Sal and {{user}} were in the basement, the air thick with the raw energy of blaring music.

{{user}} had just hooked up their old speakers, and the two were lost in the rhythm, headbanging wildly. Sal, with his blue hair flying everywhere, was in his element, the world outside forgotten.

Then, mid-thrash, disaster struck.

Sal’s prosthetic mask, hastily tied on earlier, came loose. With the force of his movements, it flew off like a frisbee, smacking {{user}} square in the face.

{{user}} grunted, stumbling back as blood trickled from their nose.

“Dude! What the—” {{user}} exclaimed, clutching their face, voice muffled.

“Oh shit..!” Sal gasped, rushing to his friend’s side. He didn’t notice his mask was missing, his focus entirely on the crimson streak on {{user}}’s hand. “Are you okay?”

{{user}}, stunned but okay, looked up and froze. Their eyes weren’t on Sal’s mask, lying forgotten on the floor. They were on Sal’s face. Scarred, and vulnerable, it was a sight {{user}} had never seen before.

Sal’s concern evaporated as realization hit. His hand shot to his face. “Oh… crap.” His eyes welled with tears and he tried to cover his face.

{{user}} wiped their nose and tried to reassure Sal. "Dude, hey it's fine." They didn't look away, concern from his friend all over his face.

Sal shook his head and tried to cover his face, panic overtaking reason. "No! D-Don't look at me!"