TOUGH LOVE • MICHAEL GRAY FANFIC

13

"What's your name?" A man who holds up my ID asks me.

I almost roll my eyes at him, he knows my name, why is he asking for it? A man in uniform is to always be answered though, so in a sigh, I respond, "June Osborne."

"Reason for visiting inmate 45122?"

"We're friends." I croak, really unsure of what's going on. Why does he need to know?

This is the first time I've ever been in a penitentiary and I come with very cautious eyes, and an anxious heart. I didn't even know visitation was a thing before getting a letter in the mail from Michael. He had attached the location, a time and date. Something tells me this is illegal, but then again, I can't be too sure.

They check me for contraband, seizing my things as they run a mental rod over my body. It doesn't do anything, but the officer instructs me to take off the earrings I wear, and the gold bracelet around my wrist. I'm forced to take those off before being able to enter a spacious room where Michael sits all grumpily until meeting my eyes.

He doesn't shoot up from his seat. Nor does he actually seem interested in seeing me, which hurts my heart a little.

Three weeks, I haven't seen him in three weeks.

The letter he had sent out to me was two weeks ago, so I assume the fact that I didn't write him back and the fact that I came to see him so late only pissed him off. Perhaps he thought I ran for the hills?

I did contemplate running off, but my heart wanted to stay where Michael was. Sadly, the voice of my mothers voice disappeared once I made the revelation.

I sit down across from him, my stomach in knots. I hope he isn't upset about that, but if I recall his letter. He was pleading with me to visit him, and I show up a week later. Shit. I think it would have been safest if I had showed up the moment the letter was at my mailbox.

"Hi." I say, once my arse is on the cold steel bench, the visitation room is small. An enclosed and private place for us to talk, there were guards around us. I'm reminded of the first time I saw Michael in the hospital, the guards there and the guards here serve the same purpose, but they don't give a shit about Michael in here.

A cold feeling of fear crawls up my skin. I was bracing myself to see him much smaller, slim and weak. But as a matter of fact, he's gotten even more bigger which only makes me wonder if he's being treated well in here.

He's got his fingers intertwined, elbows on the table as he stares at me with those green eyes. Colder than ever.

The letter he had written described a life he wanted for us. One filled with happiness, I believe he called it an me his endlessly supply of joy. He confessed that he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that seeing me being scared as he laid on the floor handcuffed hurt him more than anything in this world.

I reach for his hand but he pulls away, turning his head.

"Oh come on Michael," I whisper, such a small gesture that hurt so much. I look at him, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

I hate it when you leave me in the dark.

I missed him everyday. Waking up wishing he were in my bed, to having dreams about us and the life we had envisioned for ourselves. I imagined us living our lives far away from the Peaky's, but now, he's stuck here.

With him came my happiness, and so naturally, when he left, as did that part of me.

After the arrest, and Thomas announcing to me a warm welcome, I composed myself and walked away. I wasn't able to stomach being there, and once I was outside, I threw up helplessly. Bile rising up my throat as all of these dreams of him and I running away disappeared.