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1 week
It takes a few days before they can have visitors, and another few days before Kant and Style can get everything arranged for a trip to visit.
But after a week, Fadel and Bison are finally led with the other prisoners to the visiting area. And waiting there, a couple booths apart, are Style and Kant.
Fadel gives Kant a quick wave as they walk over, but after that, his full focus is on Style.
“Hey baby,” Style says, grinning, as Fadel sits down in front of him.
“Hi,” Fadel says quietly.
Style looks good. He’s just in a t-shirt and khakis, and not really his usual flamboyant self, but he’s still the most beautiful person Fadel has ever seen. After a week in prison, surrounded by strangers, in a new, uncomfortable environment (and thugs who care more about posturing than showering), Style is a sight for sore eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” Style says.
“I’ve missed you too,” Fadel returns. It feels like an understatement, to simply say he’s missed Style. It’s more like he aches for Style, even after just one week.
He can’t even let himself think about the five years ahead of him, or he’ll go insane.
“The bed just doesn’t feel right without you, and we didn’t even share it that often,” Style says.
Fadel glances around. He’s not sure he wants the guys in here to know he’s gay. So far he hasn’t heard anything about anyone getting singled out for being gay, but one just never knows in a place like this. He’s heard enough stories. Bison has already had to put a guy in his place who wanted to make him his bitch. Fadel doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself. That might get him in trouble, and the last thing he wants is to have his visitation rights taken away or, god forbid, have his sentence lengthened.
But no one seems to be paying any attention to him, and two seats down, Kant and Bison are practically pressing their noses against the barriers to get as close as possible.
So he looks back at Style, gives him a soft, sad smile, and says, “Sleeping without you feels wrong for me too.”
“If it weren’t for my dad, I might do something illegal so I could be in here with you,” Style says.
“Don’t even joke about that,” Fadel says, deadly serious, and he hopes Style can see that. As much as Fadel misses him and wishes he could touch him and hold him and kiss him, the very idea of Style being in here sends a cold sweat down his spine.
Style, with his flamboyant behavior and his flirty attitude and his crop tops. Fadel doesn’t want to think about what could happen.
Thankfully, Style does seem to realize, because something more serious passes over his face, and he just says, “Alright, I’m sorry.” He gives Fadel a small smile. Fadel returns it, and Style’s smile immediately widens. “So tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Nothing much,” Fadel replies, folding his arms on the little table in front of him. “I’ve got a daily routine worked out. Which mainly consists of working out. And they make me do odd jobs during the day. That’s about it. Pretty boring.”
Style doesn’t need to know about the worry pressing on Fadel’s shoulders. Not today, anyway.
He’s got five years in here. He’ll get used to it.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to instead,” he says. “How’s the garage? How’s your dad?”
And so Style starts talking. He tells Fadel that business is good, but they’ve recently lost a mechanic. He tells Fadel his dad is doing well, but Style is worried he might be overworking himself recently, because of the mechanic who quit. He tells Fadel stories about customers and suppliers and coworkers, and Fadel hangs onto every word. He’s never been as interested in Style’s job as he is right now.
For one thing, life in here is already proving to be quite boring. Hearing about Style’s life is far better than contemplating his own, and because Fadel isn’t interacting much with the other inmates, this is probably the most interesting conversation he’s had all week too.
For another, he doesn’t want to miss a single thing Style says. He doesn’t want to waste even a second of this visit not taking in everything about Style, from the way he looks to the way he sounds to the stories he tells.
It’s all Fadel will really have to keep himself going until the next visit. For these few moments, listening to Style talk like he always does, Fadel can just about pretend that things are normal.
All too soon, a guard announces that there’s two minutes left of visiting time, and reality crashes back into Fadel.
Style sighs deeply. “Already?”
“I guess,” Fadel says.
“That was way too short,” Style whines. “I wish we had more time together.”
“Me too,” Fadel mumbles. Then, to lighten the mood a little, he smiles and adds, “but just this will be enough to keep me going for a month.”
Style gives him an amused but confused smile. “A month?”
“Your next visit,” Fadel explains.
“I’m not waiting a whole month. Fuck that,” Style scoffs with a smirk. “I’m coming back here next week.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Fadel says quickly.
“I want to,” Style retorts.
“I don’t want you to strain yourself. You have to live your life too,” Fadel says.
“You are my life,” Style says firmly.
“I can’t be your whole life when I’m in here,” Fadel protests. Style opens his mouth, no doubt to retort again, so Fadel quickly says, “And I don’t wanna get used to you being around more than you can be.”
Style tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t want you promising me that you’ll be here every week, only for you to get too busy. Even if it’s just one week you miss, I know I’ll be disappointed. I know myself well enough,” Fadel explains. “I’d rather wait longer and know you’ll be there every time. Please, Style. Don’t run yourself into the ground trying to make time to see me every week.”
Style is quiet for a moment. His chest is puffed out, like he’s getting ready to fight back.
Then he deflates.
“Alright,” he says, clearly begrudgingly, but Fadel still lets out a relieved sigh. “But I’m still not gonna wait a month. I’ll come every other week. How’s that for a compromise?”
He looks far too determined for Fadel to even consider fighting back. And besides, every other week sounds good enough. It won’t put too much pressure on Style, but it’ll be better than only seeing each other once a month.
“Fine,” Fadel agrees. “As long as you promise to tell me if it becomes too much. We can talk about it again if it does. Just don’t disappear on me.”
“I promise,” Style says. “But it won’t be necessary. I can handle anything. You should know that!”
It’s enough to make Fadel laugh again. He hasn’t laughed a lot in the past week, and he has a feeling he won’t be laughing a lot for the next two weeks either. But just this will sustain him until next time Style can make him laugh.
It’ll have to, he thinks, as the guards announce visitation is over and starts ordering all the inmates to get up.
Fadel throws one last look over his shoulder at Style before he’s escorted out of the room. He wants to memorize every aspect of Style in this moment, to hold onto until the next time they see each other. Which will be in two weeks. He’s already counting down the days.
Style waves back at him. His smile is weaker now, and Fadel memorizes that too. It’s only been a week, but it feels longer.
They’ll have to get used to this, though. Five years is a long, long time.
Part of Fadel can’t help but wonder if Style will still want to be there at the end. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. But for now, for his own sanity’s sake, he imagines that this is just what the next five years will be like. He’ll have visits with Style every other week, and at the end of it, he’ll finally get to hold Style in his arms again.
Thinking like that is what will keep him sane.
1 year
Fadel counts his days in prison by counting days until Style’s next visit, not days until he gets out again. That’s way too distant in the future and focusing on it will just make everything seem a lot slower than it is.
So when he sits down in front of Style for his regular visit, and Style smiles brightly and makes a tick motion with his hand, Fadel is confused.
“What was that for?” he asks.
“You’re one year down now!” Style says. “Only four more to go!”
Fadel blinks at him, quiet for a moment. He’s not sure what to think of that, or how to feel about it. On the one hand, it’s sort of surprising that it’s already been a whole year. He’s been so focused on taking it one day at a time, sticking to his routines, and counting down the days until Style’s next visit, that he hadn’t noticed a full year has passed by.
On the other hand, he’s agonizingly aware of each day he’s stuck in prison, unable to be with Style, stuck with idiots he has to be considerate of, in case they decide to give him a hard time. And only one year has passed? He still has a whole four years left?
It hardly bears thinking about.
But he’s made it through the first year. He just has to keep going. It’s all he can do.
“Time flies, doesn’t it?” Style says chirpily.
Fadel tries to smile. “I guess.”
The happiness is wiped right off Style’s face and replaced with worry. Fadel hates that. He seeing it and he hates being the cause of it.
“Are you okay?” Style asks.
For a moment, Fadel considers lying, but Style deserves the truth.
“Just… I hadn’t at all thought about how much time has passed. So I didn’t realize it’s already been a year, and at the same time… four years is still a lot,” he explains.
Style whines sympathetically.
“Baby,” he coos.
Fadel doesn’t look around anymore to see if anyone heard him. Most of the other inmates seem to have figured out that he and Bison both have boyfriends, and no one seems to mind. There are plenty of other reasons why Fadel prefers to keep his head down and keep to himself, but thankfully, his sexuality doesn’t seem to be much of a problem. That’s something, at least. One less thing to worry about.
“We made it through the first year. We just have to make it through the next four the same way,” Style says, soft but confident. He’s always believed in them and their relationship more than Fadel has.
Maybe at the end of all this, Fadel will be able to match him in that area.
For now, he just nods as firmly and confidently as he can and says, “Right. That’s it.”
He doubts Style is actually fooled, but Style is kind enough to go along with the pretense. He must be in a generous mood.
“We just have to keep passing the time,” he says easily, a grin slowly spreading on his face. He glances down Fadel’s body for a moment. “And you passing the time working out is really working for me.”
That startles a laugh out of Fadel.
Trust Style to always make things sexual. Fadel doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone as horny as Style, and his brother is Bison, who isn’t exactly shy either.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mumbles fondly.
“Unbelievably into you,” Style adds.
“Stop it,” Fadel says, though he’s not sure laughing as he speaks is helping.
But Style must really be in a generous mood, because he relents. “Alright. So tell me, what’s new with you?”
Most of the time, the answer to that question is nothing. Hardly anything ever happens or changes in prison, except for inmates being released or arriving, and what’s on the menu for the week. But he knows Style won’t accept that as an answer, and this week, something has kind of happened.
“I saw a flyer the other day for new classes,” Fadel says.
“Oh yeah? Anything interesting? Anything cooking related?” Style asks.
“No, and I think I get enough cooking done working in the kitchen,” Fadel says with a huff of laughter. “Actually, I was considering signing up for an auto mechanic class.”
Style’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Really?” Fadel nods. “Why? I can fix your car for you.”
He can, but Fadel isn’t thinking of signing up for that particular class so he can fix his own car.
“Actually, I was thinking of taking the class so I could help you out at your garage,” he admits.
“Oh.” Style straightens up a little and tilts his head. “You don’t need to do that. You should focus on your restaurant when you’re free again.”
“What restaurant?” Fadel scoffs, not unkindly. “The police took over the place.”
“You can get it back. We can get it back,” Style says insistently, and Fadel loves him for his optimism.
“But I’m not even sure that’s what I want,” he says. “Maybe after cooking in prison for five years, I won’t want to cook ever again. Or maybe, when it doesn’t have to be a cover, I don’t want to actually run my own restaurant. Maybe I just want to work at one that someone else owns.”
“You wanna work for someone else?” Style asks. “Haven’t you always owned your own restaurants?”
“Yeah, but only because that’s always been necessary,” Fadel replies, shrugging. “I never enjoyed the business side of it. I don’t even think I was all that good at it. You said yourself I wasn’t running Heart Burger in an economically sound way, and without my other source of income, I wouldn’t be able to keep a place afloat like that.”
“But you also wouldn’t have to take time out of your schedule to do another job,” Style argues.
Fadel isn’t sure why Style is so insistent on this, but it makes warmth bubble up in his chest. Style is a passionate person in general, and right now, he’s passionate about Fadel’s future. About Fadel getting to do what he loves on the other side of his sentence. It’s not something anyone has ever really been concerned about before, except maybe Bison. It’s touching.
“Style,” he says softly. “When I get out of here, I think maybe I just want to get on my feet first. Get settled back into my life. Get into a routine. Working a regular job at a restaurant might be better than jumping straight into owning my own business again.”
Style relents with a sigh. “Yeah, alright. That makes sense.” Then he holds up a finger. “But I’m helping you get your own restaurant the moment you want one, okay?”
“Okay,” Fadel chuckles.
“And you don’t have to worry about helping me at the garage. It’s fine.”
Fadel leans forward on his arms. It doesn’t bring him that much closer to Style, honestly, but the symbolism of it should still work.
“If I have to accept you wanting to help me, then you have to accept me wanting to help you,” he says firmly.
Style shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Alright, fine. We’ll help each other.”
And oh, Fadel likes the sound of that. Thinking of a future where they can help each other, both with regular life and with achieving their dreams, will probably be enough to keep him going.
Style is right. One year down, four more to go.
2 years
The first thing Fadel thinks when he sees Style is, fuck he looks good, like it always is. Style isn’t wearing anything particularly special, just a t-shirt and khakis, but what he’s wearing doesn’t matter. He’s beautiful, and Fadel loves looking at him.
But the second thing he thinks is he looks tired.
Style has dark shadows under his eyes, his hair is flat, and he’s leaning more on the table than he usually does, like he needs the support. As Fadel walks closer, he notes that Style is blinking slowly too.
He must be exhausted.
And yet, when Style spots Fadel, he straightens up and his face lights up like a Christmas tree.
“Hey,” Fadel says, taking his seat.
“Hey baby,” Style preens.
“Are you okay?” Fadel asks, because he needs to know immediately. He can’t focus on a conversation with Style until he knows why Style is so tired.
“What do you mean?” Style asks. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You look tired,” Fadel says.
Style’s hands immediately fly up to his face, like he’s trying to feel out where he looks tired.
“Do I look bad?” he asks frantically, because of course that’s what he’s worried about.
“No, you don’t look bad,” Fadel replies, and Style sighs in relief. “But you look tired. Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” Style says. His voice is easy, and his posture is relaxed, but there’s still something off.
So Fadel presses on. “Then why do you look so tired?”
Because this isn’t the first time he’s turned up looking like this. It’s not often, no, but it has happened before, and every time it does, Fadel’s heart breaks a little for him.
“It’s just been a really busy week,” Style says. “We’ve had a lot of work at the garage, and a couple of our mechanics have been out sick. I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep, I guess.” He laughs a little. “People say I’ve gotten boring. I hardly ever go out anymore. One of the uncles at the market called me a soldier’s wife, cause he thinks I’m moping around waiting for you.”
Dread creeps up Fadel’s spine immediately. This is exactly what he was worried about. Style being tired and moping as he waits. Sure, the uncle at the market might be exaggerating, but somehow Fadel doesn’t think that description is too far off, with how Style is looking right now. How much will Style sacrifice to keep coming to see Fadel in prison? How much of his life is he putting on hold for this? For them? Because Fadel definitely isn’t worth it. Style deserves to live his life to the fullest, not be forced to spend five years waiting around for Fadel to finish serving his time.
No, that’s not what Fadel wants. It’s the furthest from what Fadel wants. He wants Style to be happy above all else.
So he takes a deep breath to steel himself and looks away from Style’s gorgeous, compelling face.
“You don’t have to keep visiting me,” he says firmly.
“Of course I do. Can’t miss out on seeing my man,” Style says with an audible smirk.
Fadel looks back at him, and yep, he’s smirking, like nothing is wrong. “I’m being serious, Style,” Fadel says.
“So am I,” Style says, now no longer smirking. “I might be tired, but I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
But it’s not nothing, is it? Sure, right now it’s just one hard week, but what if it continues? Jay will only get older over the next three years, and Style might need to take on more work. And while that happens, he won’t even be going out and having fun with his friends as much as he can, because he’s chained to a promise to come see Fadel every other week. And Fadel loves him, so fucking much, and loves that Style has been willing to do this for the past two years, but he doesn’t want this to be the result.
“You shouldn’t come here anymore,” Fadel says, looking away again, so he won’t have to see Style’s reaction, and so Style won’t be able to see Fadel’s face either.
He doesn’t want to stop seeing Style, but he wants Style to waste his life on Fadel even less.
“Fadel,” Style says, shocked. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Fadel replies, still looking away. He does mean what he’s saying.
Even if letting Style go is painful, Fadel will do it. He’ll break his own heart a million times if it means Style can be happy, without having to wait for or worry about Fadel.
“No, you don’t,” Style says, as if that’s all it will take.
And maybe sort of embarrassingly, it is already making Fadel waver.
“I don’t want you to waste your time on me,” he says.
“I’m not wasting my time!” Style protests, loudly enough that one of the guards looks over at them.
“You’re putting your life on hold for me,” Fadel counters. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not putting my life on hold. I’m just waiting,” Style says fiercely. “The uncle at the market was being dramatic. I’m not moping around like a soldiers’ wife.”
“I don’t want you running yourself into the ground just to come here to see me,” Fadel says imploringly. He needs Style to understand. “I’m fine. It’s more important that you take care of yourself.”
“If I don’t come here to see you, I won’t be taking care of myself,” Style counters.
Fadel tries a different tactic. “When was the last time you went out?”
Style shrugs. “A few weeks or something.”
“You used to go out all the time. With Kant at least, if not on your own,” Fadel says.
“Because I was on the pull. Now I have a boyfriend, so I don’t need to go out as much, and neither does Kant,” Style points out.
“What good is it to have a boyfriend serving a five-year prison sentence?” Fadel challenges. He’s of no use to Style in here. In fact, not only is he not of any use, he’s actively a hindrance to his life. “You might be happy with this right now, but what about a year from now? Is it worth it?”
“Stop talking like that. Of course it’s worth it,” Style says, eyes flashing. “And today marks two years of your sentence.”
“That still means there’s three years left,” Fadel reminds him. Two years might seem like a lot, but he’s not even halfway through serving his time.
“But we’ve still made it through two years. I’m not giving up on us now,” Style says firmly, fiercely.
“Style.”
“Fadel.” Style’s eyes are fiery and determined, and one of the first things Fadel learned about him is that Style is stubborn as hell. Once he’s set his mind on something, he’s nearly impossible to budge. And right now, he’s got that defiant look on his face, the one Fadel fell in love with, and his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not budging. And that’s only confirmed with the next words out of his mouth. “I’m not letting you do this.”
Fadel is quiet for a moment. It’s not like he’s not stubborn too. He can put his foot down, refuse to give in, so something to make Style realize that Fadel is just trying to do what’s best.
But he’s also not that strong anymore. Style has successfully torn down his walls and made him expose his soft, vulnerable insides. He’s tired from having spent two years in prison and knowing he still has three more to go, where he’ll be on edge, looking over his shoulder, walking on eggshells to make sure he doesn’t get in trouble.
He maybe doesn’t quite have the willpower to fight Style’s stubbornness right now.
“I could just get up and leave,” he says.
“Don’t you dare,” Style growls.
“I could. And I could refuse to see you again,” Fadel adds. Though it’s unlikely he’d be able to do that, and he knows it.
“I’d come by every single day until you agreed to see me again,” Style says, sounding almost proud of himself. “And when you finally did, I’d tell you what an idiot you are and make you believe me when I tell you that coming to visit you is exactly what I wanna do, and I’m not missing out on anything by sticking by you. Okay?”
So fucking stubborn.
But Fadel loves that about him.
He sighs and feels a smile tugging at his lips for the first time this visit.
“Okay,” he says.
Style lights up, just like he had when he saw Fadel earlier. “Yeah?”
“Stubborn,” Fadel huffs.
“It’s part of why you love me,” Style grins, because he really knows Fadel too well at this point.
“I do love you,” Fadel says softly. “I was just trying to do what’s best for you.”
“Just let me decide what’s best for me,” Style says and leans forward until his nose is practically pressed against the fence. “I love you too, so coming here to visit you is what’s best for me. I promise.”
“As long as you also promise to let me know if that changes,” Fadel says. Right now, he has a hard time imagining their relationship lasting until he gets released, but at the same time, he has a hard time imagining a future that doesn’t include Style.
“It won’t,” Style promises instead. “Just believe in us. It’s what I do.”
“I’ll try,” Fadel vows. It’s the most he can do right now.
3 years
As always, the highlight of Fadel’s days in prison are the days Style visit him. Those days are filled with light and laughter and happiness, even if just for a few minutes. Every other day is a dreary stroll to the far-away end.
Today is a visit day, so Fadel spends the entire morning anticipating the visit. He’s had a decent week, and thus no reason not to look forward to seeing Style again. He manages to contain his excitement a lot better than Bison, who is practically vibrating in his seat at breakfast at the idea of getting to see Kant again. As much as Fadel dislikes his brother’s boyfriend, he has to appreciate the support Kant is giving Bison in these difficult times. One day he’ll let Kant know.
Not today, though.
Today, Fadel is solely focused on his own visit with Style.
But when visiting time starts, the man waiting at the booth Fadel is led to is not Style. It’s his dad.
Fadel pauses in shock. He hasn’t seen Jay since the morning of his last day of freedom, when he’d told Fadel and Style to just get married already. Style has talked about him, and nothing has suggested that Jay is unhappy with Fadel and Style dating, from what he’s said, but Fadel has trouble believing that the man would just be fine with his son dating a convict.
And yet there he is. Looking as relaxed and easy-going as ever. Waiting to talk to Fadel.
Style told Fadel that he gave his dad a different reason for why Fadel is in prison. Rather than a hitman for hire (not that Fadel even knew that was the case, but he tries not to focus on how stupid that makes him feel), Style had told him something about Fadel and Bison being in a gang, wanting to leave, and giving the police information in exchange for an exit from the gang and a shorter sentence. Part of Fadel isn’t comfortable with the lie, because if he and Style do manage to last the rest of their lives, it’s a lie they’ll have to keep up the whole time. But then, if Jay knew the truth, he’d probably be far less accepting of them. And it’s not too far from the truth, anyway.
“Keep moving,” the guard behind Fadel says.
Fadel blinks and moves his feet again. Carefully, he walks over to where Jay is waiting. Jay spots him as he approaches, and a cheerful smile spreads on his face.
Fadel doesn’t really feel like he deserves that.
“Hey kid,” Jay says as Fadel sits down.
Fadel gives him a polite wai. “Hello Khun Jay.”
“Aow? What happened to calling me dad?” Jay asks with a playful frown.
“I just wasn’t sure…” Fadel trails off.
“Is it because I haven’t visited you?” Jay asks. Both his face and his voice have lost the playfulness. Instead, he sounds and looks serious. “I’m sorry about that. It took me a while to get my head around my son dating a gang member. And I wasn’t sure you’d be all that interested in seeing me anyway. Especially not when you could be seeing Style instead.”
“Please, don’t apologize,” Fadel says quickly. “I don’t blame you for any of that at all. If I was you, I probably wouldn’t accept it either.”
“Nonsense,” Jay says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I know how much you love Style, and how much he loves you. I know you’ve done the right thing and now you’re serving your time. That’s good enough for me.”
Fadel opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. What he settles on eventually is a quiet, “Thank you.”
It doesn’t convey everything he wants to say, but it’s the best he can do in the moment.
Jay nods at him once. Then he leans forward, and his face gets a little more serious.
“Now, I’m not just here today because I wanted to see how you’re doing,” he says. “I know you were expecting Style. Unfortunately he’s sick, so I’ve come in his place.”
“Sick?” Fadel asks, worry spiking immediately. “Sick how?”
“Nothing too bad, don’t worry,” Jay says calmly, though it does very little to actually calm Fadel’s nerves. “He has a fever. I think he’s been working too hard recently and his body just shut down. So I told him to rest at home, and I’d come see you instead. I know he didn’t want you to be alone today.”
Right. Because today marks three years of Fadel in prison.
It’s well past the halfway point, but his release still seems so far away.
“Today marks my third year of my sentence,” he says quietly.
“I know,” Jay says, nodding. “I think that’s why Style has been working so much. He’s trying to take his mind off it. He’s also been crying a lot recently. He thinks I don’t see or hear, but I do. I’m not that old yet.”
Worry spikes again in Fadel’s chest.
“He’s been crying?” he repeats.
Jay shrugs. “He misses you.”
He says it so casually, like it should be obvious, and maybe it should. Three years down the line, it shouldn’t still surprise Fadel that Style misses him. Most of the time, he’d probably say that it doesn’t surprise him. But every now and then, he can’t quite make himself believe that Style means it when he says he loves him. When he says he’ll wait. Especially after so much time. Fadel wouldn’t blame Style in the least if his love had started fading, or if someone else had caught his eye.
But apparently Style misses him enough to cry about it, and that both warms Fadel’s heart and makes it clench painfully. He never wants Style to hurt.
He thinks back to the argument they had exactly one year ago. The topic of breaking up hasn’t come up again, and Fadel won’t bring it up because of this either, but he still can’t help but wonder if he’s a bad thing in Style’s life.
On the one hand, he hates that Style is miserable enough to be crying and working himself to the point of being sick. On the other, he knows that says a lot about Style’s feelings for him, and Fadel won’t disrespect that or hurt him further by suggesting that Style would be better off without him (even if part of Fadel still thinks that’s true). Trying to change his mind had only led to Style being huffy, anyway, and things between them haven’t changed since then.
Fadel decides to see that as a good thing. One of very few good things in his life, honestly.
“I miss him too,” he says.
“Good,” Jay says. “I’d be disappointed in you if you didn’t, to be honest.”
“Really?” Fadel asks, skeptical and hopeful all at once.
“I need you to stick around and keep Style in check. He needs someone with a firm grip to stop him from doing stupid shit all the time,” Jay says, grinning.
Fadel wants to say he’s not sure he’s capable of having much of a firm grip with Style – that’s how Style managed to worm his way into Fadel’s heart, and how he got himself involved in more than one dangerous situation – but he can’t help but laugh a little instead. It is true that Style has a penchant for trouble and needs someone around to stop him from doing too many dumb and dangerous things. That much Fadel can probably do.
“I’ll stay with him as long as he’ll let me,” Fadel assures Jay.
“Then get ready to stay for the rest of your life,” Jay smirks.
“I will,” Fadel says, smiling back. He can feel himself relaxing too.
“So three years, huh?” Jay says casually, leaning back in his seat, like they’re having this conversation at the dinner table and not at a prison, with fences and a small corridor between them.
Fadel doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to express to Jay just how grateful he is for the support that kind of behavior shows.
“Yes, three years today,” Fadel confirms.
“Over halfway now,” Jay says.
“Yeah,” is all Fadel says to that.
It’s hard for him to figure out how he feels after three years in prison.
On the one hand, it’s the first time his “anniversary” of being in here is over the halfway point. On the other, the remaining two years seem like a lifetime.
He tries not to think too much about it and just keep focusing on Style’s visits. They’re a large part of how he makes it through every month, every week, every day. Without Style, Fadel isn’t sure what he might have done. Not because he’s thinking of doing anything stupid, but because without Style in his life, he had expected to die young. If he’d been sent to prison and didn’t have Style waiting for him, he might be less careful in here.
But he’ll never know because he does have Style. And Bison, who hit Fadel over the head when Fadel told him about his thoughts.
“Style tells me you’ve been taking classes on auto mechanics,” Jay says. Fadel nods in response, and Jay gets a positively wolfish grin on his face. “How about I quiz you, to see if you could work for me in a couple of years.”
Fadel huffs out a laugh. “Alright. Though I’m probably not very good.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” Jay says.
So Fadel lets Jay ask him all kinds of questions and does his best to answer, and despite getting maybe half the questions wrong, Fadel has a good time. He’s sad to have missed a visit with Style, but he has thoroughly enjoyed this visit with Jay.
He probably won’t see Jay until he gets out in two years, but now, after this, Fadel is actually kind of looking forward to seeing him again.
Because maybe, just maybe, Jay can be another good thing in Fadel’s life.
4 years
“I have something I wanna show you,” Style says and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket with a flourish.
“What’s that?” Fadel asks.
“This,” Style says, smirking, “is a list of things we’re gonna do when you get out of here.”
“You’re planning for that already?” Fadel asks, surprised.
It’s not that he hasn’t thought about his approaching freedom as well, because he has. Now that he’s reached his final year in prison, thinking about being released is actually starting to feel exciting. It’s no longer laced with dread at the thought of how much time he has left, because he only has one year left. Just twelve more months, and he’s out. 365 days, and he’ll be free to go where he wants and do what he wants.
But he hasn’t thought about the details of all that very much. Just the anticipation of being out of here and being able to hold Style in his arms again.
Apparently Style, on the other hand, is already making detailed plans.
“Of course! Some things need planning in advance, and with all the stuff we’re gonna do, we need to schedule some of it or we won’t get around to everything,” Style explains. He’s clearly taking this very seriously. Fadel smiles. It’s cute, and such a Style thing to do, maybe Fadel really shouldn’t be surprised.
It’s also heartwarming to know that Style is looking forward to Fadel being released enough that he’s making big plans for them and things they can do together.
Style has always been the main champion of their relationship, and Fadel loves him for it.
“So what have you got?” he asks.
“Well,” Style grins, smoothing out the paper. “Let’s see! Going on a hike. Going to the beach. Going on a roadtrip where you’re not pretending to hold me hostage.” Fadel rolls his eyes but chooses not to say anything. “Going on an international holiday. A spa day date. I actually thought we could do that one of the first days after you get out, so you can get properly destressed after being in this dumb place.”
“Um,” Fadel laughs, not quite sure what to say. “Interesting idea.”
“I know!” Style says excitedly.
“Style, I don’t know if that kind of thing is really me,” Fadel says.
“Then we’ll go and find out,” Style says, confident as always. “You deserve to be pampered for a day. Come on, it’ll be nice. It’ll be good for you!”
Fadel is really not very good at saying no to Style. “Alright, sure. What else?”
Style smirks at his little victory, and Fadel tries not to react. There’s no reason to egg him on.
“Build a car together, now that you know a thing or two about cars,” Style continues. “Go to more concerts, like the heavy metal one. Making merit on Songkran together. And I’ve got a bunch of small date ideas.” He puts the paper down and crosses his arms on the table. “So what do you wanna do when you get out?”
“I don’t know,” Fadel says honestly. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“Really?” Style sounds shocked by that.
“Really,” Fadel confirms.
“Not at all?” Style presses.
“I wanna spend time with you,” Fadel says simply. Style blinks at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “More than just an hour every other week. I wanna hold you and kiss you,” Fadel leans in closer and lowers his voice a little, “and fuck you.”
“Oi,” Style laughs in surprise.
Fadel sits back again. “And I wanna have a normal life and get back on track. But other than that, no, I haven’t thought about what I wanna do.”
“Well, start thinking about it! It’s important,” Style insists.
“I don’t even know where I’m gonna live,” Fadel points out.
“With me,” Style says immediately, like it should have been obvious.
But Fadel stares at him, because to him, it’s not that obvious.
He did assume that he’d ask Style to stay with him at least for a few days, until he can sort something out for himself, maybe with Bison. He and Style may have been dating for over four years (over five by the time he gets out), but they haven’t actually been together for most of that time. The idea of imposing on Style and his dad, when their relationship has only really been a relationship for a few months, years ago, seems… not right, somehow.
It’s maybe not much of a surprise that Style thinks it’s obvious, though. Champion of their relationship, the man who made sure they spent every night possible together when they got together and after all the secrets were revealed, and the man who has staunchly shown up twice a week for four years to tell Fadel how much he misses him and looks forward to being with him again.
Yes, for him it does make sense that it would be obvious. But even if that’s how Style feels, Fadel can’t help but worry how Jay would feel about Fadel moving in indefinitely. Jay had been beyond nice when he visited last year, and he’s accompanied Style twice on visits since then, always with a warm smile and encouraging words to say, but all of that doesn’t mean that he’d want Fadel living under his roof. That he’d want his son’s boyfriend living under his roof, even if Jay is under no illusions about what Style can get up to.
So that’s the first question he decides to ask. “Would your dad be okay with that?”
“Of course,” Style says. “I’ve already cleared it with him, too. I thought you knew he likes you.”
“There’s a difference between liking me and letting me live at his house,” Fadel argues, but Style just waves him off.
“It’s not a problem. He wants to help you settle back in too,” he says reassuringly.
Which leaves Fadel asking his next question. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”
“That’s a dumb question,” Style laughs. “Of course it’s what I want.”
“Are you sure?” Fadel presses.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Style asks with a long-suffering sigh.
“We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together,” Fadel points out.
“We’ve been dating for over four years, baby.”
“And I’ve been in prison most of that time. That’s not spending time together.”
“Who cares about stuff like that?” Style says, rolling his eyes. “I know you, I love you, and you love me, and you need a place to live. Where else would you go?”
“Even if I have to stay with you for a bit, I was planning on getting a place for myself as fast as possible,” Fadel replies.
“How about instead of doing that, you live with me and my dad, and together, the two of us save up to get our own place, hm?” Style suggests.
And oh, Fadel does like the sound of that. “Is that what you want?” he asks, just to be sure.
Because it doesn’t really matter much to Fadel what he himself wants. It matters what Style wants.
“It’s what I’ve wanted since got back together on the island,” Style says.
Fadel’s breath hitches. Jay hadn’t been kidding when he said that Style, like his father, loves with his whole heart. Style has been fully in and devoted to their relationship from the beginning, far more than Fadel has.
So maybe it’s about time that Fadel gets on Style’s level. All in, fucking balls to the walls, no holding back, just 100% belief in them, their love, their future together, and devote himself to that. To them. It doesn’t even sound as scary as it used to. It sounds exciting, and like a future full of hope and possibilities, because Style has never met a challenge he wasn’t willing to take up.
Steeling himself, Fadel gives Style a wide smile and says, “Alright. That’s the plan, then. I’ll live with you and your dad until we can get our own place together.”
“Great!” Style grins.
“I hope Bison wasn’t planning on sticking with me,” Fadel muses, because he hadn’t considered Bison in this decision. And that’s okay too, that he doesn’t dictate his life based on what Bison wants and needs.
“I’m pretty sure Kant is planning on asking Bison to move in with him,” Style tells him.
“Ah,” Fadel says shortly.
“Are you mad about that?” Style asks, laughing a little.
Fadel looks over at where Kant and Bison are seated, at the other end of the room. Bison is practically glowing from how much he’s smiling. And Kant has been coming to see him every two weeks, just like Style, and sometimes more than that. He’s brought his little brother along for visits sometimes too, and from what Bison has told Fadel, Kant is just as devoted to their relationship as Style is to his and Fadel’s.
“No,” Fadel replies and looks back at Style. “No, I’m happy for Bison. For them.”
“Aw, you softie. I knew you’d warm up to them,” Style coos.
Fadel rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t tell Kant.”
“I’ll keep your secret,” Style promises, in a voice that tells Fadel there’s about a 50/50 chance that he will tell Kant anyway. Fadel can’t help but laugh a little.
This is the man he wants to shape his future around. It’s strange and unfathomable in many ways, but Fadel doesn’t regret or question a single choice that led him here. A future with Style is exactly what he wants, and for the first time in five years, he doesn’t even question it.
+ 1 day
There’s nothing special about the weather on the day Fadel and Bison are finally, finally released from prison. It’s sunny, like it’s been so many times before over the past five years, and comfortably warm without being too hot. It’s a beautiful day. Perfect for going for a walk or eating outside.
And best of all, they’ll be able to actually do that today, without having to do it in a prison yard.
Bison is visibly vibrating as they go through the process of being released. They fill out forms, gather their things, and get dressed in civilian clothes instead of the prisoner uniforms they’ve been wearing for five years. A guard leads them to the front gate, and he barely gets to open it before Bison is zooming out.
“Kant!” he calls excitedly. Fadel hears Kant’s distinct voice responding in kind, sounding just as elated to have Bison back as Bison sounded to be out.
Fadel really will have to tell Kant one day that he appreciates what he’s done for Bison.
Fadel himself walks out at a slower pace. The moment he steps over the threshold, past the prison gates, it’s as if the sun suddenly feels better on his skin. The breeze feels booth gentler and cooler. His shoulders seem to relax more than they have for five long, long years. He closes his eyes for a moment to take it all in.
It’s all in his head, he knows, but he doesn’t care.
Imaginary or not, freedom feels glorious, and it makes everything else seem better too.
“Aren’t you gonna greet me?”
Fadel opens his eyes again. Kant is twirling Bison around next to an old classic car. And leaning against the car, arms crossed over his chest, is Style.
Style is an absolute, sinful vision.
His fashion has been relatively downplayed during his visits. He’s worn tanks with low-cut sides, shorts, and plenty of color, sure, but not the kind of daring outfits Fadel would regularly see him in before he went to prison. In the past five years, he hasn’t seen Style wear a crop top even once.
But now, he’s treated to the full force of what he’s been missing.
Style is in a pink crop top and low-rise jeans, with a bright white belt, and matching white sunglasses pushed into his hair.
It might be the best outfit Fadel has ever seen on him. He can’t wait to rip it off.
“Oi!” Style calls out impatiently.
Right, he asked if Fadel was going to greet him.
He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he walks over in a few long strides, gently grabs Style’s face, and kisses him.
Fireworks start going off in his head immediately.
Style’s lips are soft, moist, taste faintly of strawberry, and feel like heaven to kiss. His face feels like it was shaped specifically to fit in Fadel’s hands. The smell of Style’s cologne drifts to Fadel’s nose, sweet and musky and intoxicating. Style returns the kiss with as much love and relief as Fadel puts into it, because he always matches Fadel pace for pace
Fadel knew he’d missed kissing Style, but it’s not until this moment that he realizes just how much he’s missed kissing Style.
If he didn’t need oxygen, Fadel thinks he could probably stand there kissing Style for hours. However, he does need to breathe at one point, so he pull back just enough to allow that.
“I’ve missed this,” he mumbles, practically against Style’s lips.
“Me too,” Style assures him.
Fadel indulges in his next instinct too, which is to hug Style as close as possible and bury his face in Style’s neck to breathe in the scent of his cologne and clean skin. Ridiculously, Fadel thinks he smells like sunshine.
Style strokes a hand up and down his back. “It’s so good to have you back.”
“It’s so good to be out,” Fadel returns. “I can hardly believe I can finally hold you again.”
“You better believe it, and you better do it, too,” Style says. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
Fadel’s hands travel down to Style’s ass and rest there. Not to start anything (Fadel doesn’t even think he’s in the mood for anything right now), but just to let Style know that he understood. And also to feel it, because that’s one of Style’s attributes that Fadel has barely gotten to see over the past five years.
“Are you guys ready to get out of here?” Kant asks, cutting through the moment.
“Please say yes, because I wanna put this place behind me,” Bison says.
Fadel chooses not to move his face from Style’s neck or his hands from Style’s ass, so he can’t really respond. Instead, Style responds for them. “Yeah, let’s go.”
“Alright, then everybody get in,” Kant says.
Reluctantly, Fadel detangles himself from Style.
“Enjoy the drive,” Style says to Kant, smirking. “It’s the last time you’ll be driving this car before you hand it over to me.”
Kant rolls his eyes and opens the passenger’s side door for Bison. “Yeah, yeah. Just get in, ass.”
“Wait, is this the car?” Fadel asks. “The one from your bet?”
“Yep,” Style says, popping the ‘p’. “This is the car. Nice, right?”
Fadel looks at the car again, as if seeing it for the first time. It is a pretty nice car. It’s an old classic and it looks good and well-maintained. He’s not familiar enough with cars to notice anything else, but he can see why a car enthusiast like Style would love it enough to bet for it. Still, the knowledge that this car is what started things between him and Style makes him feel a little odd. He’s not sure whether to be thankful for it all or to dig up some resentment for having been pursued for a damn car.
So instead, he chooses to be neutrally appreciative.
“It looks good,” he says.
“And it’s all mine now,” Style singsongs, grinning. “I completed my end of the bargain and then some.”
Fadel huffs out a laugh while Kant says, “You also got us into more trouble. Stop preening and just get in the car.”
“Spoilsport,” Style pouts, but he complies, nonetheless.
Bison spends most of the two-hour drive holding Kant’s hand or thigh, or running his fingers through Kant’s hair, and Kant reciprocates most of it as well as he can while keeping his eyes on the road. Style spends most of the drive keeping Fadel distracted enough that he barely notices what his little brother is doing. He keeps a hand somewhere on Fadel the entire time, and sometimes, Fadel has to stop him from getting a little too touchy in the presence of company. Style also talks Fadel’s ear off, sometimes in a conversation between just the two of them, and sometimes while talking animatedly with Bison and Kant about something or other.
Fadel partakes enough in the conversations to keep Style smiling, but for the most part, he leans back and enjoys the company (even Kant’s) and the feeling of being normal again.
Kant drives them to a park that’s apparently walking distance from his apartment. Here, he hands the keys to Style and they all say goodbye to each other.
It’s weird for Fadel so say goodbye to Bison. For the past five years, they’ve spent every day together, and even before then, they lived together. That’s not what they’ll be doing now. Of course they’ll still see each other, often, but several days can pass before then. They won’t be living together, ever again. Bison is moving in with Kant, and Fadel is moving in with Style.
So when Bison pulls Fadel in for a brief hug and says, “Bye, big brother. I’ll see you around.”, it feels weird.
Though not necessarily in a bad way.
“So,” Style says, once it’s just him and Fadel by the car. “What do you wanna do now?”
“I just wanna go back to your place,” Fadel replies.
“You don’t wanna go explore the world? See if anything has changed?” Style asks.
“You’ve told me most of the changes that’ve happened around town,” Fadel points out. Style always made sure to keep Fadel updated on the things going on, because he’s a big gossip and not ashamed of it. “And I can see it for myself tomorrow, or some other day. Right now, I just wanna relax and spend time with you.”
“Awww,” Style coos, wrapping his arms around Fadel’s waist. Fadel’s hand come up to rest on Style’s hips in a response that feels automatic, even after not having been able to do it for five years.
It’s sort of a relief, to know that his body hasn’t forgotten how much he loves and wants Style.
“I’ve really missed you,” Fadel says quietly.
Style leans their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you too. I thought about you every single day.”
“Me too.”
“I’m so glad I finally have you back,” Style says, pulling Fadel in impossibly closer.
“I’m so glad I can hold you now,” Fadel says and squeezes Style’s hips. “This is what I’ve missed the most. By far.”
Style huffs out a laugh. “That’s sweet, but we gotta build you up a life that you’d miss having if you went to prison. Not that you’re ever allowed to leave me for that long again.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on ever doing anything that would put me at risk of that again,” Fadel assures him.
“Good. Then we can just focus on getting you a good life,” Style says.
Warmth spreads in Fadel’s chest. The idea of having a life he’d miss anywhere near as much as he’d miss Style is ridiculous, but he does kind of like the idea of having a life he’d miss more than the one he left behind. Or really, a life he’d miss at all. Because besides the general freedom, and maybe working as a chef, Fadel hasn’t really missed any part of his life that doesn’t involve Style. Changing that is maybe not such a bad idea.
“We can do that,” he says. “But tomorrow. Today, I just want to enjoy being back with you.”
“Fine, I’ll accept that,” Style grins. “I like the idea of us spending a day reconnecting.”
It’s Fadel’s turn to laugh. “Trust you to make everything a seduction.”
“What can I say? Five years is a long time,” Style says, unashamed as usual.
“It is,” Fadel agrees, because really, he’s missed that too. He’s missed everything about Style and their relationship, and that does include the incredible sex they have.
So he closes the little distance between them and kisses Style again. Style sighs happily against his lips. Neither one of them does anything to really deepen the kiss, though. They keep it soft, tender, like something straight out of a romcom.
Fadel isn’t sure how long they end up standing there, in a random parking lot, trading kisses, but he doesn’t care either. They have all the time in the world. For the first time, they have all the time in the world. Not just the first time in five years, but the first time in their relationship, because prior to prison, their time together had felt short sometimes. Rushed. Fadel had been looking over his shoulder for most of it. Not anymore.
He’s free now. In every sense of the word.
Eventually they pull back, and Fadel takes in what Style’s lips look like when they’re just slightly kiss-swollen. That’s another little detail he hasn’t been able to enjoy.
Style smiles, beautiful and relaxed.
“Let’s go home, then. Dad will be happy to see you,” he says.
Fadel smiles back at him. Home. It’s not what it used to be, but hopefully it’ll be better. Not because living with Bison wasn’t good, but because the life they were living together was definitely not good, especially looking back at it now.
But the life he’ll have now, living with Style and Jay, will be a good one. Not just better, not just one outside of prison after five long years, but a good one in general. A life Fadel is happy to live. A life he wants to see to the end. With Style by his side and Jay supporting them and Bison happy with Kant, so Fadel doesn’t have to worry too much.
Yeah. All of that sounds pretty damn good.
He takes Style’s hand. “Let’s go home.”