Part One
Ste's point of view
Your life was pretty boring, falling in and out of dead end jobs to get by, dousing on one mate to another's couch after you got chucked out at fifteen, expelled from high school with no qualifications to your name. Seven years later and you still don't feel like you have a purpose, at least you have a steady minimum wage job now though. Managed to get yourself a shitty council flat on the outskirts of Hollyoaks village just round the corner from the local pub that you work in. One of your mates Sinead explained your situation to her mums new fella Tony and he put in a good word to Jack Osborne who runs the bar, it might not seem like much to most people but to you it meant everything.
Then one day you met him, whether by accident or design, god knows but there's a magnetic pull that you can't resist. It's nothing at first, you don't even pay him much attention but after you see him a second time sat in the same place with the same dour face something clicks and you can't help but wonder about him. The man with the jet black hair contrasting against his pale skin, moustache covering his top lip with a lost look on his face. Yet his stature screams power and control, maybe that's what attracts you to him.
It takes you another two times of seeing him sat there in the corner before you build up the courage to talk to him, have no idea what to say so you simply pour out a Jameson's whiskey for him. Even though you haven't ever served him you know what he drinks after listening in on Jack serving him.
You take a can of coke for yourself and let Jack know your going on your break, "Good luck with that one, he isn't much of a talker." He tells you with a sorry looking smile without you even telling him where you're headed off to.
Against your better judgement you take the drink over to him before sitting across from him, he stills for a minute before looking at you, "Can I help ye?" He asks, his Irish lull sending shivers down your spine.
"Your always sat ere' on your own, thought I'd give ya some company." You say with a shrug, have never been one to beat around the bush.
He raises an eyebrow at you but your sure you can see him fighting a smirk, "Is that so?" He asks while leaning back in his chair.
You nod along dumbly, "Seen ya a few times, look like you've got somethin on your mind."
"What makes ye think I want to talk to ye about it?" He asks after looking you over for a moment as if trying to detect something on your face.
With a shrug you take a swig of your drink, "Never have been good at taking hints."
He looks thoughtfully at the whiskey you've only just sat in front of him as if it's laced with poison before he downs it in the one and leans back again, "Your boss not going to dock your wages for getting me a drink?"
You hadn't thought of that but shrug again anyway, "Don't know, Jack's alright like that."
He doesn't say anything else after that just strokes over his moustache with dazed eyes as if he's lost in his own thoughts before he comes back to his senses and sighs, "Well as enlightening as this has been I think I'll head off now."
"Ste.." You don't know why you tell him your name because he's already made it obvious that he has no interest in making small talk or even being the slightest bit polite.
"What?" He asks looking down at you with a frown,
"My name.. it's Ste."
"I didn't ask." He sighs grumpily shaking his head, "and I don't particularly care either."
This guy is just plain rude now and there isn't any need for it but you know he does have a point at the same time, he's made it perfectly clear he has no interest in making friends or even just treating someone as if they're a normal human being. You decide against using the string of insults you would love to throw at the man and bite your tongue instead, a rude infuriating Irishman isn't worth you losing your job over.
You get on with your work and over the next few months the man carries on coming into the pub, whenever you do serve him you try to remain impassive even when he does say your name as if waiting for a reaction, whether he's asking you for a drink or a packet of crisps and sometimes he even asks you for the time even though you know he's got a mobile and has a watch on so he could easily check by himself. That isn't even the most infuriating thing about it, it's the way he says your name aswell, everyone else calls you Ste no problem but no not him. It's Steven, you corrected him the first few times before you realised there really wasn't any point because he just carried on to do as he pleased anyway.
He seems to be getting drunk tonight and you partly feel like asking what's got him in this kind of mood but decide against it, every time he's been in he's drank a good few whiskeys and you could hardly tell but tonight he's slurring his words and his actions are almost sloppy which is something you would never have considered him to be. That isn't even the strangest thing though it's the fact he actually starts to have a conversation with you not long before last orders.
It's only you and Darren on the bar tonight and it's a quiet and slow Monday night, a few of the regulars, a rowdy group of lads that have probably just turned eighteen and decided to go out for one of their first legal drinks. Then of course him because sometimes you forget he isn't actually part of the furniture in here, you go around collecting up the leftover glasses from the tables before you bite the bullet and go over to him, "Ya alright there?" You foolishly ask him,
He actually nearly grins at you before he nods, "Could kill for another whiskey though."
"No bother." You smile at him even though if it were anyone else you would refuse them in that state but there's something about him that stops you and it's not just the fact that he could probably floor you with one punch.
You begrudgingly go back to the bar to get him another drink sorted, "Your not seriously going to serve him are you?" Darren asks from beside you,
"Fancy telling him we can't serve him anymore do ya?" You ask with a smirk but you already know he wouldn't so before he has the chance to reply you say, "Didn't think so."
You take the drink back to him and he hands the money over, "Keep the change yeah." He huffs with a small, sad smile.
It's that exact smile that makes you decide against leaving him to sit by himself again, even if Darren will be pissed off there's a pull in you that you can't resist, "Everything alright with ya?"
He frowns at you before he slowly shakes his head but after a few minutes you realise he isn't going to elaborate any further.
"Let me know before your leaving and I'll get a taxi phoned for ya, can't be walking in the nick your in."
"I can handle myself." He slightly snaps before he lets out a weak, "Thanks Steven."
You don't push it and instead leave him be to get the rest of the place tidied, it's not long until he's asking you to phone him a taxi but what shocks you most is before he goes he thanks you again and gives you a real genuine smile before saying, "My names Brendan."
Part of you feels like snapping back that you don't care after he said the same to you but decide against it and by the time your brain catches up with you he's already walking out the door, what is it with him that makes you act like this? Funnily enough you don't see him for months after that, almost like he knew he wouldn't be back in so didn't see the harm in telling you his name.
So this is basically a load of rubbish, I wrote this in like in an hour to try get some writers block out the way so yeah.. I promise the next chapter will be better and I swear I'm not just saying that, never know you might like it..