Protect Me: Prison Love Story Ch. 02

Derek groaned internally. That was literally the worst assignment. He'd counted himself lucky the day he'd been assigned to maintenance.

"Of course, sir."

"And since you're looking to help out, I'm sure you wouldn't mind foregoing the pay. You know, in the spirit of contrition."

Derek knew this was entirely illegal. He was basically being signed up for slave labor now. But to be fair, the money had never mattered to him anyway.

"Yes sir."

"Excellent." The warden tapped his desk. "Then I think we're square."

As Derek got up to leave, the warden added, "Oh, and inmate? Try not to stick your dick in anything after this. I hear you're at it again, I'll ship your little twink off faster than you can blink."

As Derek walked back to his cell, his mind raced. What was he going to do? The warden had him over a barrel, that was for sure. But to be so close to his Joey, unable to touch him, unable to be inside him...

They would have to be more careful. Love would find a way. It would have to.

As he entered cell block D, his heart leapt when he caught sight of Joe. Joe stood and walked over to him, and Derek had to consciously keep himself from immediately embracing his little boy.

"Can we talk...?" said Joe.

Derek could see the nervousness in Joe's eyes.

"Sure," he said, leading Joe away.

They walked into the hallway, checking to make sure no one was around.

Derek touched Joe's cheek. "What's wrong, Joey?"

Joe couldn't look him in the eye.

"Is it true? Did you... did you kill someone?"

Derek took his hand away.

"Who told you that?"

Joe's eyes widened. "So it's not true? You didn't kill anybody?"

Now Derek was the one who couldn't look Joe in the eye.

"Oh my God..." Joe said softly.

Joe leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground. He put his head in his hands.

"I don't remember," Derek said quietly.

"What do you mean you don't remember? How do you not remember if you took someone's life or not? Jesus, Derek."

"I mean I don't remember. Any of it. The entire night is a blank," Derek said, sitting next to Joe. "They told me I killed her but I never even knew who she was. I still don't."

"If you don't remember, then why did they put you away?"

"They had evidence. They found me in her apartment, my fingerprints on the knife... I've tried, I've tried everything to remember, but I just don't. All I remember is seeing her face."

Images came flooding back to Derek of the nightmare that had haunted him since he'd been incarcerated. That long hallway, the moonlight shining through the window, the look of accusation in her eyes as she lay dying. Derek closed his eyes, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

"You should have told me," Joe said quietly.

He looked up to see Joe staring at him. The disappointment on his face was unbearable.

"I know."

"You should have told me before we... before I... Derek, you killed someone. I deserved to know."

"I know that!" Derek yelled, louder than he intended.

Joe pulled back, afraid. Derek grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry baby, I am. I know I should have told you. But I didn't know how... it didn't seem right when we were just cellmates, and then everything happened so fast..."

Derek put his forehead against Joe's, his breath heavy and trembling in Joe's face.

"I didn't know that I would fall in love with you."

Joe closed his eyes, trying to keep from crying. Everything in him wanted to say that he loved Derek too, that he would wait for him, that it was all going to be okay... but he knew he couldn't. He hadn't even known that Derek had killed someone. How could he trust this man? How could he know that Derek's feelings were true?

Joe stood. "I need some time, Derek."

Derek stood as well, taking Joe's hand in his. "Okay. Of course," Derek said.

Joe pulled his hand away. "Please, just... please."

Joe walked away. Derek watched him go, his face crumpling as tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.

___________

Joe didn't say a word to Tony as he climbed into bed. He wasn't ready to talk to anybody about what had happened between him and Derek. To be honest, it made him sick just thinking about it.

Derek was a murderer. Joe had had a murderer inside him. Someone who would stab a woman to death in cold blood. But Derek said that he didn't remember...

Joe's head hurt. He wanted so desperately for Derek to be the man he thought that he was. He hadn't thought for a second that Derek would ever be capable of something like that. Shouldn't that mean something? Shouldn't that at least hint at the possibility that he might be innocent?

Joe knew enough about wishful thinking to know that just because he wanted it to be true didn't mean it was. He hardly knew Derek, despite how intimate they'd been.

And what if it were true? Could Joe be in love with a murderer? Could he make love to Derek, knowing that Derek was capable of taking someone's life? These questions kept Joe up late as he tossed and turned, trying to make sense of it all.

Derek also got very little sleep that night. He was still kicking himself for not coming clean with Joey before now. He should have been the one to tell him what he'd done. He should have been honest from the start. Now the chance had been taken away from him.

He was also reeling from his meeting with the warden earlier, although that issue now seemed to be moot. Despite everything, despite his heterosexuality, despite his initial anger at Joe's attempts to seduce him, and despite the divide that had now come between the two men, he had fallen so deeply in love with this man that his entire body ached to be with him.

Derek pulled his pillow close to him, imagining it was Joey he was cuddling in his arms. He thrust his growing cock against the pillow again and again, wishing it was his baby boy he was rubbing up against.

After a few moments, he broke down crying. The thought came to him of spending the next 20 years in this place alone, knowing that he'd had love and lost it. He had nobody to blame but himself. He repeated that thought again and again as he cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of Tony rapping on the door to his cell.

"Dude, you still asleep? How'd it go with the warden yesterday? I saw you going into his office."

Derek sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"He knew about me and Joey. Told me if we didn't stop fucking he'd send him away," Derek said.

"Oh, no way. How'd he find out?" Tony asked.

Derek pulled on a shirt and hopped out of bed.

"Don't know. Not that it matters now."

"What do you mean?"

Derek finished getting dressed as he said, "Cause Joey found out why I'm in here. Someone told him I'm a murderer."

"Oh, Jeez, I'm sorry guy. That's a tough break. Probably for the best though."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Tony held his hands up. "I'm just saying, what with you being in here for at least another 20 years, and Joey getting out in less than a year... I mean, you don't wanna do that to him."

Derek frowned. "Do what to him?"

"Make him wait for you. Kid's got it bad for you, you gotta see that. Gives you those puppy dog eyes, follows you around everywhere. He'd put the rest of his life on hold just waiting for you to get out."

Derek pushed past Tony into the hall.

"I wouldn't let him. No way, once Joey's out I don't want him wasting his life on me."

Tony followed him down the hall, saying, "You might not have a choice. Joey gets it bad enough, he starts saying I love you, you won't be able to shake him. Faggots are real clingy like that."

Derek pushed Tony up against the wall. "For the last time, you call my boy a faggot again, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Tony looked him in the eyes, unfazed.

"You know I'm right, man. You really care about him, you gotta let him go. Think about what's best for Joey."

Derek let go of Tony. "What's it to you anyway?"

Tony shrugged. "Nothing. Just looking out for the boy, like you asked me to."

"Yeah? Well do me a favor and keep your fucking opinions to yourself."

Derek walked away, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind.

__________

Like every morning after a long cry, Joe had woken up feeling lighter than the night before. The problems with him and Derek that had seemed so insurmountable before began to feel smaller in the light of day.

Yes, Derek had gone to jail for murder. But Joe had to recognize that it wasn't as clear cut as that. Derek didn't remember it at all. He could easily have been under the influence of some kind of drug or had some kind of mental break.

Not that Joe was thrilled with the idea of being with a guy who could snap and kill somebody in some kind of a fugue state, but it was easier to deal with than dating someone who would commit premeditated murder.

Joe knew that, before he would be able to make any decisions about his relationship with Derek, he would need to find out more about what had happened. Joe needed to know everything that Derek remembered about that night, needed Derek to tell him about all of the evidence that they'd had against him.

He needed to hear it for himself, to look Derek in the eyes and decide whether or not he was actually the man Joe loved. Joe might not like the answers he got, but he sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight.

As he entered the cafeteria and sat down at a table, one of the queens from cell block A passed him a note.

"It's from your man. Yes, I read it, don't judge me," he said before going back to his breakfast.

Joe opened the note. It read "Meet me at our spot in the library—Derek."

Joe stood and walked out of the cafeteria, heading to the library as quickly as he could.

He found Derek sitting in their little hiding spot, lost in thought.

"Hey," Joe said as he sat down next to him.

"Hey," said Derek. He was looking at Joe, but he still seemed miles away.

"I'm ready to talk," Joe said.

"Me too," said Derek. "But let me go first."

Joe nodded.

Derek took a deep breath.

"This isn't working."

Joe's heart stopped. What? This was the last thing Joe expected to hear. An apology, maybe. An explanation, sure. But this?

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, his stomach sinking.

"Us. We're not right for each other."

Joe felt like he'd been slapped in the face.

"Why?"

"It's not you," said Derek. "It's just... this place. Me. It's not gonna work."

"What the hell kind of an explanation is that?" Joe said angrily.

"I'm gonna be in here for 20 years. At least. What, are you gonna wait for me for 20 years? Till I'm 60, and you're 40, and you've wasted the best years of your life for some old man you barely remember?"

"That's not fair. You don't know what's gonna happen in the future," Joe said, shaking his head.

"I'm not a fucking idiot," Derek said roughly. "What, you think we're gonna live happily ever after? I'm gonna get down on one knee and propose with a paper ring, we'll have a prison wedding, maybe a couple of kids that I'll never get to see because I'm stuck in this hell hole?"

Joe closed his eyes, trying to block out Derek's words.

"We were never going to work out. We're just not right together," Derek continued.

"You're wrong," Joe said. "Look at me."

Derek looked up as Joe stared into his eyes.

"You're wrong about us. I felt it from the moment we were first together. There's something special here. You were made for me, and I was made for you. The way our bodies, our minds fit together... you can't tell me that's not one in a million."

Derek laughed. "Just because we had a few good fucks doesn't mean that we're soulmates."

Joe's face dropped. "But... you told me that you loved me."

"Yeah, well, those were just words." Derek looked away.

"I'm not even gay," he added.

Joe looked at him again, tears in his eyes. Derek wouldn't make eye contact with him.

Joe got up and walked away without another word. Derek stared at the wall, trying to quell the feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Joe walked back to his cell in a stupor. He sat down on his bed and picked up his pillow, holding it to his chest.

He felt numb. All of the hope and optimism from that morning had vanished in a cruel twist of fate.

He laid down on his bed, staring at the wall. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was the feeling of utter and incomprehensible demoralization.