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O llie groaned as he woke, croaking out a “What is it?” while Teddy shook him. He blinked blearily, bringing Teddy into focus.

Teddy’s smile was everything.

It stretched his lips, reached his eyes, and filled a vein in his temple.

Maybe the look would’ve scared others. Maybe they would’ve described it as manic.

But Ollie knew that smile was from a man unable to verbally express just how happy he was.

Which could only mean one thing…

Ollie widened his eyes as he heard the fluttering, the smacks against the walls where the butterflies collided with concrete.

“Really?” he asked softly.

Teddy nodded with enthusiasm.

Ollie carefully sat up and saw for himself.

There were three peacock butterflies flapping around their cell. They were bigger than Ollie thought they would be, brighter too, adding flashes of red to their bland grey décor.

For the last few nights, Teddy had been sliding the tray out from beneath his bed before they went to sleep just in case the butterflies were ready to emerge.

When they didn’t, he sighed and his shoulders drooped with disappointment.

The book had warned that pupas didn’t guarantee butterflies.

They could die.

And mid-August was late for peacock butterflies to emerge.

Ollie had begun to worry after they had passed the two-weeks mark and was contemplating asking Einstein to get a message out to Sebastian. They could try again the following year, or to hell with the caterpillar stage, Sebastian could fill the rats with live butterflies. Ollie scratched off the latter idea. It was cruel, and he was certain Teddy would not approve.

“Three,” Ollie murmured. “Where’s the fourth?”

Teddy ducked beneath the bed. The frame squealed as he sat down. Ollie yawned into the back of his hand before joining him on the bed beneath.

Teddy pointed to the tray and the pupa.

The last butterfly began to emerge.

Teddy held up his hand to Ollie, and Ollie linked their fingers.

They didn’t make a sound, but the other butterflies did, fluttering past, smacking into this and that, before beating themselves against the closed window.

Ollie frowned as a wave of sadness washed over him. Teddy beamed, crushing Ollie’s hand in his grip as he waited with bated breath.

It was the closest thing Teddy could experience to having children. He’d never have the opportunity, wouldn’t ever have a pet, a dog or a cat, an animal for companionship.

Ollie wondered whether he’d always be in this cell, on the squeaky bottom bunk with the furniture, always feeling like it was a day away from collapse.

The same meals, the same gym, the same concrete yard with no flowers or plants.

It was bleak.

He’d been inside for over a decade, and his pulse exploded at the simple sight of a butterfly. Ollie could feel it through their joined hands, the outright joy the moment gave him, and he was sharing it with Ollie.

He’d woken Ollie so they could watch the last one emerge together.

Teddy tugged Ollie’s hand, bringing his focus back to the butterfly, which crawled out of its confines. It flashed its wings, bursts of red as it felt them unfurl for the first time.

Teddy cried. It was a single tear, but he’d been moved. He dragged his gaze from the butterfly and onto Ollie, where his smile seemed to collapse on itself, and he reached with his free hand for Ollie’s cheek.

Teddy’s thumb swiped through a tear, startling Ollie. He hadn’t realised his eyes were stinging until Teddy dried his face.

“I’m okay.”

He didn’t speak in any more than a whisper, not wanting to disturb the butterflies or to break the moment. They were beautiful, but they weren’t the reason Ollie cried.

He cried for Teddy.

It wasn’t fair that he wouldn’t have more than this, or maybe it was fair. Ollie didn’t know anymore. Teddy had told him he’d always loved nature, wildlife. He’d moved around with his family a lot before they’d made a more permanent home on a field beside the hospital.

He loved to explore all the places he’d been, from marshlands, to meadows, to woodlands, to the seaside. He found wonder in the outdoors. He didn’t care about dirt, or creepy crawlies, or getting cold, or even getting lost; he was an explorer at heart.

One that was going to remain in a cage for the rest of his life.

The final butterfly took flight, crashing into their desk, then the wall. It settled on top of their closet while it flashed its wings before taking off again and flapping its way directly at Ollie.

He stiffened as it collided with him, fumbling its way through his hair as it tried to right itself. When it did, it crawled down Ollie’s forehead before dropping onto the tip of his nose. It stayed there, flashing its wings like a beacon, drawing Teddy close.

Teddy squeezed Ollie’s hand, gazing at him with all the happiness he’d expressed over the butterflies. His smile was awed and precious, and he lifted Ollie’s hand to his lips to kiss him softly.

Ollie didn’t bat the butterfly away. The book had said they needed time to dry out their wings before they could flutter with any accuracy. He was more than happy to let this one rest on the end of his nose, especially when it made Teddy look at him like that.

But Teddy’s smile began to dim. His eyes darted, searching Ollie’s face, and as each second passed, they became droopier, sadder. Ollie went cross-eyed, looking at the end of his nose, wondering if there was something wrong with the butterfly.

Then it took off, brushing air at Ollie’s eyes. He blinked, and when he reopened them, Teddy’s expression flipped back to joy at seeing the last butterfly join its brothers and sisters.

They stayed on the bed, hand in hand. It was early morning, 6:20 to be exact.

Unlock didn’t happen until eight, but they had already agreed they had to release the butterflies first. Teddy had been anxious over the thought of them hatching during association, and he always left their door shut and hurried back to it after he’d scoffed down some food.

His expectant father routine had amused Ollie but confused the rest of the wing. Only Einstein knew about the butterflies. Everyone else assumed Teddy was coming down with something and had to rush back to his cell for unfortunate toilet trips.

Even Captain had expressed concern about being without his gym companion for almost a week.

Teddy sighed long and slow. It said he knew what he had to do but wasn’t happy about it in the slightest. They’d talked about it before. It wasn’t fair or practical to keep the butterflies for any length of time. Teddy had said himself they needed to be outside, not locked up.

They needed to be free.

Once they opened the window, they’d be gone. There was nothing to keep them near the prison, no gardens in any of the prison yards.

Ollie squeezed his hand. “We’ll get Sebastian to send us more next year.”

He expected Teddy to nod or smile, but he remained stone-faced.

Teddy’s hand slipped free of Ollie’s as he got up from the bed. Ollie blinked in surprise, shaking his head. “We’ve still got time. You don’t have to do it yet.”

Teddy crossed the cell like he hadn’t heard and opened the window.

The butterflies couldn’t flutter to freedom. They had to land first, crawl beneath the crack, then take flight. It was a struggle, but one by one, they left the cell, and then Teddy shut the window.

He bowed his head, slumping where he stood.

“Talk to me.” Ollie swallowed when Teddy didn’t move. “We said we would let them out just before unlock. Why did you let them go early?”

Teddy exhaled a lingering breath from his nose.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Ollie leaned up to grab the dictionary from the desk. He flipped through the pages. “Talk to me.”

He watched as Teddy ran a hand over his head. If he had hair, Ollie was pretty sure he would’ve gripped it.

“You’re scaring me.”

That got a reaction. Teddy spun to face him, shaking his head adamantly.

“Well, you are.”

Teddy rejoined him on the bed, dropping his head into his hands. Ollie nudged him with the dictionary until he took it, and with another long sigh, he searched for the right word.

It didn’t take long.

Appeal.

Ollie frowned. “What?”

Teddy tapped the word again.

“No.” Ollie shook his head. “I don’t want to. I told you I’m happy where I am.”

Appeal.

Ollie snatched the dictionary from Teddy’s hand and snapped it shut. “No.”

Teddy pressed his hands together in a begging pose.

“I thought you wanted me here.”

Teddy’s expression said, ‘ I do .’ But then it contorted into something complicated.

“Then why do you want to get rid of me?”

Teddy reached for the dictionary, but Ollie hugged it to his chest, preventing him from replying. He pointed out the window instead, adamant that Ollie take notice.

“You think I should be free?”

Teddy nodded.

“You loved it out there, didn’t you? You found it beautiful.”

Teddy lowered his gaze but continued nodding.

“That was not my experience of freedom . Being out there, I’ve never felt more trapped in my life. I hated being alive. The only reason I stayed alive was because Leo needed me, and now, he doesn’t. Now I’m alive , and I’m here.”

Teddy pointed to the window again.

“There’s nothing for me out there. Nothing but bad memories.”

Teddy held his hand out for the dictionary, but Ollie refused to give it to him.

“You want to tell me your reasons? Why you think I should appeal?”

Teddy nodded.

“Well, I don’t care,” Ollie snapped, getting to his feet. He kept the dictionary hostage against his chest but had to put it down to climb onto his bunk. Teddy snatched it before Ollie could reclaim it. He flipped through the pages, but Ollie rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t have to look.

He wouldn’t look.

Teddy flapped the dictionary. He fanned the pages and smacked the cover, all to get Ollie’s attention, but he curled into a ball in reply and hid his face in a pillow.

Teddy sighed and stroked his back.

“Get off me.”

He missed the touch as soon as Teddy took it away.

Oh, Ollie.

He didn’t have to spell that out, and Ollie didn’t have to see his face. He felt it in Teddy’s sigh, in the way he lingered by the bed, wanting to touch but needing to respect Ollie’s wishes.

Teddy stayed standing by the bed until unlock. Ollie gave him the silent treatment as he dropped down from his bunk and got ready for the day. He tried to avoid the dictionary being held up to him at any opportunity, but it was instinctual, almost subconscious the way he looked for Teddy’s words.

He caught the word Safe .

“Are you serious right now?” Ollie asked, whirling on Teddy. “Safe? That’s what you’ve gone for?”

Teddy nodded.

“I’ll be safer outside?”

Teddy kept nodding, waving his hands, trying to keep Ollie’s focus on him.

“You have no idea,” Ollie murmured, pushing his way past and out of the cell.

He marched over to his usual table and sat down heaving.

Jonesy soon joined him. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up,” Ollie snapped. “Just shut up!”

Jonesy leaned back in his chair, eyeing Ollie through a squint. The prison ground to a halt around them until Green came over and announced to everyone, “Nothing to see here. Kindly fuck off.”

Jonesy slid his full breakfast tray in front of Ollie.

“What are you doing?” Ollie asked.

Jonesy flashed a smile. “I’ll get another.”

“But…”

He was back in the queue before Ollie could say any more. Green took the seat opposite, then Jack sat down beside him. They both watched him with concern.

“I’m fine,” Ollie said, staring resolutely at his breakfast.

“You don’t look it,” Jack said. “Want to talk about it?”

Yes, Ollie did want to talk about it; he opened his mouth to start but stopped himself.

Everyone inside wanted to get outside .

Everyone except him.

They’d side with Teddy and put pressure on him to appeal.

An inmate being released was like a victory for the whole wing.

“Ollie?” Green pressed.

“I’ll make an appointment with Jarvis.”

Both Jack and Green nodded, satisfied with his answer.

Ollie didn’t start his breakfast until Jonesy had returned to the table. He apologised; Jonesy forked Ollie’s sausage and ate it with a grin.

Ollie shot him a small smile back, knowing his apology had been accepted.

“Ah, Ollie,” Jarvis said, standing from his desk to welcome Ollie inside.

Ollie glanced around the office, frowning at the figurines. He swore they were different, the same orcs, goblins and horses, but in different poses.

Jarvis caught him looking and cocked his head. “I like to mix things up.”

“With the same things?”

Jarvis shrugged. “They’re from different series. They’ve been through different hardships. Onyx has lost his eye in this one, see?”

He pointed to the green orc wearing an eyepatch. “He doesn’t get his eye back until series seven when he visits The Garden of Greatness and has it returned to him after completing three challenges. It’s a red eye, not his natural green. I’ve got a figurine of that too.”

Ollie blinked.

“But I doubt you booked an appointment with me so I’d tell you that.”

“Erm. No.” Ollie took his seat. “How did you manage to see me at such short notice?”

“I had a cancellation.” Jarvis’s brow twitched. “And Ben—Captain said he was worried about you.”

“Captain?”

Jarvis hummed. “He was in here earlier, said you didn’t seem yourself at breakfast, so here you are. But first things first.”

Jarvis opened a drawer in his desk and took out a bowl of only orange smarties.

Ollie widened his eyes.

“They sell them in tubes of only orange now.” He placed them on the table. “And only pink. I get those ones for Captain.”

“Captain likes pink smarties?”

“He likes smarties, but not pink. He questioned the pink cardigan I sometimes wear, claiming it’s too feminine, so now he only has pink smarties. He needs to get over his anti-pink mindset.”

Ollie snorted. “You like Captain.”

“I do,” Jarvis replied, then glanced at the photograph on his desk. “Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Captain. You’re here to eat orange smarties and talk about you.”

Ollie took a handful and started crunching them.

Jarvis didn’t rush him. He looked content to lean back in his chair and wait, even if waiting ate up the entire session.

“My brother, Leo, contacted a barrister on my behalf about an appeal. The barrister, Howard Noble, thinks I’ve got a good chance of lowering my sentence, maybe even getting out of here altogether. Leo’s excited. It’s all he talks about when he visits now, what we’ll do when I get out of here, where we’ll go, what he wants to show me. I nod along and smile, and although I like the idea of doing it all, my heart’s not in it.”

He hung his head, breath catching on the admission he didn’t voice. His heart wasn’t in it because it was with someone else.

“Are you afraid the appeal will fail and leave him disappointed?”

“No.” Ollie bit his lip. “I’m afraid it will be a success.”

He squinted, waiting for confusion to mar Jarvis’s expression, but it didn’t change. He was open, engaged, waiting for Ollie to say more.

“I don’t want to get out of here.”

Jarvis didn’t even twitch. “Can I ask you why?”

“There’s nothing for me on the outside.”

“Your brother.”

Ollie squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, he’s there, but he’s got his own life. He doesn’t need me. We can still have a relationship even if I’m inside.”

“But who can’t you have a relationship with in here if you’re on the outside?”

“Teddy. I’d lose Teddy.”

“Lose him?”

Ollie nodded. “It wouldn’t be the same if I was on the outside. We couldn’t be…intimate.”

His cheeks glowed, and he snuck a look at Jarvis, but he didn’t react.

“We wouldn’t be able to spend as much time together.”

“A high percentage of the prisoners in here have partners on the outside.”

“But he’s in here for life. If I get out, I lose him for good. And it’s not just him. I have friends in here. I’m about to take my GCSEs. I have a life, which is something I didn’t have on the outside. On the outside, it was only an existence.”

“If you did get out, you wouldn’t be returning to that unhappy existence. You might make friends on the outside. You might continue with your studies, maybe even advance them into a career.”

“But why would I do that if I already have everything I want in here?”

“Does Teddy know about the appeal?”

“There is no appeal.”

Jarvis held up his hands in apology. “Does he know about Howard contacting you with regard to an appeal?”

“Yes. I told him I wanted to stay.” Ollie looked down. “At first he seemed relieved, but then…”

“But then?”

“This morning, he said I should appeal.”

“And what were his reasons?”

Ollie shrugged. “I didn’t let him give me them. He thinks I’d be safer on the outside, which isn’t true. It’s not safe out there.”

“Why do you think that?”

“My father.”

“He’s no longer there. That danger is gone.”

“There will be other dangers.”

Jarvis raised an eyebrow. “Prison isn’t free of them either.”

“But I’ve got Teddy. He protects me. I’ve only ever felt safe with him.”

“How did it feel when Teddy told you he wants you to appeal?”

“It hurt,” Ollie croaked. His eyes burned. “It feels like he doesn’t want me anymore. He wants me gone.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Ollie swallowed. He shook his head.

“I think you should let Teddy explain why he thinks you should appeal—”

“But—”

Jarvis raised a hand to interrupt his protest. “Hear him out. It doesn’t mean you’re giving in or that you must do as he wants, but you’re putting so much emphasis on Teddy being the reason not to appeal. He knows this. Which means he should get to have an opinion on that reason. Your decision affects him too.”

“He’ll say I’m better off outside.”

“Then let him explain why he thinks that. You can agree, or disagree, but hear him out. You hear him, don’t you, Ollie?”

Ollie frowned. “Yes.”

Jarvis smiled softly. “Then don’t stop now. Don’t give him a voice, then take it away when things get hard.”