"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Brendan Brady jumped at the sight of the pale figure standing in his kitchen.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen a ghost by any means, but usually they respected his private space. He had found that simply pretending he didn't see them made them eventually go away. He was not interested in wasting his time on helping dead people resolve their issues.
This particular ghost, a short young man with strikingly blue eyes and a face that was too babyish to be attractive, had been haunting him all week, and he obviously had no sense of propriety. Brendan adjusted his boxer shots, yawned, and tried to pretend he didn't just let out a frightened yelp, but it was too late. The ghost's eyes lit up – as much as rather translucent ghost eyes can – and he cornered Brendan by the coffee maker.
"Aha! I knew you could see me!"
Brendan fumbled with the coffee container, pretending his annoyance was with the coffee and not himself for blowing his cover.
"Please. Please, just talk to me!" the ghost pleaded. "I need your help. There's no one else near here who can see us."
Brendan walked through the ghost and opened the fridge. He took a carton of milk out, smelled it, and satisfied that it hadn't gone bad yet, poured some into his empty coffee mug. Several large spoonfuls of sugar followed.
"Look," the ghost continued. "I-I can pay you. I know where Danny Houston is hiding his money. I can lead you to it if you help me."
Brendan poured hot coffee into the mug with milk and sugar. He set it down on the counter, stirring slowly. The dead young man started pacing, trying to come up with a more enticing offer.
"How much money?" Brendan asked, his back still turned.
"Two hundred thousand."
Brendan's eyebrows shot up momentarily. He turned to face the ghost.
"How can I be of help, ... I didn't catch your name?"
"Doug," the ghost replied immediately, a grin spreading on his pale face. "The name is Doug."
His smile faded as he continued, "I need you to talk to someone. My fiancé, Ste, in Hollyoaks."
"Hollyoaks, huh?" Brendan took a long, slurping sip of his coffee. "Well, Douglas, I happen to have some free time this week. Tell me, this fiancée, Ste? Stephanie? Is she cute?"
"Steven." Doug said. "And yes, he is."
Ste Hay sat alone in his darkened flat. Was life always going to be like this? Just as he finds something good, something worth living for, it gets taken away. First his kids, now Doug. The police assured him that they were doing all they could. In fact, the detective was a rather nice young bloke by the name of Joel Fox.
On one occasion, he made Ste a cup of tea and listened to his tear filled ramblings about his missing boyfriend. Fiancé. Ste kept forgetting that Doug had proposed to him the night before his disappearance. And Ste had said yes. It had seemed like his life was finally on track. He and Doug had been running the deli together for a while, and Doug made him happy. It was the kind of normal, stable life Ste really wanted. And once Amy saw he was done dealing drugs and lying about his sexuality, she might have let him see the kids again.
But all it took was one day to destroy everything. He had told the story to the police numerous times in the following months. When he woke up the day after the proposal, Doug was gone. Ste had given them the note Doug left on the counter.
Running errands. Back before lunch.
xo your fiancé
But he hadn't seen Doug since then. And apparently neither had anyone else. The detective had mentioned a few leads, but his partner strongly insinuated that Doug had just up and left Ste. Ste reacted to this by yelling at her until she threatened to arrest him. Once he had calmed down a bit, the detectives left, Detective Fox patting Ste consolingly on the arm on his way out.
That was the last he'd heard about the case in over a month. Where could Doug be? Was he okay? Had he just left Ste? What if he was hurt or dead? Ste couldn't decide which scenario seemed worse and was quite relieved when the doorbell interrupted his thoughts.
"Mr. Hay. Can I come in?" Detective Fox looked solemn.
"Yah, 'course," said Ste. "I wasn't expecting to see you here again. Do you have a lead? Have you found Doug?"
Ste braced himself for an answer, but Detective Fox shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hay. It seems that your fiancé was involved in some dirty business. That is likely the cause of his disappearance." He bit his lip before glancing at Ste. "We have reason to believe that he was killed over a drug deal. We have a suspect, but no usable evidence against him."
Ste grabbed onto the wall for support. Reason to believe that he was killed. A suspect.
"What? Who? Have you found..." Ste couldn't form the words.
The detective sighed. "We have found a body, but... we need... well, we need someone to identify his belongings, and then we can run a DNA test."
At these words, the tears disappeared from Ste's eyes. He had known. If he was honest, he had known all along. Doug wouldn't have just left him. Doug was gone.
"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll just get my coat."
He stopped in his tracks and turned back to face the detective. "Who is the suspect?"
Detective Fox hesitated.
"We're not technically supposed to reveal this information," he said, but at the look on Ste's face, he nodded and continued. "Danny Houston."
Brendan Brady was not a patient man. In fact, he was a very quick tempered man. And if it hadn't been for the promised 200,000 quid, he might have petitioned his church for an exorcism or something, anything, that would get rid of this whining dead chap who kept following him around.
Though Doug stopped short of asking "Are we there yet?" on their drive to Hollyoaks, his constant nervous glances at the speedometer made Brendan want to punch him in his doughy face. And he would have if it wasn't for the whole incorporeal thing.
Fuckin' ghosts.
Brendan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously, trying to ignore the disconcerting flickering of Doug's visage that he could only assume was due to stress.
"How much longer do we have?" Doug asked, and Brendan turned to look at him, ignoring the road in front of him for a dangerously long time.
"Are you serious?" Brendan spat. "Seriously?"
He returned his eyes to the road and grumbled, "Don't even understand why you're in the car with me."
"What was that?"
"I said, why don't you just Harry Potter yourself over there instead of getting on my nerves?"
"I don't trust you," Doug said.
Brendan glanced over at him quickly.
"You don't...? Trust? What the fuck does trust have to do with it? I want your money," he said, enunciating every syllable. "Get it? Money. Don't trust me. Never trust me."
He chuckled to himself for a few moments before looking back over at the now empty passenger seat. "Trust!"
Ste had been walking aimlessly for several hours when he was almost run over by a black sedan. The car swerved onto the sidewalk, tires screeching loudly. Ste fell backwards and hit the pavement hard with his head. A dark-haired, mustached man jumped out of the car as soon as it had come to a complete stop. He wore a leather jacket and jeans that were tight in all the right places. Ste immediately berated himself for that thought, blamed it on having hit his head, and tried to stand up, groaning.
Having swerved at the last moment and saved himself the trouble of having to wipe up some scrawny lad off the street with a mop, Brendan exited his car quickly and ran towards his almost-victim.
"Can you watch where you're going?" he shouted. "I almost just killed you. Are you alright? Can you get up? I didn't even hit you!"
He helped the lad stand up, and his annoyance faded as he noticed a large gash on the back of his head.
"Oi, you're hurt. I'll take you to the hospital."
"I'm alright." Ste stuttered, but Brendan paid him no mind. He ushered him into the passenger seat of his car.
"Don't bleed on my seat, got it?"
Ste glanced at him in horror, but Brendan's mouth twisted into a toothy grin.
"Just joking," he said. "I'm Brendan."
"Hi," Ste said, still feeling woozy from the fall. This Brendan bloke had the most gorgeous blue eyes.
"Did ya forget your name?" Brendan asked. "Should I call an ambulance? Do you know who you are?"
"No, yes, yes, I know who... my name is Steven Hay."
"Nice to meet you, Steven Hay. Buckle up!" Brendan closed the passenger door and walked around to his side of the car.
Ste felt awful. Partly because his head was throbbing, but mostly because the last thing he wanted to do was spend the night in the waiting room of a hospital.
"I can't... I don't want to go to the hospital," he said just as Brendan had gotten back on the road.
Brendan considered for a moment.
"Well I can't leave you alone if you might have a concussion," he said.
He wasn't exactly sure why he said that. It wasn't like him to play the good Samaritan. This bloke just looked so sad and pathetic that Brendan felt sorry for him the way one might for a sick puppy left in the rain. They finally agreed to spend some time in the lobby of Brendan's hotel, until Brendan was assured that Steven was ok.
"I could get a first aid kit and patch that up for you," Brendan said after Ste touched the back of his head awkwardly for the 100th time. "C'mon, we'll get a cup of tea for you and a whisky for me, and watch some telly."
Brendan motioned toward the elevator and Steven obediently followed. It occurred to Ste how it must look, going to a hotel room with a stranger in the middle of the night, but he honestly just didn't care anymore. He followed Brendan, unsure and uncaring of what his intentions were.
He was only mildly surprised when Brendan, after cleaning and bandaging his cut, sat on the opposite end of the couch and turned on the television.
"You're staring." Brendan said, turning to meet Ste's eyes.
"I'm sorry!" Ste muttered.
Brendan returned to watching the TV. Ste continued to stare.
"Steven." Brendan said, without looking this time.
"It's just..." Ste spoke up. "When you brought me here, I thought you was either gonna kill me or try to y'know... seduce me, right?"
Brendan didn't laugh.
"How do you know I'm not?" he said, eyes still firmly fixed on the television. He smiled a crooked half smile and glanced over at Ste. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Steven."
Seduction, for Brendan, was certainly an option. But he liked to play with his prey. And he wanted to be sure Steven wanted it, too. Lastly, he was more than a little worried that his least favorite ghost might turn up and ruin a good time. Where was Douglas, anyway? Probably haunting his fiancé. Wasn't his name Steven also? Brendan's head involuntarily turned to look at the young blond next to him. Nah, that would be too weird of a coincidence, he decided.
They returned to watching cartoons, exchanging occasional glances and giggles.
"How's yer head?" Brendan asked after a while.
"Better," said Ste. "It's late, I should..."
"Someone waiting up for you?"
"No, I just..." Ste shrugged. Brendan's gaze seemed to burn into him. It was obvious what he wanted. And just as obvious that he wasn't going to make the first move.
Ste wasn't ready for this. He got up to leave, and Brendan politely offered him a ride home. Insisting that the walk will do him good, Ste put on his coat as Brendan opened the door for him. Instinctively, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Ste planted a quick kiss on Brendan's lips before heading out. He stopped in the hallway and turned around to face Brendan slowly.
"I... I don't know why I... I'm sorry," he muttered, but he couldn't help noticing that Brendan's ears had suddenly turned red.
"It's no bother, mate," Brendan said, and the composure of his voice did not betray how flustered he felt at the jolt Steven's kiss produced in his body.
With an awkward wave and a small smile, Ste was gone, leaving Brendan grinning stupidly as he fell onto his bed.