Present day (Day 1)...

Fucking Nicole. You told her she didn't need to come. She definitely did not need to dress up like she was about to go out to The Ivy for lunch with some professional football player ready to be paparazzi'ed.

She is a good friend, second only to Paddy, and an invaluable colleague and business partner. The two of you co-cown VIBE, a small exclusive nightclub located just off Dame Lane in the centre of Dublin and THE ELECTRIC, a gay-friendly club on the other side of town. When you returned to your childhood city, six years ago, your mate Paddy arranged a meeting between you and Nicole Manzoni as possible business partners given her good business mind and funds from daddy dearest. You suspected that he had also been trying to match you up.

Had you been that way inclined you would have fist pumped him for the effort. Nicole is a foxy stick of dynamite. In some ways her signature features mirror yours. She is tall with blue piercing eyes and dark wavy long hair that she normally wears in a loose low pony tail. Her features are sharp and remind you of a predator's. She looks like a fighter and she is. If people don't mistake you for a couple then they invariably assume you are siblings.

When you met you didn't end up hooking up, what with your sexuality and her common sense, but you did become inseparably close friends... not that you would ever admit that to her.

You look back at her as she teeters after you from the car park to the outpatient department of St Vincent's University Hospital. Her face is pinched and she moans about her feet aching in those ridiculous heels she is wearing.

"Wait, Brendan!" She says. "Ouch! Fucking Louboutins!"

"Hurry up, Niks. I'm late." You say with a wink and a sly grin as you take in her little black dress and red stilettos. "You are walking funny in them by the way!"

"Fuck off!" She replies with a smile. "They're sexy and anyway after this I am taking you out for lunch somewhere nice so I thought I'd dress for the occasion."

"I thought we were getting back to work a.s.a.p.?"

"Work can wait for an hour or two. I know you have been nervous about today."

"I haven't."

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Bren, you can't lie to me. How long have we known each other, ey?"

"Too long."

"Charming. Nearly six beautiful years and in all that time I haven't seen you as quiet and introspective as you have been these last few weeks."

She grabs your hand and you walk hand in hand to the reception desk.

"Morning." You say. "I have an appointment with Dr Crowther, haematologist."

The receptionist looks at the two of you and gives you a winning smile. You know she has made the assumption that you and Niks are a couple.

"Yes. We are running on time would you believe! Take a seat and you should be called shortly."

"Thank you." Nikki says and steers you towards some seats.

"This is probably a load of fuss over nothing." You say, trying to convince yourself.

Nicola gives your hand a squeeze and then surprises you by wrapping her slim arms around your shoulders. She buries her face into your neck. After a moment you hear her sniff.

"Nicola?" You say, glancing around at the other waiting patients who look at her in bemusement. "You okay?"

"No!" She mumbles into your chest. "What if something is very wrong with you?"

"It won't be." You say as confidently as you can.

You think back to how you got to this point, waiting for your follow-up appointment in the Haematology department of St Vincent's University Hospital.

You had been feeling unwell for a few weeks now; tired all the time. You ignored it, putting it down to overworking. Then you developed night sweats, lost your appetite and lost weight. Your sister noticed the weight loss. You slept all the time with little or no warning.

You started getting worried but it was only when Niks found you in the office of THE ELECTRIC fast asleep in the middle of the day, drenched in sweat that the ball started rolling. She dragged you to the GP.

You had some blood tests. You were told to take the foot off the accelerator by your doctor and you thought that was that. But it wasn't. The blood tests came back showing,

"A significantly abnormal blood picture, Mr Brady."

Apparently that meant an urgent outpatient appointment to the haematologist at St Vincent's for 'further tests' which happened two weeks ago. You had a repeat of the blood tests done by the GP and bone marrow aspiration from your hip bone, something you could do without repeating any time soon.

You have been telling yourself that this is all a precaution. That Niks has gone and made a mountain out of a mole hill. You are young, relatively. You don't smoke. You exercise regularly. You always play safe when you pick someone up for the occasional between the sheets fun and frolic. You wear a seat belt. Okay, so maybe you could drink a little less but everyone has a vice.

Bottom line, you can't be seriously ill. You are counting of living life for some time yet. And yet as you wait for your follow-up appointment with Dr. Crowther your stomach in knot. You feel a sense of impending doom. You have never felt this weak in your life. That's not normal.

Nicole curls your hands together, rubs her tears then she leans her head on your shoulder.

"You should tell Chez and your ma."

"And worry them for no reason?"

Nicole sighs. "It may be something, Bren."

"Then I'll tell them then. I'm not going to worry them unnecessarily. Besides Chez is busy with Carlo, those three brats of hers and another on the way."

Nikki sighs again. "Maybe we should follow in her foot steps and find ourselves a cute guy with a Mediterranean accent to whisk us off our feet!"

You snort derisively. "One to share?"

"No. One each."

You grunt at her fantasy. "You're on your own."

She sits up straight to look at you. "After this appointment we both need to get us some cock, Bren."

You look around in embarrassment hoping no one has heard.

"What! We are both easy on the eye." She whispers then, "How long has it been for you?"

"What?" You whisper.

"You getting some..." She raises and lowers her eyebrows suggestively.

"Fuck me!" You groan quietly at her directness.

"And I am not talking about the odd trip you take to The George to pick up a mousy blond, scrawny guy that looks like that boy in the picture you have tucked into your wallet."

You look sharply at her. She has been through your things without your permission and seen the six year old picture of Stephen. It feels like the deepest violation.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, Niks." You say trying to keep calm.

"Who is he?" She asks. "The lad in the photo. Cute in a twink type of way, daddy bear."

She winks at you.

You groan. Chez has mentioned that Nicole is the definition of a fag hag. Much as you hate that term it is times like this that you realise that she is right.

"You have never mentioned him before. He must be someone special."

"He is a guy." You answer shortly and rub your eyes tiredly. "Just some guy from another lifetime."

"That you keep a photo of with you at all times."

You stay quiet and stare ahead as brutal visions of scars, blood, bandages and bruises mix with recollections of caresses, kisses, laughs and long horny fucks. You close your eyes against the memories.

"Brendan Brady? The doctor will see you now."

XOXO

You know it is bad news the minute Dr Crowther says,

"Mr Brady, I am glad you brought your partner with you today. I wanted to discuss the results of the tests we did."

"Uh, yeah. Nicola is a friend." You clarify.

"Right. Are you happy for me to speak freely with her present?"

Now if that isn't a warning shot, you don't know what is. You nod numbly and feel Nikki's hand squeeze yours harder.

"Hit me with the facts, doc." You say trying to keep your voice light and failing miserably.

The doctor's face grows sombre. "I'm sorry, Brendan. You have leukaemia."

XOXO

You walk towards Secondo, Nikki's favourite Italian restaurant once you are done at the hospital.

You are putting on a brave face. You have already banned Niks from mentioning what was discussed. You can't take her grief ridden face and are still too numb to take it in the news. In fact, you hope that somehow you have veered into some strange alternate universe where what just happened can un-happen if only you can make your way back to your true reality.

You had once wished the same thing six years ago but you had still ended up where you are now; escaping the village you had grown fond of and leaving behind the person you needed and wanted the most.

You know that even if you were to miraculously meet Stephen again, he would never forgive you for leaving him the way you did. He would never understand that it was the only thing to do to keep him safe.

As you step into the restaurant with your friend food is the last thing on your mind. All you crave for now is your bed; comforting and firm. You also allow yourself to crave Stephen the way you do acutely once in a while when you least expect it. You crave the way he entangled himself around you as if parting was not an option. The way he whispered pointless words into your ears knowing that it wound you up as much as it cracked you up. The way he looked at you as if saying, 'I've got your number. I know you.' And it didn't freak you out towards the end. You crave his body, his smile, his honesty and openness. The way he trusted you in a way he never should have. The way he loved you.

The fool. You crave the way the little fool loved you.

The hard collision into your chest snaps you out of your reverie.

You look down and wonder whether cancer does strange things to your perception of reality because Stephen is standing right in front of you.

He looks up at you like a beautiful statue; still and silent. He hasn't changed as much as you might have expected. He is still slim but more defined under the white shirt he is wearing. His light blue eyes contrast with his summer tan and light brown hair cut into a buzz cut that is a surprisingly good fashion move not to mention fucking hot.

He is a direct contrast to how he looked that last time you saw him; ridiculously healthy as if he has spent the last few years drinking nutritional shakes and sleeping in an oxygen tank.

You know recently time has not been as kind on you.

"Sorry about that." You hear but it doesn't come from Stephen's lips. You look to the man by his side. Tall. Blond. Toned. Sun-kissed. Looks like a surfer who models on the side. The kind of guy who would make lesser men feel shit about themselves by being too picture perfect.

You know that he is fucking Stephen straight away. Their interaction is familiar and well oiled; the product of spending a lot of time together. You want to shake him and slice him up so that those moments can rub off onto you.

"Yeah. No problem." You say to this stranger automatically.

Nikki stares at Stephen as if trying to access a memory until who he is dawns on her, "Oh my God! You are-"

You interrupt her because you know that she has remembered the photo in your wallet and is about to reveal that you still keep him closer to your thoughts than is probably healthy.

Stephen looks at you like you are the devil incarnate. He can't get away from you quickly enough.

"Um, we are running late. Martin, let's go." He grabs his bloke's hand and drags him out of the restaurant without a backward glance even when you call out his name.

God knows what you expect him to do. Hopefully turn around and come back to you.

But he doesn't.

Nikki grabs your hand. "His name is Stephen?"

You nod. This day has gone from bad to worse to what the fuck. As in, what the fuck is Stephen doing in Dublin?

"What happened between you two?"