"Vi, I am so sorry," Sal fretted as he hurried after his dear friend. "I shouldn't have wrote that note. That was so stupid of me."

"I hate him!" Violet cried. She reached up to drag her arm across her face, forcefully wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"I know you do. I know."

The hallways were completely vacant. Violet's angry voice smacked against the concrete walls, falling onto no one's ears but their own. Neither of the teens knew where they were headed. All they knew was that they needed to be as far away from Travis as possible.

Sal felt like a fool. He should have known better than to write a love note on Violet's paper, especially with Travis as her partner. Although he knew she didn't blame him for what had happened, he couldn't help but blame himself. If he hadn't written that stupid note, the secret wouldn't have gotten out. Violet had enough on her plate without an F on her report card looming over her head. Still, he knew that being angry at himself wasn't going to help her. He had to come up with something.

That was when the two turned a sharp corner, bringing them to the hallway containing the "abandoned" janitor's closet. It may not have been used by the staff, but many students used it to smoke weed or have sex in. This was the first feature of Nockfell High School that Larry introduced Sal to when he first moved to the apartments.

The blue-haired boy grasped Violet's wrist, stopping her in her tracks. "Come on, I know where to go."

She obliged, following him toward the closet door. He reached up toward the top of the door frame, retrieving a dull key, which he then shoved into the keyhole on the doorknob and twisted. A musty janitor's closet certainly wasn't an ideal place to recover from an event such as what she just experienced, but it was much better than spending another second in the presence of Travis. Plus, she doubted Sal would bring her here if he knew they'd be found.

Once Sal closed the door behind him and locked it, he flipped on the lightswitch behind him. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling by a string, giving the closet a dull glow. Each wall was lined with bare shelves. A thick layer of dust laid over them, as well as numerous cobwebs and cigarette butts. Of course, the smell of cigarette smoke and weed hung in the air. It was almost nauseating, but being around Larry so much made it a bit easier for the two to bear.

Sal dropped his backpack into a corner and sat down in front of it, leaning his back against it. He patted the spot beside him. "Come here, Vi."

Instead of mimicking his actions, Violet let her backpack fall to the floor and sat down in front of him with her legs crossed. She used both hands to cover her nose and mouth as she continued to weep. She was so tired of crying. Normally, she'd be embarrassed to behave this way in front of Sal. Yet, her distress left no room for humiliation. She was completely vulnerable.

"Hey," Sal nearly whispered. He curled his fingers around her wrists and gently pulled them downwards. "It's just me. You don't have to cover your face."

"S-Says you, Sally," she hiccuped.

He chuckled weakly. "Guess that's a little hypocritical, huh?"

"Y-Yeah."

Without another word, Sal leaned forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her head immediately fell onto his shoulder, causing the fabric of his shirt to be soaked with tears. He didn't mind it though.

"E-Everything is f-falling a-apart," Violet cried.

For once, he had no idea what to say. She was right. Her whole world was crumbling right before her eyes. Violet had lost more in 5 days than some people lose in the span of 10 years. He mentally filed through his memories from when he lost his own mother. What would he have wanted someone to say to him, if anything? He was so young. All he remembered wanting was to feel loved again. He wanted his dad to hug him, kiss him, read him stories, and throw a ball with him just like he did before his mom died. The only love Sal had to offer Violet now was his own.

For her, he'd give it all.

Removing one hand from around Violet's trembling figure, he reached around the back of his head and felt for the cold metal clasps that kept his prosthetic over his face. His hand acted on pure muscle memory, undoing both straps with a click! and placing the object on the floor beside him.

Feeling air hit his skin directly sent chills up his spine. He'd never experienced this feeling willingly unless he was in the comfort of his bedroom, alone. It wasn't as terrifying as he imagined. In fact, it was almost relieving. Almost... A small voice in the back of his head reminded him of the possibility of his appearance scaring Violet away. But, if he had any intention of making her his girlfriend, he needed to trust her fully. This included letting her see his face.

He slowly turned his head and gazed down at the girl. Her face was buried into his shoulder as she clung to his shirt. From the looks of it, her eyes were squeezed shut.

Now was his chance.

Sal took a deep breath and slightly lowered his head, pressing a kiss to Violet's temple. She didn't say anything, but instead leaned further into him, allowing the tension in her muscles to subside. Her sobs quieted down ever so slightly.

"I don't care what happens," he began. "I don't care how bad it gets. I don't care how big or small the problem is. I will always be right here. I want you to know that, my Violet."

She sniffled. "B-But all I do i-is cry, Sally."

"Even if that were true, I stand by what I said."

When she didn't respond, he kissed her temple once more and rubbed large circles on her back, gently rocking their bodies from side-to-side. Kissing her felt so much better than he ever could have fathomed. Her skin was so soft beneath his lips. With each time he leaned down, the smell of vanilla filled his nostrils from her shampoo. He wished he could do it a million more times.

After about 15 minutes, Violet finally pulled back and rubbed her eyes. Sal kept both hands on her waist, watching her with a small smile. She blinked a few more tears away before meeting his gaze.

Feeling her face grow hot, she hurriedly looked away and slapped a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he soothed, cupping her face and turning it back toward him. "You can look."

The girl slowly lowered her trembling hand, allowing her eyes to fall onto Sal's face. Her mind immediately flashed back to when he let her feel beneath his prosthetic all those months ago. She remembered how soft his skin was beneath her fingertips as they glided over the many grooves in the scar tissue layering his face.

The right side of his face was quite a bit more tattered than the left. Some scars were raised while others were sunken in or flat. The tissue was slightly reddened against his pale complexion and also a tad shinier as well.

The scarring streaked out across the rest of his face, similar to the pattern of tree roots. The texture left his skin very uneven, but still lovely in its own way. Violet wasn't terribly surprised by how handsome Sal was underneath the prosthetic. She loved the way he looked. He was absolutely fascinating. Of course, his sharp jawline and gentle smile only added to his charm. She noticed that the right corner of his mouth extended a bit farther than the left one when he smiled, leaving about 3 extra teeth exposed as it curled upwards.

The young girl was snapped from her daze by the feeling of Sal's thumb wiping a stray tear from beneath her eye. Still, she kept her gaze locked on him as she leaned her cheek into his palm with a sigh.

"I'm not as pretty as you," he said, forcing a bit of humor into his tone. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Your face is pretty to me, Sally."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. Your smile is my favorite."

"I love you so much," he whispered. He then pulled her face closer to his and planted a kiss on her forehead, unable to resist the urge to do so any longer.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I love you too, Sally."