Why is this story still going?! I hope it's interesting enough to keep you reading! Enjoy! Thanks for sticking with it! It means a lot.
As the father of two small children and the son of a drunkard, who had grown up with a farm hand, Ste was used to bad smells. They were the norm in his life, as much in Liverpool as they ever were. But there was something about the air around the warehouse that made Ste want to bring up every scrap of food he had eaten that day. This was the opposite of a home. Simon had called it a base. Ste couldn't imagine ever choosing to step foot in a place like this without some dire need.
They made their way to a huge metal door. It loomed 10 feet high, and Ste wondered how they could possibly slip in unnoticed through such a monstrosity until Simon revealed a smaller door beside it. He pulled out some slim metal things that looked like knitting needles, which he slipped into the lock. Ste didn't question it, and waited until a soft clicking sound told them that the door was unlocked. Simon pulled it open, and stood back for Ste to lead in. Ste did just that, hoping the noise of the door hadn't alerted anyone to their presence.
The interior of the warehouse was no more welcoming than the exterior. The room they had just stepped into was cavernous, and the sound of their feet, even quiet steps, echoed angrily. Ste froze to the spot, listening intently for the sound of approaching people, or raised alarms. He heard only silence, followed by the light thud of Simon pulling the door closed behind them. Darkness filled the warehouse, disorientating and suffocating. Ste stood completely still, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but Simon didn't have the patience. He struck a match, ruining Ste's night vision, and lit a candle he must have brought with him. Ste blinked in surprise at the light.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, "they'll know we're here!"
He saw Simon shrug, unconcerned, "If they're in this room, they already know," he said, and Ste couldn't argue with that. His eyes leapt from shadowy corners to black cavernous window to under what he could see of long workers' tables. No human forms were visible, no sounds suggested the presence of people or even life. Even rats and mice seemed to have abandoned this building, and Ste did not like that one bit.
"Where was he?" Ste asked, his voice as quiet as he could make it, yet still it seemed to ring in this huge empty shell.
Simon pointed at a small door at the far end. His expression was guarded and concentrated, and for a foolish moment Ste had pictures of Simon locking him in that room. If Simon was true in his protestations of love, then this could all be a trap to steel Ste away from Brendan. This empty warehouse would be a perfect place to hold someone against their will. Ste dismissed the pictures instantly. He had no reason to think that Simon was even a little insane, and to do something like that, he would have to be completely mental. Besides, who would want to kidnap a useless skinny boy like Ste? Except for Brendan, apparently. No, all that Simon's 'love' was like to do today was make Simon a little more cautious with Ste's safety. That could only be a positive thing.
They crept across the stone floor, their footsteps sounding, to Ste, like he would imagine those of an elephant may sound. He hoped it was his imagination, sparked by the eerily silent space they were in and magnified by his own fears. He wished he could hear anything that might suggest they weren't alone, because Ste's whole body prickled with the belief that they were anything but.
He gripped the knife in his pocket, and pulled it out when Simon reached for the door. This was it. He was here to murder someone on the other side of that door. If his soul wasn't already lost to the sex and impure thoughts and theft and the man on the stairs, this was the one, truly unforgiveable sin, from which there was no turning back. Purposeful murder.
Simon looked at him expectantly, one hand on the door. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ste nodded, hoping if he seemed ready he might begin to feel it. Simon took a moment to prepare himself and threw open the door.
The door led to a smaller room, much the same as the larger they were in. There were no windows, no lights and no furnishing except a bedraggled mattress on the floor. An empty bedraggled mattress. No lights, no signs of life, no people. The room was empty.
"Where is he?" asked Ste, newly terrified by the sight.
Simon shrugged non-committedly. In the pathetic light of the candle, Ste couldn't read his expression, could not tell if he was concerned or not.
"You said he was here!" Ste hissed, angrily.
"He must have woken up," Simon replied.
"Oh really?!" snapped Ste. "I would never have guessed if you hadn't pointed it out."
"Alright," said Simon, "keep your hair on."
Ste glared daggers at him, only more annoyed by the idea that the glare was wasted in the half light. "What do we do now then?" he growled.
Simon glanced around, "I don't know," he said.
"You don't…"
"How about looking for him?"
Ste did not like the sound of that. "What if we find lots of them?" He asked in a weak voice that would have shamed him had he enough presence of mind for such feelings.
"Well, that was always a risk," Simon sniffed, "are you sure you're up for this Ste?"
Ste checked around himself nervously. Did he just hear a faint rustling sound to their right?
"Cause if you're scared," Simon continued, "we can always just go."
"I ain't scared," Ste protested, a stab of annoyance almost making the statement true.
"Good," said Simon, giving him the candle, "because this wouldn't work if you left."
"What wouldn't work?" Ste asked.
Simon put a hand on Ste's back and gently shoved him into the smaller room. Ste's stomach somersaulted. Simon was mad. He was going to lock him in. To kidnap him.
He didn't. He followed Ste in and pulled the door too behind them.
"What ye doing?" Ste demanded when his heart quieted enough for him to think again.
Simon put a hand on Ste's mouth and a finger to his own lips. And very quickly it became obvious why. A loud crash told Ste the main door of the warehouse had been thrown open, carelessly. It was quickly followed by men's voices and the rumble of more than one pair of feet. Ste froze to the spot.
The voices were echoed, and men seemed to be talking over each other, making the words hard to pick out and make sense of, but Ste picked up on the atmosphere they created. It was up and excited, mixed with a manic anger, like there had just been a close fight. Ste hoped it had nothing to do with the Bradys or the club.
Laughter filled the air, cold and ugly like the warehouse itself, as if the place had infected even the positive parts of the people who inhabited it, and suddenly all Ste could see was the glow of the candle in his hand. That had to be shining under the door, alerting the newcomers to their presence. Unless they had brought their own lights. Ste stared at the door. He couldn't see any. Would extinguishing the candle now only alert them to the change?
The laughter and chatter didn't stop. It got nearer and nearer and finally Ste could see the new arrivals' light under the door. He let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding through his nose, now finally feeling Simon's closeness. His eyes were on Ste, and Ste could believe they'd never left him, even while Ste was panicking. Ste's heart was racing, and there was an intensity in Simon's eye that reminded Ste of Brendan. And Ste was scared. He stepped closer to Simon, to feel his presence and remind himself he wasn't alone. Simon's hand dropped from his lips to rest its comforting weight on Ste's hip.
The voices were still moving. Ste began to pick out words. Swear words, descriptions of violence, more laughter. He gripped his knife, ready to fight even if he went down.
Then suddenly the moment was gone. The voices had passed by, the light following them. Ste could still hear them laughing, but they had gone by the door without once looking in. He stepped back, ashamed of his own fears and reaction. Simon's hand dropped from his hip.
Another door slammed open and then closed again a few moments later. Ste had been so focused on the door he and Simon had been aiming for that he'd completely failed to notice any others. He listened intently. Had they all gone into another room?
Ste pulled Simon's hands away from his mouth. "Do you think we can go?" he asked, in the quietest whisper he could manage.
"Go?" Simon repeated.
Ste nodded. Of course go.
"We haven't done what we came here to do," Simon stated, simply.
That was true. A whole host of men were here, ready to harm the man Ste loved.
"But there's loads of them!" Ste protested.
Simon shook his head, "I counted four."
It sounded like more than that, but maybe it was just the echo. "That's still twice as many as us!" Ste pointed out, stating the obvious.
"But they don't know we're here," Simon argued, "We'll take them by surprise."
Ste breathed hard. Could that make the difference?
"Just… just the one who hurt Brendan?"
Simon nodded, "Of course," he said, "Unless we have to."
Ste felt impossibly cold. He couldn't believe he was here. He couldn't believe he hadn't run.
He nodded. For Brendan.
Simon moved away from him and put his ear to the door, listening for the others. He must have decided it was safe because he opened the door soon after.
No light was directly outside the room they'd hidden in, but Ste could see a soft glow from below a door a little way along the wall. Simon stepped back out into the large room and Ste followed. Simon leaned close to Ste.
"There's another door, a bit further along that corridor," he whispered, pointing at a dark hole in the wall that must be the corridor. "If we both go in that way, he could just run out through there."
Ste looked at him alarmed. "We can't split up!" he hissed.
"Just for a bit. Or it will all be for nothing," Simon put a reassuring hand on Ste's arm, "It'll be alright," he soothed, "You take this door, I'll go along there. When you hear me whistle, we both rush in and take them by surprise. Before they even know what's hit them, we'll take out the one who stabbed Brendan, and we'll be gone."
The one who stabbed Brendan. The monster who had tried to take the man Ste loved away from him. He was shaking, but he still held the knife.
"When you whistle," Ste whispered. It was a simple enough plan. Take out the one who stabbed Brendan.
"Good boy," whispered Simon, and was gone in moments, stalking down the dark corridor like a cat, leaving Ste to calm his own fears and try to get his shaking under control.
Was he mad? Was he even capable of this? He stepped closer to the door. Surely he was. This was necessary, for them all to live in safety.
He closed his eyes and counted, trying to get himself calm. It didn't work. He saw the boy's face as it had been on the night he'd stabbed Brendan, his eyes wide, terrified of what he'd had to do, skin pale, shaking like Ste was now. He might have even been younger than Ste.
Ste leant his head against the stone wall by the door. The laughter was still ongoing on the other side of the door, still tinged with spite and violence. They'd moved on to crass jokes, filthy ugly things that Ste wasn't sure he would have got, even if he had been in the mood to laugh.
He felt like praying, begging some God to somehow make this all alright, but the idea was laughable. No God would help a damned, homosexual, murderer like him. He was on his own.
Except suddenly he wasn't.
Reviews are always appreciated.
