A/N: So the next chapter of 'Inevitable' is nearly finished, but I decided to write a really angsty fic because ouch. Sorry. Don't read if you don't want to see anything to do with Ste post Brendan's exit.

I hurt myself in this fic.

The steady beat of the club's music pounded loudly in his ears, the sound of people laughing and flirting drunkenly surrounded him as they sung along, normally badly, to the music playing. The club was busy, after all it was a Saturday night, and the dancefloor was filled with men and women alike out to find a good time. Out to enjoy themselves. It wasn't his intention at all. The dim lighting of the club served only as good company to his sour mood and his dark thoughts. It was just, drinking at home got a bit repetitive after a while.

Ste grimaced as he let the last bit of whisky in his tumbler run down his throat, sending warmth through him. He didn't even like whisky, not really. He thought it was rank if he was going to be honest, but there was something about the aftertaste of Irish whisky lingering in his mouth that he found pleasure in. The familiarity almost comforted him. Almost being the operative word… He sighed and ordered another, pushing the glass towards the barman along with a note to pay for it. He felt a little better when the next glass of whisky was placed down in front of him. Alcohol. Alcohol always helped. It numbed him a bit, dulled the pain that never seemed to go away, no matter how hard he tried. It was always there. Had been for weeks. He couldn't stop it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it. Saw the gunshot, felt the heartbreak all over again, the tears running down his cheeks. The warmth in his heart slowly slipping away.

"I love you!"

"You changed everything, Steven!"

He swallowed and gritted his teeth, pushing the memories away along with the pain that came with it. He shook his head and grimaced, downing the whisky in one go, gripping the glass tightly in his hand. He inhaled and glanced around the club, seeing a pair of blue eyes watching him. Across the bar, a tall, dark, good-looking man was watching him, smiling. He can go fuck himself. Ste came out to get drunk, to ease away the pain. He didn't need other people getting involved. They didn't understand. Doug had already tried to get involved, tried to drag Ste out of the dark and support him. Ste didn't need his support. He hated Brendan. They all did.

They all sent him their 'condolences' daily, the rest of the village. He didn't even know what that word meant – 'condolences' – but he reckoned it was something to do with them taking pity on him for what happened. It was all so fake, so insincere. The entire village was glad that Brendan was gone, he knew they were. They all thought he got what he deserved, they all thought he deserved to be locked away with the key thrown away. He used to always hear them badmouth him or talk about him with disgust. Then all of a sudden, they were caring and compassionate and sending him love for what had happened. But the truth was, Ste was alone. They all thought he was an idiot for still loving him.

In the time it took Ste to down another glass of whisky, the good-looking man from across the bar seemed to have plucked up the courage to approach Ste, smiling gently. He stopped beside Ste and leaned on the counter, his body somewhat closer to Ste than he actually felt comfortable with. He caught a small hint of his aftershave. It was musky and deep. It was almost familiar. He looked up into the stranger's eyes, their shade of blue was too light and the lines of wrinkles were shaped too differently for Ste to make any connection with them, but there was something about the way he was looking at him that sent a rush of familiarity through him. He was in his late 20's or maybe his early 30's (it was hard to tell) but Ste cared for little else about the man beside him. All he knew was that he was lonely. He needed something stronger than alcohol to blot out the pain.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The older man offered. Ste laughed bitterly.

"You know what…?" Ste replied, putting down his glass. "I reckon I've had enough..."

"Oh." The older man seemed hesitant, like he was considering counting his losses and walking away with his dignity now. Ste turned on the stool and faced the stranger.

"But um…I'm St…" He started, staring up at the other man, telling himself that this was good for him. This would clear the pain. He blinked and realised he was midway through introducing himself. "Steven. My name is Steven."

The older man nodded and leaned on the bar so he and Ste were level and Ste recognised the hunger in the stranger's eyes. "Do they call you anything for short, Steven?"

He shivered at the name. "No." He blinked and ignored the dizziness brought on by the excessive alcohol; he was slowly realising that he was beyond drunk. He knew he was drunk. He didn't even care.

"Do you wanna dance, Steven?"

"No." He stood up and grabbed the older man, pushing their lips together hard before breaking away. "Come with me."

Their taxi journey back to Ste's place was quiet, with the older man just staring at Ste with hungry eyes, waiting for the rest of the night. Ste didn't even ask the other man's name. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to feel warm again for the rest of the night, wanted to blot away all the pain with something stronger than alcohol. He didn't even look at the stranger as the taxi drove the 20 minute drive to the flat that he had shared with Brendan just a few months ago. The flat that was meant to be another stepping stone on their walk to their happily ever after. The happily ever after that they never got because of what Brendan did.

It was raining outside, Ste noticed as he kept his gaze on the blurry view of the streetlamps and their orange glow streaking past the taxi. He exhaled heavily, dizzy reminders of the night he stumbled into a taxi, leaving Dublin airport, ready to find his man again. His breath steamed up the window, blocking out the view with a white haze of condensation. He didn't care enough to draw patterns on the glass like he did all those months ago in December. He had been excited then. Ste didn't feel excited now. In fact, he didn't really feel anything.

He struggled to get the key in the lock as they stood out in the rain, letting the cold drizzle sting his bare skin. He shivered and got inside, ignoring the cold emptiness of the flat. He turned the lamp on and looked around as the stranger followed him inside. The lamp didn't emit the comforting, warm, amber glow that it used to, but instead it felt harsh, highlighting the corners that were bare, without decorations or children's toys or Brendan's clothes. The flat didn't feel like a home anymore. He swayed unsteadily on his feet and watched the stranger with dark eyes. He saw him approaching him but did nothing. He didn't respond until the older man's lips were on his. He slid his arms around him and kissed him back, hungrily, dragging him to the bedroom.

The stranger was on top of him before he could even count to 10. Not like he was sober enough to remember the order of the numbers right now… He groaned and bit at the man's lips, silently begging him. He felt warm hands sneak under his clothing, pulling his tee off his torso, caressing his hairless, smooth skin as he kissed his neck. Ste just closed his eyes and relished it, the intimacy. He wasn't fucking alone. Not tonight.

"You're so fucking hot, Steven…" The stranger drawled slowly as he licked a trail down to Ste's nipples, licking them, gently pulling on them with his teeth. Ste almost imagined the man's voice was Irish. Almost. He moaned breathlessly and shivered as he drawled his name, feeling the warmth travel straight down to his crotch. He bucked his hips shamelessly and the older man reached down, rubbing him, cupping his balls through his tracksuit. He whimpered at the contact, pushing into his hand as he kept his eyes shut, feeling warm hands massage him, teasingly gripping his dick through the fabric.

"Fuck, please…" Ste begged before he could stop himself.

The stranger chuckled and then Ste was naked underneath him, panting. He didn't even open his eyes but the noises he heard told him that the stranger was currently in the process of getting himself naked too. Then he felt the older man's warm flesh against his as he leaned down to capture Ste's mouth, rubbing their lengths together, groaning into each other's mouths. The contact was driving Ste crazy. He didn't know if his dizziness was down to the alcohol or the hard on…

He slid his arms around the older man, dragging his nails down his back as he heard the older man tearing open a condom. He felt a warm hand parting his legs and willingly spread his thighs, allowing the older man access to his body, longing for the warmth inside of him that would tell him that he was alive. That he could feel after he lost him. He pulled his legs up and whimpered, feeling a digit press against his entrance, awaiting permission. Ste bucked his hips against the stranger's fingers and moaned as a lube covered finger slid into his opening, teasing the muscle gently. Ste gasped and arched his back, groaning. It had been so damn long. He needed this. Needed to feel something.

He greedily accepted a second digit and rocked his hips back and forth, moaning softly as the stranger slid his fingers in and out of Ste's entrance, relaxing the muscle. Ste exhaled shakily and tried to relieve the tense grip his muscles had. Somewhere during the time that the stranger was fucking Ste with two of his fingers, Ste felt it. The pressure against that spot that caused his muscles to loosen and his body to shiver with anticipation. That used to happen almost straight away…

"I'm…ready…" Ste gasped, not opening his eyes. He didn't want to see the stranger; he didn't much care for him. It wasn't about that. It was about the sex, the feeling, being alive. He was… sobering up….

He felt the fingers slide out of his opening and he whimpered at the loss before feeling a pair of rough hands on his ass, pushing him into a more comfortable position for the stranger and before Ste could register anything, the stranger was pushing his sheathed dick into Ste's entrance. He arched his back and reached up for the bedframe, letting out a moan. He reached up with his other hand and gripped the stranger's back, digging his fingers in as the stranger began taking long languid thrusts into Ste, making sure he was hitting Ste's spot from the word go. Ste couldn't do much else than to keep his eyes firmly shut and let out whimpers every time he felt the head of the strangers cock brush his prostate. The stranger groaned and sped up, his fingers pressed into Ste's skin. They both let out simultaneous moans and Ste started rotating his hips, allowing his prostate to be teased.

He heard the stranger groan and then he could feel the stranger's breath on his neck. He smelt of aftershave and whisky. Ste didn't remember if the stranger was drinking whisky or not but he sure smelt like it. It was so… familiar… so like…

"Fuck, Steven..." the stranger mumbled against his skin and Ste was sure he heard an Irish voice instead. Someone else's voice.

He arched his back and let himself fall into the blissful white in his mind, moaning loudly as Brendan started to pick up speed, his tongue teasing the nape of Ste's neck in the exact way that drove Ste crazy. Brendan thrust deeper into Ste and he groaned, the sound of Brendan's moaning and the slap of skin on skin filling his ears. His whole body burned with hot desire and the hairs on his body stood on end as Brendan began hitting his prostate with every thrust. His skin was throbbing with heat and he could feel the sweat that was slick on his skin. He dug his nails deep into Brendan's back and forced his body down onto Ste's so that their chests were almost touching. The hairs on Brendan's chest tickled Ste's bare skin and he smiled through his cries of ecstasy. He could almost feel Brendan's heart hammering in his ribcage, just as fast as Ste's was beating and he swore he could hear them beating in time with one another.

He threw his head back and cried out Brendan's name, feeling the tightness in his stomach and his muscles that told him he was close to orgasm. He felt the red hot sensation at the base of his back and the twitching in his cock. He reached down and gripped his dick, fisting it hard, in time with Brendan's thrusts, his mind spinning. He heard Brendan cry out loudly and felt his dick jolt inside Ste as he shot his hot load inside Ste. Ste whimpered and tightened himself around Brendan's length, revelling in the feeling of the older man's dick throbbing in him from his orgasm and dragged his nails across his skin.

His mind was bathed in a white, hot light and he cried out, his body throbbing as he felt his hot cum hit his chest. He felt so fucking alive here underneath Brendan, with Brendan. Orgasming with the man he loved so deep inside of him as if they were one. He whimpered and breathed raggedly, hardly able to sustain any kind of breathing. He felt his body tremble as the sweat cooled on his skin and his chest hammered violently with a threat to burst.

"Ye okay…?" He heard the familiar Irish voice and his eyes snapped open to meet Brendan's aquamarine eyes.

"That were…amazing, Brendan…" He whimpered helplessly and tried to regulate his breathing. He felt Brendan's length pull out of him and then he was trapped in Brendan's warm embrace. He cuddled into the Irishman's chest and smiled, listening to his heart beating. He was actually here, his heart was beating. Ste sniffled and felt himself tear up for reasons he didn't even know. He felt as if he missed Brendan even though his boyfriend was right there and then he laughed at his own absurdity.

"What're ye laughing at?" Brendan opened one eye and peered down at Ste, who could do nothing but grin lazily at his lover.

"Just thinkin'…" Ste shrugged. "About how much I love you."

Brendan smiled and closed his eyes. "I love you too." Ste inhaled Brendan's scent and eventually let sleep take him, bathing in Brendan's love and warmth.

When Ste woke up in the morning he was alone. The stranger had left. It was bizarre, when Ste thought about it. He wasn't sure when the sex had ended and sleep began – causing his dream. One had blurred into another and he could've sworn Brendan was with him. But he wasn't. He never was. It was the same bittersweet dream where Ste would wake up alone and broken hearted. He couldn't even pull without Brendan being in the forefront of his mind, twisting his imagination so it was like he was there only to leave Ste without warning again. He hated him for it. He hated Brendan so fucking much for not being there when Ste needed him. What kind of man falls in love and doesn't be there for the one they love? He needed Brendan and he wasn't there. And he hated him for it.

But the worst part was that he didn't.

He still loved Brendan fucking Brady so much.

And he could only ever have him in his dreams.