Page 5 of Butterfly

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 wordSorry.

“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 wordSorryagain. 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 wordGenius.

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.

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