"Hey, mom?" Phil asked, scratching his neck as he shrugged on his backpack. "Yeah?" She responded from the kitchen, coming out to where he could see her. "So, um.. Are there any confessionals at the church this week? Specifically… any other day than Sunday?" She blinked, and smiled at him. "Well, I remember that nice pastor from church said his son worked the confessional on, uh… dearie, what was it?" His father shifted. "Wednesday night." He scratched his head. "Or was it Thursday?" His mother smiled wider now. "It was Wednesday, now I remember."
"Score! Thanks, guys." He pumped his fist, smiling wide. "See if that boy can come over for dinner.. I noticed you two were friends." Phil turned to his father who had spoken, raising an eyebrow. "I never see him anywhere other than in the confessional- er, hear him." His father shrugged. "Well, I have never seen him. He seems to keep to himself, so I'm glad you're friends with him." Yep, friends.. That's all. He thought in his head with a smirk. I don't think friends regularly talk like we do though, dad. "Sure, dad. I'm headin' off, thanks for breakfast." He said, softly. He kissed his mother on the cheek and side-hugged his father, then walked out.
Travis' day was off to a not-so-nice start, on the other hand. He'd gotten up late, due to staying up much longer than he'd really wanted the night before, and rushed to get out of the house before his father saw. He sprinted away from the ministry, down the hill, and past the confessional he'd made sure to wipe down quickly and thoroughly after the session on Sunday. He'd slowed down when he was far away from the church.
"Yo, Travis!" Phil shouted from the other side of the street. "Late morning?" He asked, laughing. Travis trudged to the other side of the street next to Philip, scowling. "Oh, ha-ha. How early do you even wake up?" Phil pondered this. "Six o' clock sharp." He smiled. "I usually have to get up at five to help my fathe-" He stopped. "T-to help my father prepare breakfast for me, him, and my mother…" That was too damn close for comfort, Phelps. "Oh." The bluenette smiled. "That's nice of you to help, my mom usually gets the cooking done by six twenty." Travis mustered a small smile. "Cool."
"Heya, assha-" He paused, looking around. Travis was nowhere to be seen. He set his backpack down, but then immediately picked it up again, running out of the cafeteria. After too much looking all together, he walked into the boys bathroom, ready to take a break and eat his lunch in a stall, but he heard.. a sniff? He quietly crept to the stall it came from, and heard it. Barely audible sobbing. He flinched as the door closed, loudly. The crying stopped.
"Um, hi." Phil choked out, awkwardly. "Who the hell..?" This voice was recognizable. But not too recognizable, seeing as Travis was the one in the stall, and he knew Phil's voice anywhere, he did not want the bluenette to hear his properly, though, for obvious reasons. Friends didn't awkwardly comfort friends, that's dumb, right?
"Are you okay?" Philip slid down on the stall, looking back and catching a glimpse of dress shoes. Travis had cursed himself since he left about wearing his dress shoes to school. He was in a hurry, but that was no goddamn excuse, was it? What if they got dirty? Father would beat him, then.
"I'm fine. Leave me and go eat your lunch in peace, alright?" Suddenly, Phil noticed who this was. He looked around, and dug through his backpack, pumping his fist when he found what he had been looking for, a bandana. He knew he had one that he kept for well.. He didn't know. He just kept it with him. He tied it over his eyes until he truly couldn't see anything, and slid under the stall.
"What the hell?!" Phil raised his hands out from the floor. "Look- I um, I know who you are- and if you don't want me to see you yet, still, then i'm gonna keep this on, okay?" Travis stared at him, but sighed, and wiped one of his eyes. "F-fine." He'd stuttered out. "Please don't take it off." He said that quietly, steadying his shaking body by grabbing both of his arms.
"I won't, I promise." Phil got up on his knees, feeling around, until eventually finding railing and standing up in front of the blonde. "Why were you, um.." Philip fiddled with his earring. "I'd rather not talk about it." Travis responded, bluntly.
Phil felt around, eventually finding the blonde's face, and cupping it, rubbing some tears away with his thumb. "Are you sure you can't see?" He nodded back at this. "This is your cheek, right?" Travis nodded, leaning into his palms, pressing a hand to his face. "I'm sorry." The blue-haired teen mumbled.
"You didn't do anything."
"I feel like I made everything worse when I slid into the stall.." He slowly pulled his hands away, but the blonde grabbed them, and held them. "No, you made it a lot better," He started, tugging on the boy's hands to make him come closer. "Thanks Phil." Philip felt lips curl around his own, and he was thrown into a soft kiss. He melted into it, leaving his mouth open completely. They pulled away. "Fuck handjobs, that was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." His smile suddenly faded. "Fuck, the bandanas falling."
Travis immediately covered Phil's eyes with his hand. "I wasn't looking, I swear!" The blonde opened the stall, and turned him around, pushing him out, and closing it. "There, you can open them now." Phil looked around, sighing with relief. "Okay.. erm.. See you on Wednesday?" Travis felt the warm blood rush to his face. "Just be there at 5:00 p.m., dork."
"Uh- definitely! See you tomorrow!" He got a simple hum in response, and skipped off, hearing a seductive: "Bring a fuck-ton of bandanas if you plan on staying long, I'm thinking something more touchy this time.", and before closing the door, he smirked. "Alright, see you and that hot fucking voice later."