Thank you for your reviews. Sorry this has taken so long but I just haven't been able to get what needs to happen in the next few chapters right in my head so I haven't been able to write them or even start until yesterday, then I couldn't get this right but I had to post something to get me and this moving again or I was going to keep tying myself in knots.
He leans back on the sofa and sighs. What's he meant to do with that? Brendan's sorry for letting him down, even hurt that he pointed it out. It's not like he meant to. Brendan was trying to… He doesn't even know what Brendan was trying to do. Test him and Laura? Try and put a wedge between them? Try and ruin their friendship by pushing to see if he knows about Laura's past. He doesn't understand what he was trying to do or why he was trying to do it.
Brendan had looked so hurt, so upset that he had let him down. He'd apologised for letting him down. Although there are so many times he's done that over the last few months. Even before that he doesn't know which time Brendan was referring to. It makes the words almost worthless without knowing which time he was referring to. He has to wonder if Brendan even knows.
He can count them just as plainly as the times he's let Brendan down. He knows fine well that he had let Brendan down. He had tried to make up for it, tried to restore the damage he had done. He didn't want to let Brendan down, never wanted to but sometimes things just happen and he can't help his reaction.
He can hate his reaction but he can't change it. He had tried to explain it though. Not that he had managed to get the explaination right, he could never find the right words.
Brendan only apologises when he has to, when it's too late. Or if he knows that it's the only way.
He reaches for the vodka bottle. He's so tired, sore, tired and confused. He's so tired of tying himself in knots trying to work Brendan out. He'd spent years trying to and never managed it so he just can't bring himself to think about it anymore, not tonight. Not when his body is sore and his mind is so mixed up with everything spinning around him.
He can't be bothered to go to bed. He can't find the energy to get back onto his crutches, hop his way to his room and to his bed. It's barely ten metres but it's ten metres too far. He's as comfortable as he's going to get on the sofa anyway. He knows if he moes his collar bone and ankle are going to have plenty to say about it, and right now both are quiet aches rather than throbbing.
He takes another pull from the bottle and another hoping that it might just dull his mind enough to sleep. He wants to sleep. He probably needs to sleep.
He goes to put the bottle down on the floor next to him but it falls and knocks heavily on the wood. He sighs at himself and picks it back up and shakes his head. He flicks through the channels again for something to do. He picks something that looks like it will bore him to sleep.
He must have dosed off since something wakes him. The TV is still playing but the volume is off which causes him to frown. He knows he didn't turn it down. The screen is lighting the room just enough that he can see the outline of the furiture and the floor. He has a faint hang over building and if it keeps going he knows it is going to one where he suffers. The only thing he can think to do is try and dilute it with water. He pushes up from the cushions and the stiffness from the day before is multiplied by a hundred and everything aches. His ankle is throbbing slightly. He checks his pockets and the pain killers are still there but his mouth is so dry he knows there's no way he'll be able to swallow them without a drink.
It leaves him with a decision. Does he use the crutches or a gamble on hopping without them… He looks at his route and there are enough surfaces that he can use to get a hold of if he loses his balance. He decides to risk it. He pushes his aching body along the sofa to the end and pushes himself up onto his good foot taking a moment to settle his stomach, he places his left foot down only the toes and checks just how bad it is, how useless but even though it's throbbing it doesn't spike with pain when he just uses the tip of his foot. At least he knows it's not a full on hop to the sink, he can rest a bit of weight on his left leg.
He still hops his way across the room, grabbing at the island then the sink. He takes a cup from the stand and winces slightly as it clinks. He drinks a mouthful of water before dropping the pain killer onto his tongue and swallowing, it gets stuck half way and he has to down the rest of the cup before he can feel that it's dislodged. He turns and almost jumps out of his skin as he notices for the first time the silhouette in the window.
He panic's for half a second the realises it's Brendan with his back to him. He's facing looking out across the valley which is lit up in the faint moonlight. It's barely enough to see with the clouds rushing past it but it's enough to see the outlines. There are barely any lights from houses in the village below, it strikes him how remote this place really is. He can't remember a time when he hadn't been surrounded by street lights. It's like a constant in his life which had never realised was there. This place is like a different world.
He frowns because Brendan hasn't even acknowledged him even though he had to have heard him moving around. He bites at his bottom lip in indecision whether to say something or not.
"Can't sleep?" He asks, his voice booms in the silence of the house even though he was trying to be quiet and he winces a bit.
Brendan shakes his head slightly, just enough that he can see it.
He licks his lips and hops his way across from the island to the the dining room table then across to the opposite sofa to Brendan in the conservatory putting his feet up as the evaluation seems to have helped his ankle a bit.
He doesn't know why but it seems important that he's there, in the same space. There's something radiating off Brendan which tells him that there's something wrong and that the last thing he needs is to be left along to dwell on his thoughts. He was in the same room sleeping but that hadn't been close enough. His gut is telling him that he needs to be closer. Not too close though.
They sit in silence. Brendan continues to look out the window while he watches Brendan, trying to see something, some indication of what was wrong.
He shifts in his seat a little and Brendan looks across at him shaking his head and smiling a bit.
"What?" He frowns.
"Can't handle silence can you?" His voice is filled with amusement. Something loosens in his shoulders.
"Just not used to it that's all." He shrugs and winces. Bloody collar bone.
"I'm still getting used to it." Brendan replies quietly. "It's never quiet inside."
"Yeah." He remembers, still remembers but then he's been scared out of his mind most nights in there so it's not really a surprise that he can recall it so clearly.
Brendan nods, although he wonders if Brendan had meant prison or his mind but it's too late to change the direction.
"It was the first year that was the worst." Brendan states. "Took a year to get used to, never really got used to it though, but it was enough to at least sleep."
His heart clenches. It still hurts him to think of Brendan in there. To suffer locked away from the world, even though he wasn't innocent, even though he had killed, it just made him ache for him. It made the guilt rise in him. It was his fault that Brendan had been in there. If it wasn't for him he never would have killed Danny. He wouln't have thought he had needed to be punished.
"The noise. Just…" He shakes his head. "I can still hear it sometimes, just noise…"
"Yeah but you're not in there anymore, it'll fade." It will, it might take a long time but it would eventually fade.
Brendan blows out a breath.
"Dean could never settle…" He stops and looks at him and shakes his head. "Shouldn't be talking about him… I mean he tried to take you away from me."
He didn't want to talk about Dean for fear that he wouldn't be able to cope with it. Hearing about him, about them together. He wasn't sure he could stand it.
But Brendan needed to talk about Dean, it was written in his body language. He could see that he didn't want to, not with him but there was no one else.
"He didn't though." He states as evenly as he can manage, offering Brendan the opening if he wants to talk.
"It was my fault, I'm sorry." He's already said that, already blamed himself and he still doesn't want to hear that. It was Dean who tried to kill him and Dean who had killed himself, for Brendan. Brendan hadn't asked him to. Dean was to blame, if there was any blame needing to be attached to anyone.
"He wasn't all there Bren." He winces a little. He probably could have worded his response a little more sympathically.
Brendan snorts a sad sounding puff of a laugh and looks at him.
"He wasn't." He insists. He needed to stop Brendan taking the blame for Dean's choices.
"I know." Brendan rubs his jaw. "I tried… I tried so hard to fix him but…" He shakes his head. "I couldn't. He just… It was like I was everything to him."
"Thought you would want that." It's bitter. He shouldn't have said it but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Like it was something that he had to say.
He can't help but think that Brendan must have loved that kind of attention, full on, a total unbreakable need. It was something that he had never provided, something that he couldn't offer. He would never top himself because Brendan rejected him. He had been through all that, thought about it but could never would never do that. It just wasn't in him.
He had needed Brendan but it wasn't, it had felt like it at the time but it wasn't the end of his life when Brendan had cut him off. He had gone off the rails badly but killing himself was not an option. It could have happened, an OD or something but he would never stick a knife in his throat because Brendan chose someone else. He couldn't do that to his kids.
"I thought that for a long time but I didn't want it." Brendan replies. "I wanted him to get back on his feet, I wanted him to be able to live his life but… he just couldn't." He shakes his head sadly.
"You waited for him at the prison gates though so you did want that kind of love." He challenges. Brendan moved in with Dean, built a life with him. If that wasn't what he wanted then why would be do that?
"It wasn't love Steven." He almost whispers. "It wasn't." He says more firmly. "It was obsession and I know the difference, I know the difference." He shakes his head then frowns at him. "I didn't wait for him… Where did you hear that?"
"Dean told me." He shrugs.
"I didn't wait for him, we met outside a few weeks after he was released when I was working for Anthony…" He frowns at him. "Dean… Steven you can't believe everything he said to you. He would say anything, everything, he just wanted to hurt you, push you away from me."
"He didn't need to." He states. Brendan did a great job of that himself.
"He…" Brendan shakes his head. "I know Steven alright I know what I did I never…"
"Not tonight alright, just not tonight." He cuts him off. "I think we could both do with some sleep."
Brendan nods then looks unsure for a split second.
"You go. I think I'll just sit here a bit longer."
He shakes his head at him.
"You need sleep." He states. He can see the weariness in Brendan's features, he can read it in his eyes. So he isn't going to let Brendan sit up and torture himself, not under the same roof as him.
"So do you." Brendan states throwing it back at him, being stubborn.
"Then come and watch a film with me, I'm not going to be able to get to sleep in silence." He states although he's knackered and hung over and knows fine well that if he went to bed now he'd manage to get to sleep, but it's a way of getting Brendan out of the conservatory out of the shadow of his thoughts and into a distraction.
Brendan looks at him carefully, considering him and for half a second he thinks that he's going to say no. But he nods.
"And you can go get me my quilt."
Brendan laughs a little.
"Anything you want hop a-long."
He smiles because Brendan's mood has shifted and he did that. He could still do that.
He takes the quicker route back to his position on the sofa, sitting on the back and sliding onto his arse before swinging back around.
"What's on?" Brendan asks throwing the quilt over him, it's far too big for the sofa but he wants a cover, something over him to protect him.
He hands Brendan the remote.
Brendan's hesitating again, looks at the seat next to him but doesn't take it. It's like Brendan isn't sure where he's allowed to be, how close he's allowed to be which is good because he can't have Brendan dictating to him, he hasn't got that right. Brendan giving him a bit of space and that's enough.
He knows he should keep Brendan as far away as he can but Brendan's going to leave him and he can offer this. A little something before he goes, can have him close and enjoy the feeling while it lasts.
"Grab a pillow then." He states tapping the cushion to his left which is part of the back row.
Brendan takes a cushion from the far corner and lies across the back line. They are head to head.
Brendan flicks through the film channels but can't seem to find anything. Not that it matters. It's not really about that so when he finally does pick it's a black and white film, some old thing where everyone looks perfect and the men treat the women like they're fine bone china and need to be protected from the world. All the kisses are tender and lack tongue, pecks on the cheek.
It's not holding his attention and even though he's tired, there's too much tension sitting in his stomach to get to sleep.
"How did you end up working for Mr Arthur?" He asks. It seems a safe enough subject and he wants to know. He thought that Brendan wanted out of that life so why had he gone straight back into it?
Brendan snorts a little.
"Never wanted to get back into all that. I thought as soon as I was out that I'd get a job something, I didn't really know but something clean, something respectable. I couldn't find anything though. No one wanted to take on an ex-con and I was down to my last hundred pounds." He frowns at him and Brendan turns over and looks at him. "Solicitors cost a lot of money especially when they're trying to reduce the sentence of a guilty man. So I called Anthony. I knew him from before, I've known him for years. He offered me a job splitting my time between Cobra and The Jay. It was good money and I was hardly in a position to not take it."
"Solicitors worked though. You said you'd get life." It's an accusation, he can't help it. Brendan had told him that he was facing 30 years at least, gave that as the reason that he was kicking him out of his life.
"Yeah…" He stops and turns back over looking up at the ceiling. "I couldn't do that kind of time. I may be guilty but I just couldn't do it. All the weeks waiting for my first hearing I just knew that I had to try and get a reduction. I paid top money to get one of the best defence briefs…"
"What was your sentence?" He can guess, work it out but he has the opportunity to ask so he takes it.
"I was only convicted for Seamus. There wasn't enough evidence to convict me of Danny, Michael, Nana or Walker. The brief did a great job of twisting the facts got my confession chucked out and I didn't comment when the cops interviewed me… He got the sentence to 7 and a half and I got out after 7 on good behaviour."
"You?" That is not something he would expect. Brendan behaving himself under the glare of authority. Being told what to do and doing it, keeping his head down and not picking a fight.
"Yes Steven me." He sounds a little amused. "I needed to get out and that was worth not getting into trouble."
It's on the tip of his tongue to ask but he knows that Brendan is talking about getting out of prision knows it's not possible that he had any other motivation.
"I didn't come for you straight away…"
"Brendan…" He warns, he does not want this conversation.
"I couldn't. I was too scared." He sounds small. Admitting weakness has never been something Brendan did lightly or at all if he could help it.
"Scared of what?" He sighs. Because was he really that scary?
"That you'd moved on." He states. "And you had... I spent an hour debating about knocking on your door and when I did he was there."
He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. He can listen to this. He already knows and he can handle it. He knows what happened. He knows that Brendan was a coward.
"I saw you." Brendan says quietly. "You were… You were sitting outside the Dog on your phone, talking away and you looked… So I couldn't."
He snorts a bitter laugh.
"I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you." Brendan insists and nods to himself.
"You couldn't even give me a choice Brendan. You didn't ask me." He sighs heavily.
"You had everything Steven, I had nothing what could I offer you?"
"What are you talking about?" He asks with a sigh to push down the anger. What did Brendan mean he couldn't offer him anything? He didn't want anything but him.
"I'm a convicted murderer guilty of more crimes than I have ever been punished for, I never got punished for what I did to you. I hit you even when I promised I would never raise a hand to you ever again. I hit you. I hurt you. I can't help but destroy everything I love. I'm twisted and…" He shakes his head. "I was pretty much on the bones of my arse. I had no job, no money, what could I give you? Nothing. I couldn't offer you anything."
"I didn't want anything." He states, he didn't care about any of that so why had Brendan thought he would?
They fall into silence, the TV still playing between them. Brendan sighs and turns onto his side looking at the TV pretending to watch it but there's a frown on his face and it looks like he's thinking too hard and that means he's not going to be talking anymore.
He can't believe that Brendan thought that he would have cared that he had no money, no job. He couldn't believe that Brendan thought he was that shallow. But then maybe that what Brendan thought of him some silly, selfish, shallow little runt who only cared about what he could get. Maybe Brendan knew him about as well as he knew Brendan right now.
He turns over and faces the cushions because he can't bare looking at Brendan right now. He can't bare Brendan thinking so little of him, thinking that his love was based on the superficial things and not the important things.
There are tears in his eyes but he won't let them fall. Brendan thinks that little of him. It tore at him but he's not that person. He's not what Brendan thinks he is. He knows that. He knows that he would have taken Brendan back in a heartbeat with only the clothes on his back, he snorts a little to himself, less than that. But Brendan couldn't see that. Couldn't see that he didn't care about anything but him. Didn't want anything but him.
He closes his eyes. He isn't that person, he isn't what Brendan thinks he is. He's better than that.
