Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. It's all the time left that he has to say goodbye. Twenty minutes for the paperwork to be put in order, for everything to be finalised for his release. Twenty minutes until he sees Amy again, waiting outside the gates for him. She isn't bringing the kids; she'd already warned him that she wouldn't in advance. She doesn't want them to be here, doesn't want to confuse or upset them, and Ste had agreed without hesitation or disappointment. Prison isn't a place for kids. For all they know, daddy's coming back from a long holiday in Benidorm.
It hadn't seemed real, when he'd gone down to breakfast to find Ethan and Doug at the table, applauding him. He'd flushed, aware of the attention that he was getting from the other men, knowing that none of them were sad to see him go. Without Brendan beside him, he had a glimpse of what life in here would have been like if he'd been on his own. He'd be the runt of the litter. Not the youngest, but one of the smallest. Being with Brendan had saved his life.
He'd watched as Ethan had convinced the canteen staff to give him an extra serving on his last day. Ste wasn't entirely sure that he was grateful: he'd watched as the overcooked sausages had been put on his plate, and he hadn't touched the eggs. He strongly suspected that it was safer not to eat something that didn't even resemble what it was meant to be.
It didn't feel like his last day. When Brendan joined him and put a hand on his leg underneath the table, it was impossible to believe that they wouldn't be doing the same thing tomorrow.
"Bet you can't wait to be rid of this place."
It's all anyones been saying to him. He wishes they would stop. He knows what he's meant to feel, but he doesn't feel it. There's no way of explaining it to them in words they'd understand, no way of telling them that he'll miss this. He'll miss being with him, and he wishes that Jim would have been like all the other hapless lawyers in this place. He wishes that he hadn't been able to get him out early.
"Yeah." Ste turns his back to Doug, giving his cell a last glance. He knows he's got everything, but Doug doesn't know that, doesn't know that he's already checked and double checked. He'd had to wait for Doug to leave before he'd bundled Brendan's hoodie into his suitcase. He's half scared that the officers who check his stuff will notice that it's not his, that he's stolen it. And what if Brendan realises, and says something? How will Ste explain that he's resorted to stealing his clothes just to be able to get through his first night without him?
"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get out?"
He knows this is a game of sorts that people play in prison. Something to pass the time, to make you believe that you will get out, and that there's a life waiting for you.
"Probably go to bed."
"Ste!" Doug looks at him in bafflement.
"What?"
"You can't sleep. You can sleep in here! Come on, it has to be something good."
"Like what?" It's all he can think of. He's exhausted. Exhausted of missing this place before he's even left.
"I don't know. Eating a roast dinner or going shopping or getting so drunk you can't walk."
"I just want to see my kids, don't I?" It's what he's trying to concentrate on. When he thinks of them, he can temporarily shut everything else out.
"Okay. The rest can wait till I get out." Doug will be released a week after he is. He's already told Ste that his parents will be flying over for the weekend, then he'll be moving in with Lynsey. He's got it all figured out. Ste wants to be happy for him, wants to celebrate, but -
He won't be getting visits from Pauline. He won't be moving in with Brendan.
"So no big goodbyes, okay?"
"But it feels like I'm never gonna see you again."
Doug laughs. Ste knows how it sounds. Dramatic, and make believe. But it's difficult to believe that life could go on outside of here. That he'll see Doug in another setting, without the walls and the locked doors and the noise. He doesn't know how he'll sleep at night without the shouting and the name calling: how will he get used to the silence?
"Come on. Ethan wants to see you before you go."
He's waiting for them in his cell. Brendan stands to one side when they enter the room, and he presses himself so closely up against the wall that it's like he wants to disappear into it. His head's down, and his body looks shrunken. He avoids Ste's gaze.
"All ready to go?" Ethan asks, and he surprises Ste by putting his arms around him. They've rarely hugged, and there's still a degree of machoism about it - Ethan pats him roughly on the back the entire time - but Ste holds on.
"Yeah. I'm just waiting for them to call me." He hopes it's Tony who comes to find him. He hasn't spoken to him properly since he and Brendan were called into his office, and he can't leave it like this. He doesn't know what he's going to say, how he's going to explain what Tony's done for him, but if he doesn't try then he knows he'll regret it.
"Bet you wish they'd hurry the fuck up."
"Yeah." Ste glances behind him, towards Brendan. He wonders if he can hear the doubt in his voice. How he wishes he could extend time. That these twenty minutes will never be enough. "When are you getting out?" He feels the need to say it; guilt's rising in him. It should be Ethan who's leaving. It should be someone who wants to, who'd use the opportunity better than he will.
"Just over a year."
Ste stumbles over his words, sorry and maybe it'll go quickly and other things to try and soften the blow, all of which feel redundant.
"It's okay." Ethan laughs, sensing his discomfort. "I'll miss you and Doug, but I'll have..." He glances over towards Brendan, and Ste sees him stand up straighter. He looks like he's holding his breath. Ethan turns back to Ste. "I'll have other people, won't I?"
"Yeah. Course you will. And...well, everything's over now, isn't it? You don't have to worry about Warren anymore."
"Thanks to Brendan."
Brendan sighs. "I told you, I didn't -"
"You didn't kill him, I know." Ethan gives Ste a knowing look, like they're sharing their own private joke. "I know you were involved somehow. Stop being modest."
Brendan's about to argue back, but Ste cuts him off with a look.
"Ethan, I know this is really out of order to ask, but -"
"You want me to leave you two alone together?"
"If that's okay. It's just I've only got a bit of time left, and..."
"Before they walk you to the gallows?" Ethan asks, already heading towards the door.
"What?"
"You look like you're walking to your own death."
Ste shrugs his words off, but he's not far from the truth.
"We'll have a drink when I get out, yeah?"
"I'll be seeing you anyway, won't I? When I come to visit." He's had this all morning; people talking to him like they'll never see him again. He's reminded them that he'll be back to visit Brendan, but they've all looked at him like he's something delicate that needs to be handled with caution. As though this - all of this, his entire time with Brendan - has been something with an expiration date, and when he walks from here he won't ever get it back.
Ste knows that they're pitying him, even Ethan. They're thinking of how unlikely it is that Brendan will follow through, that he'll agree to him visiting. Ste's ripe with irritation; he wants to scream at them, tell them that they're all wrong. Brendan will let him. He's agreed already. They've planned this.
Ethan shakes his head before he leaves the cell. He can put it on the list of things he's done now: made friends with a copper. Fuck.
He makes sure the door's closed behind them.
"You want me to lie to him forever?" Brendan moves from the corner of the room, head still bowed.
"He's not gonna tell anyone, is he? It's not like he wants to report you for what you did."
"But I didn't do anything. It's all Walker."
"He needs you to be the hero, Bren." He's seen a change, a shift in their relationship since Warren was killed. When Ste first arrived there was a coldness between them. He barely saw them exchange a single word, and now there's something there, however precarious.
"I'm not though, am I?"
"Shush. Come 'ere."
"Steven -"
Ste ignores him, patting the spot on the bed beside him. He doesn't want to look at the time; he'd rather not know how long he has left. They'll come and get him soon enough, and he's dreading the sound of their footsteps down the hall. The knock at the door.
He can feel Brendan's warmth beside him, and he cuddles close. shifting in the bed and laying his head against Brendan's shoulder. He thinks they'll stay like this, just like this, but Brendan puts an arm around him. Ste can smell the aftershave on him, and he closes his eyes. It occurs to him that he doesn't know why people do that. Will it help him remember, help him to focus on the smell and sound and feel of Brendan? Maybe it's so he doesn't have to look at their surroundings, at the peeling wallpaper and the faded furniture and how everything's so dark and grey, constantly. When he closes his eyes, he can imagine that he and Brendan are somewhere else. That they're home.
"I don't want to leave." He's been avoiding saying it for days, knows how Brendan hates it when he talks like that, but he can't not say it now. It would be like keeping the truth locked up inside him, and he doesn't want to be that person, is tired of playing pretend.
"Yes you do."
"No, I don't." He despises being told how he feels. Brendan doesn't know. Doesn't know what this is doing to him.
"Think of your kids."
"I am." He sniffs, aware of how he sounds. Leah and Lucas should come first, and everything else should pale in comparison. He wonders how he can possibly be a good parent, when he can face being separated from them but not from Brendan. He loves them, would do anything to protect them, but -
But Brendan. He needs him.
"They're gonna be so excited to see you."
It could be Ste's imagination. It could be what's making him think that Brendan sounds like he's choking on his words. He doesn't risk a glance at his face. If he's crying, then he wants to give him the dignity he needs to cry alone.
"You can meet them one day. If you want." Leah will love him, will be fascinated with him. She's always been inquisitive, and Ste's never met a more fearless child. Lucas will be more contained, will stand back and observe this strange man with the moustache, but Brendan will win him over, both of them. Ste knows he will: whatever happened in the past with his own kids, Ste knows that Brendan's a good father. He cares, and that's more than Terry ever did.
"That would be good," Brendan mumbles. He sounds tentative, as though imagining the future that Ste's talking about is too dangerous. Like there's too much to lose, and it's easier not to want at all.
"And you could see your kids too, couldn't you?"
"I don't know..." He's less sure now, and Ste feels his body grow rigid against his. "It's not a good idea, Steven."
"Why, because Eileen says so?" He knows he's assuming things; he knows very little about Brendan's ex wife. But since he's been here he hasn't seen any contact between them. Not a visit, or a phone call from Ireland. If Brendan's guilty of giving up on it all, then so is she.
"They're better off without me. Especially now they're getting older." Brendan's voice is telling him to drop it, but its been in his mind for days now. He could push it aside when he had months ahead of him, but now that he's leaving, knowing that Leah and Lucas are waiting for him - it's not right. It's not right that Brendan's planning for a future where he'll never see his children again.
"I don't want us to argue before you go," Brendan says quietly.
"Is that your polite way of telling me to shut up?"
"Perhaps."
Ste lets out a booming laugh. He remembers how Brendan said that he likes it, him laughing. He never got a chance to say the things he likes about him.
"Your tache."
Brendan frowns at him. "You going mad?
"No, your tache. It's the first thing I noticed about you."
Brendan looks no less baffled, but he's silent as Ste tries to explain.
"I walked in here, and everyone had told me all these things about you - about how crazy and dangerous you were."
"Gee, thanks."
"And all I could think was, he can't be that scary, can he? With that giant YMCA thing on his face."
"Jesus Steven, this keeps getting better and better."
"Shush, you. I'm just saying."
"Fucking YMCA." Brendan scowls at him, and it takes some coaxing to get him to look at him. Ste reaches out a finger and strokes the moustache, and it takes some gentle persuasion for Brendan to smile when he thinks Ste's not looking.
"I love it now, don't I? And everything else. I love you."
"I love you too. And nothing's ever gonna change that, okay?"
"No, don't be doing that." Ste drops his hand, and he can feel his lips tremble, like they did the first time Brendan ever kissed him.
"What? Steven?"
"You're starting to talk like..." He shakes his head, trying to shake off the feelings with it. He doesn't want Brendan to be emotional; doesn't want this to be anything different than any other day. If everything goes smoothly with the visiting order than he'll be seeing him in a week. There's no other option. Never seeing him again isn't a possibility. It doesn't make sense.
"I'm just trying to -"
"Well don't. I don't want this to be some big thing - I'm seeing you soon, aren't I? So I love you, and you love me, but it's not - it's not a goodbye, Brendan. And we're not gonna cry, okay?"
"I never cry."
"Yeah, sure you don't." Ste nudges him with his shoulder. "What's the time?"
"Almost three. Why?"
"Right." Ste rises, walking towards the screen window of the cell. There's an officer patrolling the corridor, but she's distracted by something that's going on in another cell. There's a chance - a window of opportunity - and Ste's not going to waste it.
"Get your pants off."
"What?" Brendan's mouth falls open slightly at the command.
"Pants off. Now."
The unexpectedness of it makes Brendan uncoordinated. He fumbles with his trousers, nearly falling to the floor before he reaches out and leans a hand agains the bed. Ste watches him, amused, and lets his arousal build at the sight. He feels heat and want and desire pool in his gut, but it's about more than just looking at Brendan and drinking him in. He recalls textures; the feel of the scattering of hairs around Brendan's arsehole when he fingers him, and the startling sense of smoothness and masculinity against his skin as he presses against his prostate. He remembers smells; the sweetness of the jam (seedless, as is Brendan's preference) as it's smeared onto Ste's cock for Brendan to lick off. The sight of it had been surreal at first, and unlike anything he'd ever done. He'd never been that man - adventurous in sex, pushing his own boundaries. Having sex with a stranger in a cramped toilet was as far as he used to go, and there was a lack of joy in it that left him cold. This - the things that he and Brendan do - made him know what it was like to be in love for the first time.
And there are the sounds. There's a dark place in Ste's mind where Vinnie and Macca and Walker and all the men in between exist, but he doubts whether anyone else has heard Brendan like this. Something tells him that this is new to both of them, and that the sounds that Brendan makes, animalistic and never polite, are something that only he's ever heard. The roaring and the groaning and the way he begs - the way he allows himself to beg - it's his. It belongs to Ste.
"You sure we've got time?" Brendan looks past his shoulder to see if anyone's watching. He keeps his shirt on, and there's something vulnerable about him standing before Ste, trousers on the floor, boxers concealed underneath the length of his shirt. He wonders if this is what it would be like; Sunday morning's, waking up late, making breakfast in bed, Brendan following him into the kitchen when the smell of bacon and sausages lulls him from sleep.
"What?"
He didn't realise he was staring so much.
When Ste pushes him onto the bed Brendan staggers back, and there's a moment when he lies still, as though he's gathering his bearings before he scrambles towards Ste, grappling with him until he's able to flip him over. Ste squirms in his arms, and frowns and grumbles at Brendan's fuck you're tiny, as he tries to prove to him that he's not, hand finding Brendan's and moving it towards his cock. Brendan grins. Maybe you're not then, and it's a cheap tactic but it has the desired effect: Brendan unbuckles Ste's jeans until he can reach his dick, and there's a moment when Ste's gasping for breath, his muscles clenching when his cock slides down Brendan's throat without warning.
This wasn't his plan. He was going to suck Brendan off, give him something to think about when he's alone tonight, keep him going till next time. Now he can barely move; his chest's heaving and his skin feels like it's humming. He's locked in place, mesmerised by what Brendan's doing to him. He doesn't have a watch, but he's aware that the officers could come for him any second and find him like this. But still it's not enough to make him stop.
"Let me just -" Ste drags his hands through Brendan's hair, listening to the wet pop as Brendan releases his dick from his mouth, staring up at Ste with eyes vivid with life, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. They haven't even done anything and he looks fucked. It makes Ste want more, more than this. He wants him naked on the bed, and he wants to stay and finish what they've started. It's not enough, bringing each other off. He wants Brendan to be inside him.
Ste crawls further down the bed, giving him the access he needs. He hooks his hands around Brendan's waist, lowering him so that his cock's within distance of his mouth. He's hard, painfully so, and Ste darts his tongue out and licks along the prominent vein that runs centrally on Brendan's dick. It produces a hiss from him, and Brendan's body goes still, waiting to see what Ste will do next.
He plays with his balls first. They're heavy, and Brendan angles them into his mouth until he's massaging them with his tongue, little flicks that make Brendan arch his back.
"Kiss me." He gets like this when he's trying to distract himself from coming: he wants Ste's tongue in his mouth. There's something addictive about knowing that Brendan can taste himself, that he wants to taste himself, and Ste pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. He keeps a hand on Brendan's dick, slowly sliding it up and down, keeping him on the edge of arousal. Brendan's breathlessness is like a vibration between their lips.
"Harder?" Ste asks, doesn't know if Brendan wants him to bring him off or keep this up, this prolonged stroking, his fingers running along the underside of his cock, his palm gliding over the head.
"Yeah." His voice is gruff, and his stubble slides over Ste's cheek as he moves his face, sucking a bruise into Ste's neck. Ste winces before the pain gives way to something else, and when he says harder again it's a demand of his own. When Ste's movements grow more purposeful on Brendan's dick and he forces him to come, Brendan bites so hard on his skin that it feels like he's going to draw blood.
They roll over, backs on the covers, staring at the ceiling.
"Amy's gonna ask me about the bruise." Ste rubs against his neck with his hand.
"What will you tell her?"
"Dunno. That a rabid dog attacked me."
"Nice."
He thinks that they'll begin to get dressed again, but Brendan takes him by surprise: he turns to face him, and his hands seem to be everywhere at once. They smooth over Ste's chest, over the patch that he hasn't shaved for weeks now, because he knows that Brendan likes the small scattering of hair running along his skin. He used to think it was ridiculous, that it was so minuscule that it may as well have not been there at all. He sees the way Brendan's eyes settle on it, and there's desire there that's more than Ste ever could have wished for.
His hands snake lower.
"No, Bren." He sits up reluctantly. He's still hard; the slit of his cock is wet, and all he wants is for Brendan to make him come. It makes his body shiver, denying himself of it.
Brendan's dazed by his rejection. "But you're -"
"We haven't got enough time." It hurts to say it, and he feels it again, his anger at the reality of this. He doesn't want anything to change.
"Steven." Brendan laughs at him, shaking his head, and he's staring there, right at Ste's cock, and he's advancing forwards even as Ste's stood up and reaching for his jeans.
"I mean it. That was just for you."
"No, this is for me."
Fuck. Perhaps it won't hurt, just letting him touch him for a second -
There's a hammering at the door. Brendan raises his eyes upwards, releasing a stream of profanities. Ste makes a hasty grab for his clothes.
It's time.
He tries to tuck his erection into the waistband of his boxers, out of sight of prying eyes. He can see the distinct bulge in Brendan's trousers when he dresses, and the sight of it is so obscene and so entirely unavoidable that Ste wants to laugh. They look a mess.
The pounding at the door doesn't stop until they open it.
"Where's the fire?"
"Less of that, Brady." The officer looks between them, eyes trailing over their unruly hair and inside out clothing. Ste's only managed to put one shoe on - how the hell did that happen? - and he silently reaches for the missing one on the floor, avoiding the officer's gaze as he does so.
"The paperwork's all ready, Hay."
"It's Ste." He's sick of it, sick of feeling like his identity's been stripped.
"Steven," Brendan corrects, looking bashful when Ste turns to stare at him.
"Getting cocky on your last day, are you?" The officer turns his gum over in his mouth, arms crossed rigidly in front of him.
Brendan takes a step forward before Ste can move.
"Fuck off." He brushes against the officer, making him stumble into the door. "Time to leave, Steven."
His voice is devoid of emotion, and Ste doesn't know what's better - when Brendan's talking like they're saying goodbye, or this coldness, this slow pulling away from him.
They hear the officer shouting after them, you can't talk to me like that, but they ignore him.
"You can't go getting yourself in any trouble while I'm gone," Ste whispers. He's seen people get out early here for good behaviour - he's one of them - and he's all too aware that Brendan's behaviour can rarely be described as good.
"No one talks to you like that."
"I can stand up for myself." There was a time, years ago when he was a teenager, when comments from the officers here would have got a rise out of him. It's a reason why his stay in young offenders had been prolonged; the constant fights and the lack of understanding: if the staff there could treat him like shit, then why couldn't he treat them the same? Why did he have to be better?
"I never said you couldn't. But you don't have to anymore. That's my job now."
Ste feels warmth flood through him. He should argue back; he's not weak or incapable. He's not someone's dainty little wife or girlfriend. He's an equal in this, and if Brendan doesn't think he is -
But it's what he's always wanted to hear. That he doesn't have to fight so hard anymore. That he can give it all up. It feels like someone's looking after him for the first time in his life.
"Just don't get into any fights while I'm gone."
"I won't. Don't you trust me?"
He does. More than anything, he realises. It's the people in here that he doesn't trust.
They're not alone when they reach the reception area. Ste didn't expect this, and he has to stop a moment, stunned by the small crowd that's gathered. It's not much, but it's more than he ever thought he'd have in here. Doug and Ethan smile openly at him. Lynsey and Tony are more reserved; they look like they don't know what to do with themselves, pretending that they're here for official purposes when Ste knows that they're not. They're here for him - not a prisoner, not a number. Him.
"Tony, can I have a word?" It may be the only chance he gets. Tony's never one of the staff present at visiting hours.
He follows Ste curiously, a short distance away from the others.
Nothing comes out like he wants it to. He wants to sound sincere, needs to get across what Tony's done for him. But what he says - thanks for everything. For letting me join your class. I really like cooking - it all sounds inadequate, and childish. He can barely look at him. He never did this with any of his teachers. He was hardly in class as it was.
"It's okay, Ste." Tony's voice is gentle. There's no mocking edge to it. "To be honest, it's a loss."
"What do you mean?" He feels his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest. A loss?
"I shouldn't really be saying this, but you're the best student I've ever taught."
Ste laughs. "Don't be daft."
"I'm not being daft. Most of the time I didn't even have to teach you anything. You've got a real gift."
He feels like he's waiting for the punch line. A gift - him? He almost wishes he hadn't pulled Tony aside. He doesn't know what to do with this praise.
"Thanks..." He mumbles. He can feel Brendan's eyes on him from where he's standing. He hopes he's not blushing.
"I hope you keep it up. The cooking."
Ste shakes his head. He's thought about it - dreamed about it - but it's impossible. It's not the world he comes from. "I can't afford to go to classes. Most cooking I'll do is making our Leah and Lucas some chicken nuggets."
"What about restaurant work? It would be perfect for you."
It hurts, how much Ste wants it. How hard it is to know he'll never have it.
"No one's gonna employ me, are they? All they'll see is that I have a criminal record, and then..." It's one of the things he's dreading about being released. In here, he hasn't had to think about any of that. He imagines countless days spent at the job centre, all of it leading to constant rejection, until he has no choice but to tell Amy that they'll have to get by on benefits.
"Don't give up."
Ste takes a deep breath. He needs to try again. Needs to make Tony understand.
"Thank you. I mean - really, thank you."
Tony puts a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Ste. I really believe that."
He's left a note for Lynsey with Doug, has made him promise not to open it. He'd felt ashamed for the untidy scrawl, aware of what she might think of him, but fuck it, it's his last day. If she's going to laugh at him - and he has to believe that someone like Lynsey wouldn't - then he won't be around to see it.
Look after Brendan for me. He's too proud to ask for help. But he needs it. From someone. See you soon.
It's a strange feeling, knowing that he'll be seeing her outside of here in a few weeks. It's been years since he went to school, but he still hasn't shaken the sense of abnormality at seeing a teacher out in the real world.
He hugs Doug and Ethan.
"I'll see you at visiting hours, yeah?" Ethan says, and Ste shoots Brendan a look over his shoulder. He has to believe that he will.
He's in luck with the weather. It's cloudy but it's dry, and he's within reach now, already imagining the feeling of the air hitting his face, the freshness of it. Having access to the gardens every day isn't anything like what he's about to go out to, and he feels like a creature who hasn't seen the sunlight in a long time, his face turned upwards to greet it.
He wants to be with Brendan in these final moments. Only Brendan. Darren's waiting for him, ready to take him outside through the gates, but Brendan looks at him warningly. He won't be disturbing them.
They stand near the door. Ste wonders how many times Brendan's thought about this: freedom. Is it in his dreams every night, or does he try to block it out, terrified of wishing for something which seems so beyond the realms of possibility? Ste wants to take his hand and guide him there. The life which he's been imagining during his three months here - a fresh start, something better for him and Amy and the kids - it doesn't mean much without Brendan. Nothing does.
"I swear, if you don't let me visit..." They've discussed it to death, but he's worried about the quiet moments in here; the times when he isn't with Brendan, and what can seep beneath the cracks. He knows how easily Brendan can change his mind. Ste can't stand to be one of the things that he's ever unsure about.
"I will." Their hands brush together.
He hugs him, holds him tight, eyes squeezed shut. He breathes him in.
"So this isn't goodbye." Ste wipes his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes water. "I'll see you next week." It sounds like a question. Please, please tell me I'll see you next week.
"Next week."
"I love you." Darren's beside them, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care who hears it. He's not ashamed. He's proud.
"I love you too."
It's the last thing he says before Ste leaves through the gates, staring back at Brendan before he disappears from view.
