Shattered ✓ (BxB)

Four: Kyle

    Since three years ago, I known myself as prisoner 0981. I wasn't refered to as Kyle Kozlov; I was 0981.

There wasn't a treatment. Daskanalasć lies. And Tsar Joseph Maximoff… he doesn't know we don't go through with the treatment.

Well, unless just good at lying, I start to think. Maybe he's the one who ordered the torture.

"You're busy thinking," notes a man named Craig Romanov. Craig shares a cell right by me. He's pansexual.

"Yeah, I am," I tell Craig.

Craig narrows his blue eyes on me. "What are you thinking about, Kyle?"

I shake my head. "Nothing really." I try to clear my mind of these thoughts.

But nevertheless, my efforts do nothing for me.

Each memory of mine, dances in my head and taunts me. It feels like they're saying "haha! You got locked up!"

Part of me thinks of saying, Yeah so? You're me.

But if I say that, people will think I'm mentally ill and unfortunately, that'll only add to my problems; those who are neurodivergent are also oppressed in Daskanalasć.

What have I done? I used to have a family, I think. I rest my head on my knees. I cradle my head there for quite a few moments.

"Kyle?" Craig calls out to me, probably concerned.

"Leave me alone," I sob. Tears are running down my face. I don't know what to do. I cry out, "I should have conformed by accepting treatment to my illness!"

"It's not so bad," Craig notes.

"Not bad? What do you mean by that? Johanna died from from dysentery! That's how bad this place is!" I yell to Craig. The memories of the bright eyed transgirl I knew as Johanna Schmarten flood in.

"Kyle-" Craig begins.

He doesn't get a word in.

"I'm ill! I should have listened!" I cry loudly.

"Don't ever say that!" Craig hisses to me.

"Huh?" I stop crying for a second. I sniffle. I take a deep breath. Get it together, I tell myself.

"You aren't ill. You never were. Kyle Deaken Kozlov, you were born this way," Craig smiles; his blue eyes light up. "You should stand tall and say 'I am Kyle Deaken Kozlov and I was born gay'".

I smile at him. "And you'd say 'I am Craig Calex Romanov and I was born pan'". I tell him.

Craig nods and then grins. "See, Kyle? You're getting the hang off it."

I move closer to him -- after all all that divides us is a few bars.

Craig sees what I did and reaches his hand through the bar. He wipes the loose tears off my face before moving his hand away.

I grab a hold of his hand.

He rubs over my hand with his thumb.

I like this, I decide internally.

Craig tells me, "I love you, Kyle."

I smile. "I love you too, Craig."