I spend the next four days undergoing further psychiatric tests. It leaves me drained afterwards but I persevere, waiting for the moment they tell me I can leave this place. By the fifth day, I'm waiting for their verdict. Cheryl waits with me, holding my hand tightly in her own. Nate is in the room too, hovering in the corner like a ghostly presence. Steven hasn't been here since that night spent in my bed.
I try not to dwell on it too closely but inevitably it becomes an obsession. When I close my eyes at night I remember his face after I accused him of giving up on me. I remember his smell when I pull the covers up to my chin. I remember his laugh when I lie in the early morning light, staring blankly at the ceiling.
I can feel Cheryl's eyes on me constantly, desperate for something to draw me out of my stupor. It's an impossibility; I can't feel anything but frustrated and confused and without Steven around to ground me, my hope dwindles for a recovery.
Worst of all, I begin to have nightmares. Flashes of memories that I can't grasp, smells I don't recognise. Hot, putrid breath on the back of my neck. I feel it when I wake the next morning and I can't shake the feeling that comes over me. I don't tell Cheryl.
The doctor comes in to see me mid-morning, holding my chart against her chest.
"Brendan." She smiles as she greets me.
"What are the results?" Cheryl blurts out, gripping my hand tighter. Nate moves imperceptibly closer to us.
"It's good news," she says, but her face tells me it isn't entirely good news. "I have every hope that Brendan will make a full recovery, in his own time."
Cheryl lets out a loud breath of exultation. "That's amazing," she gushes, turning to me with tears in her eyes. She pulls me into a warm embrace.
"Yeah," I mumble, wondering why the doctor is looking at me with a serious expression on her face.
"Miss Brady, could I have a word outside please?"
Cheryl's smile fades as she says this, the colour draining from her face.
"Of course," she murmurs, following the doctor from the room. I watch them leave, my heartbeat beginning to pick up speed.
"It's okay, Brendan," Nate says gently, laying a hand on my shoulder and pressing some of his weight against me. He isn't reassuring; his eyes are tight, his mouth pinched. I swallow thickly, wondering what could be so bad that they have to hide it from me.
Cheryl returns to the room sooner than expected. She sniffs, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She gives me a watery smile. "They're letting you out of here, Bren," she tells me, her voice breaking. Nate moves an inch towards her but hesitates when she shakes her head at him. "I brought you some clothes," she says, bustling around in the bag she brought with her. "We'll give you some privacy to get dressed," she says, unnaturally sober.
"They're letting me out that soon?"
"Soon as you're discharged." She attempts a smile again but it doesn't sit well on her face. "We'll just be outside, okay?"
I nod, holding the bag of clothes in my hands. Nate steers her out of the room, glancing back once at me before closing the door after them.
I take out a pair of sweats, relieved to finally be wearing trousers. I notice as I take off the gown how defined my chest is; the t-shirt Cheryl's given me is strained over the broadness of it. I haven't thought too much about my apparent stint in prison but it makes sense to me for my body to be built this way.
I swing my legs out of the bed, putting on the shoes left for me. I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling the most normal I've felt in days.
Cheryl and Nate re-enter the room and I can tell they've been having a serious talk. Nate's eyes dart towards her at every opportunity as we wait for the all-clear. Cheryl holds herself stiffly in the chair beside my bed as though tensed to get me out of here. I'm discharged at twelve o'clock and by quarter past, we're in Nate's car driving to our new flat.
The flat is spacious and modern, with two master bedrooms and one box room. I ask Cheryl how we can afford it and she tells me Nate is rich. I file that away for later, wondering how I can still give my share. I choose the bedroom at the far end, with the view. The room is bare save a king size bed and a chest of drawers. Cheryl's already left me some clothes and other necessities, which I take into the en-suite bathroom.
I glance at myself in the mirror, noting that I have a beard developing. I rub my face idly, picking up the shaving cream and razor. I shave until there's a light stubble but it's only when I pause to look at myself properly again that I realise I've left the hair above my lip alone, as if out of habit. I brush my fingertips over the hair, feeling a memory tug at me. I put the razor down.
When I re-enter my bedroom, Cheryl is sitting on the bed, staring at the bedcovers as if they hold all the answers. I close the bathroom door to get her attention, not wanting to startle her. She looks up at me in surprise, her face creasing into a smile.
"You shaved."
"Seemed right," I reply, rifling through my bag of clothes for a warmer jumper. "Lot of suits in here," I tell her.
"That's right," she says. She doesn't offer any further explanation. "What do you think of the place then?"
I shrug. "Close to the hospital."
She winces. "We thought that was best."
I wave my hand dismissively. "I get it. Where's the nearest village around here anyway?"
Her eyes widen in astonishment. "Why?"
"Fancied a walk, thought I'd pick us up something for dinner."
She bites her lip, deliberating. "Are you sure you should be going out by yourself?"
"I'm not ill, Cheryl," I remind her, trying not to sound angry. Truth is, I need the space. I haven't had a moment to myself since… I can't remember when.
"I know, but you might confuse yourself," she points out worriedly.
"More than I am already? I doubt that. Look, give me a mobile and if I get lost I'll call you, okay?"
She hesitates, unsure. Eventually however, she relents. "Okay, take my phone. We still need to sort you out with one."
I take it gratefully, shrugging a jacket over my clothes. "I won't be long," I assure her.
"Here, take this too." She hands me a few notes. "You can pay me back later," she adds from the look on my face.
Nate watches me pass through the flat without comment, even when I make it to the door.
"Brendan?"
I turn around, waiting for the same speech from him as I got from Cheryl.
"Take a key," he says instead, placing one into my palm. I nod in thanks, closing the door after me.
There's a cold breeze outside but the sun is out, so I leave my jacket undone. I walk away from the flat building, towards the main road. I don't know where I'm heading exactly but it's a strangely comforting feeling. I walk absently, not taking in my surroundings. Eventually I reach an estate, or at least what used to be one. I pause, the derelict building not the one catching my eye.
Steven is sat outside on a step, knees drawn up protectively to his chest. His chin rests on his knees, staring unseeing into the distance. It takes him a while to notice me and when he does he starts, almost jumping up from his space.
"Don't get up on my account," I tell him, voice low. I sit beside him on the step, far enough away that I don't spook him.
"You surprised me," he says accusingly, but he instantly relaxes. "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," I admit honestly. "I was going for a walk and ended up here."
He frowns at that but says nothing.
We sit in silence for a while, not looking at each other. His arms are wrapped around his small frame and he's shivering. I notice he's only wearing a thin shirt. I shrug out of my jacket, placing it around his shoulders, trying not to touch him directly. He doesn't glance up, just pulls it tight around himself.
"You left me," I say, surprised at the emotion behind the words. He looks up then, eyes wide and startled.
"Sorry," he mumbles, collecting himself.
"It's okay," I respond automatically, and we immediately lapse back into silence.
"It's hard," he says eventually, with a sigh.
"I know, I'm not an idiot."
"I didn't say you were."
"I get it; you don't wanna be around me right now, it's too much."
"No." He shakes his head, looking ruffled. "That's not it."
I look at him carefully, meeting his uneasy gaze. "What then?"
"Don't matter." He looks away again, resting his chin back on his knees.
"What are you doing here then?" I ask by way of making conversation.
He glances at me briefly before responding. "Used to live here."
"Yeah?"
"So did you."
I blink, taken off guard. "I did?"
"We both did," he says quietly.
"What happened?"
"Blew up," he says so bluntly I almost laugh.
"Anyone get hurt?"
His face gives nothing away.
"Where you living now then?" I ask, trying to get more out of him.
His face changes then, he looks almost guilty. "Around," he says unhelpfully.
"Meaning?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters," I say more sternly than I meant to. I sound like his dad. The thought makes me go suddenly cold all over but I don't know why. It's only when Steven touches my arm gently that I jerk back to reality.
"Are you okay?"
"You didn't answer my question, why should I answer yours?"
He rolls his eyes, smirking a little. "Fine, you really wanna know?"
I give him a pointed look.
"I live in a bedsit, alright?" He looks away, ashamed.
"A bedsit? Why?" I can't make sense of what he's telling me. "I thought you said you had family."
"I do, the ones that count these days anyway," he says under his breath. "But Amy has her own life, I couldn't stay on her sofa forever."
"Amy?" I ask in some confusion.
He looks at me then, his face softening. "Mother of my two kids, Leah and Lucas." He watches my face for a reaction but doesn't seem to get what he was looking for, so instead he turns away from me.
"I can't help it you know," I tell him, resting my forehead on my folded arms.
"I know that," he says carefully. "You just caught me at a bad time, that's all."
"Do you want me to go?"
"No," he says quickly, then flushes. "I mean, it's a free country."
"That right?"
"You're the one who found me here."
"Not intentionally."
"Maybe not."
I stare at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
He shifts a little. "You obviously remember how to get here, deep down. That must mean something."
I process this slowly. "You said we used to live here."
"Yeah."
"Was I happy here?"
His eyes lock with mine, blue on blue. "I hope so," he whispers it so softly I almost don't hear him.
I feel as though I'm being pulled out of my body in the next few moments. Instinctively I lean towards him, my eyes not leaving his. Our bodies are close enough to touch now and I use this advantage to reach out with my hand. I place it solidly against his cheek, stroking the underside of his jaw. I can feel the stirrings of stubble there, can see it visible above his lips. I'm drawn there next, the pad of my thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He shivers a little.
"Brendan," he protests weakly. I see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Want me to stop?" I ask, my voice coming out hoarse and low.
He shakes his head, leaning in to my touch. I grow bolder, closing the distance between us by replacing my thumb with my lips, lightly touching them together. It's like a spark of electricity, as cliché as it sounds. Without meaning to, I pull him close, prying his lips apart to get a taste of him. It's intoxicating.
My hands end up tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to me. He ends up half on my lap, our lips caught up in a wild frenzy. I feel heat shoot through my body at his touch, blood rushing to my groin. I groan against his lips, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth in my haste.
He pulls away with a whoosh of air, fingers immediately flying to his mouth. He stares at me with wide, wild eyes. Desire is radiating off of him in waves and like two magnets, we come back together again, bodies moulding together, my hands pressing against his back.
His hands find their way up my shirt, the cold contact on my skin making me flinch involuntarily, laughing against his mouth. He smiles with me. He climbs fully into my lap now, lowering the two of us onto the ground. I can feel how hard he is and press myself against him to show him that I'm the same. For a moment I think we're actually going to fuck right there and then but then something changes in his expression.
"What's wrong, Steven?" My voice comes out strained.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers, moving out of my lap and taking his warmth with him.
"We can go somewhere more private," I offer and for a moment he looks tempted. Then he shakes his head, mussing his hair with his fingers.
"No, this isn't right. I'm taking advantage."
I bark out a laugh, incredulous. "You serious?"
He rolls his eyes at me, exasperated. "I might want this, but you don't have a clue who you are."
"So?" I move towards him again, unable to stop myself. "I want this."
"You don't know what you want," he says quietly, a sad smile on his face.
"I want you." My voice deepens and again he looks torn. He stands up, shivering once more.
"I can't," he says weakly.
I bow my head, feeling gloom and disappointment settle over me. It isn't just about the desire I feel for him, it's more than that. I feel connected to him, the most connected I've felt to anyone since the accident. I want to explore what it all means but I can tell he's resolved on this one. I'm beginning to learn what a stubborn bastard he is.
"Okay," I say eventually. "But don't rush off anywhere, not yet. I don't know when I'll see you again." I make it clear that seeing him again is non-negotiable. His eyes lock with mine once more and I wonder if he's going to change his mind.
"Where you staying?" He says after a while, shaking himself.
My mind goes blank. "I don't remember the address. I'm with Cheryl and Nate though."
He nods at this. "I'll call her." He's about to leave when I jump up, grabbing his arm.
"Hey, you can't stay in a bedsit."
He laughs a little, his eyes sparkling. "Same old Brendan," he sighs a little sadly. "I'll be alright, don't worry."
"Bad company in those places."
He points to himself deprecatingly. "Bad company, me."
"Seriously, come back with me. Cheryl won't mind."
He chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment, but stops when he sees me gazing in that direction.
"I'll think about it," he answers eventually.
I nod, appeased for now. He's about to leave until I squeeze his arm tighter, unaware that I'm still holding it.
"I… don't know where I'm going," I admit sheepishly.
He smiles at this. "Where were you heading? Before you found me?"
"The shops," I say slowly.
"To do what?"
"I wanted to get some food in."
He chuckles at this. "You can't cook to save your life."
"No?"
"I'd know. You gave me food poisoning once."
"Seriously?"
He laughs. "No, not really. You aren't the best though."
"You're the chef," I tell him. "Maybe you should help."
He raises his eyebrows at me, working out my hidden agenda easily.
"You're trying to get me home for dinner, aren't you?"
I shrug. "You can't be eating right there, I can fit my hand around you."
"Don't be soft." He's smiling again though, looking resigned. "Alright, one meal. On one condition."
"Anything." I promise.
"You let me cook it."
"Deal," I say quickly. He grins at me and I grin back, feeling a lightness settle in the pit of my stomach. "Lead the way then."