Stephen and Noah are in bed. Naked. Fooling around.

"Yeah that's it Ste. Fuck!" Noah gasps as Stephen bobs his mouth up and down his dick rapidly; groaning softly as he repeatedly fills himself with it.

"Is that how you did it for Brendan?"

Stephen lifts his sweet pink and slightly swollen wet lips off Noah and smiles seductively. "No. With you it means more. So much more."

He moves up to lie flush on Noah and grins down at him. "Honestly, his touch made my skin crawl. All those bad things he has done with those hands. I couldn't stop thinking about it every time he laid a finger on me."

Noah grins and pulls him into a kiss that is lustful and erotic and everything a kiss between two people in love should be.

Stephen pulls away, gasping for breath before leaning down to Noah's ear and whispering. "I want to you to make love to me."

"Yeah?"

Hands are exploring everywhere. Tongues share spit. Cocks are grabbed urgently.

"Yeah. Make me forget him." Stephen sighs as Noah effortlessly lifts him up and gently repositions him on his back. "Fuck me so hard that I forget Brendan Brady, Noah!"

-0-0-

I wake up with a start, panting heavily and lined with sweat. I mop my brow.

A dream. It was a dream!

Thank goodness.

But my relief is short-lived. After Stephen's words yesterday, there is every chance that that dream is a reality as you read this. Only of course, Noah doesn't know about Stephen and me. Stephen had assured me of that when he found out Dougie had been following them for me.

I move to get up. Bad move. My body kills. Fucking Noah. I hold my side as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Paddy is still fast asleep on the mattress on the floor. The guy can snore. I stand up and nudge him with my foot.

"Paddy. Wake up."

"Hum." He groans softly and then rolls away from my prodding. His breathing evens out again. Looking at him when he sleeps brings back memories. Good ones. Distant ones. I look at his face and spot the faint scar on the right side of his hairline.

Seeing it makes me want to turn back time. And it makes me feel opposing emotions. It wakes up the part of me that wants Stephen near me; to watch over him and protect him. But it also reinforces the part of me that wants to push him as far from me as possible because being near me can only lead to harm.

Whatever. Fuck it. Enough emotional bullshit. I clear my throat and smooth my 'tache. I decide to shower and then wake Patrick up. On my way to the bathroom, I pass Chez's bedroom. It is quiet. She must have decided to stay over at Warren's last night. Good. I could do without having to explain Paddy's presence yet.

By the time I am fresh and clean and walk back into my room, the blow up mattress on the floor is empty with crumpled sheets thrown back. I get changed. Briefs. Crucifix. Jeans. Plain white T. Socks. Black hoodie. Sneakers. Watch. Wallet. Done.

As I gingerly walk downstairs I smell coffee. I smile when I hear the low hum of a tune accompanied by the shuffle of bare feet over kitchen tiles. The toaster pops up when my feet touch the bottom of the stairs.

Paddy turns to face me with a smile before moving his attention to breakfast again.

"Perfect timing." He piles the four pieces of golden bread on a plate and starts buttering. "Toast's ready."

I take in his serene expression. He is in crumpled boxers and tee-shirt.

"Ye snore." I mutter. I try not to wince when taking a seat on a bar stool.

"Ye know I do." He places a steaming mug of black coffee in front of me and looks at me knowingly. "Now shut up and drink yer coffee. I made it how ye like."

"Maybe I don't take it the same way any more."

"Please." He mutters. He sits next to me and places the toast between us. I stare at him. Since when has he felt he could talk to me like that?

He takes a sip from his own mug and looks at me expectantly. Little fecker. There is something about him, that stubbornness mixed with vulnerability but with an edge of mischief, that reminds me of...

I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee. Shit! It burns the crap out of my tongue so I spit it back into the mug.

Paddy laughs. "Too hot, big man? Want me to blow on it for ye?" He grins more broadly from behind his mug and raises an eyebrow.

He drags out the word 'blow'.

Fecker.

"Oh no. It's not the heat. It's just that it tastes like shit." I fire back.

"I make the best coffee." He says simply. He is right. He makes a good brew.

We eat and drink in silence for a while and it feels familiar and OK. I can tolerate this.

"So are you going to tell me what yesterday night was all about?"

He is talking about the male toilets of Realto. It is none of his business so I answer with a question of my own,

"So are you going to tell me why the police found you trying to steal that top of the range merc yesterday?"

"Isn't that the wrong question?" Paddy says. "Aren't you wondering why I am in here to see you after nine years of no communication?"

"You will tell me when you are ready." I drawl and drink some more coffee. Of course I am playing it cool. I never ever expected to see Patrick again.

"The car was an eejit move, Bren, I know that. I wanted you to be impressed when I showed up. I wanted you to see how well the last few years have gone for me." He looks at me through hooded brows. "It's over though, mostly. Me, doing underhand things. I am working with Joe now."

"Paddy, Paddy, Paddy, I've said it once. I've said it a thousand times. A life of crime-"

"-Is like herpes... you're still using that one?"

I shrug. "If it ain't broke why change it."

"I've changed." He looks seriously at me and tracks his eyes over me. "I thought maybe you had too."

The weight of his words punches me in the heart.

"Tell me what yesterday was all about, Brendan?" He insists quietly.

I look down. "No." I whisper into my mug.

"Did you cause Noah's split lip?"

"Yes." I look at Paddy. "He is a waste of space; an oxygen bandit."

"You don't like him." He nods slightly. "But is he right? Have you been beating that blond kid up?"

"His name is Stephen." I say. "And his hair is like a light brown."

Why did I say that? Whatever. It is an obvious observation.

Paddy smirks at me. "You get kinda intense when it comes to him, don't ye?"

I look at him lazily. "Did you want an answer or was that rhetorical?"

"Do you beat him up, Bren?"

"No. I don't." I whisper.

"But you did?"

I down the rest of my coffee, stand up and throw the coffee mug into the sink noisily.

"Okay, okay!" Patrick says urgently. "Ye don't want to talk about it. That's cool. We don't have to. Look, I came to Hollyoaks to get closure and forget that past so if this aggravates you, we'll cross it off the conversation list."

He hazards a small smile.

I stare at him and then curl one side of my mouth up. "Why don't you get showered and then we'll head out."

"Okay." Paddy starts making his way upstairs.

"By the way, Patrick-" I say.

He looks back at me. "Yep."

"Stay away from Stephen or I will pluck the nails off your fingers one by one."

He crosses his heart. "I will be as good as gold."

-0-0-

I take Paddy to Chez Chez. I may as well let Cheryl know sooner rather than later that we have a house guest.

"Hey sis."

"Morning Bren." Chez says with a smile that goes from genuine to forced in a microsecond once she claps eyes on Patrick behind me. Her cheeks must hurt from all the effort.

Patrick gives her a smile that tells me that he knows she is uncomfortable with his presence.

"Hi Cheryl." He says. "Long time no see."

"Yeah." She says. She can't keep the venom out of her voice. "Thought we had seen the last of you."

"And yet here I am." Paddy says.

She cocks her head to the side and tries to communicate her confusion to me with her eyes. I pretend I don't notice.

"Yeah." I say. I speak to Paddy. "Look mate, why don't ye grab a coffee at the bar."

Patrick glances between my sister and me sceptically but after one look from me he nods and winks at Chez. "Good seeing you again."

He brushes past me and I lead Cheryl to the office. Once the door is closed, she whips round to face me angrily. "What the hell is he doing here, Bren?"

"Visiting." I say.

"Visiting?" She looks at me as if I am mad and then starts pacing. "I thought you were through with that low life."

I smart at her words. I keep my voice low. "He isn't a low life."

"Ye 'ave used far worse words than that to describe him." She whispers back. "Do I need to remind ye?"

I get into her face. "Just treat him nicely, sis."

Her eyes widen in alarm. "Why? What's changed? Have you forgotten what you told me about him?"

I interrupt her. "I know what I said."

How I can forget that night in Dublin when I was twenty-one years old.

-0-

I pant as I barrel into our house. It is late but I know that Chez is home alone. My dad and stepmum are away on holiday.

I feel like my heart is going to come out of my chest it is beating so hard. My palms are sweating. I can barely catch my breath. Tears are streaming down my face. Yeah. You heard me correctly. Tears. But they are silent. I don't even notice them. My body is processing what has happened quicker than my mind.

I accidentally stumble into the coffee table as I get to the house phone and pick up the receiver.

"What the hell, Bren? It's three am!" My fifteen-year old sister comes into the living room rubbing her eyes tiredly. Her look of fatigue and annoyance changes into one of panic and concern when she sees me. Chez has never seen me cry.

"Brendan?" She shuffles up to me in her bunny slippers and wipes my cheeks shakily. She looks down at my hands. "Your phone."

My broken mobile is in my bloodied hand. Her voice becomes shaky. "That's blood."

"It's not mine." I can barely get my words out. I am staining the white phone receiver with congealed blood. Oh God!

I dial a number.

"Who are ye calling? Who's blood is it?" She says walking up to me cautiously.

I do not reply instead I speak into the phone.

"Yes. Ambulance please. Quickly."

And then I wait. My hands are shaking. I wipe the blood off on my clothes and turn around to Cheryl.

What is the emergency, son?

"I need someone to get over to Dame Lane, in the city centre, straight away please, near the Trinity Street auto bus stop." I sniff back a tear. "I-, I think someone is really hurt. Please get there quickly. Please."

I am begging.

Okay. Now try to calm down. What is your name?

I stare at the phone and panic. I slam the phone down. Chez grips me firmly.

"Were you attacked?" She whispers as she tries to make sense of what is going on.

I shake my head.

"Do I need to be worried?"

"No. No." I say.

I can't process what is going on quickly enough but instinct to protect always comes through, doesn't it? So I say,

"Stay away from Patrick."

Chez frowns. "But he's your best friend."

"Not anymore." I whisper. "He's dangerous. He's a fucking psycho."

"Why? What did he do?"

I walk to the sink in the kitchen and wash my hands watching the blood run from off me and down the drain.

"I'm going to tell mum and dad."

"Don't. You could get into trouble."

"Is he going to come after you? Are you in danger?"

"I don't think so." I say. "No."

"But-"

"Go back to sleep, Chez." I wipe up and then push her towards her bedroom.

-0-0-

"Why is he finally okay to hang around with?" Cheryl asks.

"He just is. Don't give him grief." I tell her.

"Fine!" She raises her hands in defeat. "But if he does something remotely dodgy I am calling the police."

"Don't worry they are one step ahead of you."

"You what?"

"I bailed him out of jail yesterday for trying to steal a car. He is waiting for a date for his court hearing."

Cheryl's eyes widen in shock. "Jesus Bren, I don't want him anywhere near us."

I give her a quick affectionate kiss on her forehead. "Soz, sis, but I gave the men in blue our address as his residence while he is here in Hollyoaks."

I give her my most winning grin and then walk out of the office.

I can feel her anger radiating against my back.

"Brendan!"

-0-0-

"Why was Chez looking at me like she wanted to kill me?" Paddy asks as we walk towards the SUBAR.

"She wasn't." I lie.

"She was." He says. "She hates me."

"She just remembers your criminal activity." I say drily. "Sticky Fingers."

"I stole her wallet once and I gave it right back." He defends himself sheepishly.

"Like a true gentleman."

"I'm not the one that was known as 'the ghost'." He smiles.

"Yeah, well my days of pick pocketing are over." I nudge him gently.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I say. "Mate, what's the time?"

He looks at his left wrist and his eyes widen and his smile gets broader. It is bare. He looks at me. "You bastard!"

I wink at him as I give him back his watch. "Guess I still have the touch!"

"I've got to watch myself around you, Bren." He says grinning.

We get to the SUBAR and see the crowd of men inside that are being bossed around by my 'girlfriend'.

I can't see Stephen anywhere. Not that I am surprised or looking out for him specifically. Just checking to see that he is doing what he said he was going to do; stay the hell away from me.

I lead the way in but Paddy stops me at the threshold.

"Wait. What the hell are we doing here? What's with the half naked blokes?" Paddy whispers.

I take in his suddenly withdrawn expression. "It's preparation for a charity male fashion show and I'm about to introduce you to my girlfriend. A word to the wise, she will ask you to strip before she says 'hello'."

"Come again? I didn't know you had a-"

Mitzeee runs to me and throws herself around me. "Oh Brendan! Thank God you are here. We have had to rearrange things since Noah and Ste bailed out. Everything is a mess. There is so much to do and nothing is going right! I work with morons! And now I am hyperventilating." She fans herself with a hand. "I think I am going to faint!"

She becomes toneless in my arms in an overdramatic moment.

I look at a shocked Paddy. "Paddy, this is my girlfriend. Mitzeee, Patrick is a childhood friend."

She opens an eye and darts it over Paddy quickly, no doubt getting his dimensions. She raises an interested eyebrow. My friend is clearly more effective than sniffing salts because, in an instant, Mitzeee is back on her own two feet with a hand outstretched to him, palm down.

"Well, hello, hot stuff! My name is Mitzeee with three e's. Have you ever modelled before?"

-0-0-

Mitzeee is tiring me out. Paddy is confusing me with his presence. I have tried more outfits in one sitting than I have ever owned in my life.

I am sick of this. I need to get out of here. I need to catch my breath because it feels as though I am suffocating. I keep getting unshakable images that weigh me down and make me feel like I can't breathe. They go round and round in my head, fucking with me. And they are about him. Always.

Stephen.

It is ridiculous. It has been a month. This unrelenting cloud that hangs over me has got to move on.

Just like Stephen has,

"Trust me, Noah, he is just a confused man with anger problems. And he is just not worth it. He is in my past. I was sucked in once. I looked up to him but we are done now."

I cringe as I recall that soft kiss that they shared right in front of me that nearly broke my resolve to not beat the shit out of the personal trainer.

And then there was Noah's smug small smile. "Okay."

I feel my fists ball up. And the pain in my centre, the one that has been there for a month, intensifies.

"I am staying over at Noah's tonight, Brendan. Do you understand? And I'm going to let him fuck me until I can't think straight."

Stephen had looked so livid.

"Because you don't care one way or the other, do you?"

I could tell in the depths of those angry eyes that he was hurt and begging me to do that thing they do in the movies; that thing where the music swells and chests collide and ardent kisses are shared and words of love are exchanged. That thing that I didn't do.

Wouldn't, couldn't and shouldn't do.

So he walked away from me as he has done consistently for a month with a resolve he has never been able to keep before. And he went to that other man.

"Earth calling Brendan." Paddy ribs me.

I look at him and take in my surroundings at the SUBAR.

"What?"

"What do you make of these bad boys?" He asks and turns his back to me. He is wearing nothing but a snug pair of black boxer briefs. Paddy has kept in shape that much is amply clear. He speaks to me over his shoulder. "Your missus is persuasive. All I can say is that the room had better be warm on show day!"

Mitzeee smiles at him and then looks at me in annoyance. "Babe, why aren't you changed yet?"

"Because I told you already that I am not doing the underwear section of the catwalk unless someone hits me across the head unconscious."

"But-"

I lift a hand. "I have to go to the club. We are expecting a delivery anytime." I say.

I'm done with this bullshit for a day.

"But-" Mitzeee repeats.

I ignore her. "You cool to hang out here?" I ask Patrick.

He nods but looks strangely at me.

"Good."

I walk out of the bar dressed in the show's 'casual gear' and head back home.

Yeah. I think I could do with getting acquainted to a bottle of Jameson right about now. Yeah. I know it isn't noon yet. So what?

-0-0-

Fantastic. An empty flat. A full bottle of Irish whiskey. A Brendan in need of anaesthetising. Let the inebriation begin.

I grab a glass and twist the top of the bottle. It is while I am about to take the first swig of many that I hear the knock on the front door.

Okay. No problem. I'll get rid of the interruption then I'll get back to drinking myself into a stupor.

I briskly and impatiently throw the door open and my jaw literally drops.

I feel like I should rub my eyes like some cliché to make sure that they aren't deceiving me.

Stephen.

He looks at me with an expression that is a little lost. But mostly he gives me that look that makes my breathing feel okay again and takes away the ache in my bones and makes me want to smile like I mean it and makes me feel like the world is a pretty decent place.

"I couldn't..." He starts and then shuts his mouth again, fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie which are drawn over his hands.

I stare at those lips as he darts a tongue out to wet them.

I step up to him. If this is a dream, then I am taking full advantage.

Stephen is here with me.

I hook my finger into his collar and pull him to me. If this is a mirage then it is solid and it does not vanish.

He hitches a breath.

"You're going to stay?" I ask quietly. I feel like if I were to speak any louder I might jinx the situation.

He nods. "Yeah..." He kicks the door shut behind him closing us away from the world. "Even if it is like this. Private. Just you and me."

He curls both hands behind my neck and pulls me to him.

"I'll take it." He whispers up to me.

And I know I should say 'no'. I should tell him something heartless, something the Tin Man would be proud of. Or I should show him my fists and remind him of the pain I can cause him.

But I am too weak. I want him too much. I care about him.

I lo-

He presses his lips to mine and finally the million thoughts that have been stampeding nonstop through my head cease.

I wrap him in my arms.

Mine.

Stephen Hay.

Better than the best Irish whiskey out there.