Warning: In addition to the comment made previously, I actually hate the way this chapter turned out. A lot!
Chapter Twenty-Two"Right, everything is set"
"Are you sure this will work?"
"Positive"
"But trusting Johnny to get the keys?"
"The fact that he associates himself with us means that he will fail or succeed along with us. Johnny will make sure he gets those keys"
"And what about Kenny. He's never ever broken a rule"
"Kenny was actually willing to help"
"Really?"
"Said something about being happy to be rid of Tyson"
A sigh.
"Don't worry. Everything will turn out fine."
-
A note? The blunette picked up the piece of paper atop his bed and stared at the letters that spelt out his name in capitals. It was very surprising to see a note also because paper was scarce and the use of pens had been left to the minimum. This had been employed due to the history in which an inmate had used one in an attempt to poison another for revenge. Jurgen had of course gotten wind of this and instantly decided upon limiting the use of pens in the future. Tyson unfolded the paper nonetheless and let his eyes grace the contents of the note.
I need to speak to you
Meet me in the laundry room and 8.30pm
Those words instantly perplexed Tyson. He was sure he had seen and spoken to everyone about everything and anything, though these days he spent most of his time in the library with Kenny. He was determined to prove to the former-hacker that he didn't just spend time with him as a last resort, but now it had become more than a task to achieve, but a way of life. He never thought he'd limit his time to the library. He even disregarded entering the games room these days and was actually finding joy in just talking- even if Kenny wasn't listening half the time. Maybe he'd finally cracked, but it still didn't answer his question. Who wanted to speak with him?
He debated internally questioning whether he should go to meet this person. After all, he owed no one any favours, but the more he held the note, the more his curiosity increased. He wasn't about to try and decipher who's handwriting it might have been because he couldn't be bothered to wrack his brain and it would take too long anyway. But still. What could be so important that this individual couldn't speak to him in public? What was so secret that it could only be disclosed behind closed doors?
He scrunched the piece of paper up in his hand in thought then. In the past, he would have normally associated a note like this with a new fan or anything related to his previous celebrity career, but now he didn't feel so super anymore and no one particularly acknowledged his superstardom unless they were making a wicked joke of some kind. Tyson found himself smiling. He remembered when he'd first arrived and how rude most people had been about how he'd looked and how stupid he'd been to give everything up for a period-sentence behind bars. It had taken months before they'd actually accepted him and he wouldn't have changed them for the world. He supposed the people here were like his family now. Everyone else, the paparazzi, his celebrity friends had all abandoned him anyway.
Stealthily, he took a step outside of his dorm and glanced around for a clock of some sort. He set his blues on the device positioned above the gate that lead off of the wing and saw that he had less than ten minutes to meet this person – whoever they were. It was probably a very short meeting as well, especially with only just over half and hour until lock up and it made him wonder even more. Perhaps the individual had something to offer him; an eye for an eye most probably, but Tyson would never do anything sleazy. He may have been behind bars, but he was still a good person at heart.
He sighed and within minutes, stuffing the scrunched up piece of paper into his pocket, he was wondering along the bending corridor that led towards the showers, but more importantly, the laundry room. It was quiet, perhaps due to the fact that officers were without a doubt, rounding up inmates and encouraging them to head back to the cells. He could only hear the sounds of his own footsteps as he approached the olive-coloured door and he pushed at it to find that it was still open. He'd thought that it would have been locked, as the officers were very punctual and locked off most prison facilities at around about this time.
Once entered, he saw that he was alone. No washing machine or dryer was in use, which was to be expected. The only thing he could detect was that this room was much warmer than out in the corridor. The room was so deadly silent that it was almost deafening. It was then that he began to think that perhaps, this whole charade was some sort of joke, to get him in trouble perhaps. But it couldn't hurt to wait a few minutes, so he picked a washing machine in the centre of the row and sat himself atop it in wait.
He hadn't been waiting long when the stillness he was sat in was interrupted by the faint sound of voices accompanied by footsteps travelling towards him from the outside. It was hard to make out at first.
"…I don't know…"
"…He's been dying to see you…"
"You sure? It doesn't really sound like…"
The door to the laundry room opened and Tyson's blues widened at the sight.
"Tyson?"
"Max?" He near enough lost his seat upon the washer.
It was then that as the blond stood into the room that the laundry room door snapped shut behind him. There was an unusual click followed by a familiar shift of a bolt as it clicked into place.
"What's going on?" The blunette's eyes stated his anxiety as he hopped down from his seat, absentmindedly shoving past Max and pushing at the door.
"It's locked," He said, stating the obvious, but he continued pushing at the door anyway.
"The door won't open just because you want it to, Tyson," Spoke a recognizable voice deriving from the opposite side of the door.
Tyson gritted his teeth.
"Enrique! What's the big idea?" This time he began banging on the door. "You let us out. Now!"
From Tyson's side, Max's own eyebrows furrowed in realisation. He knew that it had been too good to be true. It had all been a lie.
"You tricked me!" The blond heard his own voice shouting through the door. "I should never have trusted you."
This sudden outburst once again startled Tyson that he was forced to watch. Max was certainly full of surprises these days. He'd become much more angry, not the buoyant individual he had once been.
Another pair of footsteps along to corridor signalled the arrival of another.
"Now, now, Max, that's no way to behave," Came Enrique's cocky remark.
"It's for your own good," This time the other individual spoke, a strong French accent radiating through.
"This isn't a joke, Oliver," Tyson had suddenly found his voice again and began banging as he spoke. "You can't…keep us…HERE!"
"Calm down, Tyson," Oliver's weak plea was slightly quieter.
"I will NOT calm down!" The blunette yelled.
"You guys have stopped talking over something that can easily be resolved"
"Don't you realise how miserable you are without each other?"
"Yes. You belong together,"
Max gasped, while Tyson found his voice again.
"…You know…they'll find us…and when they do…"
"…it'll be tomorrow morning," Enrique interrupted. "We've been planning this for a while now, Tyson, and of course, we were smart enough to get help. Johnny got the keys for this room for us and Kenny should be setting off the fire alarms any minute now. So get comfortable. It's going to be a long night."
"Y…you're bluffing," When Tyson finally replied again, it was hesitant.
"Are we?"
The deafening silence returned for a while before the sound of retreating footsteps disappearing down the corridor, were heard.
"Hey!" He shouted. "Get back here! You hear me! Get back here now!"
There was no reply. The footsteps vanished and Tyson kicked at the door in defeat. They were trapped and just as predicted the sound of the fire alarm instantly rang out loud from the outside. Tyson cursed.
"I can't believe this," He had yelled once again after another small silence.
Retiring to the other end of the room, he thumped one of the washing machines, his back to the blond who stood, hunched in the corner, his mind deep in thought. It was true. He hadn't spoken to Tyson since the argument, but now they would be forced to speak to each other and the current tension was incredibly thick. Gulping, he tried to moisten the dryness in his throat before he spoke.
"M…maybe this is good for us," He managed to say aloud.
From his slouched position stood over the washing machine, Tyson turned around mirroring that of a sinister being. He gave Max a disgusted look.
"This is no time to be looking on the bright side," He stated matter-of-factly. "They locked us in"
He was even shocked, at this point, that such a comment could have been considered let alone said. Plus, he felt incredibly uncomfortable being in this situation; in this room; with him.
"…Well…they…want us to talk…right?" Max said. "…and we haven't spoken since…"
He couldn't bring himself to bring the argument back up, so much that it even hurt him to remember. He bowed his head slightly and stared at the floor and as Tyson caught this, he felt an immediate gut feeling to put a smile back on that face. He wanted to go over there and hug him and tell him that everything would be all right. He wanted to be with him and tell him that he'd never really stopped caring. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wouldn't. The pride within him was just too great. Searching within himself, he tried to find the right words to say.
"If you think that their plan was a good thing, then you're just as crazy as they are," Pity they were the wrong words. "And anyway, we have nothing to talk about."
Once again, his pride took over. He stood with his arms folded, his back straight and his eyes closed. When he opened them however, he noticed that Max's sky-blues were no longer staring at the floor, but back at him generating some form of hurt. And once again, that face, those eyes made him near enough weak at the knees. Those bashful eyes were one of the things Tyson had liked most about Max. Still liked too.
"I'm not going to argue with you, Tyson," The reply was level, as the blond slouched against the wall.
Tyson had never seen him do that either.
"I should have known he was lying. Enrique…he told me that you wanted to see me…that you wanted to apologise…for everything," He continued. "I mean…I was thinking it was lie to begin with…after all, I've known you long enough to know that you'd never apologise for anything…but I came here anyway…and now we're trapped here because of Oliver and Enrique and their plan. I suppose their idea was useless anyway. I already know how you feel."
Tyson had wanted to counter what had been said about him never apologising. Kenny had said it too and naturally Tyson had flipped only to be banned from the room for the remainder of the day. For a second, he would have had a go at Max too, but strangely, Tyson had let him continue and he had now forgotten about whatever point he would have tried to make.
A snide remark came within seconds nonetheless.
"Well you were the one who started it," His arms remained folded, childishly.
Max's pained expression returned.
"You broke up with me, Tyson"
The blunette had opened his mouth to counter, but found that no sound came out. It had been true. He had said it was over, but he hadn't really meant it. Then the blond hadn't spoken to him since and Tyson had assumed that it really was over; that they really were finished. But it wasn't his fault, right? It just couldn't be. But maybe it was. Unsurprisingly, as Max had confronted him, Tyson had lost his temper and said a few things that he wished he hadn't, which always seemed to happen in such circumstances. He wasn't a person who liked to be backed into a corner. But perhaps, it was true. He had been in the wrong. So why wouldn't his pride back down for one minute? Why couldn't he apologise? Why wouldn't he?
The alarms had stopped now.
"W…well, you were accusing me of all sorts," Tyson found himself snapping.
He'd swivelled around and his eyes were looked like they were exposing fury.
"You were flirting with another woman," Max was standing up straight now.
"I wasn't doing it on purpose,"
"Oh yeah! Then why were you doing it then?"
"She's nosy. I was just keeping her away."
"You're lying!"
"Whatever!"
"You never really cared, did you?"
"I…"
"…Answer me this then, Tyson. Why did you even strike up this relationship if you knew you couldn't commit?"
"…"
"Why did you put me through all that if you never truly cared"
"…"
"And why did you stay with me for so long if you knew you'd get bored of me, Tyson, huh? Why? Why?"
"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S WHY"
Max's eyes widened dramatically and a hand nearly snapped up over his mouth as he met Tyson's gaze. The blunette looked as if he'd been holding in his feelings as if he were holding in a breath. For too long. But he had always assumed that Max had known. He'd never needed to say he'd loved him to get through to the blond. Until now. Until it had actually meant something. Until it had had to be said.
When he regained his breath, he backed himself against the wall and sat himself upon the floor, his knees bent and his elbows rested upon them. His hands supported his head, which lay bowed to the floor. The baseball cap had been removed and was placed at his side revealing the mass of blue-black hair. It looked much longer and thicker than before.
And then it finally came.
"I'm sorry, Max," His voice was soft. "I never meant to hurt you like this. I never meant for things to get this far out of hand. I'm so sorry."
By now, Max was speechless. But though still stuck for words took a couple of steps closer to Tyson and though he said nothing, as Max's shadow cast over Tyson, the blunette began to speak again. He looked up at Max and their eyes met. Tyson's eyes were glossy, almost tearful. But it was now that blunette, currently in his emotional state, was ready to admit things to himself. He had finally told Max how deep his feelings were even though, most probably, he hadn't known the full extent of how deep they were. But now he, himself, knew the truth.
"I guess I was so blind that I couldn't see what was really going on," He continued. "I couldn't see that I was hurting you…and I thought things were okay…but I never stopped…loving you, Max. I always have." He chuckled apologetically. "I suppose it wasn't Oliver and Enrique who…pushed us apart after all. It was me"
TBC