Okay, you're right. I can't fit everything I need to in one last chapter. I admit I had a way to conclude it, but upon consideration I think I need to give some things a little more time. So this is not the last chapter!
The reason I want to wrap this up is cos I worry about my own ability to conclude things! A lot of people have been messaging about 'the Art of Trying' but I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to wrap it up. Since Seamus came onto the actual show, that fic feels so dated and wrong that I can't really bring myself to go back to it. So I'm really sorry about that – but promise not to let it happen with this one.
Thanks to brilliant timing, I have now changed my original plan for Brendan's prison sentence in this, so that it now coincides (almost spookily well) with what's happening on the show. So he went to prison for a sexual assault he didn't commit, and that was the last time he saw Ste before this fic started.
This is a really dark chapter. Sometimes I don't even know what the fuck I was thinking. I wasn't planning on writing a flashback chapter like this, but alas, here it is. Warning: Ste/Walker.
XOXOXOXOXOX
"Brendan Brady, I am arresting you on suspicion of sexual assault and bodily harm. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"
"Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah."
"Brendan, what's happening?!"
"You can't arrest him!" Ste cries, "He said he ain't done ought wrong!"
"Steven, look at me," Brendan says desperately, only limited time before he's dragged into the police car, "Okay? Whatever they're saying is lies, okay?! Trust me!"
And then just like that, he's gone.
XOXOXOXOX
"And how did that make you feel?" Asks the therapist, possibly for the fifteenth-thousandth time since Ste's been in rehabilitation, which has only been three days.
He's on a maintenance dose today, which keeps him at least from shaking and crying and throwing up… even if it doesn't have the complete satisfaction of his usual fix. He's spent his three days in here mostly waiting for them to give into his pleas. That, and staring out to the vast emptiness of the landscape. He's so alone here. So completely wonderfully alone. No Brendan, no Walker, no Andy. Just him.
He'd forgotten what it felt like… to be just him.
It's strange. And so completely liberating. It's the first time he's been living for himself, and not for anybody else. It's the first time he feels like he's breathed in… years.
"Scared." He whispers.
"What was it that scared you?"
"I was scared I were gonna lose him." Ste says. "Not to prison though. I didn't think he'd get sent down. But he went all… you know when people's eyes gloss over and it's like they're slippin' away. And I were scared, cos of that."
"Because you felt he was slipping away from you. Mentally."
"Because I didn't care then if he went to prison, cos at least then he'd still be mine. But if he went to that place… y'know… in his head… then he wouldn't be mine anymore. Felt like that… I mean."
He swallows. Remembers vaguely how terrified he always was of that black pit of Brendan's mind. How it was the thing Ste was constantly fighting against… trying to pull him away from. How Brendan's mental state consumed Ste, like his own life depended on Brendan being happy.
"And I was scared." He breathes again.
Doesn't ever remember a time when he wasn't scared.
XOXOXXOXOXXOXO
14 DAYS AFTER.
"I don't understand." He whispers.
"None of us do, love." Cheryl sighs, "We just have to… we have to support Brendan now. Not think about 'why' or 'what if'. Just… we just have to be there for him while he's inside, yeah? You and me."
"That's easy for you to say, Cheryl."
"Look, soon as he's got his head together, he'll want to see you."
"Yeah, and when will that be?! When has Brendan EVER gotten his shit together?!"
"Well you can't blame him for being stressed, Ste; he's been locked up for something he hasn't done!"
Ste sighs, runs his hands frustratedly through his hair, feels his fingers tremble with the struggle of not tearing his own head off.
"I know this is hard on you, sweetheart." Cheryl says softly. "But he'll come round."
He doesn't want to cry… not in front of Cheryl. He has to be strong for her, like Brendan told him to. Some of the last words Brendan ever said to him before this painful two-week silence. That, and that Ste should go and 'find someone else'.
It hurts. It tears at his insides, knowing that Brendan is agonising and vindicated and trapped for something he didn't do, and he's alone and he NEEDS Ste. Ste's determined to make him see… make him realise that Ste will NEVER EVER leave him. Not now, after everything.
But the bastard is so stubborn, Ste can't even get through the door.
"Can you tell him?" He croaks tearfully to Cheryl as she climbs into the car that'll take her to her approved prison visit. "Can you tell him I miss him? And that I don't want anyone else."
"I'll tell him, love."
He sniffs, bottom lip shaking as he suppresses tears.
"Make him listen."
Cheryl gives him a smile that looks as though it's supposed to be firm and reassuring… but it isn't. It's like she already knows his case his hopeless. Like she's hiding things from him.
"I'll try my best." She assures.
But that's not enough.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
15 DAYS AFTER.
He'd only left the house for fifteen minutes.
He'd just wanted milk.
Fifteen minutes, but when he comes back the front door is off its hinges, and the strange thing is, he doesn't even fucking care. Nothing here to burgle. Nobody here to disturb. Just Ste on his own, and everybody around him gone, and everything around him growing dust.
He walks into the flat blankly, barely even registering the disturbance. Not even a sigh escapes his lips.
Until he comes face to face with Simon Walker.
And the milk drops from his hands, and his blood runs cold, and his knees buckle in terror because in that split second he knows this is it. Walker is like a recurring nightmare… a zombie risen from the dead… a ruthless hurricane which ripped Brendan out of Ste's life.
And it all makes sense for the first time.
Ofcourse this was all Walker's work. Who else would it have been? And now he's here to drain the life from Ste's veins, just as he tried before, only this time with no Brendan to stop him.
Before Ste can ever see Brendan, and remind him that he loves him.
"Hello Steven," Walker smiles – and Ste's so disorientated… mind so clouded by Brendan Brendan Brendan for hours upon hours upon days and days… that it almost sounds exactly like him.
And he finds himself smiling.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXXOX
The therapist wants him to write a letter to Brendan. He doesn't have to send it, she says. He just needs to write down everything he wants to say, even if he can't. She wants him to pour his heart out into it. Maybe that way they can get to the root of where his dependency comes from. And at this point Ste gets confused about whether she's talking about his dependency for drugs or his dependency for Brendan. It's all a bit confusing really. He's starting to think this really is some hippy camp, and not for him at all.
He fucking hates writing, probably more than anything in the whole world, so for about an hour he just sits there stubbornly looking at the blank page.
Funny, the last time he wrote anything proper, that was to Brendan as well. And he ended it with the words 'rot for all I care'. He remembers, looking back, the cold hard utter fury. He remembers cradling the gun in his left hand as he scribbled with his right. He'd had the gun for a week and he'd been praying that he wouldn't have to use it, because Brendan would re-enter his life and drag Ste out of this hypnotic revenge-consumed mental state.
But Brendan never got in touch, and Ste wrote the letter knowing he was about to become a murderer, and Brendan was essentially – albeit unwittingly – allowing that to happen.
With his new-found sense of calm, Ste writes today without the anger that consumed him the last time. His whole letter is incredibly short, but he does pour his heart out. He pours everything into it.
Just five words. 'why did you leeve me?'
XOXOXOXOXOXOXXOX
"This house is a mess." Walker comments, running his fingers lazily along the countertop. There's dirty plates there… one of them Brendan's from over two weeks ago. Ste's left it, though he convinces himself it's not for sentimental reasons, but stubborn ones. Brendan can bloody fucking clean it himself, just as soon as he comes home. Because he is coming home.
"Get out." Ste breathes. His tone is cold and steady, juxtaposed with the hammering of his heart.
"So soon?" Walker leers, "I've only just got here!"
"Look, I mean it, right, I got people comin' round in a few minutes and you're supposed to be dead. S'gonna look a bit weird, innit?"
He's improvising. In danger of babbling – mind working a mile a minute.
"Which people?" Walker says, with a smirk. Mocking him.
"Cheryl." Ste says, and swallows hard. "And Nate."
"Well I do love a good reunion."
What happens next happens in a matter of seconds. Walker leans forward, and Ste legs it – adrenaline and impulse making him soar towards the front door. He has the benefit of surprise-factor on his side, and manages to wrench the door open before Walker has even worked out what's happening.
But Walker is faster. And stronger. Ste only vaguely senses the cold air of outdoors before firm arms wrap around his neck and drag him backwards, back into the flat. He can't even scream out because the hands are choking him. He can do nothing but struggle… his efforts bringing them both down to the ground, where Walker continues to hold him in a strangle-lock.
"Easy Steven," He breathes. His breath feels dirty and violating in Ste's ear… contaminating all over the back of his neck. "Easy, easy."
He's helpless. He can hardly move. And there's nobody here to save him. Nobody to even notice that he's gone.
And so tears are already drizzling powerlessly down his cheeks as he croaks, "What're you gonna do to me?"
"I think you know the answer to that, Ste."
"No please!"
"You think I forgot what Brendan did to me? How he took the one thing out of my life that meant anything to me? You thought I'd decided to let that go, did you?"
Ste struggles again, but is overpowered completely. He's got nothing on Walker's strength… can barely even move his arms as one of them is pinned between his own body and the floor, and the other held tightly behind his own back. Walker lies alongside him, his forehead pressed against the back of Ste's head as he whispers his morbid motive.
"Brendan knew I'd be back." He says quietly, "Just goes to show, doesn't it? He only cares about himself."
"We speak on the phone all the time," Ste whimpers desperately, "He'll know somethin's wrong if I don't call tonight. He'll tell the police."
"DON'T!" Walker says, voice snapping in dangerous fury. Ste tenses against his anger… terrified by it. But Walker takes a deep breath, calms himself, and speaks softly again, "Don't… lie… to… me."
"I'm not…" His voice wavers uncertainly, as Walker brings a piece of paper up in Ste's face.
He was scrunching it in his palm the whole time… and loosens his grip ever so slightly on Ste's neck to show him… his own letter. The one he'd written this morning. His desperate loving plea to Brendan, which exposes to Walker just how alone he is right now.
"Oh, 'please stop doing this Brendan'." Walker mimics the heartfelt words scrawled on the piece of paper… and in this moment, Ste knows Brendan will never read them. "'Please love me'… you do know Brendan Brady's incapable of that emotion, now don't you?"
Ste doesn't have an answer for that. There's no reasoning with a man this far gone… a man as unhinged as Simon Walker is. What's even more alarming is that he's enjoying this… that as Ste struggles, and Walker restrains him, Ste can feel a hardening erection pushing into his lower back.
"Oh God, please let me go." He whispers hurriedly, breaths hitching to an alarmingly fast rate. "Kay, you're right – Brendan doesn't care about me so… so you doin' this… it's not gonna do anything… he won't care…"
His own words are like stabs in the chest. Hard, painful, crippling. Like somewhere in his gut, he believes them to be true.
"Shhhh, shh, shh, shh," Walker calms him, and his hand reaches and strokes the sweaty strands of hair off Ste's forehead. Ste flinches away, but only flinches back into Walker himself, whose lips move against Ste's head as he reflects, "… It must be painful, loving a monster."
It sounds like a genuine musing. Like him holding Ste down on the floor, readying to kill him, is an every-day occurrence.
"I'm doing you a favour, I reckon." He concludes.
"Just do it then." Ste croaks, teeth grit in the agony of addressing his own murder, "C'mon, just do it."
"You have to promise to stay still." Walker says. And already, his arms are loosening around Ste's body.
Ste says nothing in return, but they both know he's not going anywhere. To try and run again would be futile. And Ste just wants it over with now. He's too beaten down by it all… to fucking drained… to even consider any other option.
The only movement he makes is to turn his body over and face the photoframes on the windowsill… so at least his last memories can be happy ones.
He stares into Leah's bright-eyed grin, with ice-cream all round her lips and nose and cheeks. He stares into Lucas's sleeping figure, wrapped in the bundle of Ste's hoody on the sofa… tiny and beautiful and perfect.
Vaguely he can hear Walker moving around the flat behind him, but he tries to shut it out.
He stares into the picture of himself and Amy and Leah… who look so alike. And both Amy and Leah are planting wet kisses on each of Ste's cheeks. And then the one of Brendan, with Leah lifted in his arms like she's weightless as she plants the exact same kiss on him, and he smiles goofily like he only ever did rarely.
A single tear dribbles miserably down his cheek, as Walker moves in front of him and obstructs his view.
He bends down to Ste on the floor and holds a mobile out as he says, "Any last words? Present for Brendan, when he gets home."
Of course. This form of torture for Brendan wouldn't be complete without him having to witness Ste's terrified, tear-filled goodbye. And knowing Brendan, he will watch it. He'll force himself. Same way he constantly punishes himself like he's deserving of it.
Ste shakes his head, but that's not good enough and he knows it. He hears the phone beep as Walker presses record. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to look into the phone as he already imagines Brendan's heartbreak four years on, when he finally comes home.
"Come on, Steven." Walker presses, "This is the last thing you're gonna get to say to him."
He doesn't have any words… no last words at all. Everything's clouded by fear and adrenaline. And when he glances up at the phone, all he can see is Walker's squatting legs, spread wide apart as he's bent on the floor, and the bulge in his jeans growing ever more prominent as his mental torture turns him on.
He's a sick fuck. A sick fuck who makes Ste's skin physically crawl as he drags his eyes from Walker's jeans to Walker's watchful eyes.
Ste doesn't really know what his plan is as he pulls himself from the floor. But in his surprise, Walker allows the phone to be pushed out of sight, and his mouth opens compliantly as Ste forces their lips together. He could choke on the taste of it… the disgust in himself… but somewhere inside of him he's fighting for survival.
It's Walker who deepens the kiss, as if maybe he's come up with a new impromptu plan as well. He brings the camera up to film them both as he lowers Ste back to the floor, and PUSHES his tongue so it's almost suffocating, right down into Ste's mouth.
This isn't foreplay… this is power-play. But whatever it is, it's prolonging Ste's life right now, and that takes reign over everything.
As Walker pulls away, his eyes are shining in disbelief and amusement, and he mutters, "You really are a sick little bastard, aren't you? It's all making sense to me now."
"Just enjoying being single." Ste says breathlessly, and it sounds like somebody else saying it.
It is somebody else. Like in a matter of seconds, in this bid to stay alive, Ste pushed his right mind into oblivion and replaced it with a mind that's numb and calculating. It's this other mind that forces Ste's fingers to the fly of Walker's jeans and drags it downwards. It's this other Ste that lies compliantly on the floor as Walker pushes his hard cock into his mouth. The other Ste that allows this act to be filmed… and doesn't cry.
It's this other Ste that sucks like his life depends on it – because it does – and even finds some kind of satisfaction in the way Walker moans and hisses. It's those moans that Walker emits that puts Ste back in control. He's taken reign. He's got Walker at his mercy.
Perhaps, even now, this other Ste knows that one day he'll kill Simon Walker.
This other Ste makes the dangerous deal with Simon Walker; Brendan won't be out of prison for 4 years, so they have that long before any drastic murderous measures have to be taken. Walker has time; doesn't need to kill today. Not when there's so much Ste has to offer him, and his plan.
They seal it like a fucked-up business deal, with the swallowing of cum rather than the shaking of hands.
But as soon as Walker left, this other Ste dies… and the real Ste's back… a broken, torn, violated mess of tears and body-wrenching sobs on the floor.
With nobody here to hold him.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
19 DAYS AFTER.
He hasn't left the house in five days. He's had two calls in that time – one from Cheryl:
"No love, he hasn't said anything about you. I don't know… he's doing that thing where he pretends like it's not happening. There's not much I can do about it, sweetheart. But how about you come round here tonight, eh? Movie night or something."
He'd said yes, but he hadn't bothered showing up. And Cheryl had been too busy with Nate to even notice his absence.
The other call was from Doug:
"Okay, look, I know you're really upset and everything and I get it. But are you ever thinking of coming back to work?! Look, Ste, I'm worried about you, okay, this is not like you."
"You don't need to worry about me, Doug." Ste says flatly.
"I'm gonna come over."
"No!" Ste doesn't want him seeing the state of the place… or the state of him. He doesn't want anyone seeing him right now, because it makes what he's done to himself all the more real. He can't bear to see the shock on their faces.
"I just wanna be alone Doug, alright?! You're bein' dead weird and possessive – what's the matter with ya?!"
"I'm not being weird at all, I'm being a friend!"
"You're bein' a freak about it! Look, we're not friends; we're business partners and I don't need you comin' round here throwin' your weight around."
There's a silence on the other end of the line. Doug is stung.
"… alright fine." He says after a while.
"Is that all?!" Ste snaps, burying the guilt he feels underneath a cold aggressive tone.
"Yeah. I guess I'll see you when I see you then."
It's Doug who hangs up the phone.
Ste concludes to see him never. He doesn't want to go back to work anyway. It seems so worthless and bleak now – he's got no kids to make money for, no family to impress, no boyfriend to give freebies to.
His letter to Brendan had gone ignored, despite the loving frankness of it. He'd said he loved him, he'd asked him to approve the visit. But when he'd called the prison, he'd simply been met with the same fucking response, "I'm sorry, your visiting rights have been denied."
"NO!" Ste had screamed this time, unable to bear it. He still had the taste and smell of Walker on him, polluting the flat, "NO! Check again! Ask again! You've got it wrong – have you even asked him?!"
"Sir, we've followed the regular procedure, and your visit has been denied. I'm sorry."
Never in his life had he felt so out of control. And that was saying something. He felt like he was scratching desperately at a forever-bolted door. But he couldn't live, couldn't breathe, couldn't go on until he was able to walk through it. His whole body throbbed with the need to see Brendan, and to speak to him. The empty space that Brendan used to fill was huge, and now it's black and empty and all consuming.
Ste had thrown the phone, hard, at the photoframes. The one of Brendan and Leah had shattered with the impact, and the glass that scattered all across the floor.
Ste only remembers hearing indistinct noise in his ear, and his vision was blurred with tears, and he'd lifted one of those pieces of glass and for some reason or other he'd pierced into his thigh with it, and dragged it down.
And he'd done it again and again. His head was a mess and there were no coherent thoughts as such, but he knew half of this was spite for Brendan… 'look at me now, Bren. Is this what you wanted all along, eh?!'… and the other half was the need to feel, the need to DO SOMETHING and make an impact.
His fingers trembled terribly and eventually, when all he could see was red, he dropped the glass to the floor, and sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and breathed through the pain.
He half-waited for Doug to come. But he knew he wouldn't.
And today those scars on his thighs have become hidden under fresh ones from this morning. It wasn't desperate or emotional this morning though… it just felt like some sort of routine. Because he's lost his deli routine, and he's lost all other routine he ever had.
Now his routine consists of calling the prison, being rejected, and cutting.
And when he looks in the mirror, it's not even him looking back at himself. It's somebody with dark-rimmed eyes and ghost-white skin and floppy unwashed hair and chapped lips.
And that's why nobody can come here now. Nobody can see him like this.
This is who he always was, but he disguised it for a while. Now he's stripped back, and this is the real Steven Hay… who he was destined to be from the day he was born into arms that detested him.
He always hid this part of him, and knew he was doing it. There was only ever one person in the whole world that Ste saw himself in, and that was Brendan. Because Brendan was always hiding the same exhaustion, self-loathe and bleakness. He hid it under the sharp suit, but Ste saw. It was there. They were monsters together, both wrapped in human skin, but hiding these grotesque corrupted shells beneath, which would alarm everyone in the outside world.
That's why he loves Brendan. Still.
That's why he needs to see him and hear him.
Brendan makes him feel alive, and normal, even if it's just normal to them.
"This is Brendan Brady. Leave a message."
Ste smiles weakly at the sound of Brendan's answer-phone-message. Same as he smiles at it every day… sometimes ten times a day.
"Hi Bren, it's me!" He adopts a chirpy voice, with the loud energy he always used to use with Brendan, that accentuates his Mancunian accent, "Listen, I'm outta milk and I got like… no food here at all. I'm starved. Will ya pick something up? Love ya! Don't be late!"
He hangs up.
He doesn't even feel silly like he did the first time. He just sits back and waits in the silence… as if thinking that maybe Brendan will turn up with a pizza tucked under his arm.
He doesn't of course.
But Ste will do the same thing tomorrow.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
20 DAYS AFTER.
He doesn't know what makes him do it. Weeks of pondering what it was that bought them here… and every time the blame falls in Simon Walker's lap. So here he is, sat in the darkness of the flat, face lit by the white of his computer screen as he desperately searches where to buy a gun.
He feels ridiculous doing it like this. He should know better than looking on the internet for such a thing… especially as he picked up for Brendan before. He should have gotten that guys number or something… though of course he had no idea then that he'd be here today.
Reading the words on screen is harder than ever. His dyslexia is in full force, and everything's clouded, so it takes him twice as long as normal to read anything.
Eventually he gives up and succumbs to sleep. His head droops onto the keypad and his dreams are filled with dark, ruthless revenge and the hopes that that will fix everything.
XOXOXOXOXOX
"How are you feeling this morning?" Asks Fiona, one of the council staff.
"Sick." Ste answers honestly. Sick and shaky, and tired from lack of sleep.
"Well you've got your group session in thirty minutes. You going to be okay for that?"
"No." Ste says immediately, "No, I need some of that maintenance stuff."
"Not today, you don't."
Ste feels his fists clench in annoyance. How the fuck can she know that?
"Yeah I do. Lemme talk to the specialist guy."
"Today is not your day with him, Ste. It's important that we stick to your rota."
"Right, I wanna call Brendan then!" He demands. He feels it again… his heart-rate quickening in panic as he realises he's out of control, that he's not being listened to, that he needs to be taken seriously.
"Ste, you know the rules; no contact with home until you're 10 days into the programme."
"I need to talk to him!"
"You can talk in the group session, okay?" Fiona says patiently, "I promise you that will help. To speak to people who are going through what you're going through."
"Yeah, but they're not though." Ste retorts … and the urge to be with Brendan, to know that he'll understand, but to be unable to reach him… it's all too familiar. And he's panicking with it.
"I wanna go home….now… please…" He says. His voice has a shake to it and he climbs from the bed and starts gathering his limited items together.
"Ste, this is a relapse that everybody experiences, but I promise that by this afternoon…"
"No, you're not LISTENING! I need to speak to Brendan! I need him to come get me! You need to tell him that I'm here and I want gettin'!"
He's losing it. He can feel himself losing it. Succumbing to the terror of this having happened before. And all that fear and loss he suppressed over the last three years is pouring out of him, and he's screaming, crying.
"I NEED TO SEE 'IM! YOU CAN'T STOP ME SEEING 'IM! YOU CAN'T JUST SAY NO!"
Fiona's left the room and outside of his panic, Ste is vaguely aware of the chaos outside his bedroom. And men come in… doctors, he thinks… and they're grabbing him and telling him to calm down, but he fights against them with all his strength. He's terrified. Memories of being held down, fought against, they're consuming him, and he fights and fights and fights until there's no more strength inside of him.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
23 DAYS AFTER.
His face is pushed into the pillow and he breathes into it… longs to stay in this position so that Walker can't see the revulsion on his face.
Walker is ruthless in fucking him. This is their second round, and Walker's alive with it; Ste's rarely seen a man so vastly determined, so turned on but for all the wrong reasons. Every time he pounds into Ste, he does it for Brendan. Because Walker will stop at nothing – will kill every bit of the man and his life if he can, and he is. Finding out about this will destroy Brendan.
But Ste starts to wonder if that's partly why he's doing it too.
"Fuckkk, Brady sure knows how to pick 'em." He groans after climax, pulls out of Ste and slumps down on the bed beside him.
Ste goes through that momentary panic in this moment, that Walker might kill him now. He had the same post-cotial fear yesterday… and the day before…
But they've still got four years, and Walker seems to be enjoying this form of revenge far too much to end it yet. So Ste allows himself to relax. He forces his face to form a smile, and turns to Walker, gently pushes the hair from Walker's eyes.
"Lets not talk about Brendan now." He breathes.
"You're right; that is a bit of a boner-kill."
"I'm gonna go get showered." Ste says, in his best attempt to be breezy.
"Can still walk straight, can you?" Walker smirks. He's pleased with himself.
Ste can't bear to form another smile, so he simply turns away and pulls himself off the bed. His instinct is to grab some jogging bottoms, cover up, but he knows he has to keep playing the game. To screw up now could be lethal. Walker's enjoying the danger of neither of them trusting one another, but if his suspicions are confirmed that Ste's having him on… he'll surely kill him just for the cheek of it.
So Ste powers on, and retorts, "We'll have to sort that out with another round, won't we? If you've got it in ya!"
"Your unsustainable." Walker sighs, and to Ste's disdain, Walker grabs his wrist and pulls him back to the bed.
Ste underestimated just how horny this power-play makes the man, and finds himself fighting to hold back the tears as Walker shifts him to his knees and begins that third encounter.
XOXOXOXOXX
28 DAYS AFTER.
"Is everything okay?" Cheryl asks him.
28 days it took, before she finally forced him round here. Now he lies on Brendan's sofa, and there's so many memories that it's mildly comforting, but another part of him feels so far detached from it all that he could be sick. So much has happened in the last 28 days that it's hard to believe he ever once slumped here, happy.
"I've just been on your phone." Cheryl continues, "I've been on your sent calls."
It doesn't click in Ste's head at first. He's got nobody to call – why would there be anything of interest on there?
"Sweetheart, you understand Brendan doesn't have his phone in prison, don't you?"
"Yeah." He mumbles. He's exhausted… can't be bothered to explain what's obvious – he only wants to hear Brenan's voice. It's BRENDAN'S fault that he can only hear it via that stupid answerphone-message. Brendan's fault, and Cheryl's for not trying harder to help the situation.
"There are… hundreds… of sent calls to him on here. Were you… what were you hoping to achieve from this?"
He could explain everything to Cheryl now. He could tell her everything. How he needs Brendan more than he ever anticipated in his right state of mind. How he's falling apart. How he's scared. How he's alone. How worthless he feels; how disposable. How her stupid brother will be the death of him, one way or another. How he wishes, despite every wonderful feeling, that he and Brendan had never met – that he was in New York with his family, living a lie, rather than going through all of this.
How Walker is alive. How he is in a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with him. How, one day, he's sure he'll snap and kill him… or be killed himself.
But he doesn't need to tell her that.
There are numerous sent calls to Walker on that phone.
And suddenly he's awash with panic, and seizes the mobile off of her, and SCREAMS at her never to touch his stuff. He calls her a nosy cow, a manipulative bitch, a selfish, blind, careless little witch.
"Don't you DARE speak to me like that!" She screams, "I have been TRYING to help you!"
"HOW HAVE YA?! You're just flying around in little Cheryl-land as USUAL! You… you haven't even TRIED to find out who put Brendan behind them bars! You don't even CARE! You don't even CARE what he's been through, but he'd rather talk to YOU than ME!"
"How can you even say that…"
"ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOURSELF! You don't care about me OR him!"
"And where have YOU been?!" Cheryl demands, "Has it even occurred to you that I might be struggling too?! Has it?!"
Ste feels tears sting his eyes. She has no idea. She has Nate. She has Brendan. She has her scum-of-the-earth father… gets to live none-the-wiser to what he's done. Whilst Ste has to carry it around with him every day, without ever having had the chance to talk to Brendan about it. She has everything. She trots around in blissful ignorance to everything and everyone, and she is HAPPY. He's SEEN it. And he wants that too.
"I'm PREGNANT Ste!" She shouts. "There! So now you know! So FORGIVE me for being a little preoccupied lately!"
No. No. But… but that's not fair. Where are HIS kids?! Where are Brendan's kids? Why does she get everything? How can she act like it's a burden or a hardship?!
Tears roll down his cheeks now, and he can't hide the fury and bitterness from his voice as he spits, "Congratulations."
"Oh, at least say it like you mean it!"
"FUCK OFF Cheryl." He shouts. And he grabs his coat and makes his way to the door.
"No wait a minute!" She fumes, "I'm not done talking with you, Ste! WHY have you been speaking to Simon Walker?! Do you really hate our Brendan that much?! This is going to DESTROY him – is that what you want?! How can you be so selfish?!"
Ste reels… is speechless… can't even process this woman's stupidity.
He turns and says the last words he'll ever speak to her. Cold, blank, lifeless words.
"I hope you have a very nice life Cheryl. Say hi to Brendan for me."
But of course she won't. Because she hasn't passed on a SINGLE ONE of Ste's messages to Brendan, and he knows it.
XOXOXOXOXOX
29 DAYS AFTER.
Today is his last ever attempt to get in touch with Brendan. And if, as he suspects, he is turned away… then he'll take that as everything he needs to know. No other man would be pathetic enough to try a record-breaking 43 times to contact someone in prison, and be turned down every single one of them.
So when he hears those words again… "I'm sorry, but your visiting request has been denied."… he knows what he has to do.
There's a man who can get him a gun. £100,000 is the price, and Ste doesn't know whether he's being mugged off or not, but quite frankly he doesn't care. He has the money Brendan left him, and what better way to spend it than to end it all?
He gets a text from Doug as he's on the way to the estate.
It's the first time Doug's tried to contact him since Ste shot him down ten days ago.
"Hi. I spoke to Cheryl. We're all really worried about u. Can I come round tonight? X"
Ste won't be home tonight. He has plans tonight.
And he needs to make sure Doug doesn't get in the way of them, so he sends back the only text that can guarantee it… "Stop stalking me and fuck off."
He's unsurprised when he doesn't get a reply.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
All the other patients are talking today about the visitors they're getting tomorrow. There's a lad, Casper – stupid name, but good enough bloke – who says his mum's coming to see him. He says it's the first time his mum has spoken to him in five years, cos she saw him as a disappointment. He pours his fucking heart out about it during the group therapy session.
"I love her, you know?" He says, "But I never showed it. I pushed her away cos of the drugs and that. So… I dunno, like, I just hope she's proud of me."
There's a woman in her mid-30s, who's getting visited by her husband and kids. She's still lucky to have her kids, apparently. She misses them so much, etcetera. She's doing this all for them, she says.
Ste doesn't want to be here tomorrow when there's little kids parading around the place. He doesn't really think this is an appropriate place for them anyway, with all people like him in here. Wasters and human-disasters on every corner – it would scar them for like. If he still had his kids, he'd never allow them to come see him like this.
"And Ste?" Fiona says, "Will you be expecting any visitors tomorrow?"
Ste shrugs his shoulders. He's come to expect nothing, from anyone. It's been nine days – plenty of time for Brendan to have forgotten him, Andy to have replaced him.
Fiona hastily moves on.
XOXOXOXOXOX
30 DAYS AFTER.
"Well you're a fine little thing, ain't ya?"
The man that greets Ste at the door is huge. He's got a shaven head, and tattoos everywhere – even one that runs up his neck. There's a cigarette in his mouth and his persona is so flawlessly confident as he looks Ste up and down.
Ste feels slightly nervous.
"Are you Andy?" He asks.
"That's me."
"Oh right. Yeah… we spoke on the phone."
"You got the cash?" Andy asks bluntly.
Ste nods, and holds up the heavily-packed envelope.
Andy gives a quick sharp nod of the head to motion Ste indoors.
It's a small dingy little flat… not what you'd expect from someone who's picking up £100,000 a time in exchange for weaponry. There's a bunch of guys all sat round on the sofas, all consuming various substances from bongs or baggies. Ste guesses that's where the money must go, then.
There's really no space for him to sit, so he just hovers awkwardly in the middle of the room.
"Nigel, BUDGE OVER for the lad!" Andy barks.
One of the blokes shifts begrudgingly… leaving a small space in between him another man. Ste feels exposed and slightly ridiculous as he squeezes in the middle of them. One of them passes him a spliff and he doesn't know whether he's supposed to smoke it or just pass it on.
Still, Andy distracts him from the matter. He bends to Ste's level and looks at him in scrutiny.
"And what would a pretty thing like you be needin' a gun for?"
"S'none of your business, is it?" Ste speaks back, with a firmness he doesn't feel. Still, his bravado earns him a couple of appreciative chuckles in the room, and a smile from Andy.
Andy peels the envelope from Ste's fingers, and for a minute Ste fears he's being robbed and there's no gun here at all… till one of the other blokes starts putting one together.
It's strange… being in the presence of one. It gives him nervous jitters, same as when he picked one up for Brendan. There's that same kind of feeling as when one stands on the top of a big building… and has the urge to jump. Half of him is repelled by the weapon, and the other half just wants to get his hands on it.
"And where'd you get hold of money like this?" Andy asks, like he's genuinely curious. Maybe even impressed.
And Ste finds himself liking that he's impressed the man. It's rare that he impresses anybody.
"I have my ways."
Andy's eye glints thoughtfully as he replies, "I'll bet you do."
The silent bloke with the gun hands it over to Andy and Andy plays with it in his fingers, like he's taunting Ste with it's close but out-of-reach presence.
"You know how to work one of these?" He asks.
"Yeah." No. Not really.
"You need one of my boys to come with you?"
"No thanks."
"How old are you?" Andy asks, catching Ste off guard.
He decides to lie, and says "Twenty-five."
But Andy snorts with laughter. "Yeah right!"
"I am. I just look young, don't I?!"
"What year was you born?"
That catches Ste out, though it shouldn't do. He used to lie about his age all the time when he was sixteen and trying to get into bars. But his mind is slow today, and he can't quite figure it out, and Andy bursts out laughing as Ste hesitates.
Ste finds himself scowling. It's probably not wise to do so to a man with a gun, but he's reckless these days and couldn't really give a shit. Plus there's something about Andy… an attentiveness that he gives Ste that Ste's sure he doesn't give to anyone. He feels like he can push his luck a bit.
"Look, I've given you the money – what's with all the questions?!" He demands irritably.
"Yeah, alright alright. I just worry about you, is all." Andy reasons, "Look like you couldn't even lift the damn thing. Here – try it."
It's not even that heavy, and Ste's offended. But he's so preoccupied with being overwhelmed that he doesn't retort. He's never held a gun with his bare hands before. It's strange. Everything is suddenly becoming all too real.
He's really going to do this. He's going to end it once and for all. Simon Walker will be dead. Ste will be free of him, Brendan will be free of him… and Ste will be free of Brendan.
"Fuckin' hell." He mutters.
"Feels good, dunnit?" Andy smirks.
"Yeah."
Then, to his surprise, Andy ruffles his hair. "Well you have yourself some fun with that, kid, and if you ever want a hand, you've got me number."
"…Yeah…" Ste mutters again.
"Here," Andy snatches a baggie off one of his mates and thrusts it into Ste's lap, "You 'ave some of that to calm your nerves a bit. Nerve-wrackin' innit?"
Ste supposes he can admit that it is. After all, Andy's entrusted him with a gun… so Ste's hardly in any danger here. So he nods, and just because Andy's watching him expectantly, he finds himself dipping into the powder in the bag. He doesn't know what it is, but doesn't really care either. He presses it around his gums and feels his lips go numb, and he likes it.
"He's a good lad, this one, ain't he?" Andy muses.
Some of the other men grunt in agreement.
Ste feels comfortable enough to melt back into the sofa… let the sensations do their work on him. He feels better here than he does with Cheryl or Doug. He's not judged here, by these guys. Feels more natural to be with them.
When he leaves, he takes Andy's mobile number, and Andy makes him promise to call.
XOXOXOXOX
31 DAYS AFTER.
'Brendan,' he writes.
'So this is what it cums to? After EVREYFING we have dun. After evreyfing I gave up for you. You are spineles. I wish I never met you. I wish I dident kid myself that you cared. But evreyone is rite about you.
You make me hurt and hurt and hurt but im not gona let you anymore. Wen you get out, I wont be yours. Im taking controle of my own life now. You dont get to deside things for me. I wont try and visit you agen. ROT FOR ALL I CARE.
STEVEN.'
XOXOXOX
He sits outside the rehabilitation centre, knees up on the steps and chain-smoking cigarettes as he watches the cars pull into the car-park. Wives step out of them, mothers step out of them, children step out of them. Some look cautious and worried, others look ready for confrontation, and some look impossibly happy to greet their drugged-up waste-of-space loved-ones.
And then, impossibly, there's Brendan.
It's like all the wind is knocked out of Ste's chest… so surprised and overwhelmed he is to see him. He was convinced, utterly full-heartedly convinced, that he wouldn't be here. That perhaps Brendan was just a figure of his imagination the whole time.
But there he is, and he's wearing jeans and a tight-fitting black jumper with a V-neck that accentuates his chest hair. And he's wearing sun-glasses that he lifts the moment he sees Ste on the steps, and reveals his blue eyes. Eyes that are swimming with nervousness and cautiousness and also that all-familiar shine that Brendan only ever reserves for Ste.
Ste can't even move from his step – is rigid and still as Brendan strides over to him.
"Where've you been all my life?" Brendan breathes, and then Ste feels himself pulled into the firmest, strongest, most secure hug he's ever experienced in his entire life. And his own arms fold around Brendan's back, and hold him close… and Ste realises that he can't ever let go now.
He's broken. He just cries. And Brendan holds him and rocks him through it, never reducing his hold on him, until Brendan's shoulder and neck are damp with Ste's tears. Brendan's hand is firm and unfeasibly comforting in Ste's hair, and his lips pressing against the top of Ste's head in a way that can only be loving… even if that doesn't make sense.
Ste's whole body feels weak and shaky, but he never lessens his grip on Brendan. Couldn't even if he wanted to. He's not letting him go again. Not ever again.
"I love you." He croaks. It's high-pitched and almost inaudible, but Brendan hears it. Of course he hears it.
"I love you too." He sighs, and he sounds just as wretched but it doesn't matter.
They don't go inside like everybody else does. They just sit here, entangled, for the full three hours. Hopelessly, damagingly, obsessively and absurdly in love. And never in the entire world could they be happier to have each other.
XOXOXOXOX
Baaaahhhh, this took it out of me! Reviews very much appreciated.