The night of the Pits and Perverts benefit concert was magical. Mark owned the stage during his speeches and for one glorious evening the gays and the straights, and as Mark said the undecided, were united. For one night it didn't matter whether you liked guys or girls. It didn't matter for the first time in most of LGSM's lives. The atmosphere was electric and everyone was drowning in the music and the alcohol. The straights danced with the gays and their friends from Dulais were having a ball. It had been the first time out in London for most of the Welsh folk and they were certainly making the most of it. Mike watched Mark in awe as he spoke to the giant crowd. He was unable to take his eyes off the Irishman. Mark's eyes were alive and sparkling with an infectious energy which grew from his uncontainable excitement. The light was dancing off his earring and lit up the natural brown highlights in his hair. In that moment Mike had never felt so in love with the bundle of energy that was Mark Ashton. Mark was capable of achieving anything he set his brilliant mind to. Even if Mike tried to gently dissuade him from the more spectacular plans, Mark always got it done.

Once the band started to play Mark had jumped down from the stage to join Mike on the dance floor. They let the music guide their bodies as they moved in time to the beat of the drum machine. Mike's breath caught in his throat as he felt Mark's body move against his. Heat radiated between the two men and Mike could have sworn he felt Mark's lips brush against his neck. His head was spinning, although that might have been from the alcohol. He let his eyes flutter shut and he was lost in the moment; one fantastic moment of joy and the feeling of belonging. One song blurred into another and Mike lost track of how long he was dancing in the warm embrace of his best friend. His heart ached as he thought of the word 'friend'. He desperately wished that he could use another word to describe Mark; boyfriend perhaps. He let out a sigh and Mark pulled back to look at him with a questioning look in his eyes. Mike gave him a reassuring smile that he knew didn't quite reached his eyes. Mike had forgotten how long he'd been pining over his best friend. He'd just come to accept the feelings now. They wouldn't be fading anytime soon. Mark offered to go get them some drinks from the bar which Mike enthusiastically accepted. His throat felt dry from the smoky room and he needed some space from the Irishman to clear his head.

Mike took a moment to scan the room. Jeff was happily chatting with Steph at the bar, although Mike noticed how frequently the blond looked over in Joe's direction. Joe had come out of his shell; he was glowing with excitement as he circled the dance floor with a big grin on his face and taking pictures on his camera. Mike looked over to the merchandise stall by the doorway. Even though the party was in full swing there were still a few people queueing for t-shirts and badges. Mike could see a stack of empty boxes behind the makeshift counter; an indication as to the success of the night so far. Mike couldn't help but smile fondly. Mark would be so proud when he realised.

Soon enough Mark returned with their drinks; two pints of ice cold beer. Mike thanked him and offered to give him the money but Mark refused. They moved to the side of the room so they could drink the pints away from the crowd. Mike let out a long breath as he felt the icy liquid flow through his body to his stomach. The taste was bitter but refreshing. It made a change from the sweaty air around them. They chatted a while about the event as they enjoyed their drinks. Mike noticed that Mark's voice was getting increasingly slurred as the night went on. Eventually, Mike felt Mark's head resting on his shoulder. He smiled and he felt his heartbeat quicken. For a moment he could pretend that they were more than just best friends. He turned and kissed Mark's soft brown hair. He heard Mark mumble something but it was lost in the music.

Knowing that Mark would have to make an ending speech as the event drew to a close, Mike dutifully fetched a glass of water for them both and dragged the slightly inebriated Irishman to the bar to sit down for a while. He was chattering away about some new plan to raise money. Mike thought he heard the words 'drag competition' and 'Dulais'. He chuckled at the thought of some of miners in drag. Dai would probably give it a go even if it was just to show solidarity. He wasn't so sure about the others. Hefina and the girls on the committee would certainly get a giggle out of it. Mike hoped Mark would forget about that particular idea by morning though. It would do more damage than good he thought. They were already unsure whether they'd be allowed to raise any more money for the miners after tonight due to their being gay and all.

As they sat down at the bar next to Jeff and Steph, who was still avoiding Zoe and Stella, Mark grabbed Mike's shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Mike faintly heard the other two whooping behind him but he was soon lost in the feeling of Mark's lips against his. His heart was racing a million miles an hour as he felt Mark's tongue brush against his lower lip. He gladly parted his lips and let Mark deepen the kiss. Their tongues stroked against each other and Mike could taste the alcohol on Mark's breath. Too soon Mike had to pull back for air. He was panting slightly and his head was spinning again although this time he was certain that it wasn't the alcohol. Mark fell forward slightly into Mike's lap and rested his head on Mike's shoulder once more. Mike could feel his cheeks heat burning as he sat for a moment in a happy daze.

When he finally came back to the loud and sweaty electric ballroom, Jeff and Steph had buggered off. He glanced around quickly but he saw no sign of them. He decided they must have gotten lost within the crowd on the dance floor. Further down the bar, a brunet looked like he was chatting up their official photography. Joe had flushed a deep red and was clearly flattered by the attention. Mike felt a little sorry for Jeff but the blond should have made a move sooner. Mike turned his attention back to the drunk Irishman next to him. He had linked his fingers with Mike's and was singing softly along with the music. Mike's could feel his heart still pounding in his chest from the unexpected kiss. He couldn't remember a time where he'd been happier.

Soon enough the evening wound down and a slightly less inebriated Mark Ashton took to the stage for a final time. Mike watched proudly as Mark thanked everyone for coming and both he and Dai spoke of the friendship between LGSM and the people of Dulais. They shook hands and slowly the crowd started to dissipate and the music slowly faded away. Hefina and Gail insisted that the party continued though. So the members of LGSM, minus a certain photographer, faithfully led their friends through all their favourite party spots around London. The shrieks of the women could be heard from a block away and the bouncers of the clubs really didn't know what to think of the excited Welsh ladies. Mike stayed close to Mark for the rest of the evening. They were often seen holding hands between clubs or dancing close together. Occasionally they would just stay outside together and share a cigarette. Those were Mike's favourite moments. He felt a calmness come upon him as the smoke filled his lungs and he enjoyed watching the end of the cigarette glow a bright orange as Mark inhaled deeply. They both were more mesmerised than usual by the patterns that the smoke made in the cold air.

The mood was shattered going into one the clubs. They were almost through the door when Mike heard a man calling Mark's name. Mark obviously recognised the man; called Tim apparently. Mike was shooed inside as the Irishman stayed behind to talk to the stranger. Mike felt his heart sink as he went inside the club alone. He wondered who the man was. He felt a strange pain in his chest as he pondered on Tim's relationship with Mark. From the way he said Mark's name Mike assumed they had once been lovers. A surge of jealousy swept over him and he had to resist punching the wall. He saw Jeff looking at him in pity. Mike was pretty sure Jeff was feeling the same thing. He'd been sulking ever since Joe had disappeared. Steph, less than helpfully, pointed out that Joe had last been seen snogging some attractive young man. Jeff had muttered something about that being illegal because Joe was underage. Still at least their Welsh friends were having a good time. They delighted in questioning the bar staff in every club. At least they were becoming more aware of the gay community; fighting back the horrendous stereotypes that the media tried to sell. Mike sat at the bar with a whiskey. It wasn't his preferred drink but he suddenly craved something a bit stronger. He winced slightly as the liquid burned his throat. He looked disgusted at the glass wondering how people liked the stuff. He glanced back at the door every so often to check to see if Mark had made an entrance yet. On the third look he was rewarded by the sight of the Irishman walking towards him.

Mark looked perplexed. That was the only way to describe it. He was suddenly deep in thought and Mike gave him a questioning look. Upon meeting Mike's eyes all concern fell from Mark's face and he gave his friend a dazzling smile. Mike couldn't help but smile back. Mark's happiness was truly infectious to the Englishman. The rest of the evening went smoothly but Mike couldn't help but noticed that Mark's energy had fallen since the encounter with Tim. He held Mike's hand a little tighter than before and quite frequently planted a kiss on Mike's cheek. Mike blushed a little every time. Mark never kissed him on the lips again though and Mike couldn't help but wonder why.


Mike sighed to himself softly as the memory faded into the cold Welsh air. His breath clouded in front of him in a swirling mist. Of course he knew now why Mark didn't kiss him on the lips after that moment. Tim had been on what he called 'a farewell tour'. Mark wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant and he knew what that could mean for himself. Tim had been ill. The dreaded illness had claimed another victim from the gay community. Mike closed his eyes tightly and counted to ten. He let out a deep breath and attempted to calm his rage. Life wasn't fair and neither was death. He hugged his coat round him and looked out forlornly at the rolling hills of the Welsh countryside. He remembered walking along these trails the first time they had visited Dulais. Cliff had shown them around the old castle ruins as he recited poetry. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Mark had been the only person that was convinced a union between the gays and the miners would work. He had, of course, been right.

Mike brushed his hands through the grass. He felt at home amongst the hills in the rural landscape. He was closer to nature this way. He'd always been fond of gardening and it helped him to relax. When Mark had been in hospital he'd started a small gardening plot in the back of the flat they had shared. Mike chatted quite animatedly about the progress of the plants and in the last few days in had been able to bring in photographs of the small shoots that were beginning to poke through the earth. Mike had hoped he would be able to bring in a bunch of the flowers grown from his garden when they were ready but unfortunately that was never to be. Mark had passed away soon after the shoots had appeared. They hadn't let Mike see him the day Mark died. Instead he'd sat in the waiting room with Gethin. The others had visited throughout the week but Gethin had been there almost as frequently as Mike had. He didn't cry when he heard the news. He sat in the cold, hard plastic chair in the waiting room and stared at the wall. Mike didn't know how long he sat there for but he was snapped out of his daze by Joe who handed him a carefully wrapped sandwich and a flask of tea. He took the items and walked out of the hospital in a foggy haze.

He'd worked in his garden all night. Steph had found him the next morning passed out and covered in dark soil from head to toe. She'd taken him inside and pushed him towards the shower. Finally he'd been able to cry. As the hot water flowed over his body and he watched the dirt wash down the drain, his legs gave way and he fell onto the cold tiles. The soapy water was mixed with the salty tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He heard Steph's concerned voice shouting through the door. He was barely able to let out a choked noise to let her know he was ok. He felt a sharp stinging sensation in his knees and as he looked down he saw a trace of blood swirling in the water. His knees had been damaged when he fell. His chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe properly as the grief overwhelmed him. He was both mentally and physically exhausted from the last few weeks. Steph had almost been about to break down the bathroom door when Mike had finally emerged. His knees had already started to bruise but the bleeding had stopped. He had noticed Steph looking at his knees but she said nothing. She helped him get ready for bed before crashing on the sofa. He had been grateful that she stayed.

He dreamt that night of Mark. The Irishman was helping him in his garden and questioning Mike about what the different flowers meant. The flowers grew fast in his dream and soon bloomed into daffodils. Mike was momentarily confused because he had been sure that he had planted poppies but somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he was dreaming. When the daffodils were fully grown Mark helped to pick them and the two men sat laughing as they weaved the flowers into a grown. Mark looked like an angel in his golden daffodil crown. It had been a pleasant dream and one that Mike still thought fondly of. He'd written it down in a notebook the next morning along with a rough drawing of Mark in his crown of daffodils. He smiled a little as he watched the sun begin to set behind the Welsh hills. Daffodils were the national flower of Wales so it made sense that he had dreamt of them. Mark had finally found a family in the small Welsh village of Dulais. As the sunlight faded and the red and blue sky transformed into a deep purple, Mike heard his name being called. Margaret was walking up the trail behind him; wrapped up in a thick coat with a matching set of gloves, scarf and hat. In her arms she carried an extra pair of gloves and a scarf. Mike gladly took the woolly items and the pair walked back towards the village together in silence; preparing themselves for the challenges that tomorrow would bring.