Chapter Text
Chapter 1/?
Warblers patted away into the icy depth, shuddering at echoes of door slamming and a body thumping to the ground. Larry's rhythmic pace was paused, abruptly and rudely so, he thought, until he was caught off guard by the boy sprawled out on the black ice in front of him. He took in the familiar bleached, fried, hair.. those brown roots he watched from the back of Period 3 Chem, the familiar yellow-black bruised knees that sometimes clambered in between his own in gym,
"Ga-aahh..hhh..."
That familiar fucking groan he heard too many times to not recognize from the first note.
"Phelps?" Larry uttered, thick brows furrowing.
No *fucking* way. It was Travis *fuckin'* Phelps. And he wasn't in school, swinging his fists at him, nor was he smart-assing him in the courtyard, but he was laying there, groaning, all banged up. He thought he could've even been crying. He was bleeding, red, all twisted up, and bruised. Badly. Was this why he didn't go to school for the last half of the week? *This* is what was cultivating all the time he was absent?
"Johnson!" His eyes met Larry's, and Travis finally noticed who it really was. Out of the one eye that wasn't swollen but only bloodshot, he saw the tall boy looming over him - the tips of his long hair were frosty, he had wired headphones and his mp3 player, and, *damn*, the way he wore those bootcut jeans. Yeah literally, damn him and those stupidly hot jeans, Travis thought. He'd just been thrown out onto the ice and he was proving his father's point. He tried to get himself up using his hands and knees, but he was too weak and his socks had no grip on the ice so he just slipped. Larry looked down at him, raising an eyebrow in concern yet his posture remained unbothered and straight. It was too cold to move around much.
"The hell happened to you, Travis?" His dark eyes observed over every wound he could see from the side of the boy. So many new wounds (not that he paid attention or anything..), he knew Travis always had something cut up or broken on his body and he assumed it was for being a dick at school,but these injuries? WHOLE new level. They looked far more serious, and recent. And now seeing him get thrown out of his house like that, confirmed what had occured to him often. Larry new deep down that Travis wasn't getting every bruise from people at school, on some Mondays hed come back more roughed up and beaten than he left on Friday, but he blamed it on sports. Larry never bought that. He was a CHURCH boy. THE!!!! Church boy. And on top of that, they were in the same class for gym.. Larry experienced firsthand Travis' horrendous throwing skills. Everyone knew he was shit at any team game, it was so stupid how "rugby on the weekends" was his excuse. Pathetic. So Larry figured out he was being hurt at home, but he did deny it, because it made him mad that Travis had a reason for being a dick - and it made him feel sorry for him, like he shouldn't bother or retaliate anymore. He didn't wanna beat up the kid who was being beat up by his father in addition. But why was he being beat on by kenneth?
"What? Nothing!" He forced a weak smile and made another sad attempt at getting up. He didn't like the way Larry stood over him, it was intimidating. He didn't intend to ever ever look vulnerable like this infront of Larry. Sliding sideways on the icy road revealed that his blood had even frozen into the ice.
"Okay, im not *that* stupid. Did your dad throw you out here?" Larry stepped back a little, taking in the whole sight of him.
"Uhh- i- ahh-... Um. Yes."
"What the fuck? Why?"
Travis's eyebrows furrowed further with anger replacing the pain. "Its none of your fucking business, dumbass."
....
"My dad doesn't want an unholy son anymore." Came Travis's strained voice. That really caused larry to feel sorry for him.
"What does that mean?" Larry carefully crouched down to take a closer look, eyes slightly wide with curiosity. "Holy shit.." he mumbled before Travis even got a chance to reply, both of their eyes glanced to Travis' right arm - it was red, felt warm in Larrys grip and it just.. didnt look right at all. Travis suppressed a yyelp of pain when Larry lifted it. "Fuck, Travis, that looks broken. You should go to a hospital-"
"Im in my fucking socks!!" Travis requited sharply which slightly took Larry aback.
Larry narrowed his eyes at him and took his other arm, which was in a better state than the right, and got him up on his feet. marks on Travis' legs where the frost bit at him glowed red at them both, and managed to over shadow the bruises and cuts that wrapped all around his flesh.
"D-do you wanna..uhh.." Larry checked all around him, for he didn't even know what, but the dead trees and singular soggy driveway egged him on. "Travis, your arm is broken and youre all cut up and bruised. And cold and.. lacking shoes. So.. I could take you to my apartment and clean you up." Well obviously Lar felt bad for him, he couldn't just leave him there. It wasn't like he lacked empathy or anything. Especially not for his once-childhood-friend. He noticed how hesitant travis looked. "I wont tell anyone, but I don't wanna leave you out here.
Travis bit the inside of his cheek and considered - his head was racing, and pounding, not to mention he was in emotional and physical agony. He didn't have anywhere else to go. That week him and phillip were fighting, so he couldn't rely on the volkers anymore. Blood was trickling down his legs and freezing on the black ice. He hadn't been to Larry's house ever since they were kids, before Larry's dad disappeared. He had to accept, he was out of options.
"Yes."