A/N I've decided as a pick-me-up after this week to continue this. The title probably won't fit the story anymore, but never mind.
Hope you like...

July 15th 2012

Every footstep felt like the biggest effort to Ste as he walked through the village towards his home on the Council Estate about a mile away. He had been at the restaurant since 7'o'clock that morning, and was now dead on his feet having got the last bus home from the centre of Chester at Midnight. It was now rapidly approaching 12.30am and all Ste could think of was sinking into his bed and sleeping for an eternity. Though it was the middle of July, as usual the English summer was being temperamental and Ste shivered as a cool breeze skipped among the trees lining his route. He hoped the weather would improve for tomorrow as it was his day off and he wanted to get out into the garden to work on his tan.

Ste made his way across the courtyard below the club where he used to work. The building seemed to loom large in his conscience and he felt an urge to lift his head and look up at it. He felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body as his eyes meet those of a shady figure stood on the balcony above him. The figure was eerily still, standing rigidly straight, just staring, like he was trying to bore his way into Ste's very soul.

Brendan was watching him again, like he had every night for the past week. The first time Ste had noticed him standing up there, he had been on his way home like usual from his job at the restaurant. As he had walked past the club he heard a noise above him, when he had looked up he saw him, up high like he was surveying his kingdom, only he seemed to be completely focused on Ste alone. He was unmoving, his stare merciless. Ste found himself grinding to a halt as his eyes met Brendan's, was he going to say something to him? But Brendan remained stock-still, just looking.

The next night was the same again, and then the night after that one too. All that week Brendan stood up on the balcony just staring at Ste. Ste tried to tell himself not to stop, not to look up, to walk a different route, but every night that week he found himself taking that short-cut through the courtyard, his head instinctively lifting, looking up to see if Brendan was there. Each time he was, standing there completely immobile, Ste could almost believe he was a statue, apart from the way his eyes seemed to dance as they held Ste's in their unrelenting gaze.

Again Ste found himself motionless, almost powerless under Brendan's unflinching scrutiny. As Ste finally managed to drag his eyes away and find his feet Brendan took a step forward, placing both his hands firmly on the rail of the balcony. "Do you know that today is Saint Swithun's Day Stephen?" Brendan asked. Ste, startled, stopped in his tracks and turned back around to see Brendan walking down the steps from the balcony into the courtyard. With every step he took Brendan continued "they say whatever the weather is like today, so it will be for the next forty days."

Ste found himself totally unable to articulate any thought, he stood there mouth opening and closing as Brendan approached him slowly, smoothly, before he came to a stop directly in front of him. He seemed to stand there expectantly for a minute before asking "New job going well for ye?" All Ste could do was nod, he still found himself utterly speechless, after all this was the first time Brendan had really acknowledged his presence in almost three weeks. "Good good" Brendan said patting Ste on the check twice, then his hand sort of lingered in the air near Ste's face as Brendan ducked in closer to him, just for a moment before he turned on his heel abruptly, running back up the steps to the club and disappearing in through the fire-door.

Ste just stood motionlessly, staring open-mouthed at the retreating back of Brendan. Ste could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his palms felt clammy and his mind was whirring madly whilst at the same time feeling completely blank, what had just happened? He jumped as his mobile started ringing in his pocket, as he looked down at the caller display he felt a strange sense of guilt wash over him.
"Hey Vaughn" he answered it, picturing the blonde waiter from the restaurant.
"Hey babe" came the reply, "just checking we're still on for tomorrow?"
"Yep sure thing"
"Great see ya then"
"Can't wait" Ste ended the call. He still felt oddly shaken from his encounter with Brendan. He threw the club one last glance, tried to shake his head of what had just happened and continued on his journey home.

July 15th 2015

Brendan woke up to the feel of fingers tracing a pattern up and down his spine. He groaned and opened one eye cautiously, no it was no good the room was definitely still spinning. How much alcohol had he consumed last night? He couldn't remember, his head was a fuzzy mess through which the memories of the previous night were coming through distorted and incomplete. He groaned again.

The fingers on his back had now disappeared and had been replaced by a gentle nibbling on his neck. "Morning" a voice caressed him. Brendan let out a low growl and rolled over onto his back carefully. In his half-conscious hungover state he was seriously tempted to tell the owner of those fingers and lips to feck off, but then a supple pair of hands started to track a path down his body, over his abdomen and then lower still. Full soft lips, which teased a line sucking, licking and kissing, to the top of his groin followed them. Brendan heard himself softly moan as he felt a familiar stirring. Fuck he was in no fit state for this, but he wanted it, wanted it badly. Fuck.

He attempted to open his eyes again, lifted his head and looked down at the source of both his pleasure and torture. A pair of cat-like blue eyes shone mischievously back at him. Eyebrows raised suggestively "is everything ok, would you like me to stop?" Ste sniggered. Brendan could feel himself harden. Fuck he wanted it. "Stephen!" Brendan warned, but Ste had already clocked the desire written into every line of his body and dipped his head down tongue flicking out. Despite himself Brendan felt himself lift his hips just a fraction from the bed thrusting his groin upwards towards where Ste was lying between his legs. God he wanted it bad, his whole body now pulsing with an insatiable longing.

As the white heat faded from his veins Brendan let his head fall back into the comfort of the thick pillow and felt Ste curl himself into his side. As he dozed off into a post-ecstasy slumber Brendan mulled over the fact that after nearly five years his desire for a certain blue-eyed, cocky, annoying as hell Mancunian had not abated. He fell asleep with a smile playing on his lips, and his arms wrapped around the lithe body of his lover, the sun streaming into the room, through the large glass double doors causing the spent bodies to glow.

July 15th 2013

Brendan was sitting in the club office, as usual the lights were down low, and he was gripping a coffee mug tightly in one hand. He took a swig from the mug and felt the comforting heat of the whisky sear a path down his throat. He leaned back in his chair and tried to block out the angry voices that were spinning round and round in his head. It was no good, he reached into his desk drawer pulling out his bottle of Jameson Whiskey. He unscrewed the top and poured some more into his cup, paused then added another good glug. He set the bottle onto the desk then resumed his laid back position in the chair.

He recalled the last words Stephen had spoken to him, over a week ago. "Your still not really committed to this relationship are you?" Stephen had cried. Brendan had taken a number of deep breaths, fists clenching and unclenching by his side. How could Stephen believe that was true after everything he had done for him over the past few months? Had he not taken him away for a trip of a lifetime; had he not calmly accepted the fact that Stephen would have to work long hours day after day, week after week with his ex; granted while he had not admitted outright that they were a couple he also wasn't actively keeping it a secret, Christ enough people certainly knew to make sure of that. Surely Stephen should know him well enough by now that he wasn't a 'shout it from the rooftops' kinda guy. But to say he wasn't committed was wholly unfair as far as Brendan was concerned.

Stephen had walked away from him that day, nine days ago, or 216 hours or 12,960 minutes, but who was really counting?

He remembered Amy's harsh words to him
"He doesn't want to see you."
"Please leave now."
"Ste should never have placed his trust in you."
"You haven't changed, not really."
"You can't change can you?"
"Everything always had to be on your terms, what about what Ste wanted?"

He remembered the tatty door of the council flat being slammed time and again, over and over, until it no longer opened at all, no matter how hard he hammered.

He felt a stab to his core as he pictured the look of disappointment on Cheryl's face when she heard what had happened. He hated to think of his baby sister ever being disappointed with him, but there it was written all over her face.

Brendan took another swig of the whiskey, desperate to make the pain disappear, longing for the numb emptiness it would reward him with. At that moment Cheryl came barrelling into the office. "So here you are," then she clocked the bottle of whiskey on the desk. "Bren how is this going to help," she asked, pointing at the offending bottle and eyeing up the mug in his hand suspiciously

Brendan sighed "what do you want Sis?"

"I want you to sort yourself out and stop moping around like some lovelorn teenager, you're Brendan flippin' Brady for goodness sake," Cheryl shouted, then looked down at him lovingly, continuing more softly "you're you own worst enemy, always have been, but I not gonna stand back and watch you be beaten by your own stubborn nature anymore."

"Wha?" Brendan could begin to feel the effect of the whiskey on him, his head felt more muffled, his reactions slowed down, the constant ache deep within dulled.

"You are going to fix this mess." Cheryl said firmly.