start a fight [muke af]

xvii

xvii

Luke is patrolling an hour after midnights. He's running on three cups of expresso and half a Red Bull. He's sure he has more garbage running through his veins than blood. He has his clipboard out in front of him, checking through to make sure all the inmates are where they're supposed to be.

He stays quiet, trying not to make too much noise through the hall. The inmates deserve a fine night sleep, too.

Luke wants sleep.

He stopped around cell 212 when he heard a single tap. There wasn't supposed to be any noises in any unit, everyone was supposed to be asleep.

He looked up, jumping back in shock when Clifford was standing behind the cell glass door, his face casting an eerie highlight in the dark room.

Luke caught his breath as he furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you need?" He whisper-shouted.

"My roommate is insane and I'm scared," he said with a wavering voice.

"What? Just go back to bed."

"Luke, I'm scared, please."

The blonde took a step closer, pulling his clipboard under his arm. "What's wrong?"

"He shouts in his sleep and walks in his sleep and threatens me in his sleep. Everything is fucked and I'm stuck in a ten-by-ten cell with him."

Luke knew he wasn't supposed to take inmates out unless it was 100 percent needed. He didn't want to take Michael out.

"It's one in the morning, you can last until wake up call."

The next event was something Luke never thought he was going to witness. Tears began falling from Michaels eyes as he gripped the seam of the window. "Luke, please," he whimpered softly. His face scrunched up as he put his hands up against the glass, as if it was bringing him closer to freedom.

"Michael, come on. Why can't you just last the night and we'll work it out in the morning?"

"I'm standing here literally begging you. Just get me out of her, I'm scared," he repeated. It was a type of irony when a built up dude with ninety percent of his body tattooed was crying.

Luke sighed. "Give me your hands." He opened the bottom slot where they would pass the meals and meds every morning. Michael stuck both hands out, ready to get cuffed up.

It was demoralizing.

Luke went around his belt, taking out the layers of keys he needed to keep track of at all times. He put the key in the door, listening for the many bolts to unlock and click out of place.

The doors were always loud, and Luke was sure he woke up his entire unit. He stepped aside, holding the metal bar between both cuffs. Working in the units, they didn't give the inmates a chance to get out of the cuffs. They were not able to move their hands in these cuffs.

Luke kept a hold of him as he turned back, making sure the door was locked once more. "Alright, let's go."

There were temporary cells downstairs—the ones Michael knew too well. Luke led him around the corridor, both of them staying silent as there were many grumpy inmates trying to get a few good hours of sleep.

"You're out of here soon, right?" Luke asked quietly. He opened the stairwell door, letting Michael walk slightly in front of him. Mike couldn't get anywhere even if he tried. The doors were all locked without Luke's key, and his hands were cuffed too tightly.

"I still have a while—until July." Michael stopped at the basement level floor door, waiting patiently for Luke to get his keys out once more and find the correct one.

"What're you going to do when you're out?" Luke knew that the prison begins preparing the inmates for their release a year before. That means the Michael already has plans set up for the second he gets out.

"Whatever makes Mom happy."

Luke knew it was the perfect opportunity to get back at the inmate and call him a Mama's Boy, but he didn't. "What does she want?"

Michael stood aside as Luke unlocked another gate, leading them to the final corridor. "I don't know," he responded between yawns, "She wants me to be happy, maybe a few grandkids, too. I'm her only kid."

Luke unlocked the temporary room, giving Michael a look that yelled if-you-try-to-escape-I-will-end-you. He walked in the room, turning on the lights and grabbing the paperwork on the side.

Michael walked in behind him, the door shutting tight. He sat down on the bed on the opposite side, crossing his feet below him like a small first grader.

Luke sat across from him on a metal desk, taking a pen out to write through a report as of why his inmate was brought downstairs. He took small glances up at Michael, making sure he wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to be doing.

The dirty blonde boy looked tired. The skin around his eyes were a light violet, bagging easily seen form his lack of sleep. He was looking down at his cuffed hands, his fingers tapping against each other.

Michael broke the silence. "What does you mother want, Mama's Boy?"

"For me to get a real job."

Mike laughed and Luke swore it created world peace. 

(a/n) I Love Being Sick