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T he booming laughs, the click of pool balls, the scrape of chair legs, the clunk and clank of each gate that was opened and closed on his long trudge back to the wing warped in Ollie’s ears.

Voices murmured in his direction, but he spared them no thought. He had tunnel vision on his cell door.

His nose twitched as the smells of the place hit him. The smoke, the stale body odour that lingered, the kitchen cooking the next bland meal, and the overpowering blast of deodorant as men walked by.

This place, with its gunmetal grey skeleton, white walls and silver cell doors, was Ollie’s home.

For over eight years, it would be his home.

A prison.

He’d known that when he’d first walked inside nine months before, but something had changed.

Something had made his time behind bars seem endless.

It had made the place feel smaller and more claustrophobic than ever.

The inmates flittered around, buzzing with excitement, retelling a fight that had happened a few hours prior.

Sebastian and Pauly had come to blows.

Ollie hadn’t been in the wing at the time, but he was ordered out of the gym and back to his cell when the bell started to ring. The prison had been put into lockdown, but it only lasted an hour before the wing was open for business again.

That was when he’d been taken aside by a prison officer and escorted to the governor’s office.

That was when everything had changed.

With a heavy heart and a stumble in his step, Ollie pushed open his cell door.

Teddy, his cellmate, wasn’t inside. No doubt he had returned to the gym during their sacred moments of afternoon association. Teddy liked to keep in shape. He was lean, well defined, and primed for a fight whenever he felt the need to start one.

Ollie didn’t like the fights.

The dull smack of skin meeting skin reminded him of his father, of his fists, and his boot digging into Ollie’s ribs. The smell and taste of blood couldn’t be scrubbed from his memories, and the helpless feeling afterwards still lingered despite the action Ollie took against his tormentor.

Ollie didn’t go looking for Teddy. Instead, he heaved himself onto the top bunk and lay there, trying and failing to wrap his head around what had just happened.

He couldn’t, though.

What happened in the governor’s office had turned his whole prison experience on its head.

The cell felt smaller than it had that morning.

It felt colder and harder too.

They didn’t have much in their cell.

A bunk bed where Ollie slept on the top, a chest of drawers, a closet and a small desk.

He only had to pass the units for them to wobble and threaten to collapse.

There were pieces of paper tacked to the wall, and beneath Ollie, against the wall, there were his drawings of butterflies and fields that Teddy looked at for hours.

The tap dripped, the toilet gurgled, and a crack beneath the window howled on the windiest days.

Eight years.

He squeezed his eyes shut in a long blink, reminding himself he had more than eight years.

Eight years and three months if he was being exact, and he was, to depress himself even further. He clawed at his blond hair, dragging blunt nails across his scalp. He had to stop himself from spiralling. Eight years felt insurmountable when he started to spiral, but it was too easy to fall into a pit of despair.

When Teddy stepped into the cell a while later, he took one look at Ollie, then rushed to the bed. His brow tightened with worry, and his grey eyes took him in. Ollie wanted to tell him it was okay, he was fine, but the lie stuck in his throat.

It choked him.

His brown eyes burned with tears, and he scrunched them up tight. It was too late to hide his hurt from Teddy, who made a sound like a wounded animal in response.

Teddy shook Ollie, looking him up and down, trying to locate an injury, but the pain wrapped around Ollie’s heart wasn’t physical. He stepped onto his bed, then heaved himself onto the top bunk, clambering over Ollie until he was by the wall, shoving Ollie forward so he could lie down behind him.

Ollie gripped the edge of the bed, wincing as the metal bedframe protested. It was a snug fit, but Teddy made it work, hooking his arm over Ollie’s side so he wouldn’t fall.

It should’ve been constricting having Teddy hold him that tightly, but it was the first time Ollie felt like he could breathe since leaving the governor’s office.

Teddy had him, and in the nine months Ollie had been in prison, he’d learned one unshakable thing about Teddy Saul.

Teddy took care of him.

Ollie never asked why; he didn’t want to risk the possibility of Teddy taking that care away by questioning it.

Ollie sighed, accepting what Teddy told him through the one-armed embrace on the bed.

No matter what happened, he still had Teddy.

Teddy wasn’t going anywhere.

And Teddy had him.

And that made Ollie’s tears creep through his lashes.

Ollie pressed his back to Teddy’s front, stealing his warmth. The cells were never warm enough in his opinion, and on more than one occasion, he’d woken up in the morning to find Teddy’s duvet thrown over him as well as his own.

Ollie told Teddy he wasn’t allowed to do that. He needed to be warm too, but Teddy just smirked in the way he always did when Ollie tried to tell him off. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his grin lit up his whole face, and then he reached out to ruffle Ollie’s hair.

The pillow dipped where Teddy rested his head behind Ollie. His beard tickled Ollie as he breathed in and out, in and out against Ollie’s neck.

He felt better and worse all at once.

Teddy held Ollie while he cried silent tears.

He cried from the shock he’d received in the governor’s office, from Teddy’s inviolable tenderness, from the thought of eight more years, and the loss of his little brother who still refused to write to him.

The emotional overload was well overdue, so he didn’t fight the tears or force them back. He let them fall; he let his snot run, his lip tremble and his face crumple.

Teddy had him.

Ollie’s eyes snapped open at the gentle tap to their cell door. He hadn’t realised he’d drifted off. Teddy continued to rub his beard against Ollie’s neck, soothing him while he lifted his head an inch from the pillow.

The door was open a crack, and the noise from the wing filtered through, but Ollie appreciated the manners of their visitor. He had a good idea who was waiting to talk to him.

“Come in…”

His voice rasped, and the bed shifted as Teddy sat up to get a look at him. He wanted to reassure Teddy he was okay but still couldn’t, not yet.

It was obvious he wasn’t from his puffy red cheeks and his bloodshot eyes.

The door swung open on a glum-faced Captain. He filled the doorway, arms crossed, showing off his impressive biceps. Ollie still couldn’t get over how huge Captain was, easily the most muscular inmate on their wing. His hair was short, his face clean shaven, and there were more wrinkles on his brow than had a right to be there.

Ollie had come into the prison with him.

He knew Captain.

But for a terrible moment, he wondered whether Captain was about to tell him it was all a lie too, that Captain wasn’t who he thought he was either.

Ollie stiffened, and Teddy reacted.

He swung his leg over Ollie’s thighs, tightened his arm around Ollie’s middle and made a rumbling sound from his throat.

It was a warning, and Captain understood.

He stayed in the doorway.

Captain glanced down at his tightly folded arms, seemed to recognise his default pose could be perceived as threatening, then dropped them by his sides.

“I know you’re upset—”

“Of course I’m upset,” Ollie blurted. “Aren’t you?”

Captain hesitated, mouth flapping for a moment, then he recovered. “In some ways, yes, but in others…I understand.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“He wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“But he did.”

Teddy adjusted his grip on Ollie with both his leg and arm, drawing him impossibly closer. Ollie twisted to look at him, breath hitching at the anger Teddy directed at Captain, as if he was the one to have upset Ollie.

Teddy didn’t know what had happened, but he’d taken Ollie’s side, clutching him tightly while threatening a violent death to Captain if he dared encroach on their personal space.

But it wasn’t Captain’s fault.

“It’s Rory,” Ollie mumbled.

When Ollie had arrived nine months ago, he came in with two other people. Captain Benjamin Tracy, the ex-army captain with nightmares that terrified the whole wing, and Rory Price, chess-obsessed, kindred spirit, whom Ollie had confided in on more than one occasion.

Teddy’s hard eyes softened upon meeting Ollie’s.

“He wasn’t who we thought he was,” Ollie continued. “He’s a police officer. He was here to spy on Sebastian Claw. He used me and Captain as his cover when he came here. He’s been using us the whole time.” A jagged lump scratched Ollie’s throat when he tried to swallow. “I thought he cared about me. I thought we were friends.”

“He does care about you,” Captain argued. “And you are friends.”

“He made me believe we’d go through this together, the whole time knowing he would walk out of here when Sebastian got released.”

“He had to—”

“He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve… He could’ve pushed me away.”

Ollie frowned, remembering the times Rory had tried to push him onto other inmates, Green and Jack in particular.

“You still have me,” Captain said.

“I know, but…you’ll only be with me for half my sentence.”

Teddy squeezed Ollie tight, eyes wild as he searched Ollie’s face for something. His expression pleaded; it begged. There was a desperation to it in the way his eyebrows twitched and his forehead contorted.

“I’ve got you,” Ollie whispered. “I know I have.”

Teddy exhaled, relaxing his hold until his grip was comfortable again.

His nods were exaggerated, slow, as if he wanted to convince Ollie that was true.

Ollie didn’t need convincing, though.

“I know I have you.” Ollie gave him a small smile. “And I’m so grateful I do. I don’t know…”

Why?

I don’t know why…

Ollie stopped, not wanting to ask in case it broke whatever spell Teddy was under.

Teddy cared about him.

From the first day Ollie had entered the prison, terrified out of his mind, Teddy had looked after him.

Ollie had no idea how he’d gained his loyalty like that.

It scared him that, at any moment, he could do something to lose it.

Teddy stared down at him, waiting for him to finish.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” Ollie whispered.

And that was true too.

Rory had been his closest friend, but Teddy was something different.

Ollie didn’t quite know how to explain his relationship with Teddy.

Captain drummed his fingers on the door loud enough to remind Ollie he was still there.

“You know where I am when you’re ready to talk,” Captain murmured, then he closed the door as he left.

Teddy glared after him like he’d just been insulted.

Ollie chuckled softly. “He didn’t mean it like that .”

Teddy replied by exhaling forcefully from his nose.

“He didn’t,” Ollie repeated.

He squeezed Teddy’s hand.

By the sour expression on Teddy’s face, he didn’t believe Captain’s words were anything but an insult.

Teddy couldn’t speak as such, but he did vocalise his opinions through other sounds, like grunts, snorts, grumbles and growls.

At first, their communication had been limited to yes and no questions, Teddy shaking or nodding in reply.

Then Ollie had realised Teddy could, in fact, read but not write, so he wrote and cut out a selection of frequent words like you, I, want, can, can’t, why, when, where, who, how and stuck them to their cell wall opposite the bed.

It worked for Teddy asking Ollie questions, but they struggled with mutual interactions until Ollie stole a dictionary from the library.

The dictionary changed everything.

Teddy reached beneath Ollie’s pillow, finding the well-thumbed book.

He sat up, and Ollie sat up beside him until they both had their backs to the wall with their legs dangling down from the top bunk.

Ollie waited patiently as Teddy flicked through the pages, his trembling fingers slowing his progress.

He pressed his curled forefinger beneath the word Sorry .

“It’s not your fault,” Ollie replied. “You didn’t do anything.”

Teddy looked at him for a long moment, then pressed his finger beneath the word Sorry again. The expression he pulled said he was sorry regardless.

Ollie shot him a small smile. “I’m sorry for my…meltdown too.”

He wiped his face, grimacing at the wetness beneath his nose.

Teddy shook his head, dismissing Ollie’s apology.

“I just…” Ollie blinked back the burn in his eyes. “I didn’t expect it at all. I should’ve suspected something about him, ya know, but…typical me, stupid like always.”

He ducked at Teddy’s glare.

“What?”

Teddy pinched him.

“Hey!” Ollie squawked, rubbing his side with a pout on his face.

Teddy flicked through the pages of the dictionary, coming to a stop at the word Genius .

Ollie spluttered in disbelief. “Me?”

Teddy nodded.

“I don’t think so.”

Teddy lifted the dictionary, then gestured to the most frequent words still stuck to the wall of the cell with toothpaste. It was Ollie who had wanted more than yes and no communication with Teddy. It was Ollie who cut out words and stole the dictionary from the library. It was Ollie who had learned to fill in the gaps, learn Teddy’s expressions, gestures and movements and translate Teddy’s responses into full sentences.

Nine times out of ten, he got it right.

He wanted to know Teddy.

And he did, probably better than anyone else in the prison.

They had their own language.

“That doesn’t make me a genius.” Ollie frowned, thinking about it. “It makes me…needy.”

He’d needed more than yes and no, grunts and growls.

It had taken months, but they’d achieved it, and they were getting better and better at communicating each day.

Teddy shot him the crinkled-eyes smile, then ruffled Ollie’s blond hair. He liked to stroke, lightly tug, and smooth Ollie’s hair. Ollie suspected it had something to do with Teddy’s distinct lack of it. He was bald, and his hair only started growing halfway down his face, where it erupted into a black beard.

Teddy took pride in it, shaping, combing, and scenting his beard. One time, Ollie had begged to plait it, and although reluctant, Teddy had given in. Ollie had never plaited hair before, and the resulting knot had taken two hours for Teddy to comb out. Ollie had been locked in the cell with him at the time, growing more anxious with Teddy flaring his nostrils and looking furious, but then he’d cracked a smile, and Ollie had realised he was only pretending to be mad.

He had never shown even a hint of aggression towards Ollie.

In the nine months Ollie had been inside, he’d spent more time with Teddy than anyone else.

Whenever the prison was in lockdown, which happened a lot, it was only him and Teddy, but even so, the loss of Rory cut deep.

Rory didn’t confuse him like Teddy sometimes did.

Teddy sighed and cupped Ollie’s cheek. His gaze drifted down to Ollie’s mouth and stayed there as he wetted his lips.

That look confused Ollie.

It was prolonged and left Ollie’s skin burning and his stomach in a flutter.

If Ollie didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed that look to be charged, sexualised, but he knew it wasn’t. Teddy had been looking at him like that since he’d arrived, and never once had he leaned in for a kiss.

Ollie had no idea what he’d do if he did.

Months ago, the thought had churned his stomach, but the terror had faded, and curiosity had grown in its wake.

What would it feel like to be kissed?

He had never been kissed, or touched, or…anything.

Eighteen—almost nineteen—years old and a virgin.

But he’d had other priorities, like getting in the way of his father’s fists.

Like wondering what state their father would be in when they got home from school.

Like being terrified of failing, not at school, but at the one goal he’d set himself: keeping Leo safe.

What would it feel like to be kissed by Teddy?

He’d never given his sexuality much thought, but caged up with a load of men, and he started to wonder whether the butterflies in his chest were exclusive to masculinity, Teddy or whether that was all that was available to his libido.

Teddy released Ollie’s cheek and dragged his eyes away from Ollie’s mouth.

Ollie’s heart continued to punch behind his ribcage.

The lingering looks both excited and scared him.

They weren’t the only thing that made Teddy feel more dangerous than Rory ever had.

Ollie knew Teddy. They had their own language, they talked, but there were some subjects Ollie didn’t dare go near.

Like the nightmares that woke Teddy up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, gasping and fighting off the duvet.

Like Teddy’s conviction of life in prison for not just one murder but four .

Like the tragic ‘suicide’ of Teddy’s previous cellmate, Ryan Conway.

As much as Ollie liked Teddy, there was a darkness to him, and Ollie didn’t want a light to be shone upon it.

Which made him a hypocrite.

He had a similar vein of darkness running through him.

Ollie leaned in as Teddy ruffled his hair one last time before slipping down from the bunk. Teddy ripped off some toilet roll, and he held it up for Ollie.

“Thank you,” Ollie whispered, dabbing his cheeks and beneath his nose.

Teddy held out his hand again.

“Gross.” Ollie snorted, getting down from the bed. “You don’t want to hold my snotty tissue.”

Teddy lifted one of his eyebrows, then rubbed his hand over his stomach.

“Eww.” Ollie gave Teddy a light shove. “That’s disgusting.”

Teddy laughed, a chugging sound from his throat, then allowed Ollie to pass him to throw the dirty tissue into the toilet.

Ollie narrowed his eyes at Teddy in the mirror above the sink, and Teddy responded with his crinkled-eyes smile and his fond smirk.

Warmth radiated from him, and any unease about Teddy evaporated.

Ollie had only ever seen that look directed at him.

He thought he was special to Teddy and liked the idea.

It was better to not know his secrets and for Teddy not to know his either.