My Sweet Addiction

Chapter i Shots Fired

What do you expect being shot is like? A ballistic moving tha' fast out of a barrel? I always imagined it would be hot. Searing hot. So hot that it's like a knife going t'rough butter, except it's a piece of metal rippin' t'rough your flesh.

It doesn't really hurt. Not at first but after all the shock fades away, you're left with this cripplin' pain. So much pain it makes you pass out. But all you feel at first is this pressure, makes you t'ink that somet'ing might explode inside of you as it rips in.

You can't stand. My knees gave in a second. Everyt'ing was spinning around me, then I was just— staring at the sky, watching the police run around me as heat pooled under my back.

Tha's all you really feel is heat and pressure.

I was sure I was dead.

But I woke up.

Then the pain came.


A gasp slipped out of his mouth as Brendan opened his eyes. Blue orbs looked around trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. But it was dark and there was a sheet over his face. Lifting his hand he pulled the sheet away from his face, then he saw the ceiling of the morgue. Or what he was fairly certain was the morgue. Bren let out an exhale as he sat up, the sudden sharp pain in his shoulder almost sent him back to the floor with a cry.

God that hurt.

Panting softly he pressed his hand over his shoulder and felt that it was stitched. They must have already declared him dead, fixed the hold so he could be buried. Christ that was a terrifying thought.

Brendan threw his legs over the edge of the table and looked over his body. There were some bruises starting to form already from where his father had hit him. From where Walker had hit him.

He was a walking bruise.

Placing his feet on the ground, he took a moment to breath, feeling his body shake. He would fall if he wasn't careful and that might draw attention. Bren couldn't go to prison. Finally lifting himself from the table, he held onto it tightly, knuckles going white as he struggled to stay up, but he managed well enough.

Looking around the room, the Irishman found some extra clothes to pull onto his nude body. He almost fell a couple of times getting the scrubs on, but they were finally on. People would be coming in here soon, it was only a matter of time.

For a room filled with dead people the morgue was a pretty busy place.

Brendan mashed his hair down and placed a mask over his face. He wasn't able to find shoes, but maybe no one would notice. Hospitals were always buzzing, too much going on to pay attention to everyone. So he slipped out of the room, shutting the door and making it around the corner as he heard people coming.

"Now Mr. Hay, we just need you to verify this is him and then you can go."

Oh Steven.

Bren squeezed his eyes shut as the doors opened and the lights turned on, only to find an empty room.

"Are you sure he was dead?! What if you were wrong?"

He leaned around the corner to see Ste falling to pieces once again at the thought of him being gone. But he couldn't stay.

"We're positive. Someone must have taken his body."

"But who would do that?!"

Brendan frowned a little and jerked out of view when Steven looked over at him. He had to hurry now before he was seen.

I'm sorry Steven.

He slipped out of the hospital and back to his home. He gathered up all the money he had in the house, threw on sweats and a t-shirt, pulled his hoody on and got into a cab.

He didn't take a plane. He had to get a new license and passport. He needed a new name all together. But the boat ride was long enough for him to think of something.

Christian Connolly.

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"Chris! Christian! Will you stop, Jesus."

Bren still wasn't use to going by the name and often forgot to acknowledge the person talking to him when they said it. He stopped running and looked over at the younger man with the ginger hair. "Kier. What's up then?" He mumbled as he leaned over his knee's taking a moment to catch his breath.

"I found you a job." He said with a bright smile, green eyes shining in the light of the sun just for a moment before he shielded them with his hand.

"You what?" Bren tilted his head up to him as he panted a little harder, smiling as Kieran pulled the inhaler out and handed it over to him. "T'anks. Allergies are killin' me seriously." He mumbled shaking it up and taking a breath from it.

Kieran just grinned at him and nodded, taking it back and pocketing it before speaking again. "I got you a job. Said ya wanted ta take yer hand at boxin' yeah?" The ginger did a cute stance and took a few jabs at the air to enunciate what he was talking about, Bren just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't do that, don't ever do that."

The shorter man laughed and leaned over, wrapping his arms around Bren's neck. "Oh come on. I did good didn't I? Come on Christiannnnn?" He grinned at him and Brendan stared for a moment before nodding his head.

"Yeah, yeah, you did good."

Kieran laughed and bounced on his heels, leaning up and planting his lips against the other man's. "Damn right I did good. C'mon, yer coach is waitin'!"

"Wait— coach?" He asked as he watched the ginger turn and start to run back down the hill. "Kier—Kieran! What coach?!" He yelled, groaning to himself and following after him. "Damn—bloody kid. Kieran!"

"C'mon old man! Want the job er not?!"

Bren stopped dead and so did Kieran, who was smirking at him. "Old? Didja just call me old?"

"Maybe."

A grin spread over Brendan's face as he looked over Kieran. "You best run! I'll show you old!"

The ginger let out a squeak and bolted down the hill with Brendan on his tail. At the bottom, the older man managed to wrap his arms around the thin waist of the other and blew a raspberry against the back of his freckled skin, making Kieran flail and scream with laughter. "No! Christian! Stop!"

Finally Kier managed to squirm around and plant his lips to Brendan's, playfully smacking his side. "Get in there. I wanna watch you."

Shaking his head lightly the brunet did as he was told, releasing the ginger he climbed the steps and went inside.

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Brendan was good at boxing.

Really good at boxing.

And he loved the fact that Kieran encouraged him to work at it. It was really nice to have someone who supported him and helped him like this. He was even on something for his anxiety issues and the chronic pain in his shoulder.

They were both in London, curled up in the bed, watching telly. Bren was dozing, tired from working out all day. He had a championship fight tomorrow. It felt so good to be accomplishing things.

Just as he started to slip off to sleep, his phone started to buzz making him groan.

"Who is it? Christ, it's almost two in the mornin' Chris."

"Et's probably David, hang on." He reached over and grabbed the phone not bothering to look at who was calling. "David— ya know, it's counter-productive ta keep yer fighter awake all night if ya want him to wi—."

"Christian Connolly?"

He paused at the voice, he didn't know it. "Aye?"

"Do you know Steven Hay?"

Brendan sat up and jerked away from Kieran, making him look startled as the dark haired man sat up. "Yes? What's happened then?"

Kier sat up and placed a hand on his back, soothing it over the smooth skin. "Christian?" Bren just ignored him.

"He's in the hospital in Manchester, he almost overdosed on cocaine. Would you come as soon as you can?"

He swore his heart stopped for a moment as he listened to the person on the other line. "I— is he—? Is he dead?"

"No. But he's not in good condition. Please Mister Connolly."

"Yeah—no, yeah, I'll be there soon." He let his hand fall to his lap as the call ended, staring forehead.

"Christian? Chris? Love? Talk to me, what's going on?" Kieran gripped his shoulder a little as he looked over at him. "Please?"

"I—" He turned and looked over at the ginger.

"I have to go."