Larry Johnson and Sal Fisher

Larry's room was always a little stuffy—the smell of paint, old records, and something faintly burnt hung in the air. The music blared so loudly that the walls seemed to vibrate slightly. Guitars tore through the space, and drums pounded right into your chest.

Larry, sprawled on the bed, tapped out a rhythm with his foot, lazily bobbing his head. Sal sat nearby on the floor, his back against the wall. His fingers tapped on his knee, and his prosthetic visor obscured his face, turning it into the enigma Larry had long since grown accustomed to.

"Dude, this is the best track," Larry shouted over the music.

Sal merely nodded, turning his head slightly. He seemed to smile—it was audible in his voice, even if you couldn't see it.

And then—a sudden movement. Sal jerked, as if he'd lost his balance, his hand caught on the edge of the table… and it all happened too fast.

The prosthesis came off.

With a dull click, it flew off to the side—right into Larry's face. "Holy shit!" Larry grabbed his nose and sat up abruptly. The music continued to blare, but for Sal it seemed to have disappeared. "Larry!" He was instantly at my side, without even looking where the prosthetic had gone. "Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? I didn't mean to, I—" He fell silent mid-sentence. Larry slowly removed his hand from his face. His nose was slightly red, but not seriously damaged. His gaze was directed straight at Sal. Not past. Not to the side. Directly. Second. Two. Three. Sal froze. He didn't immediately understand. He didn't immediately grasp why Larry was looking at him like that. Why he wasn't laughing, joking around, or turning away. Why does he keep watching? The realization came suddenly, like a blow. Sal's hands trembled. He frantically touched his face—emptiness. No mask. He recoiled as if he had been burned. "Don't look..." my voice broke. "Larry, don't..." He dropped his head sharply, his hair falling forward, trying to hide what was no longer hidden. The music was still playing, but now it seemed distant, alien. Larry remained silent. Sal expected the usual. Disgust. Fear. Awkwardness. Anything. But nothing happened.

• Dude… Larry finally said quietly.