You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison (Frerard)

Eight

Ray walks me back to my cell, still holding my hand. Once we reach it, he leans over, and whispers into my ear,

"Goodnight Gerard," with a small smile.

"Night Ray," I return. He unlocks my cell and I enter. After locking it after me, he walks away with a smile plastered on his face.

I notice that Frank is sitting up in his bed, despite it being well after lights out. His head follows me as I walk through the cell. I only hear him lay down once I've got into bed.

His behaviour was strange at best, and downright creepy at worst, but I couldn't believe that he was trouble, like Ray had said. Hell, the kid wouldn't even ask for a meal that he could eat, in fear of making a fuss. It's beyond me how he even managed to get sent to prison.

I wake up, after a considerable amount of sleep. I jump down to the ground, and realise that Frank isn't in the cell. Guess he's at breakfast. God I need to get my sleeping schedule sorted out. Deciding that there is nothing better to do, I grab Frank's book, which is placed on the ground, and sit on the bottom bunk. I open the book, the pages a creamy white, the words written in a gothic black font.

I'm reading the third chapter when Frank walks into the cell. I look up to see him holding coffee in a paper cup. I grin and put the book down. He walks towards me and holds out the coffee for me to take.

I grin and take the coffee from him. "You're the best." I say.

"No problem," he says, with a surprising amount of volume.

"Is today going to be the day you start talking to me?" I ask smiling at him, taking a sip of the coffee. He shrugs. "I hope so, it's getting awfully boring talking just about myself, you must think I am the most self-absorbed person ever."

He looks down "No, I don't mind."

"Well I don't like talking about myself, I'm awfully boring, so I'm going to ask you some questions."

He shrugs.

"Okay, so how old are you Frank?"

"20."

"Ah, two years younger than myself." He looks the same age as me, but I do look young for my age. "Are you from NJ?"

He nods.

"Same. So how long have you been in this place?"

"Hm... 'bout a year."

"Wow. How much more time to go?"

His face drops. "Twenty."

"Shit! What the fuck did you do to get twenty?"

He drops his face into his hands. I get down and sit next to him. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked, you don't have to say." I say quietly, patting him on the shoulder in what I hope is a comforting way. He looks up, using the sleeve of his jumpsuit to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"Um, maybe a different question. What's your favourite food?"

A small smile forms on his face, "Candy in general."

I smile back at him, making solid eye contact. His eyes are a nice colour, though they don't really stand out. Hazel, though closer to green than brown, except for really close to the pupil, where they're almost completely brown. My eyes are a more yellowish hazel."Candy is always good," I say.

Maintaining eye contact, he says "Not always. Have you ever had a red starburst?" He pulls a face, "Yuck!"

I gasp in mock-horror "How could you! The red are the best by far! It's the pink ones that suck,"