And now it’s time for action.
Tonight is the perfect night to break out of this cycle of endless torment we’ve been living in for more weeks than I can even keep track of. There’s a big storm headed straight for us. In fact, it’s already started. I can hear the vicious winds and aggressive rain through the shabby concrete walls in the East Wing as I sit cross-legged on the floor of the padded cell, pen and paper in hand.
“And then tell him that I said Happy Thanksgiving, and that I look forward to his stuffing,” Ren snickers. “That’ll make him smile.”
I have to chuckle, while of course giving him a look like he’s deranged.Which he is, so he’s used to it.
Gotta give the guy credit.Weeks upon weeks of being tortured in the East, and yet his only concern is making his boyfriend smile.That’s dedication right there.
Or, ya know… Severely unhealthy codependent obsession.
Same thing.
“Okay, ew,” I grunt, writing his perverted message to Luthor down, because he’s in a straitjacket and can’t write it himself. “How would you know if it’s Thanksgiving, anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he sighs out a tired breath, sounding every bit as run over by a Mack truck as he looks. “It’s Novembuary eighty-ninth to me. Just write.”
“You got it, Prince Eric,” I hum, using humor as a defense mechanism in the same general way he is. To keep myself from crashing down into a mile-deep hole of depression. “What else?”
“I don’t know,” he breathes, too tired to even keep his head up anymore. He sinks onto the floor on his side. “Just tell him you’ve been watching out for me. Say some positive shit… Even if it’s not true. I don’t want him to worry.”
I stare at him, gulping. “Will do.”
“Thanks, kween… slay.”
God, he can barely even pop off.
I feel awful. Ren’s been getting it hard, for no real reason other than that the Warden’s always sorta had it out for him. I’m not crystal clear onwhy…
I know Ren burned down one of The Ivory’s businesses. I also know this isn’t the first time he’s had the doctors go in on Ren with full force down here.
In the past he’s taken it without batting a masochistic whacko eye, but this time is different. He and Luthor are together, for real this time. It’s deeper than whatever reluctant hookup games they were playing in the past, that much is clear to all of us. I mean, 48 hasn’t so much as brushed up on any of the guards or prisoners since the prison went into lockdown, so it’s been a while.
That must be some sort of record for him.
If it’s a sign of faithfulness to show his love and devotion to Lex Luthor Deon, it’s definitely working. But it doesn’t much matter when they’ve been separatedyet againby The Ivory—aka Mr. Ruins Relationships Like It’s An Olympic Sport.
This time, though, I think it’ll take more than a separation to break them up.
But I don’t have time to worry about prisoner dating problems right now. There’s a plan in the works, and I have to get this note up to Luthor before I run out of time.
Rustling his messy dark hair, I stand up with a sigh. “Alright, kid. I’ll make sure baby daddy gets this.”
“Much obliged,” he yawns. “Oh, wait. Do you know if Velle got that stuff for me? My supplies?”
“I’ll double-check, but I know he said he was stashing it in Felix’s room tonight.”
“Sweet.”
Giving him one last lingering look of empathy, I murmur, “Hang in there, 48.”
He simply nods, eyes closed like he’s falling asleep before I’m even out of the cell.
I do feel bad. Of course I do, I’m not a complete hunk of stone. Regardless of how much I’d tried to shove away feelings in the past, falling in love really has a way of just filling you with mush.
It’s gross, and stupid, but also kind of fascinating.
The thing is, though, it’s not that I necessarily feel bad for Ren out of human compassion. I sincerely care about the kid. Despite his many,manyissues, he’s a good dude, and Luthor really brings out the loyalty in him.
