When we are done, we get dressed in a hurry. And in the silence that comes after, we sit on the floor with our cheeks pressed into the bars. I reach through an opening and take him by his hand.
Hold it.
Holdhim.
This stupid fucking boy who saved me.
This irritating little shit who I adore so much.
Now, it’s my turn to save him.
Seven munches on a biscuit with his free hand. Guess getting fucked burns enough energy to make him end the hunger strike.
“I’m not complaining,” he says with a mouth full of food. “But why couldn’t you say that back at the church? Couldn’t say it when you could cuddle me after? When you could have held me tightly and snuggled with me?” He takes another bite. “Instead, you wait until I’m on the opposite side of these prison bars.”
“I didn’t want you going out not knowing.” I squeeze his hand tighter. “Didn’t want you to die thinking you weren’t loved.”
“Every word you continue to say makes it feel a lot less romantic. Are you only saying this because you think we’re going to die?”
“I’m saying it because maybe I’ve been wanting to say it, but I was too afraid. But I don’t want to die having not said it.”
The door at the top of the stairs rips open, and judging by what little light cascades down the hallway, we’re out of time. I shuffle away from Seven and step to the gate at the front of the cell. Rory parks himself in front of me, dressed in his Sunday best, which is a far cry from the usual attire. Guess he’s ready to meet his maker. He reeks of cigarette smoke, and his fingers dance nervously, tapping at his hip.
“It’s time to go.” He retrieves the ring of keys from his belt loop.
I force a smile. “Can I have a cigarette first? It’s kind of my vice and, uhm, I think it’ll make me feel a lot better.”
He shakes his head as he continues to search for the right key.
“Please,” I beg. “I know you smoke. I can smell it all over you. I know you’re nervous. I’m nervous too.”
His chest sinks with a huff. He reaches into the pocket of his button-up shirt and produces a cigarette from a plastic pack. I position my dry lips between the bars and let him place it into my mouth. He draws a lighter from his pocket, flicks it twice, and the ember burnsthe paper end of the cancer stick.
I lean my head back, taking a long drag. Feel the toxins billow to the back of my throat, drowning me in the warmth of what I’m about to do. I grip the cigarette at the butt and take another quick hit. Hold it in place with my lips as it dangles out of my mouth. I point to the empty space behind Rory. “Who is that?”
He spins in a quick circle.
Of course, there’s nobody there.
By the time my arm is around his throat, he’s well aware of that. He struggles beneath my iron grip, his neck muscles throbbing against the crook of my elbow. I grab the cigarette and stab it into his eye. He screams in agony, fingers digging into the side of my throat, tearing at my flesh. The cigarette slips from my fingers and falls to the ground. I clasp my free hand over his mouth to shut him up and wait until he passes out before letting him go. His unconscious body slides down the front of the gate, the keys dropping to his side.
I grab them, search for the right key, and unlock the gate. Rory’s body falls forward as I push the door open. I make quick working dragging him into my cage and locking him inside.
Seven waits for me in his cage, and when I unlock it, he charges through the gate and launches himself into my arms. For the first time, he’s above me because I usually tower over him. But holding him like this, it offers an entirely new view of my little punk. A view that makesme momentarily push away the thought of the horrible thing I just did to that horrible man.
He thrusts forward, pressing his dry lips against mine. Breathes into me. Just two men who haven’t brushed their teeth in four days kissing as if it’s the last time we’ll ever kiss. My hands crawl up his back as he jumps free, landing on his feet.
“You smell like an ashtray,” he says.
“Really?” I furrow a brow. “Don’t do this right now.”
He points to Rory on the ground. “We can’t leave him like this. He might wake up.”
“Let's see how he likes living in a cage.” I drag him by his feet into the cell while Seven waits on the other side. “Sorry about your eye, Rory.” I bring the gate to a gentle close and lock it. “You’ll wake up and thank me later for saving you.”
“Yeah, he’s going to be real thankful you charred his eye.”
“At least he’ll be alive.”
