Rory was still alive in the morning, but he’d not had much sleep. For hours he lay awake, waiting for Sebastian’s arms to shoot up from around the bed and clutch him, or a pillow to be pressed to his face. Nothing happened, and eventually he drifted off only to be awoken by Captain’s scream of terror. He called out for twenty minutes before the nightguards roused him.

Rory stayed on his bed while Sebastian got dressed. There was barely enough room for them to stand in front of the bed together, and Rory felt oddly safer off the ground, being as quiet as possible, curled in a ball at the end of his bed. Rory peeled looks at Sebastian’s physique, he was tall, strong, and darker hair grew from his chest. He looked good, but then when he attached his gaze on Rory, any good feeling vanished, and fear rose up in its place.

Sebastian pulled on another tight white t-shirt and smart black trousers. He wetted his hand, then stroked back his hair. He tested the length of his stubble with his fingertips, then nodded.

“How am I looking?”

Rory’s struggled to find words—he didn’t know what was acceptable. He settled for ‘good’, but Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“Good?”

“Ready to face the day,” Rory tried.

Sebastian snorted. “That’s the kinda rubbish they’d put on a cereal box.”

The door clunked, then swung open. Sebastian strolled out and disappeared around the corner. Rory dropped back down on his bed and pressed his palms to his face. On paper, it sounded simple—go into the prison, strike up conversation with Sebastian, and over the course of a few months, he reveals all his secrets.

Sebastian didn’t want to speak with Rory, and the way his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a sinister smile set alarm bells off in Rory’s head.

****

Captain looked worse than the day before, and his prediction had come true. The other inmates looked at him with a mixture of pity and fear. Captain’s cellmate serving breakfast couldn’t look him in the eye when he held out his tray.

It wasn’t burned toast and watery eggs of the day before, but thick bland porridge that stuck Rory’s teeth together. He slapped his lips noisily as he ate, and his taste buds cried out for sugar.

Captain ate his up, then tapped his spoon on his tray. “I woke you?”

Rory nodded. “It’s not your fault—”

“It is my fault, that’s the problem.” He tapped his temple. “I deserve to feel like this.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know the shit I did, and the shit I didn’t do when I was serving overseas.”

“I know I couldn’t have handled it.”

“Neither could I.”