Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For a doll who has been taught how to be perfect his whole life, Nolan never seemed to understand how to read a fucking room whenever it came to take good opportunities. 

At least, his friends expected him to know better than this.  

He wasn’t a bad guy. Although many people would tell you he learned things the hard way, Nolan was not considered an instigating guy by anyone. Not even the people who bullied him his whole life would tell you he ever did something to defend himself against them. So, the news of him being imprisoned should be, to say at least, surprising, especially to his friends. But they weren’t. Shortly after posting a guide on how to rob a bank, Nolan received an email that could be considered threatening. It was then, too, when he finally realized that his editors were silent about this part of the magazine for a reason. 

What could I possibly be going to jail for?, he thought, I mean, yeah, what I did was not ethical and is considered illegal, but when has the doll-being ever been perfect?

However, he deep down knew those news were something he expected as he wrote “Well, the first thing to have to do is…” on that piece of paper. He not only had three times to edit this article, but he also had a whole company that was against this idea. But who can stop their own leader? The answer is, no one. Not even his close friend, Babo, could ever try to change his mind. When Nolan wanted something, he would get his way through the idea, using every material he had to accomplish that. 

Now, Nolan is no idiot. He was naive enough to make the mistake he just did, sure, but jail was not something he was afraid of. He saw on TV that most dolls never faced anything that could kill them. In fact, the worst thing they had was the washing machine he experienced many times—years ago. 

But there are certain things he still thinks about, like his friends’ company. Nolan lived in a small house, with Moxy, his best friend. She was the most affected one when the news came home. He noticed right away something was wrong by the way she was coming towards him, her eyes telling him “What did you do to us?” If you asked him what hit him the most when he shared the news with his friends, he would tell you how Moxy isolated herself after their little reunion. 

There were still some things he wanted to tell his friends—why he did that, what was he thinking, what were his plans. But the process was not the only fast thing, his court case also happened in the blink of an eye. He never even said goodbye. 

So, after being translated to his “new home” over the course of one week, his life took a 180-degree turn. No matter how mentally prepared he was, the realization almost killed him. And no one was there for him. While being placed in his new cell, he noticed nobody there respected him, not even as a doll being. They treated him like he was a dog, something that was worth breaking apart. 

So this is really it, huh?, he pondered, This really is my new life. Not only do I now have to share a cell, but the cell will probably smell awful. 

The place was not horrible. It was spacious, you could tell there weren't enough cleaning janitors, but at the end of the day, he, at least, wouldn't die of infections. His eyes wandered around the place, noticing that there was an artificial courtyard, which looked like a method of torture rather than a pleasant walk. There was a food court nearby, very close to this courtyard, which not only made it more disgusting but also terrifying as well. However, whoever did that at least had the decency to separate the cells from the food, and Nolan was quickly taken to the second floor, next to a blue-haired guard.

No words were shared. However, Nolan felt that silence was the only thing he needed at that moment. Just the thought of this being his new life made him feel dizzy because what the fuck? It was just a fucking article, it's not like anyone took magazines seriously. Unfortunately, excuses like that were useless in court, and as much as he wanted to, he had the right to have a decent lawyer who wouldn't let him talk to save his ass. None of that worked. A petty part of him thinks he could have avoided jail time if he had spoken up for himself. Freedom of speech, huh?

As his thoughts consumed him, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and, like the mature man that he is, he ignored it because he was offended that no one would treat him gently. Quickly the situation escalated, and the guard yelled at him, losing all patience. Why is everyone so mean to me?

“You'll be sharing a cell with someone else,” was all the guard muttered, reaching for something among his keys. 

“There's no other option?” The one with the two-colored hair whined. “It's just that... I'm claustrophobic.” To this, he received only a judging look, which made him want to throw himself off the fifth floor.

*

After shoving him into his cell, the guard finally had the audacity to talk to him like nothing happened, almost like what he did was part of his routine. “The other recluse is in the bathroom right now. Feel free to accommodate yourself in your new home,” the prison officer abruptly stopped, like he was considering something, “just be careful and avoid fighting, or we’ll use force.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Nolan asks, nonchalant, bored, trying not to sound scared, because he wasn’t. Nolan Wilder was anything but a coward, and he will make sure everyone there knows that.

The guard just arched an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging on his lips before leaving him without an answer. ‘ Michael’ Nolan was able to read on his tag. You sure are an attractive officer. 

Soon after their conversation, the doll found himself observing his cell, looking for a sign that someone did share a cell with him, and that he wasn’t being isolated for showing his audience how to rob a bank without the police noticing or intervening. 

I should’ve written how not to get caught by the government after robbing a bank and making an article about it, he brushed it off, laughing at his own joke. 

He leans forward on a bed after noticing something was there. Carefully, he scanned it, taking his sweet time trying to decode what it was from a distance. It was blonde hair, and considering they were in a jail where hygiene wasn't part of the protocol, it was well taken care of. Smooth, soft, smells good. It was like touching heaven's gates for the first time after living in hell for an eternity. He rapidly got distracted by this new finding, forgetting everyone else and where he was. This inmate, at least, was clean, right?

“Well, what do we have here on this peaceful afternoon?” He hears, after feeling footsteps coming from afar. However, he did not expect to hear that so soon. Suddenly, all of his boldness leaves his body, as a cold shiver makes its way to his spinal cord. He now misses the peace he had twenty minutes before—a peace that was taken away by this cocky, melodious voice. 

This can’t be, he thinks way too loud for his taste, while slowly turning around to face him, I know that horrible voice.

“ Lou.”

*

Chapter Text

Nolan did not approach the blond after that encounter, yet the thought of it even happening made his hair stand on end, because neither had a good reputation; different reasons tied to the same end. He even got that doll to not even look back at him after their short discussion, which took too much effort on the freckled man's part. If he knew anything about this guy, it would be Lou's selfish persistence, which kept growing as the dolls discovered every secret he had.

Lou

He searched in his mind for any specific memory of what they had experienced together. The last time he had seen him, he had been humiliated in front of at least 1,000 dolls—and it was his first day alive, which, for Nolan, was like digging his own grave, because how was he supposed to know that idiot? He had barely been assigned a name, and already they wanted him to know who created that stupid island. However, what he suffered was not even 20% of what the other dolls suffered, especially the ugly ones. No one took it personally, and Lou, like the average leader, got away with it as expected, or so the blond planned. Anyway, if anyone asked him how he knew so much about this subject regarding Lou's illegal actions, he would answer the same thing: Didn't you read my section in the magazine? There is a part specifically dedicated to the structure of his personalist dictatorship.

He clung to only that criminal because he did not recognize other faces in that prison. Although the island was not particularly the largest, the institution was very restrictive, and only a few were considered students there, so they recycled, threw away, or simply disappeared without a trace those who did not prove to be perfect, which, somehow or other, never affected the population.

He thinks about it at night, before falling asleep, what would his friends say? What would they do? It scares him to think that he would gross them out, or that they tried to forget him the minute he left, because he was no longer “just ugly on the outside,” now he was ugly on the inside, too. It's only a matter of minutes until he brings a pillow to his face to drown his mind, and be at peace for at least the remainder of his stay in that horrible place, thinking about his plans for the future, and how he will rebuild his life after clearly screwing up. He thinks about how he will have to explain himself, and how his months of training went down the drain because he clearly still didn't understand how to behave like an ideal doll.

However, life has its favorites, and whoever asked God that Nolan and Lou have to share a cell and be forced to communicate as a sign, definitely would win the lottery all their life, because despite being shy, the freckled doll needed to talk to save himself from the depression that was killing him day by day. So, slowly, he began to observe the blond and his actions. Naturally, they saw each other every day when they woke up, but the moment they went out to their artificial playground, Lou would magically disappear from his sight, which frustrated him for no reason. Perhaps it was the fear that Lou already knew about his article, and how Nolan exposed his ridiculous ‘master plan’, and how it was defeated by ugly dolls and the power of friendship.

He had options, several options, and none of them favored him. Making friends on the island was difficult enough for him, and now he was forced to communicate with criminals. Yes, maybe he was one, but most of these dolls were there for federal crimes; he didn't even know how to hold a gun properly. There were more reasons why he would never want to get close to any of them, and many of them wouldn't let him sleep without being afraid that one of them would go crazy and kill Nolan while he was eating dry, tasteless cereal at 6 a.m., so, he opted for his “safest” and most hypocritical option, Lou. The problem was that this cocky doll probably hated him by now, considering that he bluntly ignored his weird, uncomfortable welcome words. 

There was nothing to lose, at least his dignity would be safe because, well, everyone was equal in prison, right? At the end of the day, at least half of those who were locked up there are victims of the law, and they are illegal in at least twenty stores. So, as an ordinary doll, he made a plan.

It was about exclusivity. What he would do was simple: show interest only in Lou, which, although uncomfortable, was necessary to survive in that cheap prison with guards who depended on the dolls' taxes. Most of the time, he felt it didn’t work properly, considering that he had to get up at 6 a.m., and then force himself to follow a blond bastard. It took a lot of courage on his part to even look into his eyes and ignore what the other criminals would do. 

It's not like any of these dolls deserve a second look, anyway. Most of them hated his guts, like they knew he was just here because he tried to be rude and go against the government. As always, he never surprised anyone, not even when it came to breaking the law, which was awful considering he had always been a nerd, so it should be at least weird for him to have the police knocking on his door for twenty full minutes with a warrant in their hand. 

However, Nolan knew that approaching the blond could go very wrong, as he had tried it several times at the institution to get at least an idea of what to do, so it was very likely that Lou already remembered his face, and not in a good way. To his luck, it was a thousand times more humiliating on the part of the blond doll, since everyone saw his downfall, and everyone saw how they treated him just like dirt when they found out that he shouldn't be considered a real doll. Anyway, protecting each other would serve him well, especially since he could never survive prison, contrary to what he thought while writing that stupid guide. Get me out of here, please. I've learned my lesson. Kind of. Since he clearly wasn't using the prison as an excuse to get close to Lou, clearly not, who would think that? It wasn't like he'd had a crush on his leader since he met him, because he was humiliated in front of everyone, and he should hate that as much as any normal kid would.

He shakes his head and pushes his ridiculous, disgusting fantasy of having the blonde by his side out of his mind as he makes his way to his shared cell, arranging his hair. He doesn’t miss the way Lou's blue eyes trace him before looking up at him and offering a lazy smile.  

It is the first time Nolan sees a smile on him, and he quickly realizes there's no sign that Lou usually smiles, as there are no marks on his face that indicate it. It makes him curious to meet a so-called perfect doll who doesn't like to smile, and who has such a pretty smile without much practice.

“Took you long enough.” They are the only words Lou gave him as a greeting, and Nolan shrugs. 

“I was just analyzing your courage, you know, I have a lot of good options here.” It’s a lie, but Lou doesn’t have to know that. Especially since he's trying to play hard to get, so people forget how much he tried to make the blond like him. 

“Alright, so,” Lou's smile turns predatory as he begins to stand up out of his bed. “Want to talk a little bit more about your other options?”

Nolan genuinely ponders while examining the view. The blond doll looked almost like a Renaissance painting, which had him head over heels. Ignoring all his past crimes, Lou was the prettiest, most perfect prototype he had ever seen, maybe because he was the only one. 

"No, stay right there. Don't get up."

The air they passed through the prison every 8 p.m. is cold and gives him goosebumps. He follows with his eyes each of the blond's belongings, which couldn't be used for anything but personal grooming, and Nolan leans against the wall, staring at Lou. Dressed in the typical prison jumpsuit, which is orange and a bit ugly, he remains one of the most mesmerizing men Nolan has ever had the opportunity to lay eyes on. Everything you see of his skin—his chest, his neck, his wrists—is as fine as expensive porcelain, and Nolan distinguishes the typical sheen that would set in when a doll was created to stand out, made of more delicate materials than usual. But what's most mesmerizing about the doll is his perfect face, framed with thick, golden blonde locks and decorated with a flirtatious smile that Nolan feels pierces him, as if only he can see it. And, of course, even more mesmerizing than that is his sheer confidence and spirit that makes him look like he owns that prison, even when he is the most common hostage. Lou could be considered one of the newest hostages in that place; all the others Nolan already knew from the newspapers that showed everything that was going on every minute, but Lou felt that he belonged there. Since his first time being a leader, he owned, he took, he existed.

He tries not to drown in his thoughts, looking into his blue eyes for the first time in a few long minutes.

"I know what kind of man you are." Nolan murmurs, crossing his arms like he is disgusted by what he heard about Lou. 

"Pardon me?"

He quickly realizes that was not funny at all, and that he could get killed any time soon.

"That came out wrong, I'm sorry. Let me try again."

"I'm waiting."

"Hi, I'm Nolan. I was an editor. You don't have to introduce yourself, no worries. Do you know if there is some secret organization here?"

Lou pauses for a minute, like he was a child caught stealing a candy, still processing what was happening, "Maybe."

"I knew it. What is it called?"

“Well, first you have to tell me why you need that information for, I don't just trust anybody.” He says, and Nolan tilts his head, looking at him again. He wasn’t confused at all, just perplexed. He expected this reaction, but not the last part, so if his instincts were right, Lou already knew about his guide and the mini-section he dedicated to the blond. There was a pause, which sent him chills down his spine, "How did you know about all of this? You've been here for a week."

Nolan swallows, staring at him for several seconds. He knew about it from the moment he arrived; it was obvious.

"Doesn't every prison in the world have at least one? I'm not that dumb."

The blond doll only looks at him, clearly judging his choice of words, "You're right, there is one. Want to know who's in charge of it?"

"Is that a trick question?" The freckled one asks, and then smirks. "I won't fall for your schemes so easily, Mr. I-will-be-a-leader-until-I-die."

"Weirdo. You literally asked about it, I thought you wanted to join us. However, I've been told I would be partnered up with an ugly doll who runs his mouth."

"And that would be me?" Nolan raises his eyebrow, sitting on his bed. The petty part of him wanted to snap back, knowing it was some kind of trick Lou was pulling. "Did they tell you anything about me?"

"Nope, so that's a great start, right? Let's get to know each other, since we know nothing about us. Want me to start?"

Sure, it's not like I know every single detail about you and why you're here. 

The least he could do was to play it cool, pretending Lou was right, "It's fine, I'll start if you don't mind." Nolan cut him off, clearing his throat after that. "My name is Nolan, and the reason I'm here it's because I made a guide on how to rob a bank."

“You’re telling me you robbed a bank?”

The freckled doll shakes his head, feeling almost embarrassed.

“Just made a guide about it.” He finally breathed, realizing how stupid that idea was. He was still mad about it. “And then, the government tried to use prior restraint against me, like I'm actually putting our people in danger.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock. And still, you spoke from experience, didn't you? How else would you know how to rob a bank? Were you trying to lure new dolls into being authentic crimi—”

“So what?” Nolan spits, trying to recompose himself so he could feel better about himself. “I’m not the only one here being charged with a crime; why are you here?”

“Being a prototype has its slips. These new dolls are not grateful anymore—Just, can you believe this crap? I worked for them since I was made, and they do this to me.”

Nolan ignores how the blond's voice makes him feel, looking down to stop himself from doing things he might regret later. Even though Lou has been a bad leader, he was granted the wish to keep his most prized possession, his shoes. The freckled man wondered to himself if, after everything the blond had done to the island, the others deep down still loved him.

"I mean, you kind of fucked up almost all doll's mental health, so I did expect at least one protest."

“Hey, I was not that bad.” The prototype says. “I was mean because that's what they taught me. I wanted all of you to get better."

"You and I both know."

"Okay, I can admit I was pretty rude to those things, but overall, not many people hated me; they even respected me." He adds, smiling again. "Even you. I remember you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I was a weird doll, I've changed."

"How? Enlighten me."

Nolan stopped for a second, questioning himself a bit. Throughout his life, many people told him that he was sometimes a bit naive, which affected how others treated him, and how he had to give up modeling to become more informed about new subjects and become an editor for a company that sold the most popular and reliable articles on the island. However, no matter how much he knew about his subjects, at the end of the day, he would still be the same person he had always been, which he could not hide even with seven months of study or friends who tried to understand his feelings. Maybe Lou knew about that, too—about what it was like to feel that way.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, but actions prove things better than words, so it doesn't matter what I answer if you won't let me show you how."

"What are you implying, Nolan?"

"Let's get to know each other." He responds, voice deep and filled with determination. "I'll protect you and show you how much I've changed, and you'll do the same thing."

Lou gives him a look before answering, "Okay." He murmured, looking at the time on the clock on the wall, and without further ado, got up. 

"Where are you going?"

The blond doll stops, lazily smiling before leaving.

*

It was almost midnight when Nolan heard footsteps again, indicating to him that Lou had come back. Even though this is already a routine he is used to, I didn't think he would even interrupt sessions like this, at least not their conversations. However, he did not flinch, knowing it had to do with something about the secret organization that he could not yet know about. Not that he cared what was going on there, but it made him feel left out that he seemed to be the only one there who had no idea what was going on. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, wanting to keep quiet so Lou wouldn't suspect anything. He doesn’t like the way his brain keeps coming back to the idea of fun and these types of organizations together, and he desperately tries to remind himself that these criminals are not friends, they are not allies, he doesn’t need or want their protection, because he was just there due to a confusion—he didn't deserve this punishment. 

Still, talking to Lou made him realize that he needed to try harder if he wanted others to trust him; they might remember his face, but Nolan was never a social guy, which took away points since he had no connections. Hopefully, if he kept talking to more people in the prison, he would at least survive two more weeks. 

"Nolan?" He heard the blond's voice. "Yeah, don't worry about him, he won't be too much of a trouble. He hasn't changed, not one bit." 

There was a pause, which froze his blood. 

"I'll take care of him, don't stress out."

What the fuck did he get himself into?