Steven's hands were on him again. Running through his damp hair, running over his skin. Touching. Feeling. And Brendan was responding. His fingers gently moved down Ste's chest, running over his soft, bronze skin.

And suddenly a hand was wrapped around his hard cock, firm and pressing. The hand swiftly moved up and down and Brendan moaned, unable to contain himself.

This was ecstasy.

But suddenly, just as he felt close, almost connected, his door burst open.

Seamus.

Brendan gasped and jumped off Ste, falling onto the floor with a thud.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was alone in the confines of his room. There was no Steven in his bed, and no Seamus at his door.

He was wearing boxers, but his skin was moist and covered in sweat. Brendan quickly got up and moved back to his bed. He shut his eyes closed and tried to think of anything but the dream he had just had.

Why was his mind playing tricks on him? He wasn't queer. He wouldn't want to be touching Ste, or to be touched by him. Brendan felt his cheeks burning at the thought of his dream. It had been interesting.

He opened his eyes and looked at the door again. What if Seamus were to walk in on something like that? Brendan would probably not be able to move a muscle without pain surging through him for weeks following the discovery. But Brendan knew he would deserve it. It was disgusting. Only perverts get involved in things like that. With other men. Sex is meant to be between a man and a woman. Love is meant to be between a man and a woman. The way God intended it to be. The way he'd been taught his entire life in church. The way Seamus had drilled it into him. It was just the way things are supposed to be.

After being entirely sure that there was no one in his room but him, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It wouldn't come easily tonight. Brendan already knew that.

Every time he closed his eyes now, he saw the blonde boy. He saw the way he'd laugh when Brendan teased him. He saw the way he'd blush and look down at his feet, unsure of what to say. He saw the way Steven had let all his walls down. But maybe it wasn't just Steven who had let his walls down in Ste's living room. Maybe it was both of them.

Brendan knew sex. He knew what it felt like to get a moment of relief. But whatever he was going through, felt like more than just sex. Felt like more than just touching and being touched, however scarcely that had actually occurred.

It was indescribable. And it hurt. It hurt more than someone calling him something vulgar, or a punch to his gut. It was a paradox that seemed to be building him up and shattering him into a million little pieces, all at the same time.

He sighed.

"God dammit!" He said out loud, knowing no one would be able to hear him.


When he next opened his eyes it was morning and Brendan could hear Cheryl shouting from her room.
"It's snowing!" She squealed.

Brendan sighed. She was probably still angry at him. When she got in these moods all he needed was a bit of time to lure her out of it. In a matter of days, she'd soon forget about the whole ordeal.

"There's someone here to see you." Blanaid suddenly said, her head popping in through Brendan's doorway.
"Who is it?" He asked, his mind racing at a thousand miles per second.
Could it be Steven?
"Pretty, little girl. She seems sweet." Blanaid replied with a smile.

Eileen.

It was clear that she was proud of Brendan for landing such a girl. Brendan flashed his teeth in response. Anyone would be excited about their girlfriend coming to them first thing in the morning.

He waited until Blanaid had left the room before throwing his sheets off his body and getting dressed. There were still slight shadows of bruises plastering his skin. Blanaid knew he got in trouble, she just didn't need to know the extent to which it happened.

Brendan moved over to the window and pushed the curtains open. The entire street was blanketed in a layer of snow. He couldn't help but feel somewhat at ease by it. It looked almost perfect. Few things in Brendan's life were perfect, and he was entirely aware of it. But this, the snow, was just a natural perfection. That was, until the little children from his street would decide to go and plow their way through it, building snowmen and attempting to make igloos, which always turned out to be shit.

He suddenly remembered who was waiting for him downstairs, so he got dressed and made his way down through the house to the front door.

Eileen stood at the door, her body wrapped in gear ready for the snow. She had a big, jacket on, a beanie with a little pom-pom at the top, and a scarf wrapped neatly around her neck. Her cheeks were rosey, presumably because she'd been outside for quite a while.

"Hey Eileen." Brendan said calmly, a smile emerging on his face.
"Hi." She said, sneaking looks at him from under her eyelashes.

Brendan didn't understand why she had the need to always do things like that. To look at him that way. She was nice. When she did things like that, he just… Didn't feel much of anything.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Seamus asked, walking to the door from outside, snow shovel in hand.
Brendan stopped cold. He didn't like the idea of Seamus being anywhere near his friends.
"It's Eileen." He said quietly.
"Oh the infamous Eileen!" Seamus exclaimed, a smirk forming on his face.
"Yeah," Brendan mumbled, "Actually we were just going to my room, so…"
"Say no more." Seamus replied and knowingly grinned.

Brendan put his arm around Eileen and guided her to the stairs.

"Little devil…" Seamus chuckled under his breath.
Shivers ran up and down Brendan's spine.

Once Brendan and Eileen were in his room, Brendan felt unsure of what to do. She seemed to want to do stuff with him, that he just wasn't in the mood for doing. She kept trying to press her body up against his, or squeeze her arms together and make her breasts look bigger.

"I've had a lot of my mind." Brendan mumbled, trying to get her to stop.

She seemed to be making a fool of herself.

Suddenly she picked something up from his nightstand, and began examining it.
"Macbeth?" She asked, a frown etched on her brow.
Brendan jumped out of his seat and grabbed it out of her hand.
"For English class." He tried to explain.
"Okay. Why do you have it at home?" She then asked, as if incapable of understanding why anyone would like Shakespeare.
"Because…" Brendan began with no intention of continuing.
"Because of what?" She asked back, not seeming to take the hint.

Why did she keep on prying? Obviously he didn't want to tell her.

So he did what he knew he had to do to distract her, and moved to the bed, where she was sitting. He put his hand on her cheek and gently caressed her skin.

Was his hand even in the right spot?

Brendan then moved forward and pulled her into a kiss. She responded by leaning back and lying down on the bed, pulling him on top of her as he did.

This was it. He'd have to do it again.

It had all felt so manual throughout. He knew what he was supposed to do, and he did it. He knew the way he was supposed to move his hips, rocking back and forth, so he did. It almost felt robotic.

But somehow it didn't seem to mesh. Her body didn't seem to fit against his, and he felt out of place. No matter how hard he tried to close his eyes, it just felt weird. Wrong, almost.

After it had finally ended, Eileen seemed to be glowing. She snuggled up against Brendan's chest.

He closed his eyes and began counting down the minutes until she'd leave again.


While Brendan did truly enjoy seeing the snow, he often despised it because of the inconvenience it caused him. He wasn't able to go out and jog without risking slipping and hurting his knee even more. And to be honest, he thought the cold was a bit of a bitch. He didn't enjoy dressing for winter. He just had a big coat, and that was pretty much it.

So instead of jogging, he'd ended up walking aimlessly through the streets, hoping to somehow clear his mind. But instead of being left alone, he had run into Orin.

"Mate, come on!" Orin said, "Let's go play some video games and chill."
"I can't." Brendan replied, knowing that he wouldn't be let off without a fight.
"Seriously. I haven't spoken to you in ages!" He urged.

Maybe it could be good for him. Just some down town with a friend. Playing video games, doing nothing really.

"Fine." Brendan gave in.
"Alright!" Orin exclaimed as he clapped his hands together.

As they walked, they simply talked about random recent events. They spoke of teachers they hated, which guys had managed to get laid after the school party, and which guys were simply losers who hadn't managed to get any.

"Right, she was just begging for it, and I fucked her good!" Orin exclaimed, not caring of his profane language.
Brendan laughed in response. He knew Orin was a bit of a pig.
"And that girl of yours," Orin started, "How is she?"

Why did Orin have to go and ruin their good time? It didn't feel right talking about it.

"Good." Brendan responded, before switching the subject to how Eoin had taken Lynsey to the dance.

After walking for about ten minutes, Orin stopped and turned to Brendan, his eyes wide and excited.
"How about we go to the club?"
"I don't know." Brendan replied.

He'd heard a lot of stuff about the club. He was no stranger to boxing, but the club was a bit of a trashy place. People would place bets on fights, and try to make a buck out of it.

"You love boxing!" Orin said, his eyes almost pleading Brendan to say yes.
Brendan sighed.
"Fine."

He was weak.


The minute they entered the building, Brendan could tell this place wasn't some flimsy, come and go as you please, club. It was real. The way the air smelt, the way the men walked around, faces serious and ready for battle, were all proof of it.

Brendan soon found the gloves, and ended up taking off his coat and shirt, being left in only his grey vest. He then moved to the ring, lifting up the rope and getting inside.

A man, probably only about two or three year's older than Brendan, got into the ring with him. The man had a shaven head, and tattoos covering his arms. Brendan watched as the guy turned and spat down onto the ground outside the ring.

"This is just a practice round." Another guy, outside of the ring, told Brendan and his opponent.
"Kill him!" Orin shouted from outside the ring.

And the next thing Brendan knew, the match had started. He jumped back and forth on his feet, shifting around the ring, trying to find a good position and moment to strike.

Before he could, he was hit by the guy. This wasn't a good start.

"Just direct all your anger on him." Orin said loudly enough for Brendan to hear.

So Brendan did just that. He thought of all the things that seemed to be fucked up in his life. Brendan thought of his friends and how they'd left him to get beaten at the bar. He thought of loyalty and how they'd had none of it.

Then he thought about his father and one day getting him back. Fighting him. Beating him until he couldn't walk anymore. Until his tears had turned to blood.

And finally he thought of the boy. He thought of the weird, disgusting feelings he'd been getting. He thought of the way his mind seemed to be overpowered by them. He thought of how much he hated himself for it, or his subconscious for making him think things like that. He thought of Steven's house. The pizza, the video games, the couch, the burning sensation in his touch.

Brendan channelled all his frustration and rage into this moment. The moment where he'd win the fight and be more of a man than any of the losers standing around the ring.

And suddenly he was spitting out his mouth guard and being patted on the back by Orin. Some men who'd been standing by the water cooler made their way over to him.

"Awesome fight, mate!" They said, shaking his hand.

Brendan stopped and saw that the other guy had moved from lying on the ground, and was now leaning against one of the poles on the side.

He felt a sudden twinge of remorse. It had just been a small fight. But then again, this was life. Life wasn't about stopping and taking pity. It was about winning. It was about fighting and being the best, and striking in moments of weakness. You should never let your guard down, because you will lose. Of course there'd be losers. Without losers they'd be living in a fucked up world. And now, Brendan was the winner.


Glitter seemed to be getting everywhere, covering the ground, their chairs and the tables. Somehow Brendan and Orin had ended up in a strip club. Of all the places in the world, that was where they were.

They hadn't chosen to go to the strip club, but after Brendan's win some of the men who had been watching, took it on them to invite the boys out. So they'd chosen a place they knew every man would enjoy themselves. Brendan and Orin had gotten into the place without a problem, because the men they were with seemed to be regulars there.

"Hey, winner," A tall skinhead they had learned was called Dave started, "I'm gonna buy you a dance. You deserve it!"

Brendan suddenly panicked. He didn't want to have a dance.

"I'm alright." Brendan mumbled in response. He didn't want them to make a deal out of it.
"What?!" Dave asked, his face containing a look of disgust, "Are you a faggot or something?"
Sweat seemed to be forming on Brendan's forehead, and his neck felt too warm for comfort.
"No," He said, seeming to stumble over his own words, "I just have a girlfriend, and I'm not sure she'd like that very much."
Dave's expression changed, and a smile seemed to form once again. He patted Brendan on the back.
"No one says she has to find out," He smirked, "Just one little dance. Won't do you any harm."
"Okay." Brendan said, plastering a smile on his face.

He just let it happen, as a women, dressed in only a thong and a rather revealing bra, came to him and got on his lap.

Dave and Orin seemed to look on him, they're mouths hanging wide open as they imagined themselves in Brendan's position.

The woman began grinding down on Brendan's lap. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. With Eileen, he knew what she wanted, and he knew that he had to give her that. But this… What was he supposed to do?

He looked to his side and saw that now both Dave and Orin were slipping some cash into the bras of two women, and each got a woman to straddle their laps. He watched as their eyes were wide and full of anticipation. Dave slipped his hands onto the hips of the woman who was dancing on him. So Brendan did the same to his woman. He turned and made sure they wouldn't see his eyes on anything else but this dancer.

This was normal. This should be normal. Any guy would kill for something like this. But Brendan couldn't focus. His mind was somewhere else. On someone else.

After what felt like far too long, the woman finally got off and left to grind on some other man. Brendan felt relief wash over him.

"Did you enjoy my gift?" Dave then asked from underneath his dancer.
"Yeah, she was fantastic!" Brendan responded enthusiastically, hoping to God that no one was able to read his mind.

After Dave turned his attention back onto the woman on his lap, Brendan began fiddling his fingers. He wanted to be anywhere but there. This wasn't him. He just didn't feel it.

"I'm gonna head home." Brendan told Orin as he stood up.
"Already?" Orin turned to him, shocked that anyone would want to leave that place.

Brendan nodded in response and headed out the door.

The snow was still covering the street, almost blinding him from the contrast of the dark lights inside the club to this. It was still relatively early, and Brendan now found himself wandering the streets for the second time that day.

He knew now that the chances of anyone running into him were slim, considering that that had already happened enough times today.

After walking for about twenty minutes, the pain in his knee seemed to grow, and Brendan found himself heading on home.


Once he got home he saw Cheryl and a few of her friends playing around in the front garden, throwing snowballs at each other and trying to build snowmen. There was one snowman in the garden that seemed to be quite well endowed. To an extreme point. Some girls were giggling as they kept building on it, making it bigger and bigger.

How immature.

As he made his way to the front door, he felt a snowball smack him on the arm.

Brendan turned around to spot who it had been and saw Cheryl standing the garden, smirking at him.

This was good. This meant that she was probably already over the whole ordeal.

He quickly moved and made a grab for some snow from the bushes and patted it into a ball and threw it at her, causing her to shriek and run from her spot. Brendan then began chasing her around the garden, trying to stuff snow down the back of her jacket.

After a long and intense battle, they both found themselves sitting in the back garden, a few footsteps away from an igloo, their backs rested against the wall of their house.

"So you're not angry at me anymore?" Brendan asked, breaking the silence.
"Well," Cheryl began, her tone light and easy, "I spoke to Ste about it and he explained everything."
Brendan felt everything turn cold.
"What did he explain?" He asked, his teeth gritting.
"That you two were just fooling around. Play wrestling and stuff... I guess I'm just not used to it, because we don't have another brother, and I don't really see you with your friends." She explained.
"Yeah, yeah, okay." He replied, extremely relieved that that's what Steven had told her.

If she were to ever find out what had happened between them, she'd never want to speak to him again. No one he knew would.

"Cheryl," A voice exclaimed, as a person turned around the corner.
"Ste!" Cheryl squealed and jumped up from his spot on the ground.

Brendan felt a lump stuck in his throat. He hadn't seen Steven since the day at Ste's house. It was as though the snow had suddenly melted, and Brendan found himself burning once again.

"We were just talking about you." Cheryl told him, her voice full of giggles.
"Were you?" Ste asked, sneaking a glance at Brendan, who for only a short second held eye contact.

It was too much for him. He was in the same area and Ste and it felt like his whole world had stopped. Like time had stopped. He wanted to keep looking at him, to just watch as Ste moved around and spoke to Cheryl, with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, smiles forming on his face, his eyes glinting.

But he stopped himself and looked at his feet instead.

"It was nothing really." Cheryl said, "I was just explaining why I wasn't angry at him anymore."
Brendan, giving into temptation, looked up and saw as Ste's shoulders seemed to fall a bit.
"Oh, okay." He replied, biting down on his bottom lip again.

And then Cheryl was pulling Ste by his arm and dragging him to the front garden, where the others had been. From what Brendan could hear, it sounded like most people had already vacated the area and had left.

He decided to satisfy his childish needs and moved into the igloo to see how successful it was. It was quite small and cramped in there, but roomy enough for at least three people.

Brendan began patting down the walls, trying to make it as sturdy as possible. He scooped some snow in his hands and pushed it down into the areas that looked like they needed it. Once he had finished renovating, he rested his head against the wall, feeling slightly awkward because of the rounded shape of them.

Suddenly he heard movement outside and a head popped into the entrance.

"Can I come in?" Ste asked shyly.

Brendan found himself nodding.

"This is quite the place." Ste then said after he'd settled in, sitting next to Brendan, their shoulders touching slightly.
"You'd have to compliment the fine architects out there then." Brendan explained, his eyes now wandering down to his legs, where his right thigh seemed to be pressed against Ste's left leg.

Ste smiled and then the igloo seemed to go quiet. The cuts on Ste's face seemed to have healed. His skin was flawless.

Brendan wasn't sure if it was because there was now one more one body in there with him, but it seemed to be getting hotter. He palms rubbed against each other with ease due to a small layer of sweat that was forming.

"About the other day," Ste started.
"Don't." Brendan warned, his tone still calm and unprotected.
"I just…" Ste started, his expression falling. His eyes were wide and looked full of pain.
"Don't," Brendan seemed to beg, his voice getting low.

And suddenly Ste's palm was resting gently against Brendan's cheek.
"Don't…" Brendan repeated, his voice now weak and yielding.
"Please," Ste whispered under his breath, and his turned Brendan's face to face him.

Ste's breath was warm against Brendan's skin. Brendan felt his own eyes move down and focus on Ste's lips. Biting. Ste gently tugged on his own bottom lip.

Brendan didn't know whether he had started it, or if Ste had started it, but suddenly their lips were pressed against each other. Brendan felt himself gently pulling at Ste's bottom lip with his own, then taking it between his teeth. Their tongues then seemed to move rhythmically against each other. Open, wet and willing.

Ste then moved and sat with his knees on either side on Brendan's thighs. Ste grunted as he hit his head against the roof of the igloo. Brendan felt himself laugh. Ste pouted then moved in to replace Brendan's smile by his lips.

Instinctively, Brendan's hands began pulling on Ste's hips, trying to get him closer.

Suddenly his hands seemed to wander everywhere. He needed to feel him. His shaking hands moved under the back of Ste's jacket, pawing at his soft skin, as Ste's mouth continued to move against his.

Brendan felt something poking against his lower stomach and realised that it was Steven.

He should've been grossed out. He should've been disgusted by it.

But instead it felt like it shot straight to his own cock, making him throb under all his layers of clothes and Steven.

Brendan suddenly pulled himself away from Ste's mouth and moved his head to Ste's neck, gently sucking on the skin there, before pulling away again and letting his mouth rest against the side of Ste's head.

"Fucking hell…" He managed to whisper into Ste's ear, his voice now raspy and unconstrained.