Three days pass by and in that time, Patrick meets with his mother on visitation day. His mother discusses what's happening at home, which is all good news. Patrick's brother had just went away to college and sent his regards. His father had just gotten promoted and his mother was the same as always, working and keeping the rest of the family glued together. Patrick told her that things weren't so bad so she wouldn't worry and leaves out a few things that she doesn't need to know, such as all of the smuggling going on right under the guards' noses. Seriously, the guys smuggled almost everything; pills, coke, condoms, lube (Patrick wondered who was using those), marijuana was too detectable but sometimes you'd find a can of spray paint or two that some of the kids liked to huff.

He'd also found out his bunk mate's name, finally, and the rest of the boys that he shares the dorm with. The two boys he was booked with were named Brendon and Gabe, Brendon being locked up for destruction of property and Gabe for public indecency but Patrick knew that they wouldn't get much time for that. Maybe a month, give or take. Pete was the dark haired boy that slept in the bunk on his right side and the boy to his left was named Joe and it turned out that he used to go to Patrick's school.

But now Patrick has chores, him and two others have to repaint the walls in the basement by the water heater. The paint was peeling off and chipped and despite the fact that no one ever went to the basement, the guards made it a chore to paint it. Patrick is the first one down there and he picks up one of the wide paint brushes, dipping it into the can of white paint and lazily spreading it onto the wall.

Pete shows up soon after and goes over to the wall, standing about a foot away from Patrick and grabbing a brush. He eyes Patrick through his peripheral, absently spinning the paintbrush in his palm. "How was visitation?" He asks suddenly, dunking the bristles into the metal can.

"It was fine. My mom brought me pumpkin squares." Patrick answers, not looking away from the wall.

"Pumpkin squares?"

"Yeah, it's like pumpkin pie except, y'know, in square form."

Pete hums in response and strokes his brush against the wall. "Why are you here?"

Patrick halts in mid-stroke and resists the urge to say that he's obviously painting. "I told you-"

"No, I mean really, how'd you get put in here? What'd you do?"

Patrick sighs and drops his brush into the can. "I was a target in school. Everyone picked on me because it was easy. My counselors thought I had a little problem with my anger, but the kid had it coming. He was an asshole." Patrick explains briefly then asks, "What about you?"

"I steal anything I can get my hands on; bicycles, money, food, sometimes cars. Guess you can say I'm a kleptomaniac."

"Remind me to hide my stuff from you." Patrick chuckles, picking his brush back up and laying down a vertical stripe of paint.

Pete smiles lightly then shakes his head. Poor Patrick doesn't understand. "Nothing's yours," Pete says. "everything is up for takes like a fucking snatch and grab."

The other boys shows up before Patrick can respond to what Pete has just said, but he replays the words in his head over and over again until it's engraved into his brain, right next to the other thing Pete had told him a little while ago.

"There's no such thing as friends in here."

***

Pete lied awake most nights, sometimes watching as the other boys around him would sleep soundly and he envied them. He couldn't get a good night's sleep for shit and on the rare occasions that he did, his nightmares wouldn't leave him alone long enough to stay asleep through the whole night. He's so damn tired.

He looked over at Patrick as he slept and snored softly, probably dreaming of unicorns and glitter. Pete hates him for it. Patrick is luckier than he realizes, he has a family that loves him enough to visit, he isn't disturbed, and probably has parents important enough to have connections that can get him out of this hellhole within two weeks. And it wasn't just that, it was also because Patrick thought he knew Pete when he didn't. He doesn't know a goddamn thing about what goes on in Pete's head. Or does he? No, Pete thinks, Patrick doesn't know how the gears in my head turn.

Pete turns over on his side and closes his eyes, but doesn't fall asleep that night.

In the morning, Pete blinks his eyes open when the CO flicks the lights and yells at everyone to get up and make the beds. He listens to the chorus of whines and watches as they all groggily get out of their bunks to tidy up their mattresses. Pete follows behind everyone else, smoothing and tucking the sheets then standing at the foot of his bunk for inspection.

The showers feel unusual, uncomfortable, because Pete feels like he has to hide his internal scars now. But only from Patrick, the other kids don't give a shit but Patrick does for some reason. He's starting to notice a lot of things about Pete, he knew about Pete's nightmares on his first day and is probably close to figuring out what the blood on his pants was from. He's too fucking observant and can't keep his nose out of Pete's business, stuff like that could get people hurt in a place like this. Pete is the first to finish cleaning himself and one of the first out of the locker room.

During breakfast he continuously eyes Patrick as he takes a seat across from him, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but every time Pete thinks of something he feels like Patrick can see or hear it. His eyes look at him in a way that says 'you can't hide from me' and Pete is stuck between thinking two things: He's just being super paranoid and his fears are taking over, or, Patrick is in my fucking head.

Patrick looks up at him curiously. Pete's stuck in some kind of daze and is staring at him and he's repeatedly poking his fork into his sausage patty absently. Patrick puts his fork down then snaps his fingers in front of Pete's face, instantly snapping him out of his daze.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, um, yourself, today." Patrick says slowly.

Pete blinks a few times then takes a deep breath. "I'm fine." He mutters mostly to himself, but Pete's face says the complete opposite and Patrick can tell something's off. Despite both of their thoughts they don't say another word and eat the rest of their breakfast in silence.

Pete has a meeting with his counselor later that day, he tells them that he's been having strange thoughts and sometimes feels that people can see them. The counselor gives him a lecture that hardly helps his situation but does tell him a bit of good news; if he keeps demonstrating good behavior he can get out within a month. He's been in this place for what felt like an eternity and he's just now getting news that he can be released in a month if he's good? Of course, there will be a parole hearing but whatever, it's about fucking time! Pete can be good for one more month, he can, he knows he can.

When he leaves the office he spots Patrick coming down the hallway toward him, his head down and his hands in his pockets.

"Patrick?" Pete says, wondering why Patrick was roaming the halls during lunch time. Patrick's head snapped up to his name being called and when he notices that it's Pete, he immediately puts his head back down.

"Hey, Pete." Patrick mumbles, continuing to walk down the hall and away from Pete.

Pete only caught a glimpse of Patrick's face but by what he could see, Patrick's eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears. Patrick had been crying. Pete wanted to know why, maybe hug Patrick and tell him that everything will be okay. Wait, no, why would Pete even think of doing that? He doesn't give two shits about Patrick or his feelings or anything that had to do with him.

But he goes after him anyway.

He caught up to Patrick just as was about to step into the cafeteria but Pete grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the opposite direction, barely dodging the eyes of the guards. Pete drags him into the laundry station that was empty for the day.

"What the fuck, Pete?" Patrick nearly yells then quiets down when Pete shushes him. "You're going to get us both in trouble." Patrick's eyes were still bloodshot and his voice was a little raw.

Pete ignores what Patrick has just said and doesn't really know what he said in the first place. He only has one thing on his mind at the moment. "What happened?"

Patrick furrows his brow. "What?"

"You're... upset." Pete states.

"So?"

"Why?"

Patrick pauses, raising an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. "If you're going to make fun of me-"

"No, no, I want to know why you were crying."

"Fuck off." Patrick mutters.

"Patrick-"

"It's nothing! It's got nothing to do with you so stay out of it." Patrick begins to walk past Pete toward the exit, but he stops in the doorway and looks directly at the other boy. "You don't know shit about me. Mind your own business." Patrick emphasizes, purposely quoting Pete's exact words from the first night Patrick had arrived, then he leaves heading in the direction of the cafeteria.

Pete sits there for a moment, he doesn't know if he should be hurt that Patrick wouldn't confide in him or happy that Patrick listens to him. He wonders what else Patrick has stored in that brain of his that came from Pete's mouth, if he's listening then he must be taking some of Pete's advice. Maybe. Just when he thinks no one in the world is listening, he finds someone who might be. But he can't blame Patrick for not wanting to share his sorrows, Pete was the same way when he asked about his nightmares and Patrick's right; they don't know each other. So maybe Pete should just butt out.