'W-what do you mean his heart has stopped? Don't just sit there get it going again! You can't... you can't just let him die!'

The monitors continue to beep, the noise too much for your ears and you want to smash them against the wall and tred on all of the pieces. You feel sick, are shaking and rocking back and forth on your knees and going into shock. Your heart is hammering and you want to silence it because it's only reminding you that Steven's isn't working. You want to tear yours out and give it to him.

They begin CPR, put an oxygen mask over his pale face and prepair the defibrillator, stick more pads to Steven's chest.

'We can't do that.'

Says the paramedic who's performing CPR. He looks at his colleague knowingly, continues to pump the boy's heart for him.

'Why? Why not?'

You interrupt, stare at Steven's lifeless body and cry your load into your bloody suit, cling to his hand in the hope that you'll feel it warm again.

'He hasn't got enough blood in his body. If we get his heart going again then it isn't going to make any difference. He needs a blood transfusion now but I don't think we'll get back to the hospital on time.'

'Well don't you carry it in the van or something?!'

'No we can't. Blood has to be packaged and placed in strict conditions, low temperatures.'

You run your fingers through your hair and yank. This can't be happening. One stupid mistake and you're paying for it. You should have gone with him, should have kept an eye on him. You broke your promise to never leave him and now they're punishing you in the biggest way possible.

'There is one thing we can try but we have to be absolutely sure.'

'What? What can you do?'

'If we can find an appropriate source right now, we can hook him up to the donor, give him the blood directly. It's such a rare thing to do because hardly anyone knows their own blood type.'

'What does that even mean? Dumb it down for me pal.'

You don't mean to be so sarcastic and shitty. They're the ones who are trying to save Steven's life but you need to know what's going on. You're not a fucking doctor so how the hell are you meant to understand what they're going on about?

He's about to explain when the radio attached to his chest beeps and crackles.

'Yeah Mr Steven Hay has blood type AB+. I repeat AB+. Over.'

The memory smacks you in the face like a hammer between the eyes; the first time you were put in hospital after your dad had beaten you and they had to take blood out of your arm. It rings freshly in your mind. Every word that the doctor said.

You're AB+. That's a very rare blood type Brendan. You're a special boy

'Give him my blood. I'm AB+ as well. Hook him up to me.'

You almost shout at them, stutter over each word and roll up your sleeve, are ready for them to do what they need to do. The paramedics look at you uncertainly, continue to push against Steven's chest, analyse the monitor, pump oxygen into his lungs, all of this time wasting.

'Are you absolutely certain? Because if you're wrong-'

'I'm sure. I'm sure I swear. Hook him up to me. It's either that or he dies and that can't happen okay? It can't. I need him you understand me?'

They don't answer you, seem to trust you by the seriousness in your voice and the desperation on your face. They don't waste any more time, put a needle straight into the vein of your arm and you suck in a breath because it stings, makes you feel a little nauseous. They do the same to Steven and the process begins. Blood flows out of your arm and straight into Steven's body. They don't cease with the CPR, need to get oxygen to his brain and muscles.

'We can only take a pint off you. We can try two but it'll mean that you'll have to have a transfusion of your own. You'll lose too much plasma if we take a second. But... if we time it right we should be able to get Steven's heart working again and get you to the hospital in time to replace the blood plasma that you've lost but we'll have to be quick.'

'Yeah. Yeah I don't care just do whatever you have to do to bring him back.'

You're still trembling, are holding Steven's hand and kissing it whenever you can. His skin is still cold beneath your lips, still alarmingly pale and it seems to take forever for the first pint of blood to be transferred but eventually it is. You don't feel any different thankfully. Your arm aches a little bit but you don't feel light headed so that's a good sign.

'Okay we're charging.'

The first pulse of electricity is shocked through Steven's body but the monitors don't change, continue to make the same high pitched noise. His body tenses as the shock runs through him, his muscles contracting visciously and then he goes back to being limp and lifeless as the charge dies.

'Come on Steven. Please come back to me please.'

You whisper down to him, watch his face for a flicker of a response but you don't receive any.

'Shock him again.'

You kiss his hand desperately, more tears leaking out of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks and you just need him to wake up now, need to see his eyes shine, need to see him smile. The blunt reality is that he's dead. His dead body is lying right in front of you, unresponsive and limp and pale.

He's shocked for a second time but still there's nothing.

'Come on Steven. Please, please, please, please. Please come back to me baby I need you. I love you. You hear that? I love you. Please, I need to hear you say it back.'

Ironic really. You want to hear him say those three works back to you when for so long you were the one who couldn't return them.

'Again.'

They charge up again, shock him with a stronger pulse of electricity and nothing happens. You lose all hope, accept that you've lost the love of your life and you're never going to feel happiness again. He's changed your life for the better, made you a better man, a happier man and you can't thank him enough for that. He's loved you like no one else has, protected you and saved you in more ways than one. Your heart breaks and you cry uncontrollably into your forearm, clutch his hand for dear life because you can't let go, won't let go. Not ever.

'We've got him, we've got a pulse.'

The paramedic says suddenly and your gaze shoots to the monitor beside you and there it is on the screen, a peak and a dip. It's slow and it's weak but it's there and his heart is beating and he's fighting once again.

'What's your name again son?'

The paramedic asks as he works on keeping Steven alive. They both roll him gently onto a stretcher and it might just be you, but his skin has colour again now. He's still pale but not ashen. You can't revel in the relief you're feeling because you don't know if his heart will stop again. Time is the enemy now.

'Brendan.'

'Right Brendan, we're going to put him in the ambulance now okay? You need to follow us and make sure you don't disconnect from him. You might feel a bit light headed and dehydrated in the van but try and stay awake you understand? We'll attach some plasma to you when we get there.'

You nod and keep a close eye on the monitor, pray that he doesn't flatline again.

'Bren. We'll meet you there okay?'

Cheryl says, touching her hand to your face. You'd forgotten that her and Danielle were here. They look tired now, eyes bloodshot and black from their make up smudging. You nod and walk beside Steven as he's carried to the ambulance, hold his hand through out the entire journey. He's getting warm now and that can only be a good sign.


You stand by the grave, stare at the golden encrusted writing and read it, over and over again, still in disbelief. You're surprised it hasn't started to fade with the amount of rain you've had. Thankfully it's a sunny day today and this is the first time you've been able to visit in a while. You're managing to hold your emotion back quite well today, better than previous days anyway.

It's not that you've deliberately kept your distance, it's that you can't bare to see the remains, the memories, everything you two had now buried six feet in the ground.

The marble is still shiny, glimmers in the sun and the tints of other colours shine through the deep black, rays of oranges and yellows catching your eye from certain angles. You kneel down in front of it and swallow deeply, let out a slightly unsteady breath as you reach out to run your fingers along the top of the gravestone. It's smooth, a little warm from the heat of the day but it's nice.

'I miss you.'

It comes out as a croak and you have to clear your throat, pull on your collar because it feels tight around your neck. You have to go to work in a minute but you thought you'd make time for a quick visit, couldn't bare to have them feel lonely, feel like you're rejecting them.

The graveyard is quite empty this morning, no one about, just occupied by the birds singing their songs. You're thankful for the peace and quiet, the alone time. Your days at work are always so hectic.

'The days are getting a little easier... I guess.'

You never really know what to say, feel strange as it is talking to a head stone.

'But you changed my life and I'm... I'm thankful for that. You made me happier and you made me feel comfortable-'

'Awww. Not talking about me again are you?'

The voice startles you and you turn quickly, almost spin yourself dizzy. It shouldn't make you jump because you've been expecting it.

'Sorry I'm a bit late. Stopped off to get these.'

Steven steps away from a tree that he's made himself comfortable against and pulls a bunch of flowers out from behind his back. He looks gorgeous today, looks gorgeous every day but there's something about him that makes your heart leap more than normal. You kiss him on the forehead when he reaches you, take the flowers out of his hand and analyse them for a second.

'They're beautiful.'

He smiles cheesily, evidently pleased with himself. You interlock your fingers and place the flowers down, read the writing again for the final time.

Molly Jacobs

Loving sister and daughter.

Heaven has gained an angel.

Ste's P.O.V

This smell is familiar. The air surrounding you. It's clean and smells sanitary. The slight firmness of the mattress is recognisable as well. You're in the hospital. It's a struggle to open your eyes and you know this feeling as well. You've been sedated, feel slightly out of it and your vision is a little blurry but you come to after a couple of seconds.

There's heavy breathing coming from beside you and you tilt your head to find the source, smile when you see that Brendan is asleep with your hand firmly locked in his. You use your free hand to run your fingers through his hair, stroke gently as he stirs and redeems consciousness.

'Hey you.'

Your voice is croaky and your throat is a little sore, probably from the tubes when they sedated you. You know your whereabouts but don't really know why you're here.

'Steven. You're awake.'

'Why am I in here again?'

You ask and you see him gulp. He looks tired, looks like he's been crying and you tighten your grip on his hand, lift your head off the pillow to look at him directly.

'We were at prom. You remember that?'

You think back, rack through your brain and eventually remember it. You were there with Cheryl and Danielle. Then Brendan came along, strolled through the crowd towards you. He looked beautiful in his suit and you notice that he's still wearing it now.

But it's covered in blood.

'Yeah. I remember, you told me you loved me.'

You smile as you remember it but your face falls as soon as you see the blood on him again.

'Bren, what's that on your suit?'

'It's blood. You um... You collapsed in the toilets and... you had a real bad nose bleed. The worse one you've had and you lost a lot of blood. Your heart stopped as well. They had to give you a transfusion real quick and they were scared they wouldn't get it in you on time.'

Your heart stopped?! You don't even remember collapsing, don't remember anything up until now.

'But, where did they get the blood from? Doctor Jones told me ages ago that they can't carry it in ambulances. Or did they get me here before that?'

You remember that conversation with him. You were bored one day and he came in to visit you and you had quite a few questions about how things worked in the medical world. You might not be the sharpest tool in the box but once you're told something you don't forget.

'No. They gave you a transfusion there... ummm...'

He suddenly rolls up his sleeve and shows you his arm and there in the crook of his elbow is a plaster, a small patch of red just about visible underneath.

'We have the same blood type.'

He mumbles as you run your thumb over the plaster.

'You gave me blood?!'

He doesn't say a word. Just nods and you don't understand why he doesn't look happy with himself. He has his head hung low between his shoulders, brows pulled together into a frown and his jaw is clenched. He should be sat in front of you with a smile on his face. He stopped you from dying. How much more heroic can you get?!

'Brendan you saved my life. I'm alive because of you.'

'No. No you're in here because of me. I should have kept an eye on you, looked after you and I didn't. I failed.'

'Don't you dare try and pin all of this on yourself. This was not your fault right? None of it. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead. I wouldn't be lying here now, I'd be in the morgue.'

He noticeably shivers, clings to your hand just that little bit harder and brings it up to his lips to place a tentative kiss on your knuckles.

'Don't say that.'

'Why not? It's true.'

'Because you were so close! You were so close to dying Steven. When I saw you lying on that floor, blood everywhere, I had no idea what to do. I just picked you up and took you out into the hall and you just kept bleeding and then your heart stopped and I thought mine had to. I kept thinking, what if? What if the man that I love dies right here, right now in front of me. Because if you did die Steven, then I... I would have died with you. The paramedics saved you. Not me.'

He leaves you speechless, the sincerity and seriousness behind every single word makes you want to cry and you almost do, tears welling in your eyes. You're not used to him expressing his love for you verbally, cling onto it with your life because hearing it makes you the happiest person alive, a happiness you've never felt before.

'Brendan look at me. Look at me.'

He relents at first, presses his forehead against your hand and only looks at you when you tug your hand out of his grip. You place it on his face, caress the stubble there, see the moisture in his eyes.

'I'm alive okay? I'm breathing because of you. What you did is incredible. Thank you.'

'You don't have to thank me for anything.'

'Yes I do! Your blood is running through my veins... Wait... sounds a bit weird that doesn't it?'

You draw a smile from him, a small chuckle that he doesn't want to release but he can't help it. He leans up to kiss you, is delicate and soft and there's a small flicker of tongue that feels nice against your bottom lip. You love him so much, don't let him stop kissing you yet because you can't get enough of it.

'How long have I been out for?'

You ask when Brendan tears himself away. He obviously doesn't want to get too carried away with you yet, is treating you with such fragilility and delicacy.

'About seven hours.'

'You should have gone home and changed. Look at you. You're a right state.'

You tug on his bloody shirt. He cringes when he looks down at it, looks away as quickly as possible and clenches his fist, evidently uncomfortable.

'I couldn't leave you.'

'Course you could. I'm safe now. I'm stable.'

'Well, I'm not taking the risk.'

He takes hold of your hand once again, kisses your knuckles and stays by your side for the next hour, steals kisses and smiles but he's still worried. Whether it's about you, you're not entirely certain because he isn't really connecting with you, his gaze wondering off to different parts of the room. He's anxious, shifting about on his seat a little and swallowing deeply, a thin layer of moisture on his forehead which he's constantly wiping away with the back of his hand.

'You alright Bren? You're acting proper weird.'

You lower your head to catch his gaze but he's still refraining to look at you for more than three seconds.

'I um... I need to... I need to tell you something. I should have told you a long time ago but I guess I was just... Scared.'

He's sceptical, is leaning on the edge of his seat and clinging to your hand for dear life, isn't letting go anytime soon and it's like he's afraid you're going to disappear, like you're going to fade and leave him all alone.

'You can tell me anything.'

'What I told you... about my dad and what he did to me...'

'I know. He beat you up. Look, you don't need to worry about that now. We're past it.'

He shakes his head vigorously, clamps his eyes shut and let's out a deep, shaky breath. He's trembling, is so nervous and you squeeze on his hand that little bit harder.

'You got the watered down version.'

'What are you talking about?'

He isn't making sense. You knew there was something that he wanted to tell you but you didn't think it'd be family related. You know everything that's happened there, have seen it with your own eyes.

'It was a long time ago. But it changed everything, changed me. It killed me inside Steven, killed all of that love and comprehension and empathy and feeling. It was... I dunno over ten years ago and it's haunted me ever since. Lived with me every single day and it's eating me up and I need you to know okay? I need you to know who I really am and I understand if you run away, if you never want to see me again because I'm... I'm so-'

'Brendan you're scaring me. Please just tell me what's happened. Has he said something? Has he threatened you?'

The Irishman isn't making any sense, is stuttering and tripping over every other word and his palm is beginning to sweat. As far as you know he hasn't gone in to visit Seamus. You presume he's still in hospital but aren't completely sure of his whereabouts.

'I was eight. Eight years old. One night, I was sat on my windowsill, staring at the stars when I was supposed to be in bed. I couldn't help it. I'd just stay in the same position and I'd watch the moon and all of the cars as they drove by my house. Made me feel better if I had a shit day at school or if I got into trouble with Cheryl's Ma. I heard him coming up the stairs and I ran back into bed, didn't want him to catch me you know? Just in case he got angry.'

It's like he's in a trance. He hasn't blinked, hasn't flinched or moved a single muscle and he's staring at the same spot on the wall. He's in too deep now and you can't bring him back, just watch him recite his story with your heart in your throat because it scares you when he's like this, when he's trapped inside of his own mind.

'He didn't get angry. Just walked into my room and shut the door and I heard him lock it. I felt him, felt him sit beside me and he stroked my face and I carried on pretending to be asleep but I think he knew. He knew I was awake. That's when he... when he went lower. When he started to... t-touch me. I just froze and I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to stop it so I just let it happen. I let it happen...'

'W-what do you mean he touched you?'

You think you already know, can feel bile rising at the back of your throat and you feel horrifically sick. You knew Seamus was a monster but you never thought he was capable of something like this.

'There was blood everywhere and I was crying. I remember crying because he wiped the tears away afterwards, told me that every boy does that with their Da's and that it was a secret, told me that I couldn't tell anyone. I was in so much pain but I still got out of bed after he left, took my bed sheets down stairs and just shoved them into the washing machine. Didn't really know what to do with myself so I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw because I felt so dirty, so disgusting-'

'You're not. You hear that Brendan Brady? You are not disgusting.'

'It didn't click. Not till I was... I dunno... 14. Up until then I thought it was normal, despite how wrong it felt, how much it hurt-'

'Stop. Brendan please.'

You gag, not violently but your stomach turns and you're crying and you're staring at his face, his blank, expressionless face and he still hasn't snapped out of it. He's on the brink of crying too, has moisture in his eyes but is doing an incredibly good job of holding it back.

'He sexually abused me, Steven. The funny thing is, I'm just like him, I hurt people.'

'No! No you don't. You're better than him, way way better. You're a good man-'

'All of the things I've done, the drug dealing, the gangs, hitting you... I'm giving myself an excuse-'

You can't listen to him as he punishes himself, feel more tears bead out of your eyes and roll down your cheeks. How he could think that he is anything like that monster is beyond you. He may have done stupid things but who in this God damn world has made every right decision? You cup the bottom of his chin and turn his face towards you, see the pain and the hurt and the fear and the slight relief.

'You are not a bad person. Okay? You've made mistakes. I've made mistakes, everyone fucking makes mistakes. I told you before that I forgive you-'

'You shouldn't just forgive me like that-'

'Tough shit I already have!'

You won't have him argue with you, not after this. You're not saying that this revelation is his get out of jail free card because it isn't, but now you finally understand. The secrecy, the stress, his suppressed anger, the quick and sudden mood swings.

'Please stop looking at me like that.'

He says, leaning back in his chair but keeping a firm hold on your hand, avoiding all eye contact.

'Like what?'

'You're pitying me. I don't want pity I just... I needed to tell you because... I've almost lost you. I couldn't... You couldn't die without knowing.'

'Well why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have understood. Brendan I love you.'

'I didn't want you to look at me the way you are now, like I'm...damaged goods. I'm fucking disgusting, I feel disgusting, every time I look in the mirror it's there to remind me. It's embedded on my skin Steven, every single time that he did it.'

You don't understand what he's talking about for a second but then it suddenly clicks and you feel even more sick, the lump in your throat increasing in size and you can hardly swallow.

'The scars-'

'Every time. Every time he came into the room he'd light a fresh cigarette and he'd leave it on the side of the cabinet, watch it burn as he held me down and covered my mouth and did what he had to do. He set himself a goal. Be done with me by the time it burnt out and every single time he succeeded. I'd just lie there when he'd finished and I'd wait for him to lift up the back of my shirt and stub it out on me. It stopped hurting after a while.'

'Brendan, you can't let him get away with it. He needs to pay for what he's done. Phone the police.'

'No. No police. This goes no further you understand me? If I wanted them involved then they'd be the first people to know.'

He turns slightly shifty then, sinks a little lower down into his chair and braces himself. If they weren't the first one's to know then who was? Why weren't you the first?

'Who else knows?'

'Danny, Paddy and Cheryl. But I didn't mean for any them to find out. Especially Cheryl. I didn't want to destroy her childhood too but she heard. She heard when I confronted him. Paddy heard too and as for Danny, I told him out of anger. Well I say tell him. I shouted it at him just after Sarah lost the baby.'

'Oh so I'm the last person to find out? You tell my house mate but not me?!'

He expected this, expected you to be angry. He rolls his eyes shut and shakes his head, is trying to keep himself composed but you're pushing him over the edge. You know that you shouldn't be angry but something as important as this should have been laid out on the table at the very beginning. For so long you've been wondering if it was you that made him mad or drove him away, made him keep his distance.

'I didn't tell you because I thought you'd run away! I thought that you would never want to touch me again. I look at myself every day and I'm still that same angry child, constantly questioning why it was me that had to get...'

He cuts of abruptly, can't say the word, refuses to say the word.

Raped

'When you and me started, when we kissed and when you touched me, I didn't feel disgusting anymore. I felt happy and I just wanted to be with you all the time because I'd never felt more normal. I can't live without you Steven and not just because I love you but because of the way you make me feel. If you left I'd just be revealing in self hatred for the rest of my life.'

'Brendan. Look at me. Please, look at me.'

He keeps his head low, doesn't let go of your hand, doesn't loosen his grip for a second. If anything it gets tighter.

'H-how many times?'

You know you shouldn't be asking these questions, don't want him to go back into that dark place but you can't help yourself, need to know the extend of his damage so you can fix him again.

'You stop counting after a while.'

'When did it stop?'

'It doesn't stop. Not up in here, not where it matters-' He taps his temple with his index finger, voice now lowered into a whisper '-It's there, in my head, every second of the day.'

'When was the last time?'

He looks at you then, his eyes sad and trapped, like a caged animal. He gulps deeply, tries to clear his throat before speaking again.

'It was um... before I hit you; the second time. It was the night before then. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laid a hand of you.'

'It's alright. You were upset-'

'No. Don't make excuses for me Steven. You didn't deserve it and there's no excuses for what I did to you. I was so ashamed, not just because of what he did to me but because of what I was turning into, what I'd become. Thousands of kids go through what I went through and none of them turn out like this, like me.'

'You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Okay? I love you and I'm not going to leave you because of this so you can get that theory out your head. If anything, I love you even more for telling me and I know how hard that was. But you did it because you and me, we can do anything can't we?'

You caress his cheek, run your hand round until it's resting on the back of his neck and stroke the hairs there with your fingertips. You kiss his forehead, need to make it imperative that you will love him for the rest of your life, no matter how many skeletons come out of the closet. There's demons lying deep inside of him but within you there is a hell, and that is where they can live.


You're kept in hospital for a week, just precautionary. You're put on a heart monitor for a couple of days to begin with, just to make sure the activity has gone back to normal. There's only one thing you're agitated about. Being stuck in here, again, has meant that you've missed Brendan's birthday. He's been at your side the entire time but even so, you haven't been able to do anything because nurses have kept a very close eye on you. Cheryl came in to give him a card and some presents, Danielle had made him a cake and there was a small celebration in your room but it was nothing big like you wanted it to be, nothing sentimental involved.

He said he didn't care about his birthday. He wasn't particularly bothered about it last year either but it's still important to you. This is the second year in a row that you've been unable to do anything for his birthday.

'Steven, I really don't care about my birthday okay? I care about you getting better so stop stressing over nothing.'

'You've turned twenty. I want to do something for you okay? When I get out of here that is.'

He sighs at your persistence, rolls his eyes and drops the conversation because he knows how stubborn you are. He's your boyfriend, has been for over two years now and you can't let something as special as his birthday be skipped carelessly.

After another hour of mindless chatter, Doctor Jones comes in, clipboard in hand as usual. He has a kind smile on his face, never seems to tire of his profession.

'Right, well I think you're well enough to go home. You gave us quite a scare. Hopefully this will be the last time I see you until your formal consultation in three months.'

'Why? What's happening then?'

You ask, have probably been told in the past but it seems you've forgotten.

'That should hopefully be the end of your treatment. We'll conduct a few tests first, will have to do a couple of scans but hopefully you'll be clean of cancer by then. Meanwhile, carry on as you are. Chemotherapy every other day. I want you to rest as well, not too much physical exercise despite your paralysis recovery. I think that might be what caused the nose bleed in the first place.'

It seems the trigger of your nose bleed is as much as a mystery to the doctors as it is to you. From now though, you're going to do everything to avoid having another one, can't afford to. You need to stay as healthy as possible, need to let the chemo do its thing without anymore interruptions like these. You want to be healthy again, more than ever now so you can get on with your life, get a job, move in with Brendan and do everything that you've set out to do.

'Right so all you have to do now is sign those discharge papers and you can go home.'

The older man smiles kindly, taps his clipboard against the bottom of the bed and exists the room, leaving you and Brendan alone in silcence. You haven't talked about what he told you, haven't had the courage to bring it into conversation. He doesn't want anything to change and neither do you but it's traumatising, this information. You've found out that your boyfriend was sexually abused as a child, was harmed and scarred and damaged and left to bleed. Thinking about it makes you feel nauseous, how someone could do that to their own child.

'You excited? About going home I mean.'

'Yeah I guess so. Get to finally celebrate your birthday.'

Brendan rolls his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation.

'Well nothing too energetic. I don't want to see this hospital ever again.'

After signing the discharge papers and pulling on some clothes, you and Brendan walk out of the hospital, Brendan's arm wrapped around your waist protectively. Danny waits in the car park to take you both home and as soon as you enter the house you take yourself upstairs and fall asleep instantaneously in Brendan's arms. You weren't able to sleep properly in hospital without him in the bed with you so you take advantage of having him close.


You hear the door to your bedroom door creak open. It's slow and delicate so whoever it is, is obviously trying not to wake you. The bed feels colder, emptier and as you stir, you reach out and feel along the mattress for him. But he isn't there.

'It's okay. Only me.'

You open your tired eyes to see Brendan taking off his shirt, beautiful, pale body on full display. He usually comes to bed with a t-shirt on but he seems to have a change of heart tonight.

That can only mean one thing.

'Where'd you go?'

'It's 2am Steven. I had to go to work. You telling me you slept all the way through till now?'

His voice is lowered into a whisper, obviously doesn't want to disturb the rest of the house, especially Sarah seeing as she has moved in now and is in dire need of her beauty sleep.

'Must have. I didn't feel you leave.'

Despite having slept for hours you still feel tired, are thankful when he climbs into bed and draws your body into his. He's warm and muscular and smells of his aftershave. It's worn off a little now after his long night but you can still smell it. You'd recognise it anywhere.

Brendan turns off the bedside lamp and you take the time to lie there in his embrace, head on his chest and you listen to his heart, the strong, regular rhythm. His breaths are even, slightly heavy due to his exhaustion from working so hard but he holds you tight and strokes the tops of your shoulders with his fingertips.

After a couple of minutes of silence, he rolls on top of you, knows you're still awake waiting for him to make his move. You're tired and he's tired but it's been over a week since you've been intimate and you're itching to get fucked.

'I need you to do something for me Steven.'

You can't really see him but you can feel his sudden anxiety, the change in atmosphere. You run your hands soothingly down his bare back, can feel the scars and how smooth they are. His seriousness puts you on edge, makes you nervous.

'What do you need?'

His face is close to yours because you can feel his breath on you, slightly shaky and laboured. He doesn't reply, just finds your lips and kisses you passionately, doesn't initiate anything sexual as of yet. He doesn't rub against you, just caresses your skin and kisses you with more meaning than he ever has before. It's deep and lingering and soft and he gently licks along your bottom lip, takes it between his teeth and tugs gently before burying his face in your neck.

'Brendan. What do you need? I'll do anything.'

He still doesn't speak, just kisses your neck and feels about for your wrist, takes it lightly in his hand and drags it down to his bum. You don't understand what he wants.

'Fuck me.'

It barely escapes his mouth as a whisper and you panic automatically. How can he ask you to do that after what he's told you? Maybe it's his insomnia that's making him say crazy things because Brendan wouldn't put that sort of pressure on you.

'Brendan go to sleep. You're acting weird saying all of this-'

'Please. Please Steven. If I even have any form of virginity left then I want you to be the one who owns it.'

Before you can reply he's kissing you, trying to persuade you and at first you welcome it, kiss him back deeply and lick into his mouth and groan as he rubs his groin against you. But as your thoughts become clear from the momentary haze, you have to pull away.

'No. No I can't do this. Not after what your dad-'

'You are not my dad okay? I trust you. Steven, I love you and I need you to do this for me. Please.'

Your heart is hammering and you're starting to sweat, are incredibly nervous and have no real idea why. You've been intimate with Brendan thousands of times but never like this. You've always imagined what it'd be like, how he'd feel but you never asked or tried to insinuate it because this is how it's meant to be. He has the control and you let him use you as he pleases. That's the way you like it.

You don't speak a word as you kiss him, just touch his body delicately because you don't want to come off as too strong. He grumbles deeply, holds you tightly in his strong arms and it's enough to crush you.

'If you want me to stop then just say.'

You receive no response, just another kiss on the mouth and grind of the hips and he lets out a strained breath as you pull down his boxers, spread his cheeks and slip your finger in between, nothing too invasive, just the smallest of touches to test his reaction. He quivers against you, takes a fistful of the material of the pillow into his hand and yanks.

'Brendan, I don't think you're ready for this.'

You're about to take your hand away but he reaches back and grips your wrist to prevent you from doing so.

'I am. Just... Do this for me. I need to get past this, I need to... I've got to smash down that wall he's built, get my dignity back.'

'You never lost any dignity in the first place. He hurt you. You didn't ask for it.'

This is the thing that kills you the most about this revelation. He thinks he deserved it, truly believes that he did something that meant he was allowed to be punished.

'Bren, I don't want to hurt you-'

'You won't. Just... Just make sure you go slow okay?'

It takes you a few minutes to weigh up what you should do. It really is like you have an angel and devil on your shoulder, fighting it out inside your head because on one hand you want to, want to feel him around you and be the first and only one to do that with him. On the other hand you don't want to do this, don't want to deviate from the norm because you like the way it is now. You don't want to hurt him, make him uncomfortable, give him flash backs of all of the times...

You kiss him like you're sealing a promise and turn him onto his front, suck small bruises onto the back of his neck and along his shoulders. He's still tense, his breathing pattern irregular as you lick your way down his back and get closer and closer to his hole. You've wanted to do this for a while, taste him, have him shaking from the pleasure of having your tongue pushing into him.

You spread his cheeks again and blow over his entrance. He tenses further, grips the pillow with all of his might and it looks like he's trying not to rip it in half.

'I'm gunna rim you. Like you do to me yeah? It feels so good Brendan I promise.'

He gulps as you whisper in his ear, nods minutely. Despite there being little light in the room you can see that his eyes are closed, brows pulled tightly together in a frown. The light from the streetlamps combined with moon shines through the gap in the curtains, illuminates certain parts of the room.

You press the flat of your tongue against him and you hear a sharp intake of breath and then complete silence. It's like time has completely frozen, like you're in an airtight room. He isn't breathing and for a second you aren't either but you carry on nonetheless, nice and slow and within a few seconds a breath punches out of his chest.

'Jesus.'

He says, constricted and suffocated and you pull away for a second, just to ask;

'You want me to-'

'No. God no, don't stop.'

He runs his fingers through his own hair and pulls, lifts his hips up craving for you to continue so you do, lick a little harder and faster this time and Brendan's trembling already. His arms are shaking and there's a thin layer of sweat on his back, glistening in the light. He finally begins to relax once he comes to terms with all of the sensations, his hole no longer relenting and you push in as hard as you can to breach the rim, draw a primal groan from the depths of Brendan's stomach. You slap his arse hard and he jolts, drops his head between his shoulders and pushes back against your tongue even more. He can't form a coherent sentence, just swears and mumbles a load of gibberish as you eat at him and you groan against his tight hole, know that you love it when Brendan does that to you because the vibrations shoot up your spine and it seems to do the same to him because he swings an arm backwards, places it on the back of your head and pushes your face further into his arse.

You pull away momentarily to scramble around in the bedside cabinet for lube, catch his face in the light and he looks wrecked from the pleasure but panicked at the same time.

'I'm gunna use my fingers. Don't worry. We don't have to go all the way.'

He's on all fours now, must have gotten into that position whilst you were licking the sanity out of him. You can just about see the hand print from where you slapped him, can't help but smile as you lean down to kiss the red marks.

You make sure that you squirt plenty of lube onto your fingers, rub it around his hole as well as you massage the tight muscle, watch it quiver beneath your touch. You slowly slide the tip of your index finger into him. He's slightly looser than he was from your rim job but he's still ridiculously unyeilding, still untouched. Gradually, you manage to get your finger in down to the knuckle, circulate it and seemingly find his prostrate because he jolts forward suddenly and curses underneath his breath.

'Fuck!'

He tries his hardest to prevent himself from shouting, has to chew on his fist as you begin a relentless onslaught against that perfect little spot and it has him shaking, the veins in his neck protruding. You remember when you felt like that the first time he was inside of you, had never felt so overcome with so many pleasurable sensations. You start to tug on his dick, want to make this unbearable, milk it and dip your head quickly to give it a suck and he's mumbling your name, over and over again and you can barely make it out.

You don't think he'll last much longer so you focus all of your attention on your fingers, slip another one inside of him and pummel his prostate, toss him off as quickly as you can and angle your head so you can suck on his balls at the same time and you've never seen him in such a mess.

'St-Steven... I'm...'

Before he can even say the words he's shooting ropes of white all over your hand and the bed sheets, is choked for any noise and his orgasm is completely silent. His mouth is wide open but there's no sound escaping him and again, it's like neither of you can breathe. Your hand is sticky with his warm cum as you milk the last of his orgasm, rub your thumb firmly over the head and he can't take it, has to grip your hand in order to halt your actions.

'Stop. Too sensitive.'

You pull your fingers out of him and suck them clean, lick the cum that strays on your hand and watch him collapse onto his front, breathless. Sweat has gathered on his forehead and made his hair damp and the hand prints on his arse are still prominent. You lean over to kiss them again.

'You okay?'

You ask, lying beside him and stroking a path up and down his back lightly with the back of your hand. His eyes are closed, doesn't have the energy to open them but he manages a small smile.

'Did I do alright? I didn't hurt you?'

'No. You didn't hurt me. That was probably one of the best orgasms I've ever had.'

'Maybe we should make it a regular thing.'

You intend it as a joke, chuckle as he opens his eyes and looks at you sarcastically. You wouldn't want it to be too regular, would miss having him balls deep inside of you several times a day.

'Not gunna happen kid.'

You snigger lightly and snuggle up to him, don't care that you're lying in his cum. You'll clean up in the morning. He welcomes you, kisses you gently and he's asleep in less than a minute.


Brendan's P.O.V

You're still a little sticky when you wake up but you don't care because your attention is drawn to Steven, always is in the morning. His head is resting against your arm, fingers tangled in the hairs on your chest. He has a strange fascination with your hairiness, tends to rub his face against the overnight stubble you get, can't help but run his fingers over your chest after you've fucked three times in a row.

Your arm has gone to sleep now and you have pins and needles in your hand, have to slide your arm out from underneath Steven's head slowly as to not disturb him and give it a few rough shakes. He doesn't stir, the week long hospital trip seeming to have drained all energy from him.

Work calls and you aren't able to stay to greet him when he wakes, have to be at the club early to fill out paper work and place orders, pick up from where you left off before Steven's prom. Keith gave you the time off that you needed, said that they could cope without you and it appears as if they have. Everything seems to be in fine shape when you arrive. Sam is behind the bar when you make your way upstairs, is getting started on any work that needs to be done. At least, that's what he says.

'How's Ste?'

He asks as you wonder past him without saying a word.

'He's fine.'

'Good. That's good. How are you?'

You turn on the spot. He's barely looking at you when he asks the question, is polishing a glass and making out as if his concentration is purely focused on it.

'Why the sudden interest?'

He looks away from you, focuses on his glass once again and shrugs. He looks like Steven when he does that, a lot less attractive of course but never the less, it's a trait that he holds that's very similar.

'I was just asking. Must be pretty traumatic, having him nearly die in your arms. I know you hate me and that but... If there's anything I can do...'

He trails off as soon as he realises where he's heading, has his mouth open, ready to continue but decides otherwise and shakes his head, shrugs again and says it doesn't matter. His attention is focused on that bloody glass again, the same one. There isn't going to be a glass left if he continues to polish it.

'Samual, you're wrong on two occasions there. Firstly, Steven didn't almost die, he did die. Without my blood he'd be six feet under. Secondly, I don't hate you. I just find you to be extremely irritating.'

He chuckles ever so slightly, a minute smile on his face but he doesn't look at you, just examines his glass and appears to be satisfied with it so he starts on the next one.

'In a really twisted way I've missed that.'

You offer him a smile and turn to head into the office when you spot something unusual in the corner of the room. It definitely wasn't here when you left so why the hell is it here now? It stands out horrifically, is far from subtle. You're not complaining about it's existence because you love them but the two themes collide.

'The hell is this?'

You go over to it and prod it with your index finger, bend over to analyse it carefully.

'It's a jukebox.'

'Yes I know what it is but why is it here?'

'Oh. Erm. Uncle Dave is getting rid of it. He didn't have anywhere to put it so Keith said that he'd have it in here for a couple of weeks until they can find a buyer. I guess he's testing it out as well, seeing if the public like it. It works, go ahead. Although, Uncle Dave hasn't changed the CD's yet so it's probably all old stuff.'

You look through the glass and spy all of the CD's. Samual is definitely right. It is all old stuff but it's classic.

'Your uncle has fantastic taste.'

You select a tune and listen to it come on, spy Samual's face from across the room and watch it scrunch in confusion and distaste.

'This is the man Samual. The man.'

You're slightly offended that he doesn't know whose voice is playing, won't stand here and put yourself up to the painful task of having to explain it to him so you head into the office and get started on the paper work. You're hoping Keith will pop in later, need to talk to him about something on a serious level.

Johnny Cash's voice plays for three tracks in a row, the forth only just beginning as you finish off the rota. You sit back in the chair and rest your feet on the desk, close your eyes and absorb every word.

You said, one love, one life

When it's one need in the night

One love, we get to share it

It leaves you baby if you don't care for it.

A knock on the door disrupts you and it's only then that you realise you almost fell asleep listening to his voice. Your dad used to play his records when you were younger, would smoke his cigarette in the kitchen and have him playing whilst you ate your breakfast before school. That was when the times were good. As soon as it started, Johnny's voice was no more.

'What?'

You shout, not aggressively, just loud enough so they can hear over the music. The door swings open but you don't open your eyes, just drown in Johnny Cash and his lyrics. You suddenly feel someone straddle you and you suddenly panic thinking that Sam has tried his luck again but when you open your eyes, you're relieved to see Steven, sat on your lap with a grin on his face.

'Jesus.'

You say, taking your feet down off the desk and trying to calm down your stricken heart.

'Nope. Not Jesus, it's only me.'

'Very funny.'

You shift a little to make this position more comfortable for the pair of you. The boy is all over you already, pulling your shirt out from the rim of your trousers and stroking your skin, is kissing you relentlessly and despite it being inappropriate at a time like this when you're supposed to be working, you can't help but accept it.

'Who's this playing? Sounds like something from the dark ages.'

He says suddenly, pulling away and climbing off your lap to straighten himself out whilst leaving you looking like a mess.

'It's the king Steven.'

His face remains blank.

'Johnny Cash. Jesus what do you kids listen to nowadays?'

You ask, appalled as you start tucking your shirt back in, getting to your feet to look at yourself in the mirror and straightening out your hair. He has a tendency to pull on it, does it all the time. Not that you're complaining. The boy is disinterested when you turn back round, is busy lifting things off the desk to examine them and then putting them back down a split second later.

You don't know why but you suddenly think back to eight days ago. Eight days ago, this boy sitting in front of you now was lying on the floor. Dead. No heart beat, nothing. But now he's alive and smiling and fighting and it's a fucking miracle. Even the doctors said that he shouldn't be alive right now and yet, here he is. You take hold of his hand and lead him out of the office and he doesn't question you, follows you and stands in the middle of the room outside as you go and switch the music. You don't know what it is but it's slow and exactly what you need and you go back over to the boy, lift his arms and link them behind your neck.

'What you doing?'

He asks, sniggering in embarrassment as he looks over to Sam who remains behind the bar. You twist your neck indicating for him to get lost and he does, makes an excuse about helping out downstairs, leaving you both alone.

'We're doing the thing that you didn't get a chance to do at prom.'

'Thought you said you didn't dance?'

'I don't. Just shut up and appreciate it boy.'

He grins cheesily, stands on his tiptoes to kiss you and then you both slowly start to move in a rhythm to the music, his hands linked behind your neck, chin resting on your shoulder and you hold him close to your body, hold him tight so there's no distance between you. You close your eyes and inhale, can smell him and he smells like he always does, clean and soapy and natural.

'Can't stay for too long. I've got to go back and have my chemo.'

He mumbles, turning to kiss your neck and then resuming his previous position, still moving in perfect sync with you.

'That's okay. I have work to do anyway. Just don't leave yet.'

You reply, holding him a little tighter. You never thought you'd like doing this as much as you do, slow dancing. It's intimate and personal and one of those things that couples do. That's what you are now, what you've always been. A couple.

The first song is over far too quickly but it seems like neither of you are prepared to let go of each other, are too wrapped up in this fantasy, the novelty of dancing together. Your heart beats stronger than it ever has before, is so loud that you're sure Steven can hear it too.

'Oh, before I forget...'

He pulls away against your will, starts rummaging in his back pocket and eventually pulls out a black box. It's not wrapped but it has gold stitching around the edges, is neat and tidy and the box alone looks expencive.

'Happy Birthday.'

He's smiling, pleased with himself and you slowly take it out of his hand, slightly unsure. You don't really know what to expect. You question how he managed to afford something like this because as far as you know he doesn't have any savings and he definitely doesn't work. Unless the box is just for show.

'Open it. You'll love it I know you will.'

You do as he asks, lift the lid and inside sits two silver cufflinks. You look closely and there in italic writing is your name, engraved upon the surface of each of them.

'How the hell did you afford these?'

You ask with your mouth hanging open, taking one out of the box and placing it in the palm of your hand. You handle it with such delicacy because they look incredibly fragile. The invisible price tag makes you take extra care.

'Doesnt matter does it? Do you like them? Because if not I can always take them back.'

'No don't take them back. I love them. Thank you.'

You snake an arm around his waist and pull him into your body once again, kiss him on the mouth and end up putting the cufflinks on due to his instance. They look good and feel comfortable so they won't be a nuisance when you're writing. Steven seems more pleased with them than you are despite how much you love them. You won't make it a regular thing, wearing them to work because you don't want to break or scratch them.

'Right, I better get back. Liam will be on my case otherwise. I'll see you later. Love you.'

'Love you too.'

He smiles when you say it back without hesitation, still isn't used to it and neither are you really. But it rolls off your tongue so easily now that you know how you feel and where you stand.

His bum wiggles as he walks out, always has but it's only now that you really register it. He walks a lot more naturally now than he did when he was recovering.

You return to the office to carry on with your work, take the cufflinks off before you undoubtedly scratch them and place them carefully back into the box, slip it inside of your jacket pocket that's hung on the back of the chair and try to regain focus. It's hard to concentrate when your mind wonders off to the more x-rated times you've shared with Steven, especially when you get a semi from merely thinking about his naked body.

But now isn't the time to think about that because you have a more pressing issue that you need to discuss with Keith. You attempt to rehearse what you're going to say, end up abandoning the work that needs doing in the end and just try to think of the scenario in your head. You even end up writing down an entire speech, throwing away sheet after sheet of paper because you don't think it's adequate enough.

It's put to test a little later on, when Keith comes strolling into the office with his briefcase, Dave at his side.

'Afternoon Brendan! How are you boy?'

'Fine. Um, can I talk to you for a second?'

You respond instantaneously, don't return the mannerism of asking about his well being because it's irrelevant right now.

'Of course, of course.'

Both men remain in the office, Dave at Keith's side, looking on at the pair of you and you don't want to sound rude by telling Dave to get out but this isn't something you want going around. Not yet anyway.

'Alone. It's er... It's a private matter.'

You smile kindly at Dave and he takes the hint, winks at you and exits the office, closing the door firmly behind him. Keith looks at you in question, removes his jacket and shoves his hands into his pockets.

'What is it? Is Ste okay?'

'What's Steven's ma like?'

You ask, running your thumb along your bottom lip and perching on the edge of the desk. He doesn't understand why you're asking that question, raises his eyebrows in surprise and shifts on his feet slightly. He upturns his nose in evident distaste at the mere mention of her.

'Not worthy of being called a mother I must say. I don't want Ste near her again. Why are you asking Brendan? What's happened?'

'Nothing. Nothing's happened.'

He relaxes a little, begins to rummage through the filing cabinet in search of some papers as you talk to him, seems to think that the conversation is somewhat over.

'I guess I'll just have to ask you then.'

'Ask me what?'

He's paying little attention to you now, is listening intently but his focus isn't situated purely on you. You're shaking a little bit now, knew that the nerves of asking would kick in at some point. Your hands are getting a little sweaty, heart thudding but you can't back out now.

'I've nearly lost him Keith. More times than I care to think about-'

His movements come to an abrupt halt. He looks at you with an element of nervousness, frowns slightly as he places his desired file into his briefcase. He still stands tall, shoves his hands back into his pockets and concentrates on you, only you. It's now that you wish he was continuing to distract himself.

'-and I couldn't bare to have Steven die without him being...officially mine.'

'What are you saying? He isn't going to die Brendan-'

'No I'm not saying that he is... I'm just... I'm asking for your permission.'

You're starting to stutter, his facial expression and the ask itself piling on the pressure and you're not sure whether you can do it, contemplate on saying It doesn't matter but it does because you know that this is what you want, you're ready for this commitment and it's something that you never saw yourself doing but it feels right. There's no one else.

'Permission for what?'

He looks a little worried now, like he thinks you're asking if it's okay to break up with Steven or something. He couldn't be further from the truth.

'I'm asking for your permission to marry him.'