Alan cracked his neck as he walked out of the cell. He had been in that damn thing for nearly ten years, a few hours a day to eat and run around like a goddamned trained dog in a run being watched by people with guns that “accidentally” went off a few times a day and scared the living fuck out of every goddamn inmate there. He was done now. He was done and he got to get the fuck out of this little hole and go back to the most important person to him. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do to see his Delilah.
He looked back on why he was here and he couldn’t believe it had started over what it had. It was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?
Alan had seen Delilah kissing Rick at the bar. He hadn’t cared at all, at least in the jealous sense of the word. hell, he had smiled and was glad that she had found a happy for the evening. They weren’t an exclusive thing, they had talked about all of this before they had done anything at all and they had both agreed that, in some very not particularly clever or politically correct turns of phrase, that it was open season on anyone and anything they wanted to go after as long as the normal safety measures were taken and they told each other the pertinent details after the fact.
He fell asleep that night and Delilah must have called a cab right after he had. He was a deep sleeper so he hadn’t heard Delilah get out of the bed at all and even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared where Delilah went, again, they were adults who were doing adult things and all of that.
When Alan woke up, there was something very wrong. Not there, not where he was, with Delilah. He threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt and got in the car and drove where the autopilot he was working on guided him.
Alan ended up at the club they had left just a few hours before. He ran up the three flights of stairs to get to the club proper and he saw Rick sitting there at a table. His face was a little swollen from where he had taken a strike and Alan knew what had happened then, what had made him dream and wake up the way he had.
The funny part is that neither of them ever said a word. Rick saw him storming across the room and just sat there, passive and almost anticipating it. He didn’t flinch when Alan ripped him from the chair he was sitting on or when he felt the cold, rolled steel of the balcony railing slam into his face just as he went over the edge.
Alan was sitting there passively when Delilah came downstairs, her hair mussed, her face red and her left eye swollen with a bit of blood running from it. She kissed Alan on the cheek and sat with him, wordlessly, waiting for the police to come.
Delilah had visited him three times a week for nine-and-a-half years. Conjugal visits, played checkers with him, talked about the weather, hell they had even gotten married via a damn remote camera feed when the judge said they couldn’t be in the same room at the same time.
Alan walked out of the prison with a manila folder, wearing the same shorts and shirt he had worn that night and smiled as he saw Delilah waiting for him on the hood of the car with a smile on her face.
You always have to look on the bright side of things, right?
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