Chapter 24

Newt knew his friends were distracting him, and it worked, except for when he was locked in his cell. He made a cup of tea, watched The Street, then curled up on his side while clutching the pendant and inhaling Leo's scent from the pillow.

A few days.

And then Leo would be back in Brixton.

Three days after Leo had collapsed in the visiting room, he returned to the prison.

"Can I see him?" Newt asked as soon as he was unlocked.

It wasn't Jude or Riley who'd opened the door, but Jenkins, who gestured for Newt to leave his cell. Newt snatched up his tray, hugging it to his chest, and asked Jenkins again whether he could visit Leo on the medical wing.

Jenkins ignored him. He muttered under his breath and shook out a plastic bag he'd had pinned beneath his arm. It was clear, the same kind of bag Newt had been given with his prison basics on the first day.

"What are you doing?" Newt asked.

Jenkins stepped inside the cell. "Which drawers are Leo's?"

"The top two." Newt swallowed. "He needs clothes, makes sense."

Jenkins didn't say anything. He emptied the drawers into the bag, then slammed them shut.

"And which items in the closet?"

"The camo hoodie, and the black zip-up. The trainers, and the sports bag."

Jenkins flung them in the plastic bag too. "Toiletries?"

Newt gestured to the small basket on top of the closet full of Leo's things. Everything got unceremoniously dumped into the bag with no regards to whether it leaked or had a screw cap loose.

Jenkins frowned at the wall covered in photographs of Newt's brothers and Triton. "Personal items?"

"Erm." Newt gestured to the bed. "He's a got a folder beneath his bed full of letters?—"

"No. He specifically stated he didn't want any letters."

Newt beat back the flare of unease. It made sense Leo didn't want the letters; he wouldn't be there for long and when he returned, he'd be able to read them all again. Or Newt would read them to him. He had a few days to nail Cindy's voice. That would cheer him up. Stone had told him on the phone Leo would need plenty of rest even if he didn't feel like it.

"These his?" Jenkins asked, pointing at the few books on the side.

Newt nodded.

Jenkins sighed and shoved them in too.

"He said you can keep the TV."

"He said I can…" Newt's voice cut out. The world tilted on its axis.

"And the kettle," Jenkins added. "I'll come back for his tray, bowl, mug and cutlery later."

He strode towards Newt, but Newt had frozen. His mind was a few steps behind what was happening, and he shot his arms out at his side, jamming himself in the doorway. "Wait."

"Out of the way, Mr Briggs."

Newt didn't move. "What's going on?"

"What does it look like?" Jenkins said, holding up the plastic bag. Green shower gel had run down the inside, covering Leo's camo hoody. Leo's shower gel smelled of citrus fruits. Newt loved the smell of it on his skin when they lay in bed.

"It looks like you're taking all of Leo's things."

"All the things he wants," Jenkins replied, then glanced back. "The rest he says is yours and you can do what you like with it."

"Why?"

"He's not coming back here. Now…" Jenkins stood at full height. His nostrils twitched. "Move aside."

"Why isn't he coming back here?"

"He's being moved to another cell."

Newt's eyes burnt. "Why would you do that? Why would you move?—"

"Those kinds of decisions aren't up to me. Lenard put in a request, and the governor agreed. Now, this is the last time I'm going to ask you to move. If you don't, I'll put you on the seg unit for disrespecting an officer."

Newt spun away from Jenkins. He found Jude across the wing, watching the scene unfold. Jude's face scrunched, and he waved Newt to him. Newt headed in his direction, shaking his head. The cement felt spongy under his feet, and the usual sounds of unlock were sharp and ringing. A few prisoners said his name, but his gaze locked on his brother.

Jude struggled to meet his eyes.

"I don't understand." Newt stopped in front of his brother. "Why would he…"

"I'm sorry," Jude said softly. He moved towards Newt, and for a moment, his arms lifted like he was about to hug him, then he remembered where they were and dropped them back by his sides. "He requested the move last night, and the governor approved it this morning. His belongings are being taken to a cell on D-wing for when he's ready to come off the medical unit."

"D-wing." Newt's heart clenched painfully. He looked beyond Jude to the other gate. The one with the huge painted D on the floor. Not just a cell swap, but a wing swap. "I don't understand… What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing." Jude's hands came up again, and he grabbed both of Newt's shoulders. He shook him lightly. "You've not done anything wrong?—"

"I have if he doesn't want to come back to me… I need to talk to him."

"He needs rest," Jenkins said, unlocking the gate. He locked it again one-handed, clutching all Leo's belongings to his chest. "Doctor's orders."

"But I need to?—"

"You don't get to call the shots, Newton. Now, take that tray to the servery, or you'll go without breakfast this morning."

"I don't want to go to the servery!" Newt let the tray slip from his hands and clatter to the floor. "I want to speak to Leo!"

"Are you going to let him get away with that?" Jenkins directed at Jude.

"You're not helping matters," Jude hissed back.

Jenkins's eyes flashed in warning. "We're not here to help or dry their eyes when they're upset."

"I'd say there isn't one compassionate bone in your body," Shaw said, strolling over. He left his full breakfast tray on a nearby table and pushed his body into Jude's arms until he released his hold on Newt.

"I have compassion," Jenkins sneered. "But for the right people, and right now, it's for Lenard. The man who had the heart attack, not the boy who had a freak-out and a tantrum. Leo wants to move wings to get away from his cellmate, and I'm helping him do that."

"To get away from his cellmate," Newt echoed. He searched Jude's eyes. "Is that what he said?"

"No," Jude said firmly. "He didn't give a reason."

"If you behave like this in your cell, we can only assume," Jenkins muttered.

"You really are an unpleasant prick," Shaw replied, pressing himself to the gate.

Jenkins backed up. "And you're very close to losing your privileges."

"Scott…" Shaw shouted over his shoulder.

Scott was at Newt's side the instant Shaw called. He crouched down to grab Newt's tray, then took him by the elbow. "Come on."

"I'm not hungry," Newt whispered. "If I eat, I'm just going to throw it up anyway."

"I'm not going to make you eat, Newt," Scott insisted. He slipped his hand from Newt's elbow to his fingers and entwined them. "But I am going to make you a cup of tea."

"I don't want to go back to our cell."

Scott changed direction, leading him further down the wing to his and Thomas's cell.

Thomas had his tray on his lap and paused mid-chew when Scott dragged Newt inside.

"Shit," Thomas hissed, pushing his tray onto the desk. He got to his feet. "What's happened?" He clicked his fingers in front of Newt's eyes. "You still with us?"

"Yes, I'm still with you," Newt mumbled, pushing Thomas's hand away.

Scott looked at Newt, who nodded his approval.

"Leo's moving wings," Scott announced with a weary sigh.

"Bastards. They can't do that?—"

Scott raised his hand, stopping Thomas before he could get going. "At Leo's request, and the governor granted it. Jenkins has taken his stuff. He's not coming back to E."

"What did I do wrong?" Newt asked no one in particular. The one person he wanted to ask wasn't there, and even if he was, he doubted he'd get a straight answer.

Scott pushed him down on the bed. "Nothing."

"But he doesn't want me anymore."

"Fuck him then," Thomas replied, nonchalant.

Newt flinched.

"I didn't mean physically—I'm not suggesting that's what you need to do to get him back?—"

"He knows that's not what you meant," Scott said.

"But there's plenty more fish, Newt."

Newt shook his head. "I don't want a fish, Thomas. I want Leo."

He ignored the concerned glance Thomas and Scott shared.

"You need to lie down," Scott said, giving Newt no choice when he pushed his shoulder until he tipped onto his side. He crouched down, scooped Newt's legs up, and put them on the bed too.

"Why do I need to lie down?" Newt asked.

Scott struggled to speak, then shrugged. "I don't know, but it will make me feel better if you do. Just lie down, take a minute."

"How's he doing?" Shaw asked, strolling inside.

"He's still talking," Scott said.

Shaw rubbed his chin. "And he's still in control of all his limbs?"

"I'm not having another episode," Newt said.

"How do you know?" Scott asked.

"My head is clear, and my feet are still very much firmly on the ground even though I wish they weren't. He's not coming back."

"Good job too." Thomas huffed. "My fist will be in his face if he does."

"I thought we were… How can he just…"

Newt rolled onto his back and stared at the slats to the bunk above. A hundred half-formed questions popped into his head, piling on top of each other. His cheeks burnt, his breath caught, and fire ran from the corner of his eyes, travelling towards the bed.

"I need to have a word in private with the Starman," Shaw whispered.

Scott stepped towards the bed. "But?—"

"I'm not asking, Scott. I'm telling."

Newt shot Scott a watery smile. Thomas had to physically lift Scott off the ground and walk him out of the cell. Shaw pushed the door shut after them.

Newt's tears reached his ears.

They itched, but he didn't wipe them away.

Shaw sighed. "I thought something like this might happen."

"I didn't. Why would he do this?"

Shaw patted Newt's legs until he shifted over and allowed him room to sit. He perched on the edge of the bed, hunching forward with his elbows on his thighs.

"I thought he cared about me," Newt whispered.

"He does, Newt."

"He's cutting himself out of my life."

"Look here." Shaw leaned forward and tugged open the drawer on the desk. "Scott and Thomas have some paper, write something, and I'll make sure it gets to him?—"

"He won't read it, and even if he did, he won't reply. He's made up his mind."

"Fake it, Newt, fake what happened a few days ago. I'll carry you to the medical wing. Maybe you can talk?—"

"He doesn't want me." Newt slapped away his tears.

"He does?—"

"Not enough to come back, and that's…that's all I need to know. That says more to me than any break-up speech could."

Shaw gritted his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut. "My gut says…he's pushing you away because he thinks you'll be better off without him."

"That's not true."

"In his head, and this is a guess, a gut feeling, Newt, he almost died and realised how much you care about him, and he's reasoned it's better for you if he cuts ties and ends whatever was growing between you before you get even more attached, and subsequently, more hurt."

"He's wrong."

"Maybe."

"He is wrong," Newt repeated, sitting up and squaring off against Shaw.

"I don't think he's trying to hurt you, Newt. I think he's trying to do the opposite."

"Well, he's failing at that," Newt said. "I'm hurting, and I'm angry, and I'm confused."

"He probably thinks this momentary hurt will be worth it in the long run. You'll get over him, and find someone else, and be happy again. It's like that saying, there's plenty more fish in the sea?—"

"Why are people offering me fish when I only want Leo?"

"It's not literal, it means?—"

"I know what it means! But I wasn't fishing in the first place, Shaw. I didn't come in here with the intention of finding someone, but I did, and just because he doesn't want me anymore doesn't mean I want anyone else. I don't." Newt narrowed his eyes. "And I doubt Riley did either."

"What?"

"Did Riley find these other fish to swim around with?"

Shaw pressed his lips in a firm line. His eyes darkened. "We're not talking about me and Riley."

"I think we should. That's where you're getting this ‘gut feeling' from, isn't it? How long did it take you to realise that he didn't want to swim around with other fish? That he was happy with the one he had even if the situation wasn't perfect?"

A muscle in Shaw's jaw jumped.

"How long, Shaw?"

"A few months."

"You pushed him away. You hurt him for a few months?—"

"It hurt me too. This"—he smashed his fist into the bedframe—"is not an ideal place to have a relationship. He's an officer, his dad is the governor, and I'm here for another six years. Of course I tried to push him away. Of course I thought he was better off without me, and sometimes I still do. That's why I can guess at what Leo's doing. I did it to Riley."

"But you're still together."

"Riley was going to hand his notice in and leave this place, and I tried to let him go, left it to the last possible moment, then broke down in front of him. I was almost too late, but Jesus, Newt, when we're locked down, and my brain takes me down a downward spiral, I wonder if he would be happier if I'd let him go. I think about some alternative universe where I didn't stop him in time, and he left, and he met someone good for him. Someone he can take home to his parents. Someone he can go to dinner with, and on dates, and walks, and they can sleep together in a proper bed, and how that person, this imaginary rival I have, gets to see him with messy bed hair, because I bet he looks fucking amazing with bed hair, and I'm not gonna get to see it for another six goddamn years." Shaw dragged in a deep breath. "And sometimes, I think…I should let him go. I think it's the right thing to do. So yeah, ‘maybe' might not be what you want to hear, Newt. But it's there, this idea, that maybe you'll be happier without Leo, and who knows, he might be right."

"He's not."

Shaw shrugged. "Time will tell."

"That's your advice?"

"I didn't come in here to give you advice; that's your brothers' job. I wanted you to understand where Leo's head is at, and that he's not trying to hurt you. He thinks this is for the best. Sometimes caring about someone…it's letting them go."

"Bull said once I was na?ve, not all with it." Newt nodded to himself. "I'm young?—"

"You are, practically still a boy?—"

"I get that, but I didn't realise you grow dumber the older you get." He stared at Shaw. "But you can hide behind this self-sacrificing rubbish if you want to, and lie in your bed and torment yourself with a rival that doesn't exist because I know why you do that."

"Why?"

"You're weak."

Shaw's eyes narrowed. "Tread carefully, Baby Briggs."

"Because he loves you more than you love him."

"That's bullshit," Shaw growled. He grabbed the top of Newt's T-shirt and hauled him closer. "You have no fucking idea how much I?—"

"And you're a coward."

Shaw exhaled through his nose. "You are dangerously close to pissing me off."

"I saw the way he looked at you that day in your cell, how he ran back to you when I told him you were in pain, and you toy with the idea of letting him go." Newt shook his head. "You don't get to decide what's best for Riley, the same way Leo doesn't get to decide what's best for me."

"Yes, we do. Someone has to be the realistic?—"

"Realistic? You're holding his heart in your hand and deciding whether it beats or not. How is that fair?" Newt stabbed his finger into Shaw's biceps. "You should cherish what Riley gave to you, Shaw, not torture yourself with it. He loves you."

"I know he does." Shaw's eyes reddened. He blinked in quick succession. He pushed Newt away. "And I love him more than I could ever tell you."

"Then don't let your mind rule your heart." Newt turned away. "Love isn't complicated, not really."

"I didn't come in here to have a heart to heart about me and Riles. I wanted you to know. I wanted you to believe me when I say Leo's not trying to hurt you."

"I know." Newt nodded. "But he is. And I think he's probably thought of a dozen reasons why cutting ties with me is best for me, and for him, and for everybody. What difference would a na?ve, not-all-with-it boy telling him he loves him make?"

"Newt…"

"None," Newt answered. "So, if he wants to push me away, if he wants to believe he did the right thing, then fine. But he's wrong. I know he is."