A few hours after she got home from school, Violet decided that it was time to return Sal's earmuffs. Deep down, she really wanted to keep them. They made her hair smell like cinnamon whenever she wore them. Alas, she knew better than to not return her friend's only pair of earmuffs. So, she made her way to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of apartment 402.

"Hey, there," Mr. Fisher greeted her with a warm smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Mr. Fisher. I'm just here to return the earmuffs Sal let me borrow."

The man chuckled, scratching his vibrant beard. "Sorry, kiddo. Sal made it clear that I'm not to accept them. He wants you to have them."

"Well," she said, "can I talk to him?"

"Sure thing. He's in his room."

Mr. Fisher opened the door wider to let her in, closing it behind her. As she neared her friend's bedroom door, however, she could hear the faint humming of guitar strings. At first, she figured it was a radio, but she was quickly proven wrong when the sound came to an abrupt halt and Sal mumbled "Shit!" to himself.

"Sal?" She called, a small grin on her face. "Can I come in?"

There was a brief pause. 

"Sure."

She slipped through the door, only to be met with Sal sitting cross-legged on his bed and staring down at a red and white bass guitar. He seemed a bit aggravated with it.

"I didn't know you played an instrument," she commented, sitting down on the vacant spot beside him. 

He scoffed. "Yeah, but I suck at it."

"I don't believe that. Can you play me something?"

"Maybe another time." He placed the guitar at the foot of his bed and sighed. It was clear to Violet that he'd been practicing for quite some time, maybe even hours. 

"You owe me a song, Sal Fisher."

"Fine, then."

"Anyway," she went on, "I brought your earmuffs back."

"I thought I told you to keep those."

"I thought I told you no."

Sal's eyes narrowed as if he was trying to challenge her. His prosthetic shifted upward ever so slightly, indicating that he was smiling. "Keep. Them."

Without a warning, Violet reached up and put the earmuffs on his head, giggling as they tangled themselves in his messy hair. He immediately ripped them off and pounced forward to do the same to her, turning her playful gesture into an all-out war. The pair ended up competing to see who could pin the other down long enough to get the earmuffs on their head. In fact, they were so determined to win that neither of them seemed to notice how close their faces were to one another.

Violet was pushing hard against Sal's shoulders as his hands neared her ears, kicking her feet wildly. The ends of his hair tickled her cheeks as he leaned closer to her. She almost stopped fighting him just so he'd stay close to her.

"You won't win!" He wheezed, forcing the earmuffs closer to her head.

"Wanna bet?" She retorted. 

"Hell yeah, I do."

So, with one final push, Violet sent both him and the earmuffs toppling off the bed and onto the floor. The loss of his body weight on her stomach allowed her to take in some air before leaning over the mattress to look at him. 

"Ha!" She teased, sneering at the blue-haired boy sprawled out below her. "I win!"

With one swift movement, Sal grabbed her hand and pulled her down with him. Her head landed on his stomach while the rest of her body hit the floor with a thud!. Breathless, they laid there for a few moments. Violet could feel Sal's quickened heartbeat on her temple. 

She liked it. 

She liked everything about this moment, even if she was uncomfortable from the neck down. She liked how messy his hair was from their "fight", she liked how his laughter made his eyes water, she even liked how his hands would occasionally touch her face as they played. He was so gentle. Despite all that had gone on just minutes ago, he didn't even come close to hurting her. 

"Vi," the blue-eyed boy nearly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever, like, wonder about why I wear a prosthetic?"

She shrugged, fiddling with the material of his sweatshirt. "I've wondered, but I've never really cared. Whatever's under it doesn't change what kind of person you are."

"You'd be disgusted by me if you saw my real face..." he murmured, pain lacing his every word. 

"That's not true, Sal."

"Yes it is. Even doctors are shocked when they look at me."

"You know," the girl consoled, "if you don't feel comfortable letting me see your real face, I won't ever make you feel like you have to. But just know that if you do, I would never judge you."

He reached for her hand and took it into his, causing her to look up at him. His eyes may have been glued to the ceiling, but that didn't hide the fact that they were filled with tranquility. Something about what she said had brought him peace.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"Any time."