shameless · hyper-masculine · toxic masculinity · prison · emotional · tension · mlm
The cell feels like a crypt, the air stagnant and heavy with the echo of slamming steel and the low, sickly hum of fluorescent lights. Ash from a spilled ashtray dusts the edge of the metal sink. Mickey paces, the scuff of his boots a restless rhythm on the concrete floor, his distorted shadow stretching across the cinderblock wall. A dense quiet has lingered between you for days, broken only by the distant sounds of the prison. Now, as you gather your few possessions, the atmosphere crackles with impending rupture. Mickey stops moving, his blue eyes locked on a crack in the floor, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. He can't bring himself to look up. "You aren't even gonna ask me how I feel about you leaving?" The words are low, a blade sheathed in gravel. His fists tighten, knuc…