It's two in the morning. I hear the front door slam from my bedroom. Keys are thrown on the counter. Thuds against the walls as my mother stumbles down the corridor. Closer and closer. Thud thud thud. Suddenly my door bursts open and she's standing there, silhouetted by the light of the hall.
"Brendan Brady, you get the fuck up right now!"
My eyes adjust to the light and I can see her face – red and bleary-eyed. She's storms over to the bed and rips the covers off of me, stumbling backward with the force of her own motions.
"Ma, what?"
"You dirty little bastard, don't you talk to me!" She starts stumbling around the room. "You little liar!"
I'm wide awake now.
"You'll never guess who I got a call from tonight. Your da! Yeah, he says you've been seeing Cheryl – quite a lot actually." She picks up an empty mug from my dresser and I barely dodge it in time, hearing it crash against the headboard behind me. "YOU FUCKING LIAR! I don't want you to have anything to do with him or his bastard children, do you hear me!"
I can't escape. She's blocking the doorway now, wielding an empty bottle in one hand. "Ma, she's my sister –"
She swings the bottle at me, missing. "Don't you say that! Don't you fuckin' say that. That man is not our family and that girl is not your sister. I don't want you to have anything to do with him."
I make my move for the door and she swings the bottle with all the force she can muster. I feel it break against my right shoulder. I hear myself yell as shards of glass stick into my arm, my neck and the side of my face. I feel a kick at my back and my chest hits the carpet. I'm crawling on the floor away from my ma now. My arm hurts like hell. She kicks the back of my legs, the side of my chest. I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible and run for the door.
"BRENDAN! Get back here!"
I can't see through the tears, but my feet hit the pavement. I'm running to Pete's again.
I got in a fight. That's what I told the Hamill's and that's what I told the doctor. It's five in the morning and I've been tossing on Pete's sofa for an hour.
She hates him. She hates his fuckin' guts for leavin' but can you blame him? She's a wreck. I'd leave her too if I could. But it's my fault. After what I did… that'd drive any mother to drink. It's not right. People deserve what they get. And I deserve this. I drove her to drink – I made him leave. She's miserable cause of me.
Footsteps down the hallway getting closer. It's Alan. I roll over, facing the back of the couch. I don't want to look at him right now. His footsteps stop and I hear him mumble in the dark. "I just want to say… I'm sorry. About what happened to you."
I'm facing the back of the couch, but I can hear him approach.
"I'm not gonna lie, Brendan, I'm still mad at you. But seeing you like this – I'm starting to understand why you did what you did."
I roll over to face him, sitting up on the sofa. Looking him in the eyes. "Understand? That's just it. How could you possibly understand? You can't. You think we're so similar, but we're not. I'm nothing like you." I stand up and slowly approach him, not saying anything until there's only a few inches between us. I whisper – partly because I don't want anyone to hear, but mostly to make sure he's listening. "You think I want this?" His big brown eyes gaze into mine. "You're wrong. I don't."
He doesn't back away. I've told him I don't want him – why doesn't he leave?
Instead, Alan moves closer. I can feel his breath on my face. "I know you're lying." I'm locked in his gaze. Frozen like a deer in headlights. "Why won't you just let this happen?" I look down at our hands, our fingers somehow having managed to intertwine. My whole body is willing me to give in –trapped in a battle with my mind.
"It can't… I can't." Alan leans forward, touching his forehead to mine. I step back, not letting go of his hand. "I'm not."
Alan doesn't say anything, but steps forward, closing the gap between us. His cheek brushes my cheek, his chest presses into my chest, his hips press into my hips. We don't kiss yet – just stand here, together. It's like nothing I've ever felt. Something in the back of my mind knows that I should be scared – of someone finding out, of what this means, of letting him get this close. But I don't feel any of that fear. As Alan puts his arms around me I just feel safe.
I can't wait anymore. I pull back just slightly, looking him in the eye for a moment before bringing my lips to his. It's soft this time. Not angry or overly-passionate. Not hurried and sloppy like last time. Just soft and slow.
Am I pulling him forward, or is he pushing me back? Either way, I feel my back hit the wall. We don't stop kissing. We never stop kissing as my hands find the back of his neck. As one of his hands grabs my shirt and the other…
His hand reaches the elastic band of my boxers. Almost instinctively I pull away. This can't happen. Not now. Not… again.
Alan stares at me, bringing his hand back up to stroke my face. "It's okay. It's okay." I relax and allow him to kiss me a while longer. Eventually his hand makes its way down my body. I don't stop him this time.
I gasp and grip the back of his shirt as I feel his hand on me. He's kissing my neck and I struggle not to make any noise as he starts to move. Slowly. Gently. Rhythmically. He lifts one of my knees and wraps my leg around his hip to allow him better access. He's breathing heavily into my neck and it's getting harder to keep the moans from escaping my mouth. All I can sense is his hand on me. All I can think of is how good it feels.
Finally he kisses me, swallowing my groan as my body shudders. I squeeze my eyes shut and he strokes me until the shivering becomes mere twitches. He pulls his mouth from mine and I hear a whimper. Was that me?
Alan kisses my face. My upper lip, my nose, my cheek, my eyes – still shut. We stand there in silence for a moment. I loosen the grip on the back of his shirt. I feel a tear fall from my chin and his hand lightly brushing my face. I open my eyes and he's staring at me. Those eyes.
Alan gives me a quick kiss before going into the kitchen for a towel. I'm standing alone against the wall. And suddenly it hits me. Like I'm coming back into my own body. The weight of it all comes crashing down on top of me. Overwhelming me. What have I done? How could I let this happen? I have to get out of here. I have to leave. When he comes back I can barely bring myself to look him in the eye. I hastily clean myself off, glaring at the floor.
"Brendan, are you okay?"
Alan puts a hand on my good shoulder, but I shrug it away. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." I look up at him. How can he do it? How can he bare to look at me after what we just did? "It'll be mornin' soon. You should probably go to bed."
"Brendan –"
"Just -" I feel myself start to loose it, but I manage to stop. I look at him for a moment. He runs his hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Alan, just go."
