Inside

by Sinceslicedbread

Ste's old cell-mate Callum remembers their time together in the Youth Offenders Centre.

Inside.

Summary: Ste's old cell-mate Callum remembers their time together in the Youth Offenders Centre.

A/N TDA= Taking and Driving Away. B&E = Breaking and Entering.

I noticed him, of course I did. Straight away. Not for the reasons you think though.

He was a scally. A scrap of nothing. Bolshy, but nervous too. Kept coughing.

Annoyed the shit out of me.

At first.

I watched him. Couldn't help it. He kept getting in my way. Was on my turf, fucking up, constantly.

Annoyed me, like I said.

At first.

Someone pushed him over, tripped him up, landed at my feet. I left him there, just laughed; but then he was on his feet, swearing like a motherfucker, really letting rip.

Shocked me. Shocked us.

I think everyone took a step back, except me. I took a step towards him.

Had to.

I reached out, patted him on the back, told him it was about time too; but he shrugged me off, was in my face staring me down. Fucker.

I'd never noticed his eyes before, but they were blue. Light blue like a Spring day - full of promise.

He must've been wearing make -up too 'cos those lashes were long. I mean seriously.

Something lurched inside me, but I ignored it.

Had to.

The last time I listened to those feelings. Those twisted thoughts. I'd got it wrong. Fucking wrong.

I'd made a move, he made one back, with his fists and so did his mates.

That's how I'd ended up in here. Luckily I'd had some Skunk on me, so on paper I'm here 'cos of drugs - a deal that went wrong, rather than a "date" that went wrong.

My guardian angel was looking after me. I think.

-O-

We started to speak after that. Well, to grunt at first, words came later. I let him lead.

Safer.

Didn't take me long to realise one thing though, the boy can talk.

I mean proper speeches.

I acted annoyed. Tried to shut him up, but really I liked it. I liked that he could (and did) tell me anything and everything.

His life, my life, all you needed to do was swap the names, they were identical. Same story, different streets.

Even our boozed-up step-dads had the same name. Terry, (although I called mine Sherry, when he was out of range, just to piss him off).

We were both light on our feet, though sometimes not light enough. Long sleeves hide bruises, a swagger hides a limp. Keep your cap on and your head down. These were the unspoken rules we lived by.

School was a pain. A necessary evil. Even went sometimes. It was somewhere to go, warm, dry, could catch up on some kip and get a free meal; but the teachers, man the grief they gave you, sticking their noses in. Thinking they were being subtle with their hob-nailed questions. Best off out of it.

So that meant the streets. Hanging 'round. Hanging out. Dipping into a bit of this, a bit of that. Cash in hand. Out of your pocket into mine. So what? TDA, B&E, anything to get through the day.

He told me my memories, my family album. I shared my smokes. Seemed only fair.

-O-

After that we sort of fell into step with each other. You know, became mates. Had each other's back.

He'd wait for me after activities. We'd walk to the canteen together. I'd steal extra cartons of milk for us to either drink, or use as weapons on the no-hopers surrounding us.

I'd overlook his basic reading skills, by reading his one and only letter to him. He'd turn a blind eye to my lack of phone calls.

No-one visited either of us.

It was still a shock though, when I turned in one day and found out he was now my new cell-mate.

My stomach took a trip to the moon and back.

He coughed nervously.

That first night. Strange. My guardian angel had to tell me to drag my eyes away. I wasn't shopping for another black eye.

I was rude a bit. Dived into bed and faced the wall instantly. My hands couldn't even do what they were used to doing. I just lay still. Listening. Wishing. Forcing myself to sleep. Only half the message got through.

I heard him climb up the bunk, to get to his. In the dark he slipped and I reached out automatically to break his fall. My hand could fit right round his ankle, it was so svelte.

The hairs stood up on my arm in response.

He murmured something. No worries.

I watched him wriggle, trying to get comfortable in our government issued beds. When I thought he'd dropped off, I reached out and traced his outline through the mattress, my fingers trying to remember what his warmth felt like. This was now a friendship with an edge.

It became edgier.

It got to the point where I had to keep my eyes open as we got changed, otherwise I'd do myself some damage.

That's when I saw it. Was probably staring 'cos he asked if anything was wrong?

Wrong? Absolutely not!

I'd just caught sight of the out spanned wings of his tattoo on his left hip. Wrong was not how I was feeling.

I dropped to my knees without thinking. Was gazing at it so intently, my lips were almost resting on his hip-bone. He didn't look the type, to have ink. Too frail. However the navy stamp stood out, as if it were done yesterday. He was quite chuffed. Said it represented his flight from home and that he didn't flinch once.

I think I blew on it, to soothe the past pain.

I'm not sure.

Well fairs fair I pulled my top off and turned. Down my right side by my ribs, I've got XI inked.

I had to laugh. He wanted to know why I had ex,ai permanently stained there. I told him they were Roman Numerals. It should be read as eleven. Why eleven? He'd asked.

I thought I'd tell him the truth. Everyone else had had the Disney version so far.

Eleven, 'cos that was the last time I was happy.

Before the fat lips. Before the dawn raids. Before Terry.

I took a deep breath and held it. The tears roll backwards when you do that.

"Aww mate" he said and laid his hand on my tatt.

I felt like I'd been branded. His touch seared my skin. I took a step back and sat down abruptly.

Man alive.

That night after lights out, he coughed aloud as if to say, "are you alright?" I coughed back "yeah I was sound."

-O-

What started as a drip became a flood.

This one time I got up to take a piss late at night. Sometimes you just have to. I'd finished and was crossing back to my bed. I almost made it. Almost got in but something caught my eye.

He caught my eye.

He was lying on his side, facing me, asleep. Hand curled up by his cheek. Fingernails bitten.

He looked like a cherub, all fresh and pink and sweet.

I couldn't move. I was proper stuck. Like damn.

My guardian angel had to shove me else I'd have been there to this day.

Are blokes meant to look at other blokes?

Not sure.

Didn't care. This soon became my midnight feast.

-O-

I couldn't find him. That wasn't on. He'd been my shadow puppet for the last seven weeks and now not a snifter. I looked everywhere. Asked around, casual like. Most didn't even know who he was. He was flying below the radar. Good, didn't want to be looked on as a pair. No knowledge, no aggro.

It took a while, a long while but I found him. He'd only volunteered to help out in the kitchens. He was peeling veg by the back step. Out of choice. It took some persuading but he agreed to a fag break. I thought I knew him but this was new.

He said it was his birthday, not that he or anyone else cared; but it'd got him thinking. He'd decided he didn't want to be a screw-up for the rest of his life, thought he'd do something about it, thought he'd start with food.

It's a plan I s'pose. It's not my cup of tea but you know, we've all got to eat, so why not? I was going to pull a face but then I saw the look on his. The sheer hope in his eyes, as though this was the first sensible thought he'd ever had and shared with anyone.

I couldn't crush that. I was part of that. The lift in my stomach went down.

I think I moved closer to him on the step. I'm not sure. I wanted him to carry on talking, to share more. I gave him the rest of my smokes. Best I could do.

Later it rattled round my head. Who'd want a birthday in this shit-hole? I had to do something. I did. Pulled in a few favours, promised a few more, managed to get my hands on a half bottle of Irish whiskey. Sorted.

At lock-up the party began. A party for two. I toasted him from a plastic cup, no expense had been spared.

He was such a light-weight. Three shots and he was gone. He started talking to himself and he giggled.

Giggled. I hadn't heard a sound like that since I was an infant, being tickled by our next-door neighbour who babysat sometimes.

I always liked him.

He tried dancing, that's when I started giggling too. Rhythm and him were not bezzie mates. Still he seemed happy until his fifth shot and then his past birthday celebrations came back to haunt him.

Last year Terry had stolen his bike, sold it and put the money on a horse that's still running. The year before he'd been slapped silly, after he'd woken up one too many times with sheets that weren't dry.

He let out a little gasp at that. I looked up and caught the tail-end of a look of horror racing across his features. Too much? He bit his lip and I wanted bite it too.

This time he moved nearer to me, or the booze. Not sure.

After this I became messy. I needed to play catch up. As I slurred my words, my brain decided to take a vacation from my mouth. I said things. I think. I told him he was taking up all my headspace. That he was beginning to make me breathe deeply. I think I let slip ever so quietly that bits of me would tingle when he was around.

I know I was blushing like a bitch.

Such a knob head.

Aren't we meant to learn from our mistakes?

My head was wrecked and my heart and liver weren't holding up too well either.

Luckily Mother Nature knows how to remedy these situations.

I passed out.

-O-

Without the beer goggles I thought I'd be better. You know. Be sane. Hard. Aloof, but he was getting to me. Like really.

I had to will my hands to stay by my sides. Bribe my feet to move away from him. Lights out was a blessing because the darkness hid the direction of my pupils.

Then one night, just before I visited my silent gallery I sensed him.

Near.

I could feel him.

Feel him above me. I could feel his heat.

I slowly, slowly tipped my head back, so my lips were access all areas.

I felt his breath ghost my face, over my eyes especially, over my lips and then I breathed out too.

Into his mouth.

I heard him splutter slightly as he caught my breath and then he breathed into my mouth, deliberately.

We did this, this breathing thing, together. A blow-back without the joint.

It felt good.

Hot. Moist. Close.

I could taste him. Smoky, salty with a hint of chips too.

He gave me a headrush. Got into my bloodstream. I felt myself getting tense, you know, there.

I opened my eyes, fell into his and then…..

Nothing. Na da. Not a damn thing.

There was silence.

Then I heard his knees creak faintly as he stood up.

(No, oh no).

I had to hold back the tears while his bed moaned as he climbed up and re-entered it.

I couldn't even see his shape either, as he barely dented the bedding above me.

I coughed to let him know I was disappointed. That I would've been fine with it. With him. Whatever.

I'd have taken more if he'd offered it.

He didn't cough back.

Shit.

-O-

The next day he's gone.

Good behaviour or summat.

Just like that . Out of reach. Game over.

He's been nicked and I can't even report it.

Ste's been snatched away and that fucks me right off. He's outside somewhere and I hate it.

Gone for good.

It's not good for me.

I revert to type.

Act up.

Lash out.

Lose my privileges.

Get sent to the hole.

That's not good for me either. I'm all alone. With time to think.

About him.

It's stupid 'cos even though he's not here, I can still feel him. Clammy and close. I can still see his nervous smile. Anxious after he's told me something no-one else knows. I can still hear his voice jabbering on and on before, during and after lights out. I can still taste him.

I miss him.

Inside.

-OOO-

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