𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍.

( 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗃𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 & 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 )

⌖ FAVOR 4 FAVOR | O37. ‹ ⚜ ›
❝ you tryna do me favors, or you tryna do yourself one? ❞

— JANUARY THIRD
9:OO A.M. ᐟ

Jasiah lay on his top bunk, his eyes locked on the ceiling just a few feet above him. The rhythmic throb of his wound pulsed through his body & each one was painful, but he was almost used to it now. He was waiting for another trip to the infirmary & another dose of medication to keep the pain at bay. But more than anything, he was waiting for his comeback. He was plotting on Xavier. Hard.

The questioning hadn't stopped since he woke up three days ago. They wanted details but he wasn't giving them shit. Not because he couldn't, but because he wouldn't. He needed Xavier right here, within reach. A transfer would only make things complicated & prolonged.

Right now, lying in bed, he couldn't shake the feeling that his relationship with Iris was teetering on the edge, precariously balanced between love & chaos. It was as if every outside force was conspiring to pull them apart, each obstacle more harmful than the last. A couple of days ago, he had found himself questioning it. Were they even meant to be together in the first place?

The history. It was always came back around to this damn history of theirs that loomed over them like a dark cloud, refusing to dissipate no matter how hard they tried to move forward.

It was haunting. No matter how far they moved past it, it seemed to be stepping on the back of their shoes. It lingered, always threatening to resurface at the most inopportune times, like now. It gnawed at him, making him wonder if they were destined to go back to how they started. Fighting with the intent to kill.

How was he supposed to explain all of this to Iris when she saw him tomorrow? He knew this wasn't something he could walk away from. He couldn't just act like it never happened, ignore the fact that Xavier tried to take his life & he wasn't sure how to make her understand that. But at the same time, it would be irrational to try to make someone understand why they were about to their father the way he was. It was so frustrating, knowing he would be digging deeper into what was clouding them.

Outside, the yard was covered with inmates making the most of their limited freedom with the thud of a worn basketball against cracked pavement. Spoon was in the middle of it, caught up in a game with a basketball goal with no net, its metal rim bare, the base held down by two bags of sand to keep it from falling over.