow know he was never coming back? No- no, he would never allow that. And then he admitted that he didn’t love me at all. Why would he say that, he’s not allowed to say that, he’s not allowed to pretend after everything he’s done, he-
Cold. Travis was so. Cold.
---
Sal burst into the dorm, exclaiming, “Honey, I’m ho- oh. Oh my god, Travis? Are you okay?”
Travis basically snapped his neck looking up from where he’d been staring ahead for who knows how long. “Sal! You’re here!” His voice sounded raw, and he hoped Sal didn’t notice. He hoped Sal couldn’t see how he’d been crying for so long, how his face probably looked like shit, or how he hadn’t moved a muscle in over 12 hours.
He tried to rush up to hug Sal, but his legs collapsed from lack of use and he fell into his boyfriend’s arms. Travis let out a very manly shriek as his counterpart caught him and steadied him. “Yeah, I’m here! Hi! You look terrible, are you okay? Is it your father- I’ll fucking kill him, I’ll turn back right now and kill him if he even laid a finger on you-”
“No, no, no, Sal, calm down. I mean, yes, yes it was him, but we can really delay this for later and just focus on now.”
“Travis, you’re-” Travis watched as Sal very clearly had an internal debate with himself until he landed on a decision. “ Freezing . Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so cold .”
Travis ripped himself from Sal’s grasp. “No, I’m not. I’m warm. Where’s your dad?”
Sal sounded defeated, and it made Travis’ heart sink and break at the same time. “He’s coming up the elevator with our stuff now. You’ll tell me what happened later, right?”
Travis’ heart stopped and he could feel himself shake just thinking about it, and he grabbed his own wrist and squeezed it to stop it. “Mhm. Let’s just enjoy this, right now.”
“Okay,” breathed Sal, “Let’s do it.”
As if knowing when the perfect moment to step in was, Henry Fisher came through the door carting the boys' stuff through the door in a cart that was positively doomed to topple over at any moment with how much was piled in. “You don’t do multiple trips, do you, Mr. Fisher?”
Sal’s Dad pretended to dust off his hands and said, “No, sir!”
The rest of the day was filled with banter between the 3 men, and a lot of assembling and standing on beds to hang stuff up. They used a level to hang up posters, and got lunch at a very mediocre pizza place.
Watching Sal say goodbye to his father was the most bittersweet sight Travis had ever been forced to witness.
“Welp, I guess I’d better…hit the road, boys.” Mr. Fisher stood up from one of the room’s chairs and dusted off his legs.
Sal practically ran at his father engulfing him in a hug and whispering, “Dad. I’m going to miss you so much. You have no idea how much I love you and how proud I am of you.”
“Hey now, I’m supposed to be saying that to you! And don’t cry too much, it’s going to be bad for your scars.”
That seemed to only make Sal squeeze his dad tighter and bring more tears to his eyes. “I’m going to miss you. I love you, Dad.”
Henry patted his son’s back and hugged him. “I love you too, Sal.” He looked up at Travis. “You too, Travis. You’ve had quite the effect on my boy.”
Travis almost broke then and there. “Um…Happy to hear it, sir. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go off the deep end or anything. Goodbye, Mr. Fisher.”
Henry finally let go of his son and nodded at them both, smiling sadly. He left the room silently, leaving two glassy-eyed boyfriends.
Sal eventually broke the silence of them both staring at the door by saying, “We don’t actually have to sleep in separate beds, right?”
Travis wheezed. “No, good Lord, no. You’re all mine. Um- let me put the sheets on my bed. Unless you want to use yours?”
“Why didn’t you put the sheets on your bed? You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”
Shit.
“Um, well...”
“What did he say, Trav?” The shorter boy wrapped his arms around Travis’ waist and looked up at him. “Did you even eat dinner or breakfast?”
“I had pizza with you guys today at lunch.”
“That was an hour ago, you know what I mean.”
Travis looked down at his boyfriend, and wondered how in the world he’d gotten to be with someone so perfect after treating him so badly .
“It’s not important.”
Sal unwrapped one arm to wrest the back of his hands on Travis’ forehead, and then to cup his cheek. “You’re cold , Trav.”
He shook his head. “I’m not cold, you’re cold.” Sal was actually very pleasantly warm. “My dad…told me he loved me. It caught me off guard, so I said that no, he didn’t. And he told me to live in ignorance, to basically pretend that he did. He- told me he loved me, Sal .”
Sal shook his head. “Oh my god, Trav…”
He pulled away, staring out of the room’s window and bringing his palms up to rest on his temples. “Why would he say that to me? Why would he admit to not loving me, even though I knew already he didn’t? Why would he say that to me? How could he say that to me? Why did- how could- Sal. He. How did. Why. What the fuck. He shouldn’t have- couldn’t have-”
“Ssh, shh,” Sal went straight to Travis’ side, gently taking his wrists in his own hands and letting Travis look him in the eyes. “Focus on me. Not him. He doesn’t matter, okay? You’ll never have to see that fucking monster again. From now on, it’s just us, and my dad, and our friends, however scattered we may be right now. It’s just us.”
“Just us,” Travis agrees. He silently thinks to himself.
Our dorm is cold.
I’m cold.
Please warm me up.
---
It was a random Thursday. A completely random Thursday, a few weeks into the school year, and Sal was looking at Travis like he was worth the entire world and more.
Travis had noticed a few hours prior that they both were sitting around doing nothing, and made the executive decision for them to go out and walk around, on a pseudo-date, if you will.
It had been so much fun. They got ice cream and talked about how their classes were going, since they really didn’t get much time to chat because they were both constantly working on homework or studying. College was stressful for both of them, but Sal kept acting like it was the best thing to happen to either of them.
It started to sprinkle a little bit, and they made the impromptu decision to get an early dinner at a nearby diner. Sal’s eyes were sparkling the whole time, dear god, he’s so beautiful .
Later, Sal had somehow coaxed Travis into dancing in the rain with him like a scene straight out of a movie, though in a place where nobody was at Travis’ request. Travis could see Sal’s eyes through his mask, and he was smiling so wide, they could barely be seen because of how crinkled they were. Travis was honestly worried for how it would affect Sal’s skin.
At some point, Sal had started giggling like a drunkard, and just couldn’t stop . It seemed to Travis that he was so utterly giddy for no reason, or for a reason he wasn’t being told, because if it was on gayness alone, then Sal would be hysterical every time they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
It was dark when they finally returned to their dorm room, and Travis was beyond startled when Sal suddenly picked him up and spun him around before setting Travis on the bed and jumping on soon after, bear-hugging him so that Travis couldn’t breathe.
Sal practically ripped his mask off - wow, his face doesn’t seem to be too strained from that giant smile. Huge, beautiful smile - and Travis had to ask, “Okay, Salio, what’s the deal? Why are you acting like this?”
Sal got closer and closer to Travis, practically pinning him against the wall and nesting into him. “You’re warm , Travis. Jesus Christ, you’re warm. You get cold when you’re sad, and- Travis, you’ve been so fucking cold for months. It’s like touching ice. It makes my heart hurt. And now , Travis , you’re so hot to the touch it’s like I’m being burned. Travis…
You’re warm.”