Page 5 of The Stay


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“Oh, don’t worry, mongrel, Ash is a featherweight, brought up nice, you know, couldn’t handle not being loved by his momma and dadda, not being accepted for the person he is, all that crap about being true to yourself and being who you want to be, that only the privileged little snowflakes of this generation can stomach…”

Nix took his lead from Ash and bit his tongue from the million things he could have retorted back to the guard.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two mutts to play. Nix, don’t trash your new kennel. Ash, good luck,” the guard said, and clanked the door shut as he left.

* * *

Nix grunted, peering into the darker cell, his eyes struggling to adjust.

"Hey, buddy," came the response of the guy in front of him. Nix blinked. The guy was staring. People often stared at Nix, that was nothing new. Nix wanted them to stare. He wanted their shock and horror. He wanted them running for the hills and praying for salvation to the gods that Nix was sure didn't exist. Nix’s eyes adjusted slowly and he made out a younger, leaner guy, unfolding his arms. Nix felt like the new guy at school. Being assessed by the cool kids, trying to categorize him as ‘geek’, or ‘jock’, or ‘emo.’ Ash’s hair certainly looked like it belonged on a school campus. Wild skater hair, messy brown in a mop on his head. Otherwise, Nix couldn’t read him. A blank canvas. No visible tattoos. Clean shaven. Wide eyes. The prison uniform of jeans and T-shirt stripping him of any self-expression that would have helped Nix work out if he was a threat or not. Nix had gone soft now, thank fuck, because he would’ve bet this guy would notice that, too. Nix made a mental note to keep his cards close to his chest with this one. He was going to do that anyway in his new cell, because he’d not done that before and ended up beaten to a pulp a few times too many. But this Ash guy was… smart.

Nix saw the little eyebrow twitch on Ash's face. Shock. Nix heard the gentle gasp on Ash's lips. Horror.

"Your tattoos..." Ash breathed out, and continued to stare.

Nix tilted his head slightly. It wasn't horror. This smaller man was looking at him with... awe. Ash stepped closer.

Ash's hand came out, and his finger touched Nix's neck. Tracing the floral pattern he had there. "Fuck, that's beautiful..."

Nix was frozen still with surprise. This guy was touching his neck. Staring like he was the fucking Sistine Chapel. Fearless, reverent. Nix was surprised that the guy’s touch was gentle. Warm. Nix was surprised he had even noticed that. Ash was touching him like he was a priceless artifact. An object. Nix liked it.

And then Nix slammed back to earth. He suddenly pulled away, jerking like he'd been stung by a wasp. "Dude, get your fucking hands off me.”

Total knee jerk reaction from Nix, standard. People always complained he had a hot temper. That touch had winded him. What was it about that gentle neck caress? Those hands, treating him with reverence like he was a museum piece or a rare, beautiful gemstone.

Nix liked it too much and it had freaked him the fuck out.

Ash pulled his hand away like he'd been burned, stepping back. Fucking cowering, like he expected to be hit. Fuck.

Play nice, Nix thought to himself. He forced a breath in. He knew he couldn't afford another enemy. Unlike his former cellmate, yeah, that's why he was being moved in the first place.

Nix shrugged. "I’ve got tattoos... yeah... you better get used to it... " he mumbled, trying to style it out as grumpiness, trying to normalize this situation of a guy stroking another guy’s neck. "I've got them all over my body-"

"Really? All over?" Ash's voice came back. Not timid. Eager, perky.

Nix shot him a moody glare. "Yeah, all fucking over, so be cool, dude-"

Ash held his hands up, but smirked. The fucker. Cocky little shit. "I'm cool."

"And you'll see them if we're sharing a cell so... fucking get used to it." Nix trailed off, eyeing the cell now. It looked just like the one he'd come from. He sighed.

“What are they of?” Ash’s quiet voice cut through his thoughts.

“Book of Genesis. Bible stories,” Nix replied absent-mindedly.

If Ash wanted to say any more he stopped himself, for some reason. Ash’s silence pulled Nix’s gaze back to him.

“I’ve got a tat myself, you might see it, too,” Ash said and shrugged.

Nix frowned. He assumed MC colors, he’d seen them, he wasn’t part of an MC but he’d had dealings with a few members in the last few years. His uncle had been in an MC at one point. Nix had only seen his uncle a few times, and it had always ended with family drama and Nix being dragged in for some form of punishment. MC men were normally tough guys with huge big tattoos on their backs, denoting their MC membership.

“If you’re lucky,” Ash added cryptically.

Nix didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about and didn’t care at this stage. He tuned out and assessed the bunk bed.

"I'm on the top bunk, then?" Nix said, placing his measly box of possessions onto the thin mattress.

"Yeah," Ash said, eying Nix with a loaded look. "I'm a bottom kinda guy. Most of the time,” he added.

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