𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

6

[ 𝗠𝗔𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟭 ]

—

'IF YOU SPEND YOUR LIFE LIVING IN THE DARK, DARKNESS IS ALL YOU WILL EVER KNOW' has been carved into the wall beside the entrance to the prison's courtyard. two doves sit brooding on a tall, cross-hatched metal fence. inmates gather outside in groups after their lunch, waiting for the afternoon activities to start. the scent of newly growing daffodils is carried through the air on a gentle breeze.

giovanni volkov is sat on a wooden bench by the running track, his hands on his knees as he watches the afternoon unfold. the sun beams down on him from a clear sky. the day is sunday. with a jolt, he realises that today is no ordinary sunday: today marks his fifth month of being 36 years old.

vladimir, a young inmate whom he has grown friendly with (not by choice), sits down beside him. the two have been forced to share giovanni's cell due to vlad's cellmate getting ill with a surprising case of tuberculosis. usually, the men locked up in butryka castle have solitary cells — which giovanni definitely, definitely favours — but adjustments have to be made under certain circumstances due to health and safety risks.

vladimir, as devilishly handsome as he may have been on the outside, carried the air of a sickly victorian child stricken by plague. his skin was pale and pasty, and as a result of coming off of drugs — a full blown detox — he often broke into cold sweats, which could be observed as a bead dripped down his forehead every once in a while. he had unkempt, straight black hair that furled around his ears and hung on his forehead, the length of it stopping at his pointy chin. he had light brown eyes and a sharp, thin nose, of which he currently had a tiny pimple on his left nostril. his cheekbones seemed to poke out from his face, and his slim jaw gave him an almost effeminate look (which was not the safest thing to behold, considering his little situation for the next three to five years). he didn't have much muscle on him — his build was rather slight, with long, gangly arms and legs as thin as toothpicks.

vlad's tatted hair hangs in his face as he leans his elbows on his knees and permits a loud sigh. "i wonder what they'll have us doing today," he chirps, looking into the disordered crowd gathering a few metres ahead.

"laundry," giovanni replies bluntly. "every sunday is laundry day for our cell block." as he speaks, he doesn't even look at young vladimir. "you've been here for three months now. you should know that."

"god... you're so uptight, volkov," vlad says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "didn't you have time to jerk off in the shower this morning?"

unflinching, giovanni continues to stare onto the yard, studying the guards faces as they come filing out of the exit doors. "shut up. i don't like it when you speak like that."

to his dismay, vlad sighs again and begins to sing a song.

"i don't know what this world's gonna do, but i know one thing... that this is the life for me... baby 'cause i'm a thug... all day every day..."

giovanni closes his eyes and rubs a hand across his short bearded chin, listening to the spritely youngster drone on and on in a dull, monotonous voice. he knows he shouldn't be so impatient with him — the kid is only twenty one. he doesn't know how to act, especially not in a place like this. he has no other choice but to protect him while he can.

"if you're going to sing, sing a good song at least," giovanni says.

vladimir's eyes sparkle and he begins to click his fingers. "billie jean is not-my-lover... she's just a girl who claims that i am the one—"