Page 2 of Butterfly

He squeezed his eyes shut in a long blink, reminding himself he hadmorethan 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 butstillcouldn’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.

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