Junk Love.

fifteen.

Mel sits onto a rickety plastic chair with a brick in her chest. She can barely breathe. Cotton-mouth and a beatless heart isn't an uncommon phenomenon these days. Today her symptoms stem from an anticipated visit to the county jail.

Shortly after she's seated, a somber line of men file out down the hallway behind a thick glass pane. A union of unfortunate fuckers all wearing matching shades of orange. Not because the color suits them either. Mel doesn't have time to compose her expression before Carter sits across from her.

A glass wall separates them like a force field. She sees the contours of his face, the curve of his tempting lips, and the dull primal shine of his eyes. But she's so forcefully separated she can't ease the tenseness with a caress of her palm. Nor can she run her fingertips through the bristles of stubble darkening his jawline. Mel is disarmed.

"You made it." Carter breathes airily through the phone tethering them falsely.

They're disconnected, his mouth moving awkwardly, before his voice can ebb through the speaker. It's literally torture -- a serrated blade slicing through organs otherwise solidified by the toxins she's poured into them. For what feels like the first time ever, her brick heart stirs.

A smile is zip-tied to her face. Stilted like makeshift wiring as she clasps the phone against her ear. "I promised."

"Fuck you don't know how much I wanted you to make it." His tone is raw with vulnerability, cutting. "I didn't think you would."

Seeing him envelops her with relief but Mel fidgets in her seat uncomfortably. What is the right thing to say? They're face to face separated by a glass pane that's only transparent in nature. Mel's heart shatters after a quick cursory glance of the orange jumpsuit he wears.

"I started working at a soup kitchen." She speaks meekly, leaning into the phone. Unwilling to touch the glass in a desperate attempt to reach him. "I was able to get a ride here."

Innocently unaware of her dire situation, Carter nods and supplies a genuine encouragement. "I'm proud of you."

The visit is disjointed. There's no way for him to interpret how employment is damaging. She doesn't know how to explain it either within the limited time-frame. Nor can she recollect how his embrace felt while isolated away in this cold sterile room.

Mel's second smile turns into an unforgiving strain on her lips. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." His fingers clench then unclench from around the phone, restless at her tenseness. "You changed your hair," he finishes resolutely.

Reflectively, she scrapes her nails through the tips of her shortened bleached hair. It feels sticky and spiky still. "You like it?"

Some of the vacancy in his own gaze softens. "You're beautiful."

"I wanted change." Unable to face the glass wall any longer, Mel stares at her hands. Her nails have gone jagged from chewing on them. "I need you back, Carter."

"They don't have any witnesses." His voice hushes to a harsh whisper. Still subconscious, Mel glances down the row of families fanning out to her right. They aren't paying attention but she still feels like a bug under a microscope.

"What does that mean?"

His smile is the same as hers, soft, but crafted as paper maché. Like they're forced into being happy just getting to see each other but deep down knowing a barred visit won't patch the holes in their hearts.

"I'll be in court awhile longer but, soon, I'll be out and I'll be able to take care of you."

"I don't need taken care of." Suddenly Mel's tone drops, frosty now. The confines of this place make even sentiments sound menacing. "I just need you, Carter."

"I'll be out of this joint soon, baby."

Finding a response is difficult in the void of such loneliness shadowed by apparent togetherness. She wants to hate him but she loves him. Before Mel can interpret how to say it the phone beeps in her ear. An alarm for the impending apocalypse.

"I'll be ok." She assures meekly. "We'll be ok."

"We will." Despite a comforting certainty in his voice he remains distracted, darting a look over his shoulder as the orange suited men gather behind him. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to go soon."

"I understand." Somehow she sounds secure. Mel merely understands she can't keep him longer and would rather let him go with assurance than worry. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too." There's a darkness in him and a dull film of tears in his eyes disguised by a confident smile. "I'll see you next week?"

"Of course. I miss you, Carter." Midway through her sentence, Mel is cut off left only with the dial tone. There's so much more to say -- a black hole between them wide enough to derail their little planet.

He stands and blows a kiss. Rattled by the reality of having to leave before she's expressed half of what she needs to, Mel watches as he files obediently behind the line. While he walks away, slowly receding from view, he appears held down by the entire weight of their world. Convincing her that, despite her attempts, she hasn't properly conveyed she carries that weight too.

Reluctantly, she pulls up her hood and blends with the other visitors confined in the hall. They shuffle like cattle to the main lobby.

At the exit, Mel picks up the pace. No matter how lengthy her stride she can't flee from the crushing reality of the experience. It's the first time she's told Carter she loves him back but the circumstance doesn't allow her to feel anything. At the end of the visit, all that's left is a hollow emptiness in her stone chest.

They'd coexisted in the same space. So momentary, and the glass pane between them so thick, it hadn't felt real. Mel comfortably settles into a chronic numbness that makes her forget she's alone. At least for a little while.

☯