Brendan's P.O.V

'You moved.'

You sit for a second, dumb struck, are trying to figure out whether it was just your imagination but when you look into Steven's eyes, they're wide and bright and beautiful and you know that it happened. He huffs a laugh and blinks once- Yes. You lunge forward and kiss him on the mouth, one hand on his neck, the other clinging to his hand, so hard that you think you might be breaking it but he isn't protesting.

What makes you slam on the emergency bell you will never know but you need people to see this, want to stand on top of this hospital and scream at the top of your lungs that he can move again.

Multiple nurses run in, Doctor Jones at their side and they frantically look about the room trying to decipher what the problem is, all end up glaring at you like you've just committed murder.

'He moved. He actually moved!'

Doctor Jones sighs and hangs his head between his shoulders, walks over and tries to touch you and it's so intimidating. You back away and watch as he looks at Steven, his eyes full of doubt and pity.

'That's highly unlikely. It was probably just a muscle spasm Brendan.'

'No it wasn't! He moved. Look he'll do it again.'

You put the boy's bony hand on top of yours and smooth your thumb along his wrist, need this to be true otherwise you think you'll end up crying.

'Steven... Move it again for me. Do it again.'

You watch as his eyes drift down to the hand that you hold, see the concentration there, can imagine him sticking his tongue out between his white teeth and frowning but of course that doesn't happen. Maybe you're expecting too much, maybe it never happened at all because the seconds seem to pass and nothing happens. Your breath shakes as it looks more and more likely that your imagination betrayed you.

'Come on. You can do it.'

Maybe he needs encouraging. You're the only one that believes in this, believes in him and you need to make that belief stronger than ever. You flick your gaze down to his thumb and watch, seconds seeming like torturous hours.

'See. Just a muscle-'

Before he can finish his sentence, Steven's thumb drags heavily from one side of your wrist to the other and you nearly burst into tears, end up throwing an arm backwards and thumping Doctor Jones in the chest to silence him.

'Look! He can move! He's gunna be okay right? He'll be able to walk again.'

Even the nurses are shocked, jaws dangling open, eyes wide and you want to give them all the middle finger because they had given up on Steven ever recovering. Yet you came here every day for seven months with the hope and faith that he'd get better.

'You can't forget that the damage to his spine was extensive. He may only gain feeling and movement in certain parts of his body. Don't get your hopes up too soon.'

The morbidity of what he's saying doesn't get you down. He can move again, the movement being in his fingers so he'll be able to hold your hand again, one of the things you've missed the most. You're praying that he'll gain some movement in his face, want to see him smile, want to feel him kiss you back.

'I'll book him in for some physiotherapy, get them to come down and help build some muscle back. Speech therapy might be good as well if he starts to gain any movement in his lips.'

You try to hold back your emotion, watch and listen as all of the nurses take their leave and say how unbelievable this is, that the statistics suggested that he'd be paralysed for life. But this is your boy proving them wrong, proving everyone wrong.

'You're gunna be okay.'

You choke, a tear running down your cheek and you lift Steven's arm towards your face and plant a kiss in his palm.

'Catch it for me.'

He moves his thumb the smallest of amounts and catches the tear before it falls off your chin, his own eyes swelling with moisture. You kiss his thumb, taste the saltiness on your lips and climb onto the bed with him, wrap his arm around you and can feel him stroking your back with what little movement he has. You never thought this would happen, thought you were hopelessly clinging onto that tiny bit of hope that one day he'd be able to move. Nevertheless, you were practically the only one with any hope left at all.

'You'll be able to walk again Steven. And when you can, me and you will run out of this hospital together, hand in hand. I'll take you home and I'll kiss you all night and we'll have ridiculously romantic walks across the beach. I know you always wanted that.'

He can't smile, yet, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know. Seven months he's been trapped in here, paralysed, tubes and wires hanging off him. But one day, you don't care how long you have to wait, the day will come when you'll be out of here, spending the rest of your lives with each other.

Steven's hooked up to his chemo a little later on and just as he's attached, Cheryl wonders in, flowers in her hands and a smile on her face that immediately fades as soon as she sees you.

'I've just come to see Ste.'

She says, retreating back towards the door as you try to embrace her. She shakes her head and you realise that she hasn't come around, hasn't done the thing that she usually does when she says that she's here to see Steven but has other intentions on the agenda as well.

'Okay.'

You say, shuffling past her, trying not to touch. You wander around the hospital for a while, stop off at a variety of wards and walk through them to kill some time. It's only when you get to the children's ward that you come to a stop, see a child hooked up to some chemo. A little girl sleeps, alone, pale with a smooth head. Just like Steven. You don't know what has caused you to halt, why this child in particular is making you stare. There are others, some with broken legs and some who are preparing for operations.

'Hello.'

She says when she opens her eyes and sees you. Her eyes are a chocolate brown, cheeks pink and smile bright.

'Will you sit with me?'

You're hesitant for a moment, are wondering where her parents are, look down the corridor to see if anyone is coming back for her but apparently not.

'Sure.'

You reply, taking a seat next to her, have to move a bright pink teddy bear off of the chair in order to sit down. She's harmless and alone, something that pulls at your strings because the thought of leaving Steven on his own hurts enough, let alone a child.

'I'm Molly. That's Twinkle.'

She points to the bear that you've wittingly sat on your knee, takes the paw in her hands and smooths her thumbs along the fur.

'He's cool.'

'Yeah. He is. What's your name?'

'Umm... I'm Brendan.'

She holds her hand out to you and you shake it, yours so large in comparison to hers.

'That's a nice name.'

She says breathlessly with a small smile, a tooth missing at the front that's obviously come out recently.

'How old are you?'

You ask, intrigued.

'I'll be nine on February 14th. What about you?'

You shift a little closer to her, feel the need to be within her proximity seeing as she's been left here on her own, feel like she's suddenly become your responsibility.

'I'm nineteen.'

'So you're just over ten years older than me!'

You smile, always find it amusing when a child feels the need to calculate the difference in ages, like somehow they believe that when the difference passes by, they'll be the same age as you. Many kids don't have that sense of time, simply think that people stay the same age forever.

'What are you in here for?'

You ask, already know why but it's an ice breaker question and you don't think Cheryl would be finished chatting away to Steven yet so you want something to keep you entertained.

'I've got this thing called cancer. A special one. They have to give me medicine and sometimes it makes me really tired so I stay in here all the time now. Do you have it too? Is that why you're here?'

'No. No my...friend has it. But they're in the adult part of the hospital.'

She furrows her brow for a second, obviously unaware that there's different wards in this hospital. It merely says to you, that she's been in this child ward for so long that she hasn't had the chance to see anywhere else. The multiple drawings on the walls tell you that as well, her clothes stacked in a neat pile on the floor on the opposite side of the cubicle.

'Your girlfriend? Or your boyfriend?'

'Ummm... A friend that's a boy.'

You don't want to twist her mind when she's such a young age, will let her cross that bridge when she comes to it. It's not your job to tell her about the different people in this world.

'You fibber!'

'What? I'm not lying.'

'Yes you are. My auntie told me that if you don't look at someone in the eyes when you tell them something, then they're telling fibs. You have a boyfriend.'

You hang your head between your shoulders, almost in shame because you've been outsmarted and discovered by an eight year old girl. You wander if you're that bad a liar that you can't hide even the stupidest things.

She reaches out her hand and touches you and it comes as a little bit of a shock, her skin freezing cold, fingers like ice cubes as they brush your knuckles.

'Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me too. My big sister likes having girlfriends instead of boyfriends. If you love him, then how does it make you any different from everybody else?'

'That's the thing though Molly, I don't know if I love him. I don't really know what it feels like.'

Christ. You're confiding in a child, asking for love advice. How pathetic could you get?

'Well... Do you get butterflies in your tummy when you see him?'

You nod, can remember seeing him for the first time when Cheryl had bought him to the pub and you'd been working the bar. Fifteen and scrawny and skinny and golden and chavvy and fucking beautiful.

'Does your heart beat really really fast when you... You know...'

'When I what?'

She can't be referring to sex surely. Do kids even know about that at this age?

She lowers her voice to a whisper.

'When you kiss him.'

Again you nod, strangely don't have the strength to say yes because just thinking about all of the times you've kissed him and fucked him are making you go weak at the knees.

'Does he make you feel safe and happy?'

You huff out a laugh at this little girl's wisdom, have never heard a child talk like this before.

'Yeah he does.'

'Can you see yourself spending the rest of your life with him? That's the most important one.'

You picture it, yourself and Steven on the sofa, your children surrounding you and their children, screaming and crying and smiling and wanting to sit on your knee, both of you old and grey. You're usually too scared to picture the future, where you'll be and who you'll be with. But you feel comfortable picturing this, want it to be like this.

'Yeah. Yeah I could.'

'Then you love him! You love him lots and lots. Brendan and... What's his name?'

You roll your eyes, can see what is coming but you give her the satisfaction, feel like you owe her that much.

'Steven'

'Brendan and Steven sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.'

She looks pleased with herself when she's finished her little rhyme and it makes you chuckle in adoration, have never liked a child as much as you like her.

'We've done a lot more than kiss.'

She looks at you strangely, her brows furrowing and eyes wondering, thinking about what you mean. And then suddenly she gasps, throws a hand over her mouth and it almost makes you jump, your heart leaping into your throat.

'You've... Snogged?'

'Okay. I think that was a little too soon.'

She smiles knowingly and leans back down onto her pillow, has only been speaking to you for five minutes but already has you figured out.

'Where are your parents?'

You ask, begin to look down the corridors again to see if anyone is coming back for her but they remain empty.

'In heaven. They went there when I was six.'

'Oh. I'm sorry.'

You shift awkwardly, were beginning to form a bad judgement of the little girl's parents. You feel guilty for jumping to conclusions without knowing the circumstances.

'It's okay. I send them kisses every night before I go to sleep and they send them back.'

A smile lights her face and you can't help but mirror it, couldn't imagine losing your parents when you were six years old, a time where the perfect image of your father was still in tact, a time where you still had your mother around to protect you and love you.

'My big sister and Auntie J see me now. When they can. It gets a bit boring on my own but now I have you! You'll come and see me won't you?'

She looks at you so highly, like you're the holder of the key to her bundle of joy and you've never been looked at in the way that she's looking at you now, so expectantly and adoringly. It makes your heart melt.

'Course I will. I'm in here a lot so I'll come and see you everyday.'

'You promise?'

You're hesitant for a split second, have to think momentarily on whether promising her would be a good idea because you're not the brilliant at keeping them.

'Yeah, I promise.'

'Yay!'

She jumps up from her bed and throws her small arms around your neck, practically weightless as you circle her with your own, her frame so small and skinny, bones protruding through her pink pyjamas. They almost hang off of her.

You don't know how long you end up staying with her but you're lured into dressing up her Barbie dolls, instructed on what hairstyle to give them and act out stupid little scenes where her doll and yours interact. She attempts different voices but you refuse to put that much effort in, are only doing this for her entertainment.

'Come on! Do some voices like me!'

She complains and you nearly break your voice box with how high you attempt to go.

When you next check the time, it seems that a couple of hours have passed and Molly is nearly off back to sleep, her small hand resting in your juxtaposed large one. You attempt to move but she clings to your fingers when she realises you're leaving, her eyes teary and brows knitted.

'You will come back won't you? You promised.'

'I know. I'll see you tomorrow okay? Or if you're lucky I'll come down a bit later on. Don't get upset sweetheart.'

You smooth your thumb down her cheek, wipe away any small, stray tears. You realise how little company she's had, so much so that she is already getting attached to you.

'Promise? With all of your heart and soul for forever and ever and ever?'

You chuckle and nod, watch as she gets to her feet on the bed and gives you a final hug.

'I promise with all of my heart and soul that I'll see you tomorrow. If I'm not here, then you can give me a smack okay?'

You don't know how you manage to humour her, have her in fits of giggles sometimes for no reason but she never tells you what that reason is, just says; You're funny.

Heading back to Steven's room, you find that Cheryl has left, her flowers resting in a vase of water. However, a man is in there with Steven, a man you've never seen before, ginger with freckles on his face, his fringe curly.

'Who're are you?'

You ask, notice that he has Steven's hand resting in his own.

'I'm Arnold! I'll be Steven's speech and physiotherapist! You must be Brendan!'

He holds out his spare hand, his fingers short and stumpy. You take it and cringe slightly at his sweaty palms, his enthusiasm already irritating you.

'He prefers Ste.'

You say, get annoyed when people call him Steven. That's what you call him and you alone.

'Oh I see. My apologies Ste.'

He chuckles goofily and continues wiggling Steven's fingers as you simply watch.

'What're you trying to do? He's only just moved his thumb.'

'Doctor Jones said I should get started straight away. And here I am! I'm simply getting the joints moving again to prevent them from going stiff. It'll help build a base for muscle strength when he begins to move more frequently.'

He talks far too fast for your liking. You're surprised that he didn't get tongue tied.

'So... Does this mean I'll be seeing a lot of you?'

You try not to sound distasteful of the idea but you fail miserably, although he obviously hasn't sensed you're disliking because he carries on chattering, answering your questions with unnecessary ardour.

'Yeah! I should be up here often. Maybe three or four times a week, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other!'

'Great! That's... great.'

You over enthuse at his statement, are dreading having to spend time with him and his idiotic, irritating persona.

You watch for another twenty minutes as Arnold continues moving Steven's joints, have the discomfort of hearing them crack every so often, so loud that it makes you cringe. You're awful for cracking your own knuckles but hearing someone crack theirs sends a shiver down your spine. When Arnold finally leaves you in peace, after he stops talking about his occupation and how he got into it and the daily hassles and how long he had to train, etcetera, you make the most of the time that you have with Steven. Climbing onto the bed you peel back the blankets and let him sleep, that small session of physio seemingly draining him of all energy. This seems to be the only thing that you do now, lie on this bed, with this boy in your arms, staring at the ceiling and watching the world pass day by day. It's strangely peaceful.

You're heading back to Steven's place after a whole day at the hospital, are wanting to shower, collect a spare set of clothes and have dinner with the lads for the first time in weeks. It's been exactly one week after the boy moved his thumb and he's made so much progress, so much so that he is now able to move his fingers enough to make a fist on his right hand. You shed a tear when it happened, watched as Arnold held Steven's wrist and the boy moved his fingers, wiggled them minutely and that night, you felt them close around your hand. Despite the grip being weak, your heart still leapt into your throat every time you felt his fingers stroke your knuckles. You held him and he held you back.

Your meal with the lads is in about two hours which gives you enough time to shower, shave, get dressed, pack another bag and watch a bit of T.V, a pleasure that you have missed.

When you get to the house it's deadly quiet. You assume Danny is still at work, Kyle at the office, Jamie at Art College, yet you wonder where Liam is because he hasn't been in the hospital all day. Unless he is simply studying at University today rather than on his placement.

You slide your keys along the counter and throw your jacket into the washing pile, can smell the sweat from where you'd had a run this morning. You help yourself to food, find some chocolate cake in the cupboard and stuff it in your mouth because your appetite is off the scale lately. Celebratory you assume.

There's suddenly a small thud on the floor above you and it makes you jump, your grip on the counter tightening as your heart begins to pound in your chest.

Taking the stairs slowly, you continue to hear the thuds, louder and louder as you draw closer. Your steps are light against the carpeted floor as you travel down the hall and you see Liam's bedroom door is slightly open, the sound seemingly coming from there. You stop just outside and listen for a moment, can hear heavy breathing and frantic movements and it confuses you. Why is Liam here?

Peering through the door your jaw nearly drops as you see Liam shove Paddy against the wardrobe, both of them shirtless, Liam's fingers raked into Paddy's thick, black hair. They're kissing hurriedly and passionately, tongues visible as they invade each other's mouths, Paddy's hands in the rim of Liam's trousers. You never even knew that they had talked, let alone slept together. Unless this is their first time, Paddy's first time.

You're entranced, are watching them through the small gap and can see Paddy's face, so full of pleasure, an inexperienced pleasure of another person making him feel good and stimulating nerves that he never knew existed. It's only when Liam drops to his knees, his lips tracing the contours of Paddy's chest and abs, that you contemplate on closing the door and hurrying to your room, but something stops you. You should really leave but you're frozen, can't help but watch as Liam starts to suck off your best friend, the room being quite dark and shadowed and only certain curves are highlighted so you see nothing explicit, can just see the contortion on Paddy's face, see his nails scratching away at the wooden wardrobe.

You can hear him mumbling incoherently, small whimpers punching out of his chest as Liam deep throats him and takes him to the stars, a place that Paddy has never been and he looks like he's close to exploding, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and knuckles white as he clings onto the wardrobe like he's hanging onto his sanity.

Your dick is hard but not for the obvious reasons. You feel like you're looking back on yourself and Steven when you wickedly stole his purity, when you dominated him and took him to places that he'd never been, when you made him feel such things that he didn't know a person could feel. You remember sucking him off like that, remember massaging his hole with one hand, the other exploring his body, teasing his nipples and clawing into his golden flesh.

You wonder off down to the bathroom, can still hear Paddy moaning but your mind has somehow morphed it, twisted it to sound like Steven's gasps and when you step underneath the warm water of the shower, feel it trickling down your skin, you take hold of your rock solid cock and stroke yourself, can almost feel Steven's skin against your own, his kisses peppering your shoulders. Sliding your thumb over your foreskin you hear Steven saying your name, close your eyes to try and concentrate and you see him beneath your lids, clear in your mind. His lips are red and bruised from where you've kissed him roughly, forehead moist with sweat and his hair damp from it, skin golden and shiny in the little light yet his eyes glisten as he looks at you like you're his entire world.

When you cum it's blinding. All you can see is Steven's face obscuring your vision, his voice echoing in your ears, screaming, gasping, white noise that makes your skin feel like it's on fire, makes you go dizzy when your orgasm fades and your muscles twitch as you attempt to milk out the rest.

When you open your eyes it's like you had been in an alternate universe, like for a split second, your thoughts were a reality. It hits you like a hammer, the vile truth. Steven still has cancer, he is still paralysed in the majority of his body, he still can't speak, still can't kiss you back.

Your orgasm was so intense that you shot your load high up the wall, higher than your own head and it makes you wonder how long it's been since you masturbated. Far too long apparently.

When you've washed your hair, scrubbed your body and shaved, you make your way back to your room, have to walk past Liam's room to get there and this time you hear no panting or gasping. You take a quick peak through the gap in the door and see the two lying on the floor, duvet yanked off the bed and sprawled over them lazily, their legs tangled and poking out beneath. You see Liam stroking his fingers through Paddy's hair while your best friend runs his palms over Liam's muscular chest as they talk.

'What would you rate it? Out of ten?'

Paddy asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

'A strong eight. Maybe nine.'

Liam croons, moving in to kiss Paddy again and kissing him with such desire that you wonder if he is as insatiable as Steven, whether they share the same manic sex drive.

'Pretty good for a first time then?'

You see Liam's face drop, watch as his brows knit into a frown and his stroking of Paddy's hair comes to a halt.

'You're a virgin?'

He pulls his hand away and bolts up into a seating position.

'Not anymore-'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Why does it matter?'

Paddy sits up as well and gets on his knees, rubs his hands along Liam's shoulders and begins to sooth him with small kisses.

'It just... It just does okay? I don't do owning virginities.'

'You're unbelievable! Someone had to take it. You started this! Inviting me over for a coffee and then making your move knowing full well it'd escalate to this. You kissed me. For fuck sake forget it. I got warned about you.'

Paddy gets to his feet and begins to pull on his clothes, climbs into his boxers and starts heading towards the door. You take a quick step back, don't want him to catch you earwigging but then Liam catches him by the wrist and pulls him back, draws him into his chest.

'Im sorry. Please-' he sighs deeply and presses his forehead to Paddy's, his fingers caressing his neck '- I'm serious about you okay? For ages I've been a dick who's come and gone and just fucked people because I could. Now I've met you and I don't want to be that dick anymore.'

You smile, have no idea why. Maybe you're oddly relieved that Paddy is off your back, will hopefully stop staring at you like a lost puppy, wide eyes and lustful and longing. Maybe you're happy for him now that he has someone who deserves him. You don't deserve him, nor do you deserve Steven. Both of them should have someone better than you and now Paddy does.

Liam kisses him again, deeper this time, more passionately and Paddy gives in so easily, drops his clothes to the floor and wraps his arms around Liam's neck, stands on his tip toes because he's just that little bit shorter. You wonder back off to your room when Liam starts shoving his hands into Paddy's boxers, don't want to see that again and you need to start getting ready because, despite the fact that you're a boy, you somehow beat the stereotype that girls take longer to get ready. It takes you hours sometimes but thankfully, you had primarily planned on what you were going to wear.

The meal if divine. You never knew that Jamie had cooking skills. Probably where Steven got it from. Paddy somehow sneaked out from underneath your nose, deviously and inconspicuously. Liam must have devised a plan to get him out of here without being caught and you're not really sure how you feel about that. Is he wanting to take it slow? Or is he ashamed? Keeping Paddy a secret? You can't help but feel protective of him. He has been your friend, been there for you, knows things that you never planned on telling a soul, things that you haven't told your own boyfriend.

'So... guys-' Jamie starts, shoving his empty plate away from him '- there's kind of a purpose as to why I asked you all to be here tonight. Ste already knows, I told him earlier. I umm... I've graduated with a Distinction at college!'

You hear what he says but your focus is drawn elsewhere. Danny and Kyle end up jumping on him; you see out of the corner of your eye, but you're too busy staring at Liam who is clued to his phone, a small smirk on his face. You wonder if he is texting Paddy right now. Apologising? Flirting? Shrugging him off? You have no idea but it isn't for you to get involved. So instead, you get up from your chair and give Jamie a hug, include yourself in the celebration and when he comes back from the kitchen, a bottle of wine in hand, you all indulge in the alcohol. Everyone accept Liam. He slips out of the kitchen and up into his room.

You don't see him for the rest of the night.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. You had too much alcohol the night before and now your head is thumping slightly, a headache, not quite bad enough to result in you being bedridden all day, but enough for you to sigh in exasperation and clamp your eyes shut against the morning light because it feels like a knife is slashing at your brain.

You have a shower, let the water trickle down your body and warm your blood although when you first step under the spray, it feels like hailstones are crashing down onto your head.

Jamie's graduation is next week and you're being forced to go. It's not that you don't want to go, because you're thrilled for him, you really are but you don't really do public events, would rather sit in and watch a classic film or go to the pub and celebrate with a pint of Guinness and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. You have a suit, are ready and prepared so no shopping is required, something you're thankful for because you hate shopping.

When you get out of the shower and dry off, you get changed into some casual clothes, spray some aftershave on which only intensifies your headache, and you set off for the hospital, want to see Steven this morning and possibly make it in time for breakfast. You're quite fond of their bacon sandwiches.

When you get to his room after walking with a banging head, having to endure speeding cars and screaming kids, your face drops.

Arnold is in there with him, smiling, a glint in his eyes which puts you on edge, something you don't like.

'You're in early.'

You grumble, walking over to Steven's bedside and taking hold of his hand. You lift it to your face and kiss his knuckles, a routine that you've gotten into now everytime you come to see him. He knows it you.

'Ste managed to ring the bell last night. We left it in his hand and he pressed it. All by himself.'

His voice is a lot quieter than usual, less enthusiastic and you wonder if that is because it's early and he's tired, or if he has finally realised that you're not to keen on him.

'Hey. Well done kid. You're doing good.'

You tilt his head towards you and watch his eyes light up when your gazes meet, see them glimmer like diamonds.

'He said his first word today as well. I was working with him and the strength in his hand and suddenly he was mumbling. He could press his lips together.'

Your eyes widen. It's been just over a week since he moved his thumb and now he is able to speak. You nearly kick yourself for missing it, wanted to be here when he said his first words, wanted to watch his mouth move and tilt your head and swipe the words out of his mouth by kissing him and feeling him kiss you back because that is the one thing you've been craving, having his soft lips against yours, moist and lingering and longing and full and plush and you want to bruise them with your own, see them glow red.

'What was it? His first word?'

You ask, can't stop staring at him now, are running your fingertips over his bald, smooth head, can just picture his blond hair there, soft and thin. He looks beautiful and you nearly choke on wet emotion as you see the corner of his lips twitch into a smile.

'He said Brendan.'