Orange is Tyler's New Hair Color

Numero Seis

Alright guys, since there is no men's prison mentioned yet in OITNB, I am making one up right now.
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(Tyler's POV)
I feel Troye's fingers enlace with mine as we walk up to the huge building.
"Troye, you know we can't show PDA in prison or they'll move one of us to another prison... and I can't lose you." I feel my eyes plead for him to let go, and he releases.
Just before we left, Troye and I posted a last video for the time being. In it, Troye dyed my hair orange to match the orange uniforms in prison. My hair is pastel orange, which is probably all tangled because I forgot to brush my hair today.
"You ready, Tilly?" Troye asks as he opens the door for me. He's the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. I wish that we all didn't have to go to prison until someone cracks.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I sighed as we entered into the facility. As soon as I enter into the building, I miss my deer on the wall.
"Can I help you?" A tall, slim man in a full-police uniform approaches us. His brown eyes seem to stare right through us as they shifted back and forth between Troye and I. To be real, I was REALLY jealous about his naturally brown hair. I wonder if my roots look bad with my orange h-
"I said, can I help you?"
"Right, yes!" I respond quickly, snapping out of my train of beauty thoughts.
"We are here to I guess serve our sentence?" I looked at Troye to confirm this.
"Y-yes," Troye stuttered with his cute accent, "We are Troye Sivan and Tyler Oakley." Troye reached for my hand again, but I had to draw it away.
"Well damn," the officer said, "Your clique pulled some ape shit, you know what I'm saying?"
"Kingsley," another officer scolded, "Stop being yourself."
"Bitch please, let me be my beautiful butterfly self," he said, pursing his lips, "Y'all can sit your asses down." We quickly took a seat while the woman corrections officer fought with the man. Clearly, Kingsley was winning this fight.
"Sorry, Zoe can be a real beeyaoch. Anyways, leggo." He led us to a room, checked us for weapons, (squat and cough? The fuck?) and then gave us our issued clothing.
As soon as we entered the facility, I felt all eyes dart to my hair. It was a bold fashion choice, I admit but it's one I'm proud of.
We walked through the courtyard, following Kingsley, and made it to a room of about 40 bunks.
"Welcome home," he says, hitting the empty bunks in the corner of the room. He points out way to the bathroom and the cafeteria before leaving to finish the rest of his "goddamn paperwork" with that "hoe who has had crusty roots since day one."
Once he leaves, a deep voice says behind us, "Yes, welcome to Kristenhaag, man who resembles the Olympic torch." He laughs at his own joke, and I turn around to argue that this guy's probably been in prison so long so he must not understand that pastels are in but decide against it because he looks like he could break me in half.
As if reading my thoughts, he shoots me a smile and says, "Don't worry, Lava Girl. I don't hurt people."
He's tall and has a jagged scar that runs diagonally down his face. His green eyes are lowkey intimidating.
He winks at Troye and, before turning the corner, says, "At least people who are easy."
Damn, we legit just got here, and men's prison is a lot gayer than I thought.