By the time Violet had calmed down enough to pull away from Sal, it was 1 AM. Her breaths were still shaky, but at least she had stopped crying. She even let out a nasally chuckle as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"When's it gonna be your turn to be the damsel in distress, Sal Fisher?" She joked.

"It's okay to cry," he reminded her, taking her hands into his. "Life sucks."

The girl nodded, her gaze lowering into her lap. "Thanks for...you know, comforting me."

"Vi..."

There was something about Violet's vulnerability that made it contagious. Perhaps it was the heartbreaking sight of tears glazing over her beautiful eyes, or the way her hands trembled as she wept. It made Sal feel like a jerk. His beloved friend had put her full trust in him for comfort in her weakest times, and yet he hadn't done the same for her. Of course she felt embarrassed.

Sal knew what he had to do.

He slowly released one of Violet's hands and reached around the back of his head. The cold metal clasps of his prosthetic brushed against his fingertips. He knew this feeling all too well. With one click, the bottom half of his mask was hanging loosely from his face.

Violet's eyes widened. "What are you doing, Sally?"

The boy's heart pounded against his ribcage as he shakily placed his hand back into hers. This moment could cost him everything. It could cost him Violet. What if what he was about to do disgusted her or made her uncomfortable? What if it made her hate him?

And yet he couldn't stop himself. He wouldn't.

Violet felt Sal moving her hands toward his face. It was clear by this point what was about to happen. She didn't understand why. Though the two were thick as thieves, Sal never showed any desire to reveal the secrets beneath his prosthetic. So why now? And why her? Why would he choose the plainest, most boring girl in Nockfell to experience such a closeness to him? Especially knowing that Ash existed. She was so intelligent and creative. And so pretty...

Both teens drew in a sharp breath when Violet's fingertips made contact with Sal's skin. Chills crawled up their spines and their cheeks turned a deep red. Thank goodness the lights were off. Neither of the two needed another reason to feel awkward or uncomfortable.

"Y-You..." Sal stammered after several agonizing moments of silence, "You can feel it. I-If you want."

She didn't want to. Having her hands underneath his prosthetic was already a major violation of his privacy. At the same time, Violet knew that refusing to do so would convey a very negative message to Sal. She didn't want him to believe that she thought his face was weird or disgusting. After all, that was his biggest insecurity.

And, of course, there was no denying that her curious nature was beginning to settle in.

With slightly shaking hands, Violet gently grazed her the tips of her thumbs over the surface of his cheeks. A thick layer of scar tissue left many bumps and grooves upon his skin, making it rather uneven. But that wasn't what caught Violet's attention. Instead, it was how soft his face was. It reminded her of silk. In fact, this very observation pulled the girl's anxiety level much lower.

For the first time in several minutes, she looked up from her lap and at Sal. The soft moonlight illuminated the room just enough for her to be able to see his eyes. They were squeezed shut, almost as if he was flinching. He expected nothing but the worst.

"Sally," Violet whispered.

"Y-Yeah?"

"I still like you." She gently cupped his face, wanting nothing more than to assure her dear friend that he didn't need to be ashamed. Her mind was racing with comforting things to say, and yet she struggled to let them out.

Sal couldn't remember the last time he had felt a touch so soft and loving. He hadn't realized how starved he had been of such affection until now. Every muscle in his body slowly relaxed until he was nearly leaning into her palms. The scar tissue didn't allow him to experience the full sensation of her thumbs gliding over his cheekbones, but he loved it anyway.

He placed his hands on her wrists, hoping she'd stay for just a bit longer. "You don't think I'm disgusting?"

She let out a small chuckle. "No, Sally. I like your face?"

"Why?" His voice was heavy with shame. How could anyone like that mess he was forced to call his face.

"It's soft."

It was just like her first day of school. He'd never forget it.

"I like your hair. It matches your eyes."

Violet found the beauty in everything. She was the first person to ever approach him with a compliment. No questions, no judgemental remarks. Even after touching the brutal, gross scars left behind by the...incident, she found a reason to like them. They were soft.

The teen boy outstretched his arms and engulfed her in a tight hug, causing her to pull her hands away. He didn't care. He needed to hold her again.