Chapter Text
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It’s November 17, 7:56 a.m., the third Sunday of the month, 4 minutes until visiting hours officially open for the day.
Yancy knows this because his damn brain wouldn’t stop counting the minutes since he woke up at the crack of dawn.
He’s in the courtyard, doing his regular post-breakfast stretches with Bam Bam, but the clock in his mind keeps tick tick ticking away the seconds, constantly reminding him of the fact that youse were long gone and had no intention of coming back.
7:57 a.m.
The pool of dread right below his lungs grows heavier, making it hard to concentrate. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bam Bam shoot him a weird look but electively decides to ignore it. He’s just gotta do something to take his mind off of this whole thing, but stretches weren’t doing it for him. Bam Bam opens his mouth, but Yancy interjects before he could actually say anything.
“Hey Bam, Imma head over to Jimmy’s to lift, you wanna come?” He asks, ever so casually.
“Oh, uh nah, you go on. I want to finish this routine.”
7:58 a.m.
“Hey, are you alright Yancy?”
“Yeah, me? ‘Course I am! I’m always alright, y’know me! I’ll see you around, hey don’t pull a hammy, we need youse limber!” he said, not casually at all as he practically bounded for the weight set.
“How’s it goin’, Jimmy?” he greets the other man. Jimmy only grunts in response, too busy lifting to care too much about Yancy’s presence.
7:59 a.m.
“Say, mind if I have a turn on those? Been needin’ to give these babies a good workin’,” Yancy flexes his arms pointlessly.
Jimmy doesn’t respond.
“Right, right, it’s always good talkin’ with ya, Pickle,” Yancy shrugs off Jimmy’s indifference.
The heavy screeching of a metal door being opened rings through the courtyard. Yancy stands stock still.
It’s 8:00 a.m.
Right on cue, a guard steps out the door and begins to call the few who miraculously have people who care enough to see them this early. Of course, McGee was one of them, the lucky bastard.
Yancy swallows. Suddenly, he couldn’t focus on anything other than the open door in front of him, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, the gritty dirt beneath his shoes.
The moment of truth. All he needs is his name. The guard will call his name and he’d take a couple of steps and he’d find you-
SLAM
The door is shut and locked, sending him out of his brief fantasy and back into the uncomfortably warm and dusty courtyard.
They didn’t call him.
You didn’t come.
Right.
Right, of course. Was he really expecting anything different?
He doesn’t know why he does this to himself.
The pool of dread mellows out, but it seeps into his veins, weighing down his legs, his arms. Everything slows down to a drawl until it’s just Yancy standing in the courtyard staring holes into the metal door.
No one bothers him when he leaves, asking to go back to his cell block.
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9:00 a.m. One hour after visiting hours opened.
Yancy spent the last hour watching daytime television. Twice, Bam Bam tries to talk to him but gives up after one too many bland replies. Yancy was still watching Wendy Williams reruns the last time he checks.
12:00 p.m. Lunchtime. Four hours after visiting hours opened, five hours until they closed.
Yancy eats lunch with his family and, while he did try to ignore them for the better part of this morning, he has to admit that they made him feel better. They all joke and laugh like everything was normal.
No one asks what has him so down and honestly, that just makes him all the happier to be with them.
1:00 p.m. Four hours until visiting hours closed.
Yancy wanders off to the courtyard again, wanting a break from the bland walls of his cell.
He manages to find shade against a brick wall and settles down. He’s unrolling the carton of cigarettes from his sleeve when a silent figure approaches.
“Hey Tiny, how ya doin',” he smiles.
She shrugs, sitting down next to him. She rummages in her baggy pants before pulling out a dingy little lighter, offering it to him.
“Thanks,” he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag before offering it to Tiny.
He doesn’t make a habit of taking smoke breaks too often, gotta make the cigs last, but it passes the time and once in a blue moon, Tiny will come hang around for a while. He knows she only comes to bum a smoke, but he likes to think that she enjoys his company, more so when he’s quiet. It’s harder for Yancy to stay silent than it is for Tiny of course, but he can tell she appreciates his efforts.
But this time, she keeps side-eyeing him like she’s got something to say. He thinks maybe she’ll finally spit it out, but she just passes the cigarette back to him.
The thought that Tiny is just sitting here because she feels sorry for him gnaws through him until he takes a moment to breathe. He knows better than this. Tiny doesn’t pity anyone, least of all him.
Pacified, he takes one last drag before handing the rest of the cigarette to her.
“That’s enough for me,” he smiles as he walks off towards his cell block, “I’ll see youse ‘round Tiny Tot!”
Tiny rolls her eyes, but he thinks he can see a hint of a smile as she raises the cigarette to her lips again.
3:00 p.m. Two hours until visiting hours closed.
Guards are always patrolling the hallways, but as soon as they were out of sight, Yancy slips out to make a visit to good ol’ Shithole Hank.
“Hey Hank,”
“Christ, Yancy!” Hank starts from his bunk. He puts a hand over his chest. “Give an old man a warning, will ya?”
“Sorry,” Yancy apologizes, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Hank heaves a sigh as he gets off the bed. “Drink?”
“Yeah actually, that’d be swell,” Yancy says, relief visibly washing over him.
Hank trudges over to the toilet tank, scooping out a ladleful of hooch. “Something troubling you Yancy?”
“Pfft, no. Ain’t nothing can rattle me, I’m as solid as these cells.” Yancy taps a knuckle against the cement wall as he leans against it.
“Well, considering how you manage to come and go as you please all the damn time, I reckon they’re not as solid as you say.” Hank hands him his drink.
Yancy nods slowly, knocking back his glass in one go, “Youse might be right about that one, old man.”
He offers the cup to Hank, pulling his best puppy dog eyes, “Another? Please?”
Hank isn’t amused in the slightest, but he takes the cup and fills it nonetheless.
“Y’know what you’re doing, Yance?” Hank hands him the glass, “If you get shitfaced, that’ll be solitary for both of us and the warden isn’t going to be so lenient the second time around.”
“Yeah ok, I know my limits Hank, youse ain’t my dad,” Yancy rolls his eyes, drinking a bit slower this time. He sullenly glares into his cup.
The creak of bedsprings catches his attention. Hank is sitting, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at him. Waiting for him.
Yancy turns away, taking another sip, making a point not to look in Hank’s general direction.
He’s halfway done when he risks another glance at the older man. He’s still staring, damn him.
Well, if he thinks that he’s gonna get through to Yancy, he’s got another thing comin’. Old man needs to mind his own business. Yancy does his best not to let his irritation show, but it’s simmering right under his skin, making him want to squirm somethin’ awful bad.
He raises his cup, but when he finds it empty, he makes the mistake of glancing at the toilet too long.
“If you want another, you gotta tell me why, Yance,” Hank says. He gets up to stir the hooch some more. “You don’t come to my cell just for the wine, do ya?”
“Well I do actu-” “Y’know it’s funny how your new friend escaped so quickly. Especially considering you were supposed to be in solitary.”
Yancy knows Hank is just making stabs in the dark, trying to hit what’s bothering him, but he can’t school his expression fast enough to pass under Hank’s radar.
He can see the moment it all clicks in Hank’s brain and it’s all he can do to keep from slinking back to his cell in shame.
Hank nods in understanding. “Third Sunday of the month, eh?”
Yancy rounds on him. “Alright youse listen here Hank, and youse listen good. I-”
“YANCY!”
He freezes. A guard’s calling for him?
“Go on then, you can shout at me later,” Hank waves Yancy off.
Yancy huffs, but he turns tail to slip back into his own cell before anyone realizes he isn’t there.
He hops into bed just in time for the guard to bang on the cell door.
“C’mon now Yancy, you got a visitor,” they unlock his door.
A visitor…?
A visitor?!
“Youse serious?” Yancy says, heart going a mile a minute.
“It’s what I said innit? Get a move on, don’t keep ‘em waiting.”
Yancy all but leaps out of bed, following the guard on their heels, being led down seemingly endless hallways until they finally enter a room.
Yancy takes in the new room, soaking in the walls, the seats, the booths until his eyes finally settle on you.
You meet his eyes behind the pane of plexiglass in the phone booth and you break into the widest smile he’s ever seen.
God , how he’s missed you.
It’s crazy to think about how much he’s wanted to see you, he’s only known you for less than a day for god’s sake, but now that you’re here, actually here … he’s practically walking on air.
This is exactly what he told himself not to hope for, but here you are, making all his damn dreams come true.
You didn’t forget about him.
You came back for him.
He’s so thrilled, he almost wants to jump and plant a wet one on the guard. Instead, he takes a seat in front of the glass and picks up the phone.
“Youse actually came!” he laughs, his face bright with wonder and glee twinkling in his eyes.
“Of course I did!” You laugh with him, “You think I’d let you walk away from me that easily? ‘Fraid you’re stuck with me now, Yancy.”
You smile so easily at him and Yancy wonders how you’d smile if he ever gets out.
He thinks he’d like to find out.
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