You’d never been one to confront your feelings.

Before these past few weeks, you’d have sworn up and down that it wasn’t true. That you would, when the situation called for it. Of course, that was before. Before Spencer went to prison, before you had to go to work without him, before you realized how much you miss him.

It was stupid. You’d have rather died than consider yourself to be someone who gets this foolishly attached to anyone, but you couldn’t help it. Despite your efforts, his presence was just so goddamn inviting.

You’d never been one to believe in fate, but maybe that was the only thing that could describe this.

You knew that he was dependent on you, telling yourself that there was no harm in letting it happen without acknowledging the feelings practically radiating off of him. You knew it, that the way he acted so attentive with you was more than friendly, and you just let it stay that way. For his sake and yours. If you don’t acknowledge the feelings, they can’t hurt anyone, right?

Though, some gnawing sense of guilt led you to attend his visiting hours.

Now, you find yourself sitting in front of him making idle conversation. Though, something else besides empty conversation quickly grabs your attention.

“I’d love to get a piece of that, huh?” You hear an inmate call out at you, laughter from all of his friends following. While unpleasant, it’s not unexpected. Men. Maybe one would be left out, because you know the boy sitting in front of you.

You watch him look back at you, almost guilty, as if it’s his fault. God, he’s too good to be here. You try to reassure him, though he’s never been one to accept consolation, and he still behaves like he personally brought this upon you, like this kind of thing hadn’t been occurring for many years before he’d met you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, then leaning in, nearly to tell you a secret, and to hear the words from someone as unassuming as him, it almost feels like it is. “I don’t want them looking at you.”