A Cava To Remember

by AmberSavage1234

One-shot fantasy Stendan. Brendan had given up on love but when Ste – his dream man – enters his life, he finds himself feeling things he thought were gone forever. However, can Ste live with his dark nature and is he prepared to accept an immortal's love? *Complete*

So, this is another random one-shot. I seem to be getting a thing for the whole 'fantasy' genre so…okay, hope you like this and please review :) *hugs* by the way, I love you Glenda *kiss* CHOW!x

Brendan Seamus Brady is a wealthy man. He always has been – ever since day one. He was born into a rich family – filthy rich – , he's had everything he's ever wanted, and he's completely and utterly satisfied with how his life is – was -, before all this shit happened. Anyway, his dad – Seamus – was the kind of man you didn't fuck with, not in a million years and Brendan is fully aware how he 'earned' his money; through dodgy dealings – always dodgy dealings. His father did things he wasn't proud of – multiple things that hurt people – but it was essential for them to live the life Brendan had; his dad only did those things for him. Wanted to provide for him, give him the best life he possibly could because Brendan was his son – his only child – and Seamus would be damned before he didn't give his son the best.

He was a proud man, his father. Would feel ashamed if Brendan ever played up in front of his friends; would often be giving Brendan a stern talking to but unlike the men Seamus knew, he never lifted his hand to Brendan – couldn't find it in himself to do that – and Brendan knew he was lucky. He had the best dad he could possibly wish for; yes, he was a flawed in some places – his alcohol consumption could have gone down a tiny bit and he could have stopped being a drugs lord after his bank balance reached fivemillion – but he loved his son. Loved him with everything he had – would have died for him – and that to Brendan was more than enough.

When Brendan – aged eighteen – plucked up the courage to tell his dad about his sexuality, Seamus just smiled. Telling him he already knew and he was just waiting for Brendan to tell him in his own time; he completely accepted him, like being gay was nothing – a completely meaningless thing – and it helped him so much. He had struggled with his sexuality at first, thought being gay would change the way people looked and him and he doesn't really know why because there was nothing to worry about, everyone he knew accepted him just the way he was. When he first began experimenting with other boy's it was like nothing he had ever felt before; he had waited until 'coming out' to his dad before actually doing anything with the same sex – god knows why, he was gagging for it constantly. The sex had been great – gave him mind-shattering orgasms, whenever he picked someone up – but there was always something missing; something he couldn't quite place his finger on, something that would turn his life around and when he found that thing, he wasn't quite prepared for it.

Love. Love with a man called Ricky.

It had completely knocked him for six when he realised how he felt about the other man. How this dark-brown haired person with eyes the colour of rich soil or roasted coffee beans – often described by Brendan as balls of melted chocolate – had walked into his life and flipped it upside down. It was something completely new and it had scared him; had terrified him so much, that he stayed away from Ricky for two weeks. Mulling over his feelings and listening to his dad's advice – although that 'advice' had been Seamus telling him to stop being silly, man up and tell the other 'lad' how he felt. He had listened to his father, sucked it up and walked to Ricky's and as soon as the other man opened the door, he had blurted it out; a straight 'I love you' escaping his lips, quicker than he had wanted but it was there. It was out and his boyfriend had pulled him into a breath-taking kiss, telling him he loved him too and that night they had made love. Made love. Not just fucked, or shagged or had sex; they had made something happen and Brendan felt it, could have sworn Ricky felt it too but of course – being the fucking tard he is – he had got it wrong.

The week after that night – after Brendan had confessed his feelings and opened himself up – Ricky left him; of course he fucking did. Brendan had gone to his flat one day, wanted to surprise him and lay out on his bed – naked and ready for his other half when he got home from work – but when he had walked in there was nothing. Nothing but the note on the kitchen worktop and Brendan knew what had happened straight away, didn't even need to read the note because those niggling doubts were being confirmed. The doubts of Ricky and his fidelity. But, he had read the note; sauntered over to it because if his heart really was going to be ripped out then he was in no hurry to let it happen. He had thought for a nano-second that he may have been wrong – completely jumping to conclusions because Ricky wouldn't do this to him would he? No of course he wouldn't, he loved Brendan – had said it himself – and Brendan had smiled when he opened the letter, even though he knew deep down what was coming.

He was right.

The note had simply explained how there was someone else and that he was sorry for doing this to Brendan. Nothing else. No reason why he lied to him, why he made him fall in love with him if he was just going to do this, why he waited until now to crush Brendan's heart; there was nothing. Fucking zilch and Brendan had fallen to the floor as he realised Ricky was never coming back.

He had cried for days – weeks – after he lost him, wallowing in pity and drowning his sorrows; he hadn't left the house for three weeks, no matter what Seamus said and even his dad's words of comfort had done nothing to appease him. He had felt broken – completely – and it was like he would rather die than live another second…that all changed when he father was diagnosed with cancer.

Seamus had found out only two years since Brendan's mother had lost her fight with lung cancer and Brendan couldn't cope; the thought of losing his dad – the only person he had left – was soul-destroying and he had ended up drinking evenmore. More than Seamus ever did and his dad begged him to stop, - said he was wasting away in front of his eyes – but Brendan didn't. He refused to and he didn't care.

Which is why when Seamus finally passed away, Brendan at his bedside – holding his hand but slurring his words because he was smashed, fucking out of it – something finally snapped in Brendan. He had no-one now, no boyfriend, no mother, no, father, no friends and he was completely alone, so after his dad's funeral, after he had said goodbye one last time he went to a bar. Did his usual of getting fucked – in more ways than one – and walked to the alleyway where he agreed to meet that dodgy bloke with the guns. It was quite simple really, buy the gun. Walk home. Go up the stairs. And then in Brendan's own words – the ones he muttered to himself when he thought of this –, he was gonna shoot his brains out. Only it didn't quite go like that, in fact; it didn't go like that at all.

Something else happened, something that completely changed Brendan's fucking life and something that ruined his plans for the evening. Something that made succeeding in his plans completely and utterly impossible…

-OXO-

That was twelve years ago and he's never been the same since; has just been changing more and more everyday…

He groans as he stretches out in the bed, hearing his bones crack and the air in his joints escape. He cannot be fucking bothered for today, every year it's always been the same – always been the same since he met Mitzeee on that near fatal night – and he doesn't want this. It's going to be an extravagant, over-the-top and goddamn exhausting affair because today is his thirtieth birthday – the day his life completely changes – and he's not prepared for this; for all these changes because he never asked for any of this. Fuck, if he had a choice he would have died – would have died in the most excruciating pain, slow and agonising – rather than be like this. Stuck like this – forever.

Brendan groans again as he stands up, completely going stiff and he looks at his phone to check the time – 10 ' O Clock – and yeah, he's late again; as usual. "Fuck sakes…." He sighs, unlocks his phone, types in the password – not like he has any private business but still, it's private – and flicks up the regular number; the number belonging to the pain in his fucking backside. The usually cheery, over-excited voice blasts into his brain and he clenches his eyes shut – is too fucking hung-over for this crap – and he moans because he knows he's gonna get an earful.

"What kind of fucking time do you call this, Brendan? I've been waiting…" he can already imagine the scowl on her face as she checks the clock. "…Two hours for you! You are meant to be here at the bar. With me. Right now. I swear to god, you better have a good excuse!" Mitzeee snaps, practically shrieking down the phone towards the end of her rant and Brendan holds the phone away from his ear, his head hurting far too much for him, to be able to tolerate the pain. He deserves her screeching though, it's his own fault after all and she's too good to him, if he's being honest with himself. He always late when he makes plans with her and it's always for the same reason – because he's got smashed the night before, and has woken up with a banging hangover, always the same goddamn excuse. His alcohol consumption has decreased since that night – all those years ago – but he still drinks far too much; still drinks way over the recommendation but so fucking what? He has a shitty life – a life he has the rest of eternity to live – so he has to make it better somehow and alcohol helps. It numbs everything and makes him forget how fucking shit this hand he has been dealt with is; makes him forget the curse that has been placed so unfairly upon him. "Brendan? Brendan are you there?"

"Yes Anne." He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm here."

"Right, care to explain then?" she replies, tone quieter but no less angry.

"Ah, Anne for Christ's sake. If you must know, I got fucking smashed out of my face, went to a bar, picked up some random bloke – who, by the way, I didn't know the name of – and fucked his brains out against the toilet fucking door. Is that what you wanted to hear Anne? Or do you want to know how it felt when I spunked too?" He's being fucking vile, knows he is and there's no need for it but oh well; at least now Anne will not pressure him for more details.

"Brendan…" he hears her clear her throat, knows she's trying to keep her anger in check and he can already see how her fists are clenched. When she talks again Brendan can hear she's talking through gritted teeth and her tone actually scares him. "You, Brendan Brady will get your fucking arse, to this bar in the next half-an-hour or so help you god, all hell will break loose." And with that she puts the phone down, doesn't even wait for Brendan to reply because she knows damn well, she's got him. That he will start getting ready straight away and fucking hell he does; rushing to the bathroom to take a shower and he's ready in fifteen minutes – quickly checking himself in the mirror before grabbing his car keys and shooting out the door.

-OXO-

He parks up outside his bar – Britzeee's – and squeezes his knuckles tight around the steering wheel. Fuck. He's in for it now, the last time he spoke to Mitzeee like that, she was not impressed. Fucking smashed up his one-hundred year old whisky and laughed in his face because he deserved it; especially after calling her an 'old tart', which – to be fair – is true. Well the old part anyway.

He sighs and squeezes his hands, one final time before opening the car door and stepping outside. It's sweltering, the American sun beating down on him and causing beads of clean sweat to break out over his skin; he's never been one for this hot weather. Fuck knows why his dad decided to move them here; obviously thought the gamble was worth it – that the drug industry was so much better over here – and of course, he was right. As fucking always.

He locks up the car and begins to walk towards the bar's entrance; awaiting whatever punishment he is going to get for talking to Mitzeee like that. He surprises himself sometimes – the way he talks to her like shit, very rarely but still – but he knows why he does. It's because he'll always feel slightly bitter towards her, always have a slight resentment because she did this to him; she changed his life and made him into this…thing. He doesn't know why she chose him, why she had to do this to him and he loves her but sometimes he hates her just as much – maybe even more – and sometimes that hatred overrules that love.

He reaches the bar's doors and begins to think of what is going to happen tonight – well technically tomorrow morning – and he cringes; snapping his eyes shut because fucking hell it's going to be painful. This fucking limbo he's been in for the past twelve years has been bad enough but this. This is when he officially becomes one of them – one of these monsters – and he's not prepared for it, never could be and it's so fucking unfair. He's dealt with shit in his life – lost everyone he's ever cared about – and now he needs to live with that, every single day until the world ends – no, scratch that – even after the world ends because he's going to be fucking immortal; yeah, that means he can 'live' through anything right? Fucking great, just that thought makes him want to leap for joy because good, who doesn't want to 'live' forever?

He sighs again, wallowing in self-pity because he's thirty years old today and that's the way he's always going to remain. In a thirty year olds body, always looking the same, always with the same energy and is it wrong to want to die? If it is then he's being pretty fucking wrong right now. When he pushes the doors open – rolling his neck, broadening his shoulders before he does so because fuck if he's gonna let anyone see his weak side. He never does, only Mitzeee has ever seen it – he locates his friend straight away; head resting on one palm of her hand while the other one twirls a strand of hair around her delicate finger and she's chatting up that posh toffee – that Warren – who he fucking despises. Always has shifty fucking eyes that one but Anne seems to like him so he has to deal with it. She's smiling, teeth shining and Brendan can't help but smile a little, a smile that is quickly wiped off his face when Mitzeee spots him.

"You fucking…" She tells Warren to hold on a second – all sweetness and light to him – but when she marches over to Brendan, she's fucking furious and he knows what is coming. She smacks him around the head and he knows she didn't mean it to actually hurt but in her anger she's completely forgotten to hold back – forgetting she possesses more power than any human – and if he was a 'normal' person then fucking hell that smack would have killed him. "You're disgusting!" she spits, the contempt etched onto her face and yes, he deserves that because he didn't need to be so foul on the phone but he was, and as Brendan knows; you cannot change the past. He's not going to apologise though; isn't going to say sorry or beg for Anne's forgiveness because a part of him finds this whole situation funny. He shouldn't have to explain himself in that much detail to stop her from questioning him; it's downright ridiculous and she is acting like his mother – has been for all these years – and he's just had enough now.

He hisses back. "So fucking what Anne. Stop questioning me all the time and if I want to be late, then I'm going to be fucking late. If I want to fuck someone then I'm going to fuck someone. If I want–"

"Brendan!" Mitzeee interrupts, her tone now sounding tired and Brendan can see she doesn't want to argue again. It's all they've been doing in the last month – far more arguing than actually acting like friends – and they both know why that is. It's not just Brendan that is tense and agitated about what is going to happen tonight; Mitzeee is too and she doesn't really want to witness her friend – best friend – going through such pain. The pain she's been through because it's fucking excruciating, feels like your bones are being broken, slowly – one by one – , feels like your heart is being battered and it's going to kill her too, having to watch that happen to him. "I don't want to argue with you anymore, okay? I know you don't want what is going to happen tonight but you have to understand I–"

"I'm never going to understand this Anne and you know what? I'm never going to forgive you either." He snarls, not even hiding the disdain in his voice because it appears today, is one of those days where his hate overrules any love he feels for this woman.

"Brendan, I know you're angry…" She states and Brendan mutters 'angry being an understatement' but Mitzeee decides to ignore him and carries on. "But, I love you, okay? I can't tell you the reason why I – I did it but please,I can't let you treat me like this anymore…It's hurting me Brendan. So much, you're like a brother to me and I'm not asking for forgiveness because what I did – in a way – was unforgivable. I'm just asking for you to love me like I love you. Like a brother should love a sister." She pleads and a single tear slips out of her eye, a large drop of salty water sliding down her cheek. In Brendan's opinion they are brother and sister, even stretched as far as to introduce Mitzeee – Anne – to a one-night-stand as his sister because she is. Even if they are – were – arguing it means nothing and even if he hates her so fucking much sometimes, it still doesn't completely take away that brotherly-love he has for her. That need to protect and look after her with all he has because she – she is all he has now and it may not be enough; not in a long shot but he's willing to take it because it's better than nothing. Better than having no-one.

He sighs, looks up into Mitzeee's pleading eyes and walks closer to her; wiping away the single tear before enveloping her in his arms – much to Warren's displeasure, who seems to think they have a 'thing' going on. "I do love you, Anne. It's just tonight…" he takes a stuttering breath; the risk of losing it all right in the middle of his bar is increasing by the second. "Tonight is just going to be so hard – so hard for me and I'm gonna need you there with me, okay? I'm sorry for kicking off it's just…a lot to deal with." He says and he doesn't feel weak for saying how hard this is for him – how it's nearly too much to handle – because this is Mitzeee he's talking to, the one person he has there for him. He feels her nod against his shoulder, breathing in deeply before she pulls away again; plastering on that fake smile because much like Brendan, they only let each-other see the real them.

"I'm always gonna be there for you, Brendan. Always." She states, tone so reassuring and Brendan smiles at her, knowing this is the last 'heavy' thing she is going to say until later. "Now, there's a ton of paperwork in the office and to be honest, I can't be fucked to do it. I think that will be a fair punishment for telling me all about your dealings last night. Chop, chop." She smirks and squeezes Brendan's cheek before sauntering back over to Warren, the other man eyeing her up eagerly as she passes him a new beer.

-OXO-

"Fucking shit…" he mumbles because this paperwork will be the death of him – well, would be. If he was normal – it's like a whole month's worth and god knows how Mitzeee has let it built up to this; he would never have let it get this far, he's surprised the bar has even been running with this lot. It was Mitzeee's idea to let her do all the paperwork and for some bizarre reason Brendan went along with it – agreed to it willingly – but to be fair, he was in a bad place at the time. They had brought 'Britzeee's' only a week after that night and the name had been Mitzeee's idea – obviously –. She had said the name was perfectly acceptable because of the connection they share and he had to deal with it so he had and this bar was the outcome. This place is the apple of his eye, when he first got it he had been too fucked up – too smashed and drunk – to really appreciate what he had but when he cleaned himself up a bit – stopped drinking so goddamn much – he learned to appreciate it. It was fun having Mitzeee has the co-owner and it seemed every bloke in town envied it for it; saying he was probably waiting for the time to be right before he swept her off her feet. That was until they found out he was gay and then the jerks started coming – the men who would jeer and touch Mitzeee when they thought he wasn't around.

There was one time when some bloke hit on Mitzeee and when she told him no – said she wasn't interested – he had started, going around saying she was a tart. Someone who acted like a slut but never put out and he didn't know Mitzeee, never knew the real her because that mask that she's puts on. That Mitzeee way about her isn't really her. Underneath all that is a strong but somehow still fragile woman, a kind, caring, feisty, genuine woman called Anne and Brendan would have been damned – although he already was – to let anyone talk about her like that. It's safe to say that man ended up with more than just a black eye.

He hates it when people treat Mitzeee like some dirty whore. It fucking infuriates him because she is anything but that, she's a woman. A woman who will not put up with any shit. Someone who – in the twelve years he's known her – has only been with one person, that fucking shit Riley who broke her heart and broke Brendan's knuckles – the reason not needing to be explained – and if that's a whore than fuck him, he's known some dirty, filthy woman in his time.

He shifts through the paperwork somewhat quickly now. Ticking things here. Crossing things there and signing things everywhere and before he knows it, a few hours have passed and it's one o'clock in the afternoon. He cracks his knuckles and stands up, thinking of what he can say to Mitzeee to apologise properly. He's thought about it and there's no doubt about it – he was a fucking dick to her and she doesn't deserve that, has to put up with enough without him too so he decides actions speak louder than words and figures he can take her out for lunch.

Smiling, he stands up and makes his way to the office door; quickly checking around before walking outside. It always surprises him how many punters they get during the day and as he walks down the stairs he can hear the unmistakeable sound of laughter and music. He rounds the corner, seeing where the laughter is coming from and it's Mitzeee – being twirled around by Warren as they dance to Cascada 'Every Time We Touch'. It's unbelievably cheesy and Brendan doesn't approve, it's not her ridiculous dancing he doesn't like, or the song choice – although that is fucking atrocious – it's Warren. He just hates him so fucking much; Mitzeee is worth so much more than him. So much more than Warren's expanding wallet with matching waistline and Brendan doesn't even know how Warren makes his money but it's clearly not very legal.

He grits his teeth, rolls his neck to release tension that has built there and walks towards them; trying to act polite and 'lovely'. There's no point acting like a knob here – not towards Warren – because it will most likely gain him another earful off Mitzeee and a smug grin off Warren. When he reaches them, he simply wraps his arm around Mitzeee's wait and walks them away – smirking as Warren huffs and crosses his arms.

"Brendan? What the hell are you doing? I was dancing!" Mitzeee gasps as he plops her down onto a bar stool and pours himself a whisky. When he turns around again, he's greeted by a pair of scowls, both from Mitzeee and Warren and he smiles – chuckles even – to himself because it's actually quite funny to see 'Foxy' pout like that.

"Yeah, if you could call that dancing…" he quips and Mitzeee slaps him on the arm, turning red slightly at his cheekiness. "Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch with me. You know, so I can say sorry properly?" He mumbles and he lifts his head to see Mitzeee smiling at him, one of those smiles that makes him groan because there's something sly hidden in its depths.

"I'll only go with you, if you come to a club with me tonight." She says and fuck sakes Brendan knew there would be a catch – always fucking is with Mitzeee – and the sight of her – running her tongue across her top row of teeth, lips quirking up at the corners and hand twirling hair – makes him want to scream in frustration but, if he wants to get his way, then he was to go along with it.

He tutts rather loudly and mutters, "fine," because he can't argue with Mitzeee and his friend smiles and squeals because she knows how to play Brendan and she knows she practically has him by the balls.

-OXO-

"So, where are you taking me then?" Mitzeee asks, looking out of the window but Brendan can see she looks genuinely interested – not like her usual I don't care as long as I'm spoiled face – and Brendan smiles at her because he thought it was obvious; only the best for his Anne.

"Where do you think?" he says and Mitzeee looks at him, knowing creeping into her eyes and she suddenly yelps, her fists doing some kind of pumping motion it front of her face as her smile widens.

"You mean…no Brendan!" she gasps and he smiles at her and winks. "Fabio's?! Brendan, that's too much!" she's squealing, grinning so wide Brendan is scared her face may split and he doesn't understand why it's too much. Anne only deserves the best – having to put up with him, his alcoholism, his moods and his behaviour all these years – and he's going to spoil her, will spoil her and this is her favourite restaurant so of course he is going to take her there, whatever the cost. He wants to enjoy a normal meal before everything changes – before he cannot eat anything normal without feeling sick – and god knows how he is going to cope. He doesn't understand how Mitzeee does it sometimes, how she fights against that unquenchable thirst and Brendan's worried he won't be able to; is terrified he will be out one night and there will be someone he likes the look of and he will be in public but he won't be able to control himself and then everyone will know his secret. Everyone will know he is cursed. "Brendan? You okay?" Mitzeee asks, slightly worried and Brendan hadn't even realised he had zoned out.

"Yeah, just thinking and yes Anne. We are going to Fabio's." he tries to brush her off but she's not stupid – can see what is troubling him – and she leans over, places her hand on his knee and squeezes to offer him some comfort.

"It's going to be okay, you know? I'm going to help you. You don't need to go through this by yourself because I know what it's like and Brendan, I'm not going to lie, it is going to be hard but I'll be there every step of the way." She reassures and Brendan offers her a watery smile, knowing she is going to be there for him but that doesn't take this matter away – doesn't stop him being scared – because what is happening to him is momentous. He's never going to be the same and he's never going to live a normal life ever again.

"I know Anne…I know. It's just – I'm just scared, you know?" he admits and he would never say that to anyone else – never tell them how scared he is – because it makes you look weak, but this is Mitzeee and they tell each-other everything.

"I know you are but think we'll have forever to cause mischief!" she smiles and it's just like her to lift the mood that easily – to stop Brendan feeling depressed – and he begins to imagine all of the things he could do in his cursed eternity and smiles. This is a curse but he may as well have some fun along the way.

He smirks. "Yeah, first step will be getting rid of Foxy."

"Shut up Brendan and drive."

-OXO-

"I'll have the steak tartare, please." Brendan says and he feels the bile rise in his throat. Steak tartare is fucking vile but it's pretty much the only thing he can eat without hurling it back up a few hours later. Raw meat. Fucking disgusting but it fills a hole and his body doesn't repel it – in fact once it gets it, it only craves more – and it's all part of his curse; it's always the fucking curse and once he starts eating it, he has to force himself to stop, has to restrain himself. He faintly hears Mitzeee ordering the same but he's too caught up in his thoughts to really contemplate what she is saying; this – this urge to devour – is only going to get worse after tonight and maybe he's going to have to lock himself away. Completely isolate himself because he wants to protect people, doesn't want to hurt anyone because if it's an innocent person then he would never forgive himself.

"Brendan, snap out of it." Mitzeee sighs and once again he didn't realise he was staring into space, not even hearing her when she was trying to talk to him and he wonders how long he's been like it, but judging by her face, it's been at least a couple of minutes. He offers her an apologetic smile and she returns it – only hers is saying a lot more than his is. "You need to stop doing that; people will begin to worry about you."

Brendan snorts. "What people Anne? You're the only person I have and look; you already are worrying about me." He says and there isn't really any need for Anne to worry about him, it's not like he can kill himself like he fucking wanted to twelve years ago. It's not like he's ill or dying or taking drugs, so there isn't any need for her to worry over him.

"Well of course I'm going to worry Brendan…" he goes to talk but she gives him that look, telling him to shut his mouth. "And stop being so depressive, your face will be stuck like that one day. You have forever to learn how to smile, Brendan. I suggest you start now." She teases and Brendan's about to reply but the food comes and the waiter settles it in-between them. When he leaves Mitzeee begins tucking in straight away – obtaining far more grace than Brendan will – and it's annoying him, even though he knows Mitzeee has had a lot more practice.

"You're a fucking pain in my arse, you know that?" He states and Mitzeee looks up at him – peering over her fork – and if looks could kill – if looks could penetrate and squash his immortality into the ground – then he would have died at least five times already. He's always been scared of the looks Mitzeee gives him occasionally – like she wants to devour him, completely rip him apart – and he knows why it's like that sometimes; why some days she has to keep away from him if the urge to kill is too strong. This connection they share bounds them together – casts a spell over them so they cannot be apart for more than a week because when they are, it physically hurts them. Causes them excruciating pain until neither of them can stay away any longer, then as soon as they are in each-others company again – as soon as they touch each-other after that week – they are fine. The pain vanishing as though it was never there and he's lucky he likes Mitzeee so much because it he didn't, then he would well and truly be screwed.

"Shut up and eat your food."

Brendan fights against a smile. "You're being very commanding today." He says, spooning some of the raw steak onto his fork and swallowing down his disgust, before placing it into his mouth. Fuck sakes, it's so fucking gross.

"Yeah, well someone has to be don't they?"

"Whatever you say, Anne. Anyway, this club you want to go to tonight…" Mitzeee smiles and leans back in her chair, wiping her red lips with the napkin before nodding her head. "Which one is it? I don't want to end up with some fucking young things dancing around me."

She smirks. "Oh really, because I thought young things where exactly what you wanted…" he tutts and Mitzeee rolls her eyes at his pissed off expression. "Lighten up, Brendan! Anyway, if you must know – because I wanted it to be a surprise but oh well –, we are going to Heaven and you are going to like it."

If he wasn't so annoyed right now then he would laugh. Chuckle at the fact Mitzeee said 'we are going to heaven' because if anything, they are going straight down to Hell. After all, they are the devils creatures but knowing which club they are going to overrules his need to joke. He knows Mitzeee is testing him here – can tell by her questioning eyes – and he wants to shout at her because she knows why he hates that club. It's been ages since he went to that place – has avoided it for years – because that was where him and Ricky used to go. It was their place and it holds so many memories – so many good things from dancing with the man he loved to being shagged in the toilet – and he doesn't really know how he will cope going back there. Mitzeee has some bizarre thought – claims Brendan isn't over the man he once loved – and that exactly it. He loved Ricky once. Not anymore because that fucker ripped his heart out so he couldn't give a flying fuck what he's doing right now; could be dead for all Brendan cares and instead of showing his hesitance he smiles at Mitzeee, feigning indifference.

"Okay, that sounds good." He says and Mitzeee doesn't look fooled, slowly eyeing him but she doesn't question him on it and he spoons the last mouthful of food into his mouth before smiling at her. "So, what time do you want to go because you know-"

"Yes Brendan, I know before midnight." Mitzeee interrupts. "I was thinking maybe eight? Seems like a fitting time and everything. You can pick me up as well." She says and winks at him, all Brendan can think is 'bitch' but he would have picked her up anyway. Wouldn't have let her catch a taxi or anything. He looks at the time and his eyes widen, it's ten past three so they've been sat here for two hours and it didn't even feel like that.

"So, how long do you need to get ready?" He asks, being completely sincere because Mitzeee takes a long time to get ready. He knows the cliché 'all women take a long time to get ready' but Mitzeee takes the piss.

"You can take me home now, yeah? I'm probably gonna need a while for our wild night out tonight!" She grins and Brendan simply groans, knowing when she says 'wild' she's not lying.

-OXO-

"Come on Brendan, you know you love it really!" He and Mitzeee are sat in a booth, a 'fish bowl' sat in front of them and she seems to think Brendan wants to drink that disgusting, overly-bright concoction. Mitzeee is over-dressed – as usual – and the skin-tight black dress, completed with sky-high heels and bright red handbag are gaining her a lot of attention. He's already given a couple of men a death-glare, telling them to fuck off and stop looking at her; much to Mitzeee's amusement. "Brendan!"

"Oh for fuck sakes." He grumbles and he leans forward, hooking the straw into his mouth before sucking up the vile liquid. The sharp tastes of vodka and rum – contrasted with coconut – blast over his tongue and he immediately feels sick, wants to stop drinking this but Mitzeee is eyeing him as she continues to drink and he carries on until the bowl is empty. "That was fucking disgusting."

"Oh man up Brendan. It wasn't even that…" she trails off and looks behind Brendan, a sudden grin beaming across her face and he turns around to see a man looking at him, nothing special about him but definitely fuckable. "He's staring at you, you know?" she states and yes, this other man is staring at him – eyeing him up greedily – but so what? It's not like he's gonna do anything.

"So?"

Mitzeee gasps. "What? Brendan, get in there, you don't know when you'll be able to again!" she pokes him and Brendan groans, he is feeling slightly drunk but he's definitely not up for doing anything; not tonight, he doesn't have the energy to and he's going to need all the strength he can muster for his ordeal tonight. He looks the other man – boy – up and down and yeah, he's absolutely Brendan's type; ice-blonde hair, lean, pliable body and youthful complexion and before Brendan knows what is happening, the lad is walking over.

"Hey." He says, eyes searching Brendan's face and he can hear Mitzeee stifling a laugh in the background. "I'm Vinnie." This boy – this Vinnie – smiles at Brendan and he smiles back, his father always taught him good manners even if he didn't want to use them most of the time.

"Can I help you?" he's being polite, it's a genuine question but Mitzeee still snarls opposite him; obviously annoyed because he's clearly giving this boy the brush off.

"I was wondering if you wanted a drink." Vinnie says and he's all doe-eyed and Brendan can't help but feel slightly sorry for the kid. He looks sweet enough – If sweet means Brendan could really manipulate him for his own pleasure then Vinnie as got it down to a T – but he's really not interested – can't be interested anyway.

"Listen," Brendan turns in his seat, at least having the decency to look Vinnie in the eyes when he blows him off. "Vinnie, I'm sorry mate but I'm not interested." Mitzeee tutts and Brendan quickly glances at her, giving her a don't-say-anything look out of the corner of his eye. When he looks at Vinnie again the boy looks crushed and it only adds to Brendan's guilt, making him feel like a complete and utter dick but it's not his fault the lad hasn't really caught his attention.

Maybe if he even looked remotely like that man Brendan saw in his dreams, then he would be more interested – more willing to risk his energy for him – because that man was truly beautiful. All Brendan can remember is golden, honey-kissed skin and deep, piercingly blue eyes but even that showed him how beautiful this man was; how – if Brendan ever met him, if he even exists – he would be able to twist into Brendan's mind, completely occupying every thought. After that dream Brendan had thought about those eyes for weeks – months – and every time he saw a man with a similar golden complexion, he would look at them. Sneakily getting a look at their eyes but no-one ever matched up, no-one ever had the same intensity that Brendan's imaginary man possessed. Those eyes. The colour of the deepest indigo – the darkest ocean, the midnight-blue sky – and they were shining, soul-deep and whenever Brendan thought of them he would get lost, day-dreaming and loosing himself in the blue.

"Brendan!" Mitzeee snaps, completely taking him by surprise and he's done it again, left them for a few minutes because those fucking eyes sucked him in again for the first time in months. Over took him and captured him and now Vinnie and his friend are looking at him, questioningly. Mitzeee probably thinks it's about tonight again but she knows about that dream and when he looks at her now, he can tell she sees it. Can tell she knows it's not his fear of tonight that took him away. She looks at Vinnie now, expression so much colder than it was before and Brendan knows she's doing to get him to piss off. "Look mate, he said he isn't interested so go find some other guy to harass." She spits and Brendan feels so fucking sorry for the kid – the way his eyes are widened is suggesting he is sad and he scurries away, not even looking back when Brendan tries to apologise for Mitzeee's rudeness. He's about to say something but Mitzeee gets there first, brushing away his scornful look with a flick of her wrist. "It happened again didn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replies and he knows he is insulting her intelligence; it's so fucking plain to see that even the dimmest person could understand what just happened to him.

"It was him again, wasn't it?" it's only now that Brendan realises how little Mitzeee has drank, he's had his half of the fish bowl and at least seven shots of whisky while she's only had the fish bowl and he's feeling drunk where she is practically sober. He wonders why they even came to this place – considering it was so hard for him to even set foot through the door – and then he realises 'Heaven' is the closest club to his flat and he remembers Mitzeee's words from sometime last month. It doesn't hurt as much if you're drunk she had said and everything's clicking into place now. He needs to be drunk to lessen the pain while she needs to be sober, to help him; get him through this traumatic experience he is about to have. It's so sudden, how all the alcohol has caught up with him and now he feels fucking pissed.

"Shut up Anne." He slurs, raising his finger to Mitzeee's lips. "It was nothing, what time is it?" He watches Mitzeee check her phone and when she gasps he knows something is wrong straight away. "What?" he questions and Mitzeee is just looking at him with wide eyes – unable to speck – and if she wants to scare the shit out of him then she's doing a good fucking job. He pokes her and knocks her out of her trance, making her actually see him instead of looking past him.

"Brendan…" she whispers and he has to move closer to be able to hear her. "It's five to twelve Brendan…we have five minutes to get you home!" suddenly she's hauling him up, carrying him on his unsteady feet and there's a strange tingling coursing through his body – not painful but not very pleasure either and he knows it's starting, his body is changing forever. Some may say it's for the better but it isn't, becoming some kind of powerful, immortal freak is not for the better and he wouldn't wish this on his worst energy – not on Ricky, Warren, anyone – because what he is about to endure is the worse torture one could experience. When Mitzeee was preparing him she had described the pain as a 'personal punishment from god' like god was punishing her for turning against him – for abandoning him and siding with the devil – and he's so scared right now.

"Anne…" he mumbles, Mitzeee pulling him out of the doors and they are moving so fast through the streets – rushing to his flat – because any moment now he is going to double over in pain and then everyone will witness him changing and everyone will know about him and this thing he has become.

"It's okay, Brendan. We're here now." Mitzeee breathes, completely out of breath because she's been half dragging, half-carrying Brendan to his flat and she takes the keys out of his trembling hands before pulling him inside and sitting him on the sofa.

It's beginning to get bad now and he's sweating, body shaking and he's gritting his teeth as wave after wave of agony washes over him. Mitzeee takes hold of his hand and squeezes, not holding that supernatural power back and normally it would break his fingers but it's not because his body knows he's becoming like her. "I'm here Brendan."

"It hurts, it hurts so fucking much!" he screams and he's not lying, it feels like his bones are slowly being crushed – snapped and broken one-by-one – and fucking hell his muscles are contracting, making him lock up and lean his head back; neck strained and veins popping. His organs are screaming at him, asking him to make it stop but he can't and he can feel himself crying – the slow drip of tears leaking out of his eyes as he screams and screams. His blood is bubbling in his veins, boiling hot and searing through him and this is what it feels like to be burned inside out – this is what it feels like to become one of them – and then his skin is being ripped off; not literally but it may as well be and it feels like poker-hot needles are being stabbed repeatedly into his skin, his eyes, just every part of his body and he can't stop screaming. His heart is exploding in his chest and he doesn't think this pain can get any worse and it doesn't but it doesn't relent either and then something happens that breaks through that pain and fucking terrifies him. His heart begins to stop. Slowing down until it's barely there, until his breathing is laboured and his body stops convulsing because of the lack of blood being pumped around it and when it gets to that point where it's beating only once every five minutes, he turns his head to look at Mitzeee. Finally seeing her through all this pain he is feeling at her mascara is dripping down her cheeks, her eyes red and cheeks covered in water and it's at that moment – when he's looking deep into her eyes – that his body finally decides to give out. Locking up as a bone-deep shot of pain shoots through his body and it's at that moment he passes out, hearing Mitzeee's cries in the background.

-OXO-

He's wakes up with his body aching, a pain in his chest and a thirst that feels unquenchable. Mitzeee is still holding his hand but she's shifted to the floor, resting her head on the sofa and she's sleeping soundly. He moves slightly, checking she's not going to wake up and she doesn't even stir so he gets up and makes his way over to the fridge. He grabs a bottle of water and downs it in one but it's not getting rid of that thirst and it's not fucking water he's after – it's not water he needs. He grips hold of the kitchen side, trying to fight against the urge to smash up his kitchen because this fucking frustration is ripping through him and all he wants to do is go outside and get what his body is craving. It's almost too much, has never needed something so much in his entire fucking life and he wants to cry because this feeling is so fucking horrible. "Brendan?" He hears Mitzeee walk up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder, he cannot look at her – is too fucking desperate – and he doesn't know how he's going to react to seeing her. He could never hurt her, it's impossible, and she could never satisfy his hunger and he suddenly notices something is missing.

"Mitzeee?" He finally builds the courage to look at her and moves his hand to his chest. "Where's my cross?" He asks and she looks at him with wide eyes- apologetic eyes – and he knows what she is going to say. He's not stupid, knows his kind could never wear it because, well, he doesn't belong to god anymore; it still fills him with a deep sadness though. That cross was his mothers and it's the only thing he owns that belonged to her; he has plenty of things from his father – meaningless things in a way – but that cross meant the world to him.

"I'm sorry, Brendan. You know we can't really have those things…it took me ages to get it off you, burnt myself trying to protect you." She jokes but he's not in the mood for joking, he's too sad, too fucking hungry – hungrier than he's ever been in his life – and he has to go to the bar together and fuck knows how he's supposed to do that without killing someone. He looks at his best friend and attempts a smile, something saying he doesn't blame her for taking the object he loved and she smiles back, rubs his shoulder for comfort.

"Mitzeee." He mumbles and she nods at him, trying to straighten out his clothes. God knows why, he's hardly going to wear them again. "What about the urm…clichés…"

"They don't apply for us; it's all a load of shit anyway. Now, go get dressed because we need to go to the bar."

"But what about – "

"Brendan." She interrupts. "Just stay with me and you'll be fine, okay?" He nods and makes his way to the shower, for some reason, not believing her words.

-OXO-

"Brendan, just go in the office, yeah?" Mitzeee says and she must see he's going out of his mind, eyes wide and knee bouncing as he sits on the bar stool. He's fucking losing it because there are too many people, too many people he wants to rip open and devour because they would quench his thirst, they would satisfy him and he's so close to getting what he wants. Every time someone brushes a little too close he can smell them – taste them - , hear the blood thrumming in their veins, hear their heart beating and if he wasn't so caught up on the sound of blood then he would be jealous. His heart doesn't beat whereas theirs does, they are living whereas he isn't and they are normal and he isn't. He wets his lips, feeling completely out of control and he stands up, the room spinning because he's gonna do it, he's gonna take someone's life. "Brendan, leave now." She's panicking and he can't listen to her, he's not even hearing her and as he steps backwards, as he tries to make his way to the office before doing something, he bumps into someone.

"Watch where you are –" He turns and suddenly there are two piercingly-blue eyes staring back at him, eyes that are all too familiar. There's images dancing in front of his eyes, golden skin, a grinning face and when he looks at this man in front of him a word rings in his head; one name repeating over and over. "Steven?" he asks and the man looks at him as though he's delusional and his hunger is growing more and more. He wants this man, wants to kill him but wants to kiss him at the same time and he needs to walk away before he does either one of them. "I'm sorry…" he mumbles and then he turns – practically sprinting away – as he hears the man ask him to wait.

-OXO-

It's been a week since he last saw that man, the figment of his imagination and he's been cooped up in his flat the entire time; thinking about him and his need for blood. It's causing him so much pain, his head is completely fucked up and he feels like screaming because of it. It's just the fact he cannot think of anything else, not the bar or Mitzeee or anything; just those two things and it's like he's dying a little more inside every time he thinks of them. He told Mitzeee what happened and apparently the man has been back to his bar, looking for him and asking where he is and Mitzeee said he's right. This man is called Steven and she said she knows its him – the man from his dreams – and according to his friend, Steven will not stop coming back until he's seen him again and Brendan doesn't know why because they haven't even talked to each-other and he feels like he wouldn't be able to control himself around the other man.

"Brendan, you're gonna have to see him again. You can hardly stay away from your bar forever, can you?" Mitzeee says and she's right, it is his bar but just the thought of seeing Steven again makes him feel sick. He had searched for him for months, looked at every man who even slightly resembled him and now he's found him, he doesn't know what to do. He's terrified, it's not like Ricky or anyone else because he actually dreamt about Steven before he even met him, like it was a premonition or something and he's just scared shitless.

He mumbles. "I can't…he – he…Mitzeee I saw him, that's not normal is it? It was like a vision or something?" His friend stares at him and bows her head, sniffing slightly and Brendan doesn't know what he said because surely he should be the one that is upset about this situation. He can't even go to his own bar for fear of this man; scared that he's either going to seduce him or kill him. There seems to be a very thin line between those too and when he saw Steven his first thought was to rip his throat out – take exactly what he wants – and he's not sure he'll be able to contain himself next time.

"Brendan, there's something I didn't tell you." Mitzeee all but whispers and he can see the indecision etched onto her face – like she doesn't even want to tell him this, like it hurts her to tell the truth – and he's worried because this has obviously got to be something big. Something he's not going to like. His hand is clammy and shaking as he takes hold of hers, interlocking their fingers and rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

"What is it?"

"I know why you dreamt about him, Brendan." She speaks, not being able to look at Brendan and he doesn't understand. How could she possibly know? He knows they have a 'connection' – always fucking will now – but she's not in his head, she doesn't feel what he feels and he looks at her with a confused expression until she speaks again. "That night–" He gives her a sharp look and she changes what she was about to say, knowing he will not want to relive it when he's in the state he is in now. "I knew what you were about to do, that's why I had to stop you…" she says and he rips his hand away – some emotion welling deep within him – and he's more confused than he ever was, how could she possibly know that he was going to end it all. How could she when he was just a stranger to her.

"How?" He starts pacing back and forth, wracking his brains and questioning himself. Did he show signs? Did other people see? Was he that obvious?

"I saw it, Brendan. This is what I didn't tell you…we – we can see things. Things no-one else can and they're like visions and I saw what you were gonna do and something just clicked inside of me. Like I was meant to stop you and my heart ached – and I've never felt anything like that before – so I had to stop you. I had to so I did." She states, plainly and he feels sick. How is he supposed to cope, knowing he has these premonition things? How is he meant to look Steven in the eye, knowing he might have a vision about him and why has Mitzeee concealed this information from him?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how, Brendan and this thing with that guy…that means something because if you can see him, if your body shows you him when you've never met him before then that's important. He's important." She tells him, walking up to him and stopping him from pacing and his head's a mess, more and more thoughts pounding in his brain and he knows he needs to see Steven again now because if he's really this important – if this whole thing really means something, like Mitzeee says – then he can't let this go, he has to see exactly what this means.

"Okay."

-OXO-

He walks into the bar, blood thrumming, eyes closed and he knows what he is going to see before he even opens his eyes. Steven is sat at the bar, nursing a bottle of beer and Brendan has to bite his lips. Bite them until he can taste his own blood because fuck, he wants Steven's and if he doesn't have a metallic taste in his mouth then he's gonna go over there and get what he needs. He stands there for a minute, just watching the other man as he lifts the beer bottle to his plump lips; takes in his tanned skin, mousy-brown hair and he doesn't even need to picture his eyes because the image of them is permanently etched into his brain.

Mitzeee's told him all about Steven, how when he last came here, his friend sat him down and they spoke properly. Apparently Steven is well-off, has loving parents – Sharon and Peter – and is English, from Manchester in fact. Brendan had to laugh at that, sometimes he thinks there are more Europeans in America than there are actual Americans. Mitzeee also told him that Steven is well educated but…well, she did some research on him and his family and it seems he used to be quite the scally. Getting into trouble with the police, although, Brendan doesn't blame him; it seems his father also plays on the wrong side of the law. That's how he got his millions – just like Seamus – Peter is a drug dealer, big time drugs lord apparently. Got banged up once but now he's out and still playing around with drugs; Brendan doesn't like it. He asked Mitzeee how old Steven is and apparently he's thirty, Brendan wouldn't have guessed that because looking at him now he looks years younger; maybe early twenties.

"Brendan, go on." Mitzeee pushes and he breathes in deeply, trying to restrain this urge inside of him before walking over to Steven and putting on the best smile he can.

"Hello…" He drawls and when Steven turns around, Brendan's breath gets caught in his throat and he swears – actually swears – his heart beats again; just once, twice, because god, Steven really is beautiful. In fact, he may be the most beautiful creature Brendan has ever seen. He's all beauty, perfect angles, perfect cheekbones and fucking perfectly sapphire-blue eyes. His hair looks so soft and silky to touch – pushed back into a slight quiff, shaven at the sides – and Brendan wonders what it would look like flattened against his forehead, wonders what it would feel like under his finger-tips if he pushed it back and tucked it behind Steven's ear. As he's looking at the boy – man, considering he's the same age as him – he feels his thirst increase immensely, to the point where he has to bite harder on his lip; feel more blood seep into his mouth as he bites even harder on the inside of his cheek and Steven must notice how jittery he is being because he's staring at him, questioningly.

"Hey…" Steven says and that accent washes over Brendan like a wave, knocking him for six and completely mesmerising him; he already feels like he is hanging off of Steven's even word and the man stares into his eyes and it's like nothing else exists. Just the two of them and the sea of blue they are looking into and if on instinct Brendan's leaning in slightly, wanting to get closer to Steven and it's only when Steven clears his throat does he realise what he is doing. "I wanted to ask you how you knew my name." Brendan sits opposite him and shifts in his eat slightly before answering, not really knowing what to say but saying the first thing that comes into his head; hoping it's convincing.

"I've –" he coughs awkwardly. " –I've seen you around, heard things…" He mumbles and Steven looks at him incredulously – like he doesn't believe a word Brendan is saying – but then he smirks and looks around, gesturing around the bar with his hands.

"This is yours, right?" Steven asks and Brendan relaxes a little, sinks back on the bar stool a bit because at least the other man isn't going to question him anymore; at least not on the topic of Brendan knowing his name.

"Yeah, thought you would have known by the name."

"Oh yeah, Britzeee's. I like it." Steven smiles and Brendan feels warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of it. He didn't even think he could feel anymore, not after what he's become, but it seems he was wrong. Steven has proved that and he automatically likes this boy, already knows he wants to spend more time with him, get to know him some more and he can feels Mitzeee's eyes on them, can sense the slight smile that is gracing her lips.

"Well, I'm glad you like it because I bloody well don't." He jokes and it entices a laugh from Steven – a strange loud noise that pierces into his brain and it doesn't stop for some time but when it does, Brendan finds he's already missing it. He feels alive again already, like he's not really some dead freak and he has a plan; albeit a random one and one Steven can decline but still, it is a plan. "You doing anything tomorrow?" he asks and Steven stares at him for a second, brows furrowed and Brendan wants to lean forward; rub away those creases in his forehead because they don't suit Steven.

"No, why?"

"You want to go out for dinner?" He says, breath held because Steven could say no here and then Brendan would be forced to pursuit; chase after Steven because he needs to know what this is, what it means because it obviously means something. You don't have a vision of someone for months without it meaning something. Steven lifts the beer bottle to his lips and stares at Brendan, making him sweat and when he talks it's not because he's giving Brendan an answer.

"Why?"

Brendan doesn't need to think about his answer. "Because I want to. I think it would be nice." He says and Steven chuckles quietly, making Brendan's thirst increase even more but now there's a hint of desire running through his body.

"Okay, sure.

-OXO-

"Brendan, calm down. It's gonna be fine." Mitzeee assures and he can't calm down, not when his date with Steven is today and he hasn't been able to think of anything else. Since Steven left the bar yesterday afternoon Brendan has been replaying their encounter in his head, his laugh, smile, accent – everything and Brendan is nervous as hell that Steven doesn't even like him back. That all of this is some big joke because Steven literally is the man of his dreams, the perfect man for him, the man he wants and he will get him; whatever it takes.

He mumbles. "Okay, I'm fine. Really, it's just…Anne, what if he doesn't like me?"

"He does, that's why he was looking for you because he wanted to ask you out." She says and Brendan can feel the smile on his lips, Steven wanted to as him out this whole time; he likes him and that's perfect for Brendan.

"Come on then, let's go because you're driving." He grins, chuckling when Mitzeee huffs in protest.

-OXO-

"When you promised me dinner, I had assumed candle light would be involved and I certainly didn't think it would be in your own bar." Steven says as he looks at his plate full of rice and seafood.

"What's wrong? Not use to a normal meal? And anyway, there's nothing wrong with my bar. At least I know there's good food here." Brendan replies, amusement lacing his tone.

"I'm more of a tapas person myself; if I'm being honest but…this is pretty nice." Steven murmurs as he takes a bite of the paella. Brendan lifts his glass of cava to his mouth to hide the smile tugging at his lips; Steven really is someone he could enjoy getting close to. As he watches Steven take pleasure from the dish, he cannot help but wonder what other pleasures the rest of the night will bring.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself." He all but whispers. "What you into?"

"Men." Steven chuckles and it makes Brendan smile too, he definitely likes this man and he's already thinking about things he can do with him. He's managed to control his thirst, had his fill last night so now he's sat in his bar just watching Steven eat his food – obviously because he can't eat 'normal' food – and enjoying his drink. Cava, Steven's choice. Naturally.

"No Steven, I meant what do you like doing? Hobbies?"

"Why did you call me Steven?"

"You're not one for answering questions are you?" He sighs and Steven smirks around his fork and Brendan can see he's trying not to giggle. He wonders what they are going to do tonight, after this meal and he prays to god something happens, doesn't give a shit if he's only known Steven for a day because he at least wants a kiss. The only problem is if he can control himself, if he can hold back and keep his curse to himself.

"Nope, why don't you tell me more about yourself?"

"Okay, thirty, Irish, single. Do I need to say anymore?"

"No, so what do you want to do now?" Steven asks, raising an eyebrow and Brendan knows exactly what he wants to do and he doesn't even care; he's doing it.

"Follow me."

-OXO-

"Oh fuck, Brendan!" Steven moans and Brendan strips his dick faster, wringing the pleasure out of his boyfriend. It's been two months now – two glorious months – and he loves this man, fucking loves him with all his heart and Steven knows something is wrong with him now. Has questioned him on it and Brendan's terrified because he can't hide the truth from Steven forever and he doesn't know how he's going to react when he finds out his boyfriend is practically dead.

He lines up, slicking his dick with lube quickly before sliding in and Steven screams, wrapping his legs around his waist tighter, pulling him in and he starts thrusting. Feeling himself being engulfed by tight heat over and over again. The sex is great – always has been – and they always manage to reach mind-shattering orgasms together, always have to scream out their pleasure because it's too fucking much most of the time. Makes Brendan's toes curl, makes him bare his teeth and bite down onto his own arm because he can't fucking bite Steven, won't make him become a freak as well. "Steven…fuck!"

"Brendan, I'm gonna – gonna." Steven arches his back, his hole pulling Brendan in deeper and when they come it's only seconds apart, Steven's spunk spurting all over Brendan's hand while he releases inside Steven, filling him up.

Afterwards they lay in pure bliss but Steven's hand as he runs up and down Brendan's chest suggests he is anything but relaxed. "Brendan, what aren't you telling me?" he asks and Brendan knew it was coming but he's nowhere near prepared. He stands up and pulls on some boxers, quickly covering them with a pair of jogging bottoms and Steven does the same, anger fuelling his movements. "You know what? I don't know what it is that you're hiding from me but if you can't tell me the fucking truth, then we are over." Steven shouts and Brendan feels his heart sink, he can't tell Steven the truth but losing him? Brendan can't deal with that and he's about to say something but then he hears a knock on the bedroom door and right then Mitzeee walks in, flustered and cheeks burning red.

"Ste, you can't leave!" She shouts and fuck knows why she's here and how she even knows there was a problem but she looks at Brendan, a strange emotion playing in her eyes and when she looks at Steven again, it's with determination. "Ste, sit down." He follows her orders and sits on the bed, confusion etched onto his face and Brendan has no clue of what is happening and at that moment, everything pulls together. "Ste, we're vampires."

"Anne!"

"No Brendan, he has a right to know. I told you this ages ago and if you don't tell him the truth then you're going to lose him!" Mitzeee barks and Brendan knows she's right and Steven is staring at them both, not an ounce of shock on his face.

"Okay." Steven says simply and Brendan is the one that is shocked now, how can Steven be so calm like this? How can he not care and his boyfriend walks towards him, cups his cheek and kisses him lightly. "I want to be like you." He whispers against Brendan's lips and he snorts, chuckling because no way is he going to make Steven like him.

"No."

"Please Brendan. I want to be with you forever, okay? I fucking love you so much and I don't want to grow old while you stay the same, I can't, right? So please?" Steven pleads and Brendan looks at Mitzeee, can see her nodding her head and he wants to stay with Steven forever too and he can feel his resolve breaking.

"It will hurt." He states and Steven simply says 'I know' and begs Brendan one more time, so he does the only thing he can think of and tilts Steven's neck up, leaning in and biting down firmly and his boyfriend yelps in pain and Brendan closes his eyes. Can feel the wet drip of a tear slip out because he's killing him, ending Steven's life and that hurts, that feels like he is destroying himself and he doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself but Steven's right. He would grow old and then he would eventually leave him and Brendan is selfish, could never picture an eternity without this man he's loved more than anyone. He pulls away and looks into Steven's eyes – can see they are shining a different shade of blue now – and he turns to Mitzeee.

"What happens because he's already thirty and that's the age we change, right?" He says and Mitzeee nods.

"It means he'll change tonight, he won't go through the limbo period."

He turns to Steven again and can see him beaming at him and he leans in for a breath-taking kiss before pulling back. "You do know this is forever now, don't you?"

"Yeah, forever." Steven pulls him back and Brendan doesn't feel cursed anymore, he feels gifted because now he has his soul-mate, his best-friend and a stretched-out eternity to spend with them.

-OXO-