A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who have left reviews, it's such a nice feeling to know people are reading and investing in the story! I am a huge lover of Brendan and Ste together (and look forward to writing their interactions the most), however I do also love me some doomed romance, so when I said in my summary that this is not a happy story I wasn't kidding - this chapter is an example of this. Angst ahead! x
21.
The bonfire was set up in the field behind the school. It was a clear, cold evening, and the stewards were wrapped in scarves and padded jackets as shields against the cold. There were the usual fairground rides and candyfloss stands set out nearby, as well as a marquee housing drinks and food vendors, with benches set up in the middles offering some scant shelter from the near freezing conditions. As crowds gathered, the torches were held to the kindling and the stack of wood steadily succumbed to the fire, golden flames licking and writhing into the air along with a plume of smoke. The sap bled from the branches and snapped and crackled, embers soaring and settling not far from the scorched pile. The fire danced in Brendan's eyes as he stood facing the flames, a little mesmerised by the destruction that the bonfire symbolised. He breathed in the comforting smell of burning wood, whilst attempting to block out the racket being made by happy families surrounding him.
His mind, which was perpetually unsettled anyway, was in a greater state of turmoil than usual. He had been seeing Warren everywhere; at the coffee shop counter, at the corner shop when buying gum, even in the shadows of the alley near club. Of course, when Brendan took a second look, Warren was always replaced with somebody else, somebody (seemingly) harmless, but this constant hyper alertness was leaving him exhausted. Brendan knew this sense that he was being watched, that anyone could be an agent of Warren Fox waiting for him to slip up, was an unsustainable one. Late that afternoon Brendan had called Joel and arranged to meet with him in York after the weekend; it being the halfway point for the two men to travel to. He couldn't bear the thought that Joel might have been working against him, but in logical, lucid moments Brendan realised that in any case it was highly unlikely. He had been taken in by people in the past, it was true, Walker was a particularly horrific example of that, but on this occasion it was difficult to fathom what Joel's motivation might be. Brendan was also struggling to see the endgame. If he was being set up, why would Joel simply sign the club over and then leave him to it? It made no sense. And yet...
"There you are!" Cheryl shrieked, coming around Brendan's back and causing him to jump. Cheryl was wrapped up in her furry coat and a thick black pashmina, and was holding a packet of sparklers in her gloved hand, child like grin on her face.
"Isn't this great?" Cheryl continued, linking her arm through Brendan's and leading him around the bonfire towards the refreshments marquee.
"Smashing," Brendan said, all traces of humour wiped from his tone. Cheryl squeezed his arm as they dodged an excitable gaggle of children holding sticky toffee apples.
"Come on Bren, don't be such a grump. Shall I get you a mulled wine?"
"Do I look like the type of fella who drinks mulled anything?"
"Or cider maybe," Cheryl went on as though Brendan hadn't spoken, "it's got loads of sugar in, you should love it. Be right back."
Before Brendan could protest Cheryl had wandered into the crowd surrounding the marquee, probably to join a hideously long queue by the looks of it. Brendan suddenly couldn't think of a reason for his not bringing a hip flask with him. He glanced around and caught sight of a familiar face standing alone warming his hands against the bonfire's heat. Brendan weaved through the families stood in between them, and as he approached Ste a smile bloomed on the other man's face.
"Hey," Ste said, and Brendan took a deep breath, taking him in. The bonfire lit Ste's skin with an amber glow, firelight flickering in his normally blue eyes, making them seem like they were sparkling, glittering amongst the ash and heat. The tip of his nose was pink with the cold and Brendan had to resist the urge to warm it with his mouth.
"Dad, I got a big bag because it worked out cheaper, so Lucas will just have to deal with sharing, okay?"
As Brendan had stood admiring Ste, he hadn't noticed that a teenage girl had approached them, holding up a huge bag of candy floss as though it was a trophy. Leah was wearing a beanie hat low on her forehead, but some stray strands of blonde hair had escaped the hat and framed her face. It was the first time that Brendan had been so close to her, and he realised just how pretty Leah was, all delicate features and flushed cheeks, with eyes very like her mothers. She looked between Brendan and Ste, and her face split into a mischievous grin, tongue in between her teeth impishly, and even though they shared no blood it was clear that the expression was one learnt from her father.
"Sorry... am I interrupting something here?" Leah asked, waving the candy floss bag in front of Ste's face as though to draw him out of a trance. Ste looked at his daughter, a long blink to pull him out of the daze he seemed to have settled into.
"What? No, course not. Where's your brother gone?"
Leah rolled her eyes dramatically, and Brendan smiled despite himself, recognising the frustrated action of an older sibling.
"He's gone the drinks tent. Probably minesweeping the mulled wine as we speak. Chill out dad, he'll be back in a minute."
Leah looked Brendan directly in the face then, and he felt a shudder run through him as recognition flashed in her eyes, followed by a frown of confusion.
"I'm sorry if it's rude to ask, but do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I do," Leah asked tentatively, and Ste's eyes widened in disbelief.
"I'm an old friend of your dads," Brendan said calmly, even though on the inside his nerves were singing.
"A very old friend -"
"Careful," Brendan smirked, and Ste blushed awkwardly.
"I didn't mean... what I meant was, you were very young when I last saw Brendan, Leah."
"Brendan..." repeated Leah, seemingly to herself, "why do I know that name?"
"Like I said Leah -"
Leah suddenly clapped her gloved hands together, dropping her candy floss in the process, and let out a gleeful shriek.
"That's right! Brendan! Your name came up a lot when we were kids. Daddy Doug hated you."
"Leah!" Ste snapped, clearly attempting to halt any further information being released from Leah's recollections.
"Daddy Doug?" Brendan queried, a frown marring this features. Ste looked away from his hastily, and Brendan felt vaguely nauseous. Leah meanwhile didn't seem to notice the effect her words had had on the two men in front of her.
"It's nothing, right. A silly nickname Lucas and Leah had to wind Doug up . Which they've been warned not to use," Ste said pointedly, and Leah rolled her eyes again, removing her gloves and stuffing them in her coat pocket. She bent down to retrieve the candy floss bag and ripped it open.
"Oh come on dad, I hardly ever get to annoy him since he moved. Apparently when we were really little we used to call Doug that, but I don't remember. Much better to use as a joke now that we're older, but Doug hates it," Leah directed her explanation to Brendan, who nodded slowly, mind working overtime, wondering just how long Doug had stuck around for, and why the Hay children were close enough to Doug for them to provide him with a teasing nickname. Leah finished putting a wad of candy floss into her mouth and resumed her study of Brendan. He felt as though she were assessing him, as though he were under the microscope, about to be dissected. Her lips were tinged an unnatural pink from the sugar, and her eyes sparkled with the firelight, making Leah resemble a character from a fairy tale. She offered the candy floss bag to Brendan, who broke off a sticky clump of the stuff silently. It felt like a trade of some sort between them, and he got the sense that Leah knew more about him than she was letting on in front of her father.
"Sorry we took so long, the queue for the drinks is murder," said a man who appeared at Ste's side from nowhere, handing him a paper cup full of a steaming liquid, and leaning in to kiss him casually in apology, as though he had a right to. A teenage boy was behind him carrying two further drinks, a boy with a thick sweep of golden brown hair and features so like Ste's that Brendan almost gasped. He hadn't really considered what a thirteen year old Lucas would look like, and he wasn't prepared for the uncanny family resemblance. It occurred to Brendan that in just six years Lucas would be the age Ste had been when they had met, and that he had been little more than a baby when Brendan had gone away. The carpet of time rolled out behind him, so much gone by and missed, time that he could never get back, steps that could never be retraced. The polite but blank smile offered to him by Lucas was the heartbreaking proof of that.
He realised that the man now in front of him was Ben, and that Ste's boyfriend was waiting patiently for Ste to make an introduction, which did not seem to be forthcoming. Ste appeared to be momentarily stunned, so Brendan took the initiative and stretched out a hand in greeting.
"Brendan Brady," he said, and Ben swapped his drink to the other hand to shake Brendan's politely. Ben smiled, revealing a white teethed Hollywood polish, and Brendan found himself childishly applying a little more pressure to the handshake than was strictly necessary.
"Brendan, of course. Nice to finally meet you."
The easy, casual reply made Brendan scowl inwardly. Ben clearly did not feel the need to introduce himself in turn; Brendan was expected to know who he was, in what amounted to a declaration of Ben's position in Ste's life. Brendan swallowed the urge to punch Ben into the ground, to whisper menacingly into his ear that he shouldn't be so sure of Ste's devotion, to delight in telling him that Ste could never be faithful to another man when Brendan was a presence in his life.
Brendan didn't do any of these things of course. Ste cast him a warning, almost pleading glance, and instead of inciting violence Brendan plastered a false smile on to his face.
"Likewise," Brendan said, and then pointing at the cup in Ste's hand, "thought you hated mulled wine Steven?"
Ste's eyes flitted towards Ben guiltily, who was wearing an expression of surprise.
"Oh? You said to get you 'whatever'. You've never mentioned it -"
"Yeah. He's got a thing about warm alcohol, doesn't think it's 'natural'. Ain't that right Steven?"
Ste shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.
"Well yeah, but it don't matter right -"
"That's quite a memory you have there Brendan," said Ben, friendly tone belying the stony stare he was levelling at Brendan. The implication of Ben's words was unmistakable - Brendan needed to have a long memory to remember details of his life with Ste. Brendan fixed his gaze on Ste's face, who looked as though he wished the ground would swallow him up.
"I never forget anything important," Brendan murmured, trying to transmit to Ste that he had stored every conversation, every habit, every odd comical quirk. Ben made a scoffing noise in an attempt to cut through the intensity of the moment.
"And Ste's drinking preferences are important?"
Brendan did not bother to hide the disdainful sneer he cast Ben's way, as though he was the fool for suggesting that Ste's preferences would be anything but important.
"Yes," Brendan practically hissed. The three men stood roughly in a triangle, shoulders tensed under the shelter of winter coats. Leah and Lucas had shuffled to the side slightly, working their way through the candy floss silently with bemused expressions on their faces.
"Oh my days, the things people will queue for nowadays!" Cheryl bustled straight into the middle of the trio, oblivious to the atmosphere surrounding her. She handed Brendan a plastic glass with a double measure of whiskey in it, and he offered a prayer of thanks to the heavens.
"Hey Chez," Ste said gratefully, clearly keen for the distraction.
"Chez, great to see you," Ben smiled and touched his hand to Cheryl's fur clad arm. Brendan clamped his teeth together, grinding them painfully. This man being so familiar with his sister, calling her "Chez", was totally unacceptable to him. He sipped at his whiskey, restraining himself because there was a real temptation to drink it all in one go.
"Look who it is, a whole collection of Hays! How you doing guys?" Cheryl asked, smiling at the children in particular, darting wary eyes at Brendan as the awkwardness of the situation impressed itself.
"Cheryl, will you take us over to the rides?" Lucas asked, shy expression on his face. It seemed as though the boy hadn't inherited his father's personality as well as his looks.
"I can take you if you want Lucas mate," Ben said, trying to mask the irritation of not being first choice. As ever, Cheryl's first instinct was to diffuse the situation.
"Why don't we both go? That way you can tell me all about your latest exploits in Italy," she suggested, leaving Brendan wondering just how many times Cheryl had socialised with Ste and Ben over the past few weeks. Ben hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave Ste with Brendan.
"Go on," Ste said softly, "I'll catch you up."
"If you're sure," Ben said, kissing Ste lightly on the lips before walking away in step with Cheryl, who was already animatedly engaging him in conversation. The teenagers followed behind, arguing over who should have custody of the candy floss. Leah shot Brendan one last lingering look that he couldn't decipher. Once they were out of sight, Brendan found himself standing opposite Ste, bonfire warming his right cheek, the flames flickering over Ste's skin, illuminating it with an unnatural brightness. Brendan wanted to close the distance between them, to kiss the taste of the other man from Ste's lips, but he found himself rooted to the spot. The distance between them felt insurmountable. He reached for the cup in Ste's hand and took it from him, draining the wine in one go. It was lukewarm, teeth achingly sweet and astringent on the back of his throat.
"So... you need time, hmmm?" Brendan asked, aware that his skin was singing with anger. Ste shrugged a little helplessly.
"It's not that simple Brendan."
"Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, and forgive me if I'm wrong Steven, but it seems like you're busy playing happy families with posh boy -"
"I'm not playing -"
"- And it seems like you have no intention of telling him anything," Brendan continued as though Ste hadn't spoken.
"What do you want me to tell him eh?" Ste asked, defensive tone pervading his words. Brendan shook his head, muttering "unbelievable" just loud enough for Ste to hear. Ste closed the gap between them, not wishing to cause a scene.
"No, go on Brendan, what would you like me to say to him? That I'm walking out on our life and the family we've built over years together because my ex boyfriend has rocked up out of prison and wants me back? Is that what you want?"
"Well -"
"He's been good to me, and he doesn't deserve this, right? I'm going to break his heart. We're going to break his heart."
Brendan looked into Ste's eyes and saw the reluctance and pain. A thought occurred to him that simply hadn't occurred before, and he cursed his own single mindedness.
"You still love him don't you?" Brendan murmured. He didn't need Ste to answer him, he could see the answer written on Ste's face, clear as day.
"He's a good man, and I'm going to hurt him. And I don't want to. That doesn't make me a bad person, alright?"
Brendan touched his cold fingers to the fire warmed heat of Ste's cheek, and Ste closed his eyes for a long moment, leaning into the touch. Brendan didn't want to be angry, certainly not with Ste, but it didn't matter what he wanted; the anger multiplied regardless. His mind was stewing over Leah's words, and he needed an answer.
"And Daddy Douglas?" Brendan said bitterly. Ste's eyes flicked open and he jerked away from Brendan's hand.
"What?" Ste asked, and Brendan sensed that he was stalling for time.
"You got back with him, didn't you?"
"Yeah, alright, I did, so what? Anyway it's not as if it lasted -"
Brendan groaned and rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation.
"Steven..."
"Ahhh, what Brendan? What's it got to do with you eh? You weren't there, were you? You made sure of it, so I don't have to apologise, to you of all people."
Ste's anger matched Brendan's now. It was rolling from him in waves, and he stormed off across the field, away from the crowds, into the darkness.
"Steven!" Brendan yelled, breaking into a jog to catch up with Ste's retreating figure. He reached out and grabbed Ste's arm to try and bring him to a stop. It worked, but perhaps not in the way Brendan had intended. Ste wheeled around to face him, dragging his arm out of the grip, a different type of fire reflected in his eyes now.
"You know what, you've got some fucking nerve. I'd never have been with Ben, or Doug, if you hadn't left me. You left me Brendan, not the other way round, so you don't get to act like the injured party here, right?"
Brendan flinched as though the words had physically hurt him. The bitterness pouring from Ste was almost repelling him. He backed away slightly, trying to escape the intensity of Ste's wrath.
"And we're back to this are we? So much for understanding that I was trying to do what was best for you."
"Yeah? Well, I guess it were easier to be forgiving when you were locked up and suffering in prison, weren't it."
"Wow, that's touching Steven, really."
Ste screwed his eyes up, a scowl making his normally porcelain angelic features seem monstrous.
"Why do you even care? When it's all in the past? What does it matter who I've been with, what difference does it make now, eh?"
How to answer any of these questions? For Brendan, it mattered, but explaining why was a very different story. He tried to speak, but found no words were forthcoming. Ste, clearly growing tired of Brendan's lack of explanation, sighed and shook his head.
"I'm not the problem here Brendan. You know it and I know it. I'm going to go back, spend the night with my family. Don't you dare try to follow me."
Brendan stood for a long time in the darkness, watching the bonfire from a distance. If he strained his eyes, he thought he might be able to see Ste laughing with Leah, Lucas and Cheryl, drinking mulled wine and telling Ben that he'd changed his mind, that he loved the taste of it now, just to spite Brendan. In that little family unit there would be smiles and laughter and warmth that had nothing to do with the bonfire. As the fireworks began, sending splashes of green and purple sparks into the clear night sky, Brendan walked away, back towards the village, ignoring the vibrating of the phone in his pocket, ignoring the niggling voice in his head which was telling him to go and apologise and make things right. When it came down to it, Brendan found self destruction much easier than contrition.