***Please note that in the beginning of the story, future Steven will be referred to as Jay ("J"). There is a very good reason for that. I know it will sound strange at first, but hopefully you'll get used to it. His real name will be a mystery for future Brendan to solve, once they meet of course, which might not happen for a couple of chapters, I'm afraid.
The plot has a massive background story, which I originally planned to reveal in an epilogue, but decided against it. Giving you raw facts about their lives up to the moment they meet made the narration seem a bit impersonal, so I dedicated a chapter to each, offering you an insight into who they really are. I do hope you enjoy it.

***Just to get you started:
Steven is a young journalist who was given a one of a kind opportunity to work for a well known news agency, but he first needs to prove himself. The editor insisted that his first major story should be a personal one, so he gave him an option to make it either about his own life or about some remarkable family member. This way, the editor argued, he would get a closer look at who Steven really was or where he came from. Steven didn't think his life was particularly interesting so he chose the second option. Ever since he was little he heard stories about his granddad, and how unusual his life was. He started asking around, gathering information. One of the oldest villagers who was once a great journalist herself, Nancy Osborne, promised to give him all the details she could remember, but advised him to go to the old house the Hays still owned, and check whether there was anything useful his granddad might have left behind. While rummaging through his grandfather's belongings he came across a stack of letters all addressed to someone named Brendan Brady. Intrigued, he started opening them one by one, getting more than he had bargained for.

The door clicked closed behind him, barely making a sound. He slowly turned around, blinking the haze out of his eyes and took a moment to look at the nameplate on the door. And there they were, black cursive letters against the golden surface, spelling the editor's name, assuring him that he was still outside the man's office, that he did just finish the most awkward interview of his life and that, unfortunately, that it wasn't just a bad dream. But it felt like it was. Like he was in some sort of twisted reality where nothing was what it was supposed to be. He knew it would be hard to get a position he was striving for, even with all the education and references he had gathered along the way, but of all the requirements he needed to finally get the opportunity to work for Channel 4, this was the only thing he never expected to be asked to deliver.

After four years at the London's University of Westminster, intensive classroom training and field work, being mentored by some of the finest journalists UK had to offer, after writing scripts for bulletins, headlines and reports, after all the work on fast-paced news stories presenting material 'on air' and preparing and conducting both live and recorded interviews, after finally getting the Bachelors' degree in Journalism, after all the experience he had gotten, this was what he was supposed to waste it all on? He leaned against the nearest hard surface and banged the back of his head against it, dragging his hands over the face, in utter disbelief.

The editor's words still rang in his head, as clear as the driven snow. As an apprenticeship prerequisite, he was required to write an essay, a not-less-than-fifteen-freaking-pages-long essay on his own life or a life of a family member. For a moment he was back in his fifth-grade classroom, feeling as if the world was going to end because his English teacher had just given him the most tedious homework assignment of them all for the summer break, and he was wondering what he did to deserve it. The only explanation he was offered for this more than odd request was that the editor needed him to show his ability to be an impartial but involved observer of his own life, turning cold facts and figures into a story worthy of listening, while stripping some of the veil of secrecy that he had weaved around himself. The problem with his application, argued the editor, was that it was too impersonal, bare, too alienating compared to the intimate and direct approach the other applicants had taken. It made him seem cold, unapproachable, the total opposite of what he really was like. So, he was given a second chance. The apprenticeship was due to start in a little more than three months. He was given a fair amount of time.

He recognized it as nothing more than an ultimatum, but given no other choice, he quickly recovered from the initial shock and answered that the essay would be written and forwarded before the three months expired. He was advised to use all the necessary time to gather enough material, especially if writing about someone else, to follow any leads available, from news agencies, the police, the public, press conferences, researching and collating evidence and information to support a story using other relevant sources such as the internet, archives, databases… And again, he was back at school again, being given a lecture. As if he didn't know what to do. He was relentless in pursuing facts. He would stoop to anything within the boundaries of legality: stalk, invade, befriend, provoke. He just never imagined doing those same things to himself, so to speak.

He didn't even know where to start. He definitely wasn't going to write about his own life. There was not much to say, anyway. At twenty-two, he was an undergraduate solely focused on building his career, in desperate need of a good job now his scholarship wasn't going to cover all his expenses. He had active enough social life, fair amount of angry ex girlfriends, a couple of close, but not too close friends, and numerous extended family members who doted on him like he was a family treasure or something. Annoying as they were, he loved them with everything he got.

Although he considered his mother, Margaret, to be his guardian angel, it was his father that he felt the closest to. Mr. Lucas Hay was the epitome of kindness, generosity and true devotion. He didn't have a mean bone in his body and he wasn't afraid to show it. He was hardworking, but friendly and loyal. There were people who tried to take advantage of his good nature, but what they didn't count on was that the man wasn't weak or foolish, not by any means. There was rarely a person who could outsmart him. He might have looked naïve, but there was a sharp mind behind those gentle eyes.

A smile spread across his face, just like every time he thought about his father. They had a special connection, and his mother had a theory that it was all in the eyes. All Hay men had deep blue eyes, long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows. Oh, and incidentally, crazy hairstyles. But it wasn't just the family resemblance. They always felt there was a strong bond between them, something that not even the distance had any influence over. They'd be miles away and just know that the other one was feeling sick or under the weather. They understood each other without many words ever being spoken between them. They had their own world, his mother would say. And apparently, the same was true for the relationship he had with his own father, grandpa Hay. Now, that was a man who had a story to tell. Suddenly, the cogs started turning and his shell-shocked mind finally decided to join the party, getting a boost up from a whole army of grey cells, it seemed. Yes, he was getting somewhere.

Just when he was about to get his phone out and dictate some of the ideas into it, it started buzzing. Without even thinking about it, he took the call.

"Jay, honey! Why did it take you so long to pick up? Is everything ok? I must have called you a dozen times! I was about to call your dad, but I didn't want to get him worried over nothing. It was nothing, right? All is fine. You are fine, right?"

His mother was talking a mile a minute. From a usually quiet woman, that was a lot of words at a time. He must have properly scared her.

"Mum, mum, calm down! What's with all the questions? I only went for an interview, not to get a heart transplant."

"Don't even joke about that, young man!"

Great, now he had gotten her angry as well.

Ever since the car accident he was involved when he was 16, and him ending up in an operating room, needing two major operations to survive, his mother had been very sensitive about his health and would get sick even if someone mentioned the trip to hospital.

"I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't really thinking. It's just… You don't have to worry that much, you know? I am a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but that is not the point, is it now? Mothers worry. That is their job. And your job as a son is to pick up when I call. The interview should have lasted fifteen minutes at the most. I've been trying to reach you for two hours. What else was I going to think?"

Her voice broke a bit at the end of that sentence, and he felt immediately guilty. But instead of apologizing once again, he simply clammed up, confusion dazing him into silence. Could it be that he was standing in front of that office for hours, contemplating about how unfair the whole ordeal with the essay was? If so, how embarrassing! What if someone had seen him? They already think him a bit strange, no, what was the word that was used…? Ah, alien! Well, great. Loitering in front of the man's office would definitely prove their point, then.

"Jay? Jay, are you there, love?", his mother softly asked. "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I was just worried."

" No, mom, no, don't apologize. Don't ever apologize to me. You did nothing wrong. My head is just all over the place today, ok? But, the interview went well. I only have one additional task to fulfill and the job is mine."

"I knew it! I knew you could do it! I'm calling dad right away. And Leah, she'd want to know."

"You do that, mum."

"And I'll be making a celebratory dinner in your honor as soon as you're home."

He couldn't stop smiling. He loved making his family happy.

"Thank you, mum. You are the greatest!"

"And don't you forget it! Love you, baby. I am so proud of you"

" Love you, too, mum!"

He was about to disconnect when he remembered…

"Mum, I was thinking of catching a train to Hollyoaks later today. I need to thank aunt Nancy for putting in a good word for me. I don't think they would have even considered me for the job if it wasn't for her."

"Of course, honey. I understand."

" I might stay a couple of days, if that's all right."

You could have heard her exasperated sigh over the phone even if you 'd been a few meters away from the phone. It was that loud.

"Young man, if there is another girl whose parents are about to call me to complain how you broke their innocent daughter's heart, you better watch out."

"There isn't! I swear!" He tried to be serious but he couldn't stop himself from laughing at her outburst. That didn't happen as often as she believed it did. Once or twice. Well, maybe three times. At the most.

"Oh, you are incorrigible! But I love you anyway. Have a safe trip, baby!"

"Thanks, mum. Love you too!"

xxx

The ride to Hollyoaks was quite uneventful. He was dead tired and slept through most of it, so he looked a right mess when aunt Nancy greeted him at the station. She, on the other hand, even in her late sixties still possessed the flair and poise of her youth. She kept her steel grey hair long; braided in a single braid that fell toward the small of her back. Her eyes were still full of fire and her frame looked strong. She was far from a fragile little lady you'd expect her to be. She never let the years get her. She kept busy and in the center of everything. Her success and appraise that followed it came later in her life than she had planned, but she had made a good use of it. Today, she was one of the most influential journalists in this part of England. She was the one who encouraged Jay to get into journalism, helped him with getting a scholarship and even sponsored some of his individual projects. She often claimed how she wasn't a greatest fan of his grandfather, or the men in his life, but that if there was one thing Steven Hay was good at, that was raising his children. Lucas and Leah turned into wonderful human beings, which is why she decided to turn the blind eye at the age difference between Lucas and her daughter Margaret when they decided to get married. Their strong and loving marriage only strengthened the ties between the two families.

Jay, of course, adored her and in turn, she did the same. Ever since her son, Oscar, died following a serious infection that due to doctor's misdiagnosis spread to her son's lungs, Jay had become the apple of her eye. But even he was never allowed to call her grandma. She was simply Aunt Nancy, or Nan.

As soon as she laid eyes on him her expression brightened. She seemed even younger then.

"Bless you, my boy, but you look so much like him!" was her 'hello'.

"Who is it this time you are referring to aunty, my uncle or my granddad? It's hard to keep track these days."

"Oh, you and your sharp lip! One of these days someone is going to shut you up by kissing it into oblivion", she teased, hugging the life out of him.

"I wish", he replied with the brightest of smiles.

"Ah, you'd only break their heart as usual."

" I don't br…", he started, getting out of her arms, a frown starting to form on his forehead. "Why are you all saying this? It was only a couple of girls, and now I'm a registered heart breaker?"

"You were never good at Math, my dear," she joked, but he could see her eyes were watering.

"You do look like him, you know? Well, you are Hay alright, with those long lashes and those magnificent eyes. The cheekbones and the hair might be their traits as well, but these muscles here, my boy, they are all Osborne", she said, pinching his biceps."And your voice…God forgive me, but that is one thing I am happy you never inherited from your granddad."

"And why's that?" he asked, already intrigued.

"It's enough to say that if you had heard him laugh, you would have thought a donkey was being tortured."

"Nan, that was really cruel", he scolded, trying to keep a straight face but burst into an uncontrollable laugh.

"It might be, but see, this is music to my ears and I wouldn't want to have it any other way. Come on, let's go home."

xxx

He always got the same room when he was at his Nan's and it was always the one with old photos covering almost every inch of the walls. As a young boy he loved looking at them, trying to figure out who was who, usually making the wrong guesses. But his granddad, him he always recognized. It wasn't that hard though. Sometimes it felt like he was looking at the picture of himself. Sure, he was bulkier, possibly a bit taller, and definitely more confident looking, but their facial features were almost eerily identical. He carefully studied the contours of his granddad's face when he felt the sudden need to trace his fingers along his own jaw line and then over his full lips, causing a chill to ran through him. He became instantly alert, the hairs at the back of his neck began rising, prickling his neck like needles of ice, a cold sweat slowly taking control of his body. His hand that caressed the face a moment ago started twitching in a now painfully recognizable fashion. It felt as if it was burning with sensation so he tried shaking it off, spinning around himself for the good measure only to notice his Nan standing by the open door looking at him with a confused expression on her face.

"Are you ok, love? Did you hurt your hand or something?"

"What?"he stared at her with a blank expression on his face. "No! I mean, yes! Yes, that's exactly what I did."

"Well, you must be tired after all the excitement you had today. Maybe you should make it an early night", she said, worry evident in her voice.

"No, no, Nan, I actually have a favour to ask of you."

"Oh, what kind of favour would that be?"

" I need you to tell me about him" he said pointing at the photo that managed to catch his attention so thoroughly that he missed his grandmother entering the room . "About Steven Hay, I mean", he clarified.

"About Ste? What brought this on?" she was curious then, confusion replacing her earlier worried expression.

"Well, it's for the assignment I was given. It's that or no apprenticeship. He's my school project," he murmured.

"You've got to be kidding me. But why?" she asked, not really believing what she was hearing.

"The editor said I was being too impersonal in my application. Everything about it was impressive, except my personality apparently."

"So now you have to write an essay about your dead relative? This doesn't make any sense. I'll give him a call right now…," she turned to leave the room.

"You will do no such thing," he replied sternly, making her stop in her tracks.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need you fighting my battles for me, Nan," he said, rounding the big bed to come and give her a soft hug.

She stood rigid at first, but relaxed into it after he started purring in her ear.

" You know how much I love you, right? But you do have a tendency to meddle into things you should be leaving alone. I'm the same, so I know what I am talking about. That is what makes us good reporters. But this, this I need to do on my own. And I kind of get it, now, why he wants me to write it, I mean. I am never going to be good enough if I keep myself out of every story, if I don't let it get me at least a little."

" You are not detached or cold, my boy! In anything, you are overemotional!" she tried to reason with him.

" I might be, but I have a hard time showing it. You yourself told me many times how good I am at locking myself away from everyone and everything, how my inner world is my sanctuary and that I go there whenever I feel vulnerable, whenever something is out of place. But I can't keep doing it, Nan, because it pushes people away."

He closed his eyes for a moment, but you could see them moving rapidly behind the lids, as if he was dreaming wide awake.

"You remember how I was after the accident? I barely spoke to anyone. I didn't even feel the need to. And you know what, I didn't even miss it. The interaction. I was happy. And that scared me. How could I have been happy being all alone? You know what my mind was telling me?" he finally let go of her and looked her in the eyes.

"It created some sort of a fairytale world where I was keeping myself safe until the one I was waiting for came for me. It was telling me that I needed to be patient as the time still wasn't right. It was telling me that I was good on my own until then, that I didn't need anyone else. And I agreed."

He suddenly stopped talking when his grandmother reached for him, trying to get her arms around him, offering comfort. But he stepped away. If she did that, he'd never say what he needed her to hear.
When he saw alarm gathering in her eyes he offered a barely there smile but, nevertheless walked toward the opposite end of the room, somehow finding himself standing in front of the photo of Steven Hay again.

"You all joke about me dumping the girls all over, but the truth is I never felt more than a mild crush for any of them. They were just pale, barely there versions of the thing that I was supposed to have, that I was promised but that had been taken away from me. I've been living with that feeling for such a long time, Nan, and I am tired of waiting. What if that someone never comes?"

He wasn't even aware of how he had gotten himself on the bed, but he was now leaning against the headboard, his knees pulled up, and his head safely between them. Hearing her speak again made him raise his head to face her worried look.

"You are still very young, Jay, there is a great life in front of you. Things have just started to heat up. Soon you will be in the center of so many things that you won't find time to be alone. And as for the one you are waiting for, well maybe they are on their way. Give them some time. Your dad found the love of his life when he was a lot older than you are right now. These are not things that we have any control over, dear."

"That's just it, Nan. I think I do have at least some control over it. I need to let it go, this illusion that I created in my head while I was lying in that hospital."

"You had a near death experience, dear, that changes everyone. "

"But it did not change me, Nan, it just showed me all the wonderful things that I could have and then it took it all away. Someone else's life flashed before my eyes, but it was like I lived it and it was all I could ever hope for. It lasted for only a couple of seconds, but I've never been more happier. And now, I can't even remember a single thing about it. All I have been left with is a touch here, a smell there… Nothing more. Maybe I am imagining it in my head. Maybe I should have accepted some professional help a long time ago." He felt defeated. He felt he was losing it all over again, and this time around he didn't have an excuse of being in an accident that almost cost him his life.

"You are not crazy, and don't let me hear you talk like that again. All right? Those things you are having, you know what there are, we've talked about it. We all experience them from time to time. A déjà vu here and there doesn't make you a lunatic."

"No, Nan, but when you have them, are they telling you that you are wasting your time with someone else? That you are kidding yourself that it could ever work? That you don't need someone who will always be a second best? Well, that's what they are doing to me. I find a girl I like, and I think she might be the one, and I try, I really try but as soon as things start to heat up I feel … Every touch feels like a betrayal, every kiss is forced out of me, a feel sick to my stomach." His face became distorted with disgust while he was saying this, as if he was reliving every single moment he spent in the arms of another.

"Maybe you should try boys then." His Nan tried cheering him up a bit. Truth be told, she was out of her depth here. She wanted to snap him out of whatever took hold of him in that moment, because she couldn't stand to see her boy suffering. And he was, there was no doubt about it. And anyway, maybe he needed a change. To explore all his options.

"Nan, this is not a joke," he said, his voice low.

"I'm not joking."

"Don't be ridiculous. Don't you think I would have known by now if I was gay?" he tried to reason with her.

"Steven didn't know either."

"What do you mean he didn't know? Of course he knew."

"No, he really didn't. He had a girlfriend, lived with her, had Lucas."

"I know all that, but he always knew that it wasn't enough, otherwise he wouldn't have looked for something else."

"Like you're not looking?"

That stopped him from saying whatever he was about to. He looked like he was thinking and then he offered a simple: "It's not the same".

"I'm not saying it is," she let out a deep sigh. " I just want you to keep your options open. I want you to be happy. And I've seen what hiding who you really are can do to a person, how destructive it could be."

"Are we talking about granddad?" he suddenly felt more interested in what she had to say, curiosity overriding every other emotion and driving him to ask the question without even thinking about it.

"Never mind that now. You need the rest. And my old bones are screaming at me to find a bed and lose myself in it."

"But…"

"We'll talk about this more first thing in the morning, ok? I promise. If you want to know about your granddad I'll tell you all I know. And maybe we could visit the old house in the village. Some of his belongings are still there. We could go through them together. "

Now that was something, at least. But if there were things to be discovered about that man's past, he wanted to do it himself. Investigation is what he did best.

"I'd rather do it alone, Nan, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, whatever you want. 'Night, honey. "

"'Night, Nan."

As the door closed behind her a sense of relief came over him. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was alone again, safe in his imaginary cocoon, or whether it was an unspoken promise of the new, yet unexplored life he was about to invade, dig into it as if it was his favourite dish. He smiled at the thought. For the first time in a long while Jay went to bed knowing that he wouldn't be having trouble falling asleep. He was basking in this feeling of accomplishment because he was certain now that it had started. Whatever it was he was waiting for, he was more than ready for it to finally begin.