Freedom had never felt so good as he jogged down the street to get distance between himself and the pen. Though the shackles were invisible, he could feel their weight and he picked up the pace to drown them out with the wind on his face. It had been so long since he could just run, no guards chasing him, no walls confining him, and he spun like a complete nut right before he reached downtown.

Large windows showcased the town's culture, and Nathan stuffed his hands into his jean pockets as he passed a barber, sandwich deli, and a pawn shop. A resale shop on the corner had a few people walking around inside, but most of the stores had their signs turned for closing time. It was Sunday evening, so it made sense, and he was just fine with the empty streets. With how on edge he was from the pen, it was better he didn't bump into any groups of unknown people.

There wasn't much for living space around town square save for a congregation of cramped apartments. The other lots between downtown and the pen were occupied by warehouses, gated forestland, and squat business buildings that didn't take walk-ins. Parking the pen on this side of town had likely tanked property values enough to discourage residential properties, but the place was by no means dead. Farther out, taller buildings loomed on the horizon, and two story houses peeked proof of life above a dense forest just past downtown.

People were there, just not next door to the pen.

The sound of a ball on pavement drew him to an alleyway that weaved through several brick apartment complexes, and he headed that way with a skip to his step. The buildings circled a central rest area with benches bordering a small park, but it was empty for the evening except for a basketball court. High chain-link fences closed it in, and the towering buildings blocked enough sunlight that he could only make out a shadow moving along the court in the distance.

As Nathan inched closer, it took off with the ball, jumped into a spin, and slammed it into the hoop. The man fell from the rim as Nathan opened the gate, and the door hit the ball back toward the court. The clinking of chain-link turned the lone man around as he was drying his face with the neckline of his white wife beater, and a short tail of black hair flipped from one side to the other as he looked past Nathan for anyone else. When his search came up empty, the man locked his obsidian eyes on him.

"I can leave if you need the court," the words came out in a soft yet weathered tone as the man kicked the ball up to his hands. With the crinkle of the skin around his mouth when he grimaced, he was at least into his late thirties, and Nathan hoped he was spry enough to dunk a basketball when he got to that age.

"Well I don't really have a ball," Nathan said as she rung his hands on the thighs of his pants. It had been quite some time since he'd spoken to anyone normal, and he'd never been great with people to begin with. "Do you maybe want to play with me? Something easy like horse? I'm not great at sports, but I'd enjoy a game."

"If you'd like to play, I wouldn't mind staying." The man ran his hand along the back of his neck with as much nervousness as Nathan felt. His tone said he'd love to play with anyone besides himself, but he could barely keep eye contact with Nathan.

"Cool. I'm Nathan, and I just moved in around here. Maybe you can show me the ropes sometime?" Nathan dropped his jacket on the ground next to the fence and jogged to the other side of the court in his black T shirt to join the man.

"The kids around here call me Conny," the man said, spinning the basketball on one finger and offering the other to Nathan for a handshake.

"The one's you don't play with?" Nathan said with a smile as he accepted Conny's hand. It was damp with sweat, as was Conny's undershirt down to his pectorals, and the man laughed as Nathan wiped his hand on his jeans awkwardly.

"Yes, those ones," Conny said with a broad smile that was easily contagious. Mischief sparkled in his dark eyes, yet there'd been welcome in the gentle grip of his hand. The poor old guy seemed lonely more than anything. "I'm not much for Horse, but we can do a little one on one at the half court line." Conny dribbled the ball as he spoke.

"One on one?" Nathan asked as he sized the man up and down. While Conny was lean, he wasn't like the guys at the pen, and Nathan had years of youth on him even if he was better at the game. "I think I can handle you, old man." The jab had Conny missing the ball for his next dribble, and he laughed heartily as Nathan retrieved it.

"Very well." Conny closed the space between them in an instant, and Nathan near swallowed his tongue as Conny bent forward so close that their noses almost touched. "Let the slaughter begin."

The word ran ice down Nathan's veins as it blew against his ear, and before he knew it, the ball was out of his hands. With a deft dribble, Conny ran a circle around him, sprinted down to the basket, and tossed an easy two-pointer off the backboard.

"Two, zip," Conny said as he paced the ball gingerly back into his hands.

Nathan shoved past him with of huff of breath that had Conny's shoulders shaking in laughter. The day was getting him, and hopefully the exercise would shake off the jitters.

They played for the better part of twenty minutes, but no one would really call it competition. Conny was a cheetah—quick, flexible, and rarely missed a basket, dodging Nathan's every move and diving up and under until the ball swooshed against the net. Nathan could barely keep the ball in his hands before Conny snatched it or knocked it into a dribble of his own. Even when Nathan had the ball, he could only make shots from directly in front of the basket, and Conny rarely gave him that space.

Nathan's stamina gave before his pride, and he collapsed against the fence in defeat as he struggled to breathe. "You are crazy," Nathan managed between gasps, lying on his back and watching the sky spin above him. Fluffy clouds floated by, and he counted them with his breaths.

"I used to play with my son," Conny said as he plopped next to him and drank some water from a bottle under his coat. "Father's always have to be on top of their game. Can't get shown up by junior." Fondness crinkled the skin by Conny's eyes as he offered Nathan an unopened bottle of water.

Nathan snatched it and barely got out the thank you as he sat up and guzzled the water. With escape on his mind, he hadn't planned for any physical exertion and he was parched. As soon as his throat wasn't sticking together, he met Conny's dark eyes that were watching him drink. Guy was probably worried he was going to drown himself with how fast he'd absorbed half the water. Whatever the reason, it was attentive and fatherly, if Nathan could even know what that was.

"I never had a father," Nathan admitted, the calming of his rapid heartbeat dragging away the euphoria to open an old wound he thought he'd sewn shut. Perhaps if he'd had one, he would have been able to handle his stress better or stand up for himself before things had gotten so bad. All of that just felt like a poor excuse though, and he dropped his head into his arms as Conny struggled for an appropriate response.

It was poor manners to dump his troubles on someone else, but Conny was safe to talk to. Better to vent his frustrations to a stranger that might avoid him rather than to lose his cool at the pen and end up at the end of Tanner's knives. Ian couldn't stand between him and his mistakes every time.

"I'll substitute." Conny's gentle voice broke through Nathan's internal tumult, and he lifted his head with a frown. "I'm not that bad."

"Maybe not, but you could show a little mercy. Couldn't let me get one basket?" Nathan groaned as he took another swig of water.

"Sorry. You get what you work for, sweat for, and earn. If I gave you something for nothing, that wouldn't be quite fair." Though Conny meant it as some sort of fatherly advice, it scratched him the wrong way, and he glared at the asphalt.

Nothing was ever fair. If things were fair, his hard-working mother would have a husband, a son, and more than only an apartment lease to her name that she had to work two jobs for. If things were fair, he wouldn't have been bullied when he'd kept to himself, and he wouldn't be living in a penitentiary with psychos for a single misstep.

"What about your actual son? Where is he?" Nathan asked, trying to quash the hostility before it formed into words. Mention of his son had Conny jerking strangely, and though an affectionate smile lifted his lips, sadness weighted his eyes to the pavement.

Not on good terms then.

Chain link clinked and snapped their attention up to someone about Nathan's age standing in the door to the court. It was a girl, though it was hard to tell until she sauntered up with a curious smile. The white T-shirt tied at her waist obscured her body shape, and the tattered jeans hanging over black sneakers were anything but feminine. Most of her blond hair lay under a white baseball cap, but the ends flowed down to her chin in the alley breeze.

Conny was up on his feet with his jacket in hand before the girl so much as opened her mouth, and with his steps away from her, it looked like he was ready to bolt.

"Rachel," Conny said tersely, and the girl pulled off her cap to shake out her hair.

"Conny." Rachel smirked on his name, and Conny's lips tightened. Well they knew each other, but it didn't look friendly. "It was hard to watch a slaughter of that magnitude. Maybe a little two on one would be fairer?" Rachel swiped the ball from Conny's hands, but he gave it up without a fight.

"I'm Nathan," Nathan said in hopes that it would snap the cord of tension, and Rachel dropped her smirk as she sauntered closer.

"Rachel," she giggled in a high chitter despite her tomboyish appearance. "I play with the guys that come here after Conny leaves. So what'll it be?" Rachel tossed the ball back to Conny and he caught it stiffly.

"If you insist." Conny passed the ball to Rachel, who caught it with ease, dribbling it back and forth. "You can go first."

Rachel checked the ball, and the moment it hit her hands on the return, she slipping past him and tossed the ball up easily. It bounced off the backboard, ran around the rim once, and fell through. She didn't look all too happy about it though as she scooped up the ball and stormed back.

"Come on." Rachel threw the basketball at Conny so hard that he stumbled as he caught it. "You didn't even try." She prowled around Conny like a lioness circling prey. "It's your turn, and Nathan and I won't make it easy. Right?" Rachel elbowed Nathan, and he stood up straight to face Conny with a determined smile.

"I'll do my best." Nathan rubbed his side.

Conny tossed the ball from one hand to the other as he contemplated, and he gave up with a long breath that eased the tension from his shoulders. Gripping the ball, he focused on them with a smile of determination and what Nathan thought might be affection. It was a short lived kindness before Conny left them in the dust, darting around Nathan to score a two point basket.

Nathan was up next, and a toddler could knock the ball from his hands, but Rachel flanked him to keep Conny off until he was close enough to shoot. It rolled over the rim, but Rachel caught it and tossed it back for two points with a scream of triumph that had him covering his ear. Both Conny and he laughed as Rachel blushed, and the merriment brought tears to the very edges of Nathan's eyes.

It had been so long since he'd had fun. With anyone. Playing with Rachel and Conny gave him the first real moment of safety since he'd pushed Randy. Sure he lost dignity as Rachel and Conny walked all over his lack of fitness skills, but the hands that passed the ball, bumped into him as they ran, and caught him when he tripped were harmless. No knives, no batons, no uncaring fingers to yank him back into a cell, and Nathan struggled to keep the tears in his eyes as he allowed himself a moment of peace. 

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Word count: 2247 -- Edited September 14th, 2024