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You go, every third Sunday, like he said so.
In the first one, he comes out to the meeting room confused. He hasn't been expecting anyone, you know that by now, but you at least expected him to wait for you. You don’t think that he actually believed you would come, but when he sees you, sitting down waiting for him, you can see his eyes shimmering with tears that he quickly wipes off and dismisses with a chuckle.
"Youse came..." are the words that come out of his mouth, and you smile at him, because yes, of course you came. Why wouldn't you come? Mark was dead and well, you didn't have anyone else but this charming, cute man you met in prison, that pretends he's tough and hardcore but in reality is just some soft room temperature butter. You love him for it. "I can'ts believe... why?"
You tell him why. Because you missed him. A lot. He sits in front of you and you reach out to touch him, to hold his hands, and you see the faint blush coming over his cheeks. He is adorable, you decide, and tell him that you will be coming every third Sunday, no exceptions. He looks at you, surprised, because he wasn't expecting it at all, and he tells you this with a quiet laugh, looking down at the table because he can't quite meet your eyes. He's too shy for that.
"I never even thoughts I could... have someones care about me..." he whispers, and you hold his hand tighter because of course you care. Those few hours you two spent together back two weeks ago were the best few hours of your life. You can't just erase that from your head. So you tell him you will be coming back to visit. You tell him that you will be waiting outside for whenever he feels like he can come out, you tell them that whenever parole comes and he senses its time, that you will be there to pick him up.
And Yancy gives you a smile and teary eyes that stay with you for the rest of the month, while you wait for your second visit.
In the second time, you bring him a gift. Because of course you do, you know him, he deserves it. It's nothing he can use to break out of prison because you know he will think you're pushing him to get out, and you don't want this carefully crafted friendship to be thrown out of the window because of a simple, stupid mistake. So you bring him a comfy blanket, a few snacks that he can share with his friends and a teddy bear that smells like you.
"For me?" he asks quietly, and holds the items like a child holding their first stuffed animal. His eyes are teary again and you wipe them with your hand, because you care about him too much to see him cry. "Whise?"
You tell him it's because you care about him. A lot. Because you see him as your best friend (because you're afraid of saying he means more) and you want him to be comfy and remember you in prison. You don't talk about parole, you don't talk about your life outside the prison, because you want him to realize by himself that you can give him everything he needs.
He cries a little, he tells you he misses you, and you two share a hug that maybe lasted a little too long, but it was worth it. So worth it. Because when he holds you that familiar smell of cheap soap and whatever he uses as cologne comes through your nose and you feel at home. His arms are always warm around you and yours seem to ground him to reality.
"Thank youse..." he whispers against your ear and a shiver goes down your spine. He squeezes you tight before he moves away, and time is up, but you watch Yancy move back into the prison with his new gifts tight against his body.
You hope he will make the choice of leaving soon.
On the fifth time you visit, you go to the warren's office to ask him some questions. He stares at you for too long and you remember you escaped his prison like six months ago, but as a miracle he seems not to remember you all that well. So he lets you inside and answers most of the questions you have.
"He can leave whenever he wants to, but he makes sure to always get in trouble when parole is coming" he tells you, shaking his head in disappointment as he sips on his coffee. "Yancy... he's like a son to me. He was able to bring all prisoners together and make sure they all behave, that they are all friends, but he doesn't want to get out of prison. That boy... he is a lost cause."
He sure looks like one, but you're sure you can convince him to leave and come have a normal life with you. Or as normal as one can considering you seem to attract the weirdest individuals around you. But that doesn't matter.
"He did kill his parents so I don't know if it wouldn't be best if he just... stayed in here" the warren concludes, and if he wasn't so intimidating you would laugh. You know people that killed way more. That killed people more important to them that their parents. Yancy's crimes are child play for you. But you can't tell that to the prison warren. So you just nod and make your way towards the waiting room to see Yancy again.
And when he comes, he is all smiles and hugs towards you and you feel complete once more.
It takes another two years of constant visits, gifts, hugs and conversations for the moment to come. But it arrives.
You had already lost your hope when he comes to you, looking at the table shyly as he sits down, playing with his hands nervously. He is wearing the bandana you gave him around his neck, and the bracelet you made a few visits back. He likes your stuff, but something is weird about him this day.
"I'ves made my mind" he says, quietly, and his eyes shift up to meet yours in a shy glance. "I dids nothing wrong this lasts months... parole comes next weeks... I'm... coming out."
You hold back your excitement because you can see how scared and insecure he is, and you take his hand, tangling your fingers with his because you want to send him all the courage you have to him in this moment of need. And he seems to calm down a little bit at least.
You tell him you will be there for the court, you will be there to pick him up, and that he has a nice bed waiting for him at your house.
And he gives you that smile you can't take out of your head.
He gets out in the next parole.
His jail friends are crying and you know why. You would be too. But they never tell him to stay.
You wait for him outside by your car, and give him a smile as he comes closer with his bags in hand.
"So... we..." he tries, but you give him no chance. You move close and hold his face, giving him a kiss that makes your world turn and spin, your stomach burn and twist, you feel tingles down your legs. And if for a moment you freak out because you think he will pull back, it all fades away when his bags go to the ground and his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, holding you tight.
It does feel like heaven, kissing him for the first time, smelling the cologne and the cheap soap, sliding your fingers through his gelled back hair. You love him, and by the way he is kissing you, he loves you too.
Now, it's just your life ahead that stops you from being the happiest person alive.