#chuice

He’s so wrapped up in his pacing he almost doesn’t notice his new visitor but it’s hard not to detect the presence of Tully, an AB shot caller who leads hundreds of men, men who wish for Juice’s early demise, based purely on his darker shade. No guards are trailing him, Tully’s well aware of the fact they’re not needed. Not when, over the previous year, every misstep of Juices was met with harsh punishment, conditioning him into little more than a beaten dog that still comes when his master calls. Juice’s eyes immediately jump to the swastika etched upon Tully’s pale skin, a symbol of hatred that reminds Juice of his own secret.

Tully returns his observation, darkened eyes light up with a look Juice can't quite discern. He rattles off the exact plan Bobby and Jax had told him before he was sent on his suicide mission to Stockton. Not a word from his mouth is rushed. Each sentence is drawn out giving Tully, with a sick fascination, more time to watch every emotion that filters across Juice's face. He watches the way Juice’s jaw clamps shut and the way his hands tremble before they're tightened into fists, he also watches the way his wall breaks down and emotion seeps through at the mention of his task, to bloody his hands once more and kill Henry Lin.

Thinking about the murder still sickens him. He knows that act will break whatever pieces of him still remain and he’ll receive no comfort nor mercy after the fact; he'll most likely receive a shiv plunged into the nearest artery, undoubtedly courtesy of Tully himself. It feels unfair, the fact that, despite his best intentions, he’s in this position, cut off from his estranged family and far, far away from his Chibs. Chibs is a scar on Juice’s soul that won’t heal. Every time Juice thinks of him turning away on the road a fresh wave of pain hits, threating to pull him under and suffocate him.