Six years ago...
You are in the middle of a workout doing sit ups in the living room. A hundred more brisk reps and then it's onto push ups. You have to put the time in now that you are older. You have never been over pumped but the muscle tone you took for granted as a young man requires more effort to maintain now that you're thirty-four. And you want to maintain it. For you. For him...
The doorbell rings and you jump to your feet nimbly and wipe your brow with a bath towel as you jog to your main door.
It's Amy. You let her in with a measure of apprehension.
Strange. You rarely find yourself in her company alone without Stephen or Peter around.
She smiles at you unreservedly and it seems to lack an agenda so you smile back and silently lead her to the kitchen area where she takes a seat uninvited.
You put the kettle on and turn to face her while it boils.
Your arms are crossed protectively over your chest.
"Nice blouse." You say to break the quiet.
"Thanks." She continues to grin until it becomes unnerving. She stares at your sweaty forehead. "Have you been working out?"
You flex a bicep at her. "Guilty."
When the water is boiled you pour it over a strainer containing free tea leaves into a teacup. Black. No sugar. That's how she takes it. You place the cup onto a saucer, slide it over to her. You pour yourself a glass of water and take a seat.
"Stephen isn't here." You say as you down your drink.
"I know. I came to see you." She takes a sip and sighs. "You make a better cuppa than Pete but don't tell him that."
She winks.
"How come that compliment feels like honey on a fly trap?" You ask cautiously. "I'd be the fly, by the way."
She suddenly gets up and rounds the table to fling her arms around you in a hug that is determined and heartfelt. She gives it an extra tight squeeze with her slim arms and then pulls away and emits a mini-squeal. Then she lays a wet kiss on your forehead.
"Ew! Sweaty!" She grimaces then smiles.
"What was that for?" You ask, feeling assaulted.
"Ste told me! Congratulations!" She takes to her seat once again, thank goodness.
"For what?"
"You asked him to move in with you yesterday, dummy."
So he didn't keep it a secret.
"Yeah, well. He leaves half his shit here already anyway."
In view is a pair of his shoes near the landing and his jug-sized 'special' tea mug on the mantel, cleaned but banned by you from the kitchen cupboard where the tea set lives. You haven't been able to convert him to the proper way of taking his tea despite every effort on your part.
Amy points at a throw on the couch.
"That's his." She comments.
You walk over to it and pick it up. It's a tatty thing that you protested against when he first brought it over. A garish red and black chequered pattern. But when he slipped under it for the first time bringing it right up to his chin and then draped his legs over yours, while you both watched late night telly after a shift at the club, you forgot about how crap it looked. Before you knew it, it became a regular feature of your living area.
"He brought it over because he thinks the flat's cold at night. It's his feet. They turn to ice blocks."
She nods, hiding her mouth behind her cup before a sip. "It's sweet when you talk about him."
"Christ." You groan.
"When is he moving in then?"
"Next week. His choice."
He wouldn't move in with you straight away because he wanted to squeeze every last paid pound out of his council house.
"After the weekend?"
You nod.
"We should celebrate. Like a moving in party or something." Her expression becomes sombre. "You've lucked out with Ste. He adores you."
After a moment you reply, "If that's a warning, I don't need one. I'm not going to fuck this up, Amy."
"I believe that you don't intend to. I know that you care for him loads." She nods slowly and thoughtfully as if she is thinking something through. "Do you reckon you'll ever get married?"
Wowa! Where did that come from?
Living together is one thing. Practical need. Convenience.
But marriage?
She has got to be kidding. Gay. Straight. It doesn't matter. It's a pile of shit. You just need to look around you to see proof of that. Your parents. Your friends. Your own.
"Stephen and I. Getting married?" You say slowly.
"Yes. Exchanging vows and rings. The whole bit. How amazing would that be?"
"Maybe to eejits who haven't got a clue that marriage has its foundations in greed, ownership of women and propagating the male lineage and not love and the sealing of commitment."
Her voice is small when she declares, "So I guess you won't be congratulating me or your best friend then."
That is when you notice the new sparkling ring on her finger as her hand shakily places her empty teacup on the table.
"Pete proposed last night... and I said yes." She says. Her voice is trembling. "I told him I'd let you know as a symbol of good faith."
Shit.
Her eyes go red as she stands up and briskly heads for the door. You feel like a right dick so you walk after her.
"Amy! I am happy for you."
You stop at the threshold of your apartment once she walks through it.
She turns to face you angrily.
"Yeah right."
"I am. Honest. Look, you and Pete, it's adorable. It's the ceremony and the institution I have a problem with."
"I think marriage is beautiful, Bren. It will make what I feel for your best friend formal and yeah, maybe I want to have my big fairytale day."
You lean on the door.
"Does Ste know what you think about it? Getting married?" She asks. "Because I think he is a bit of an 'eejit' like me. Stuff like this... heartfelt gestures of love..." She shows you her ring. "... Get us both giddy."
She slams the door in your face and you stand there immobile.
You are surprised when she opens it again and says, "I'll see you at the pub tonight. I don't want to make this awkward."
She closes the door more softly this time and you lock it to make sure she doesn't come back again. You have had enough of her and her opinions for a day. She can't judge what Stephen may or may not think.
He has never told you he wants that traditional shit. Wedding cakes. White tuxedos. Platinum bands. Flower arrangements.
You throw your towel back onto the floor and spread it out. You lie on your back and get back to the sit ups you were doing before. You need to work the stress she has generated out so you plan to keep going until you hit exhaustion.
Two hundred and thirty-seven. Two hundred and thirty-eight. Two hundred and thirty-nine. Two hundred and forty...
XOXO
Present Day (One month)...
You have somewhere to be this morning and yet you're not feeling too clever. It's always the same after a dose of chemo. Your stomach rejects anything that touches it including its own juices. The result has been several trips between bed and toilet through the night.
You are slumped by the toilet bowl in the bathroom, hugging its sides and waiting for the latest wave of nausea to settle.
You force yourself to stand up eventually and get into the shower where you let a hot jet of water clean you passively while your body slumps against the welcome cool tiles. When you get out you brush your teeth, gurgle some mouth wash and pop a couple of tablets into your mouth. A prescribed anti-sickness and multivitamin.
You run your hand over your shaved head and smooth face. It's a reminder that you are a shell of your former self.
"Who the fuck are you?" You sneer at your reflection but you haven't got time to linger.
It's eight am and you are running late.
You get dressed quickly into a t-shirt, hoodie and jeans. You grab the black ski hat that has been your faithful friend of late and put it on. Then you walk to the front door making sure you have your keys, phone and wallet on you.
As you lock the door you make a quick call.
"Hey, Patrick... I'm on my way, buddy... Running a little late... Don't start without me..."
XOXO
Six years ago...
You are in a lock-in at the Dog in the Pond to celebrate Lynsey's new staff nurse job at Chester Royal. It is two am and there is no sign that the party is coming to an end.
You are ready to leave though. It would be good if Stephen was too but it looks like he plans to stay until he is kicked out so you slump back in your chair with an arm casually resting over the backrest of his as you look at the people sat around your table.
Amy has been frosty with you after your confrontation at your flat in the morning but you have kept up appearances for the sake of Peter and Stephen.
Despite that there is cause for celebration all round. Lyns has her new job. Amy and Pete have their engagement. Chez has been awarded a first for her second year of her Masters in Business. And you and Stephen? Everyone seems beside themselves with joy that you are moving in together.
You'd think the two of you had discovered the cure to cancer!
Mitzeee has something to complain about though. She barrelled into the pub a few minutes ago and has taken over conversation at the table by moaning about Warren as she always does.
"He never listens to me. It's like he thinks I'm stupid or something!"
"Leave him." You say bluntly. "Spare us all."
Stephen gives you an admonishing look which you ignore. "You can do so much better than him, Mitz." He says gently.
"I don't know. He isn't a bad person. He just makes bad choices." She reasons.
You glance sideways at Stephen. You are tired of listening to yet another instalment of the Mitzeee and Warren drama so you whisper in his ear,
"Let's go."
But he pushes you away with a small smile, "Not before I tell Ames what happened the other night with Ted."
"Who's Ted?" Amy asks.
"One of our regulars at the club." Stephen says animatedly. "He were piss drunk, yeah, so I said, 'Ted, this is your last one. I'm not serving you anymore after this.' And he started throwing abuse at me. He goes 'you fucking cunt' to me. Can you believe that? So I go, 'Oi, I am not here to be talked to like that!' And he goes, 'What are you going to do about it?' The cheeky git! So I told him to leave."
Amy says. "He could have thumped you!"
"Nah." Stephen grins at her and then takes a huge gulp out of his nearly empty third pint of lager.
Third.
The tipping point.
Anymore and he'll be all over the shop. You keep your eyes on him.
"He is all bark and no bite, Ames. I got security to chuck him out and Brendan barred him from the club and told him not to speak to me like that. What did you say again, Bren?"
His hand settles on your lap and he grins at you.
"I said that if he didn't want his face to be introduced to my fist he had to apologise to Stephen and then leave." You reply.
Stephen's pupils are dilated and his lids are heavy as he looks down at your lips and licks his own.
Does he even realise that he provokes you by doing that?
In fact, is this his third or fourth pint? Because he is behaving like it might be his fourth.
"My hero!" He sing-songs at you.
It's his fourth.
Definitely.
You prise the pint glass out of his hand and put it down.
Amy gives you a small grin. "So you do have a heart somewhere there. It's good of you to remind me of the fact."
Those are the first words she has said to you tonight. She must be thawing.
You smile at her. "I have my moments."
"You should show them more often. Drop the front." She says. Her words might be harsh but her eyes are kind.
You automatically drape your arm over Stephen's shoulder and run your fingers over his upper arm. It takes a moment for you to realise that your company is looking at the two of you with stupid grins on their faces.
"What?" You say.
"Nothing!" They all say simultaneously but you know that your sister, Lyns, Amy, Mitzeee and Pete are swallowing their surprise at your public display of affection. You don't know what pisses you off most; the fact that they are acting like twats, that Stephen is looking like the cat that got the cream or that you don't give a fuck.
"They say that you are as young as the person you feel." Chez grins.
They all start giggling like a bunch of kids.
"That makes you twenty-three doesn't it, Bren." Peter says.
"Twenty-one." Stephen corrects.
"Jesus, you're a cradle snatcher!" Lyns says in mock horror.
"Shurrup! He isn't!" Stephen says, blushing.
"I read somewhere that men who date younger live longer." Chez says.
"So you're set for life." Pete tells you with a grin.
You scowl. For life? Stephen is for 'right now'. It just so happens that 'right now' has been going on for two years and counting and you haven't got plans to end it any time soon.
Stephen bops to the music and his body moves in his chair.
Great.
He is officially next level; tipsy with a capital T.
"You got ants in your pants?" You ask him.
"I want to dance." He whispers, shuffling his chair closer to yours.
You inhale his aftershave and feel the heat of his body against yours.
I want to kiss you.
He leans in as if reading your mind.
Luckily Mitzeee's whiney tale of woe drills into your brain and prevents you from acting like a dick with no control. You clear your throat and move away.
"I need to take a leak." You caress his cheek briefly then stand up. "Want to go after?"
"To take a leak?"
"To get out of here. To have our own private dance."
When did you become so fucking cheesy?
He grins. "My place or yours?"
"Mine."
You correct yourself because after the weekend all will change.
"I mean ours."
His smile practically splits his face.
"Yeah. Definitely."
XOXO
Present Day (One month)...
You walk into the same café that you first met Nikki in. It is empty except for two staff members and Paddy who is sitting alone at the corner table you and your friends appropriate whenever you come. He has a hot drink in front of him already.
"Morning." You say as you walk up to him. "Place is unusually quiet today."
"You look like shit, mate. You alright?" Paddy says, ignoring your small talk.
You hate the concern in his voice.
You take a seat and raise a finger to indicate the waiter to come take your order.
"Fucking nausea." You explain. "I've been up all night."
"Can't the doctors give you something for that? An anti-sickness or something?"
"I've got some. Can't keep them down. I need an anti-sickness tab to take my anti-sickness tabs."
You order bottled water.
"Fucking cancer." He says, ever the straight shooter. "I'll beat it up for you if you want. Like the good ol' days."
"The cancer?" You smile at his earnestness. "Gotta warn you, it won't go down without a fight."
"It hasn't met my right hook yet."
"True."
"You'll be okay, Bren." He says firmly. "You know I've got you."
"So you want to tell me what we are doing here when you are supposed to be at work?" You ask.
"No. Nikki just called me this morning and told me that she wanted to meet the two of us here for breakfast. That's why I called you. Did she tell you Warren was in town?"
"Yes. She came to the hospital yesterday and told me that he turned up at VIBE looking for me."
"He came at THE E last night. He is staying at the O'Callaghan Davenport. We can go find him after this if you want."
That is where Stephen stayed with Martin when he was here over a month ago. You try to not think of your encounter with him in his hotel room; your joint declarations of love, the aborted sexual encounter, your false confessions and how you left him once again.
"Yes." You say.
"He said Nikki had told him you'd be at the club." He says.
"She didn't tell me he was going to be at THE E. What's she playing at?"
"Maybe she forgot."
"Niks never forgets." You say. "Either Warren's lying or she is up to something."
Paddy's eyes are calculating. He rubs his chin, thoughtfully. "She was acting strange, you know. Earlier in the afternoon she came round to the garage and persuaded me to finish early so we could catch up. She drove us to The E and tried loading me up with booze. She was asking all sorts of questions."
"Like what?"
"Stuff about the past. You know. Hollyoaks. You, me and Pete. You and your sister. Chez Chez. You and Ste. Your relationship. Your break up. She mentioned unfinished business between you and Warren being the reason for him being here."
He shrugs uncomprehendingly. You feel a wave of nausea that isn't all the result of drug side effect.
"Did you ask her why she wanted to know?"
"No. She has asked before, Bren, although maybe not in as much detail. We all have. We all know you and at the same time we don't. So anyway, I told her the truth. That I had no idea what happened between you and Ste. And I knew nothing about 'unfinished business' between you and Warren. So she left at about seven, in the end, and put Billy in charge saying that she had to check on VIBE."
He looks at the café door. "Where is she anyway?"
You look at the time. Eight-thirty.
"Do you think breakfast has anything to do with Warren being in town?"
"It better not be. I told her to stay away from him." You pick up your phone. "I'll give her a ring."
"It's okay. I just spoke to her before you came. She says she is on her way."
"Fine." You suppress a surge of sickness with another sip of water.
"Ey, while we are waiting can I ask you something?" Paddy leans over and lowers his voice.
That's your cue to be very afraid.
Paddy is about to share.
Although he has only officially been out for a few months you have known he was gay for seven years. Now that he is 'out' he comes to you for advice and you wish he was back 'in'. You don't know how you became his 'gay Yoda' but he won't let you go even though you have been distinctly unhelpful as his guide into all things gay. You suspect that he already knows more about the 'culture' and 'community' in five months than you have gleaned since you edged out of the closet years ago.
"I fooled around with Billy a couple of days ago." He confesses.
"Bouncer Billy at THE E?"
"He is acting manager on your behalf. You know that."
"What did I tell you about sleeping with my staff?"
"I thought that only applied to the girls." He gives you a cocky grin.
You scowl at him. "Didn't even know Billy-boy liked guys."
"He does. Anyway it was just a hand job in the office."
"You're an animal."
"He said I was a hunk."
You raise an eyebrow. "Why are we talking about this? Where's the question?"
"Apparently there are categories based on physical appearances. Bears, daddies, twinks, cubs, hunks, chubs. There are others but I can't remember them now."
"What are you going on about?"
"Physical pigeonholing of gay men. I don't know what you'd be. A daddy?"
"Fuck off."
"Stephen would be a twink."
The instant he says that he regrets his words. Maybe it is the wild look in your eyes. There is a flood of memories that rushes though your brain at hearing your ex's name.
"Sorry." He mumbles.
"What's a twink?" You blurt out.
"Slender build. Not much body hair. Youthful. Beautiful." He tentatively looks at you. "Usually... uh, receptive, if you know what I mean."
He goes red.
"I am going to ignore that you just said that." You say.
"Fair enough."
He smiles. "Anyway, the whole thing is like speaking another language. I don't fit into gay culture."
"Who says you have to? Don't put yourself into a box, Paddy. Not the blue collar box. Not the gay box. Not the former convict box. Never. You are better than that. It is simple enough." You jab at his chest with two fingers. "You like someone." Jab. "They make you feel good." Jab. "You go for it."
"Easier said than done."
"I don't know. The doing is pretty easy." You give him a sly grin.
"Yeah, well."
"Yeah, well what?"
"If it's so easy why haven't you settled down." He hesitates before saying, "You haven't had a steady for a long time."
"What is this, the 1950s? Who says 'steady'?"
"That's my question for you, Bren. What if I want more than a quick hand job?"
"Like what?"
"What if I don't want to screw around? What if I want more? The dating scene seems pretty soulless sometimes. The picking up and letting go. The superficiality."
You feel a twitch go off in your cheek. A nervous tick. "I'm fine with not settling down. Why get locked in to one person?"
You square your jaw to put conviction into your statement.
"Don't you want someone special in your life?" Paddy asks you. "I know I do."
There is an odd look in his eyes when he looks at you but you haven't got time to interpret it because the door to the cafe opens and closes.
Both of you turn around.
You shouldn't be as surprised by who you see as you are.
XOXO
Six years ago...
You practically sprint out of The Dog. The minute you unlock the door to your flat Stephen pushes it open and you both tumble inside. He is onto you like a leech and you shed your clothes as you make your way up to your room tangled up in each other.
Halfway up, he impatiently makes a grab for your dick and tries to push you down onto the stairs.
"Not here." You force out reluctantly as you drag him up. In his uninhibited, tipsy state, you have visions of him tumbling down and hurting himself.
By the time you hit the landing you are both naked. Between kisses and gropes he whispers heatedly and drunkenly.
"Oh wow, you are so hot, Brendan!"
"My head is spinning."
"Yeah, there! Fuck!"
"Did we say bye to everyone? I didn't wave to Doug, I think."
"That feels so good..."
You fall into your room and he goes straight to your side table. He picks up the engraved wooden box you use to keep your condoms, tips the contents onto the bed and jumps onto them in drunken merriment before spreading them around by writhing over them with his naked body.
"Come on, Bren. Let's do it."
Four. Fucking. Pints. And. This. Is. What. You. Get.
You swear he has that gene that makes people minimally tolerant to booze.
Still you've got to smile at his attempt at seduction.
"We won't need all of those." You point at the array of sheaths.
"We might." He purrs and crawls to the edge of the bed towards you.
You lift an eyebrow. "I am only one man, Stephen."
He picks a couple of condoms up and shows them to you. He drops one and that is apparently hilariously funny.
"Let's try." He looks at the side table. "Where's the lube?"
"We run out last time."
He blushes. "Oh yeah."
"I bought some more." You lean over to him to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. "Wait here. I'll get it... and don't fall asleep."
"Why would I fall asleep?" He mumbles while settling into your bed.
"No reason." Because I know how you get with four pints in you.
You walk your erection to the bathroom. While you are there you brush your teeth and yeah maybe flex a muscle or two in the mirror.
Then you freeze and look closer at your reflection. The man looking back at you looks like the same man you have seen for years, except for the crow's feet around your eyes but you know he is different on the inside.
This man in the mirror has let someone take hold of his life and turn it upside down; the mousy haired skinny barman that is waiting for you next door.
You want him more than anything you have ever wanted in your life. You can't get enough of Stephen. You can even live with his four pint intolerance and pointless chat.
When did that happen?
You pick up a new bottle of lube from the bathroom cabinet.
When you get back into the room Stephen's snoring greets you.
XOXO
Present day (One month)...
You and Paddy stand up simultaneously and face the café door.
"What the fuck?" He says.
You couldn't agree more.
Nicola is with Warren. Side by side.
You look between the two of them. "You okay, Niks?"
You take a step closer to her. Warren had better not hurt her in anyway.
"I'm fine." She says sombrely as she walks up to you.
She pulls you both into a hug. You keep your eyes trained on Warren over your friend's shoulder in case he has any ideas about bolting.
You are surprised to notice that Nicola is wearing what she wore to the hospital yesterday. That is not like her. There must have been something extremely pressing to mean she hasn't changed. From the bags under her eyes you wonder whether she slept at all last night.
"Alright, Brendan? Long time no see." Warren says, hands clasped together in front of him.
You ignore him and ask your business partner, "Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"I'll explain the detail later. I tried to find out what your 'friend' here was doing in town. Why he came to find you." She says. "But there is something else I found out that I thought you should know. I figured Warren should tell you."
You take in her set features. There is no fear in her eyes but there is controlled anger. You assume it is directed at Warren.
Niks is the one in control here. She holds the power. She must have spent hours investigating your archenemy and found out something that puts her clearly in the driver's seat.
Warren hasn't even tried to run even though he has a clear shot of the door.
You have many questions. What the fuck is Warren doing in Dublin? What does Nicola know? How did she find out? How come Warren is eating out of the palm of her hand? How did she get him to come to the cafe?
"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask him. "I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke that I never wanted to see you again."
"You never wanted me to set foot in the UK again. We are in Ireland. Doesn't count." He says cockily. "I came because I know we had a, how shall I put it, disagreement a few years ago. I wanted to wipe the slate clean. Move on and move back home."
"No." You say forcefully.
He cocks his head at you. "You look different, Brendan. You've lost weight." He narrows his eyes as he inspects you. "You've ditched the 'tache."
You bring your hat further down your head to make sure it is completely covered up. "2017, Baby. I'm moving with the times. I can see you are still struggling with your waistline."
"At least I don't look like I've been to a starvation camp."
You look down at yourself. There is something to be said about lack of insight. You know you have lost weight. You aren't fully conscious of how that must look to those who haven't seen you for some time.
You must look worryingly thin.
"Stop stalling, Warren, and tell Brendan what happened." Niks says harshly.
"Fine." The big man takes a deep breath in and then smiles. It is sinister and doesn't reach his eyes. "Before I do I just wanted to say how I, for one, think it is great that two gay men feel they can stand proudly in front of the world and say, 'I am what I am and we love each other. Deal with it'."
Paddy sneers at him. "Brendan and me aren't together."
Warren raises an eyebrow at Paddy. "Fuck me, you're gay too? What is this? An epidemic? Anyway, congratulations, I guess, but I wasn't talking about you and Brendan."
"Don't." Nicola warns him.
His grin broadens. "Or what?"
"Who are you talking about?" You ask.
"It's not important." Niks says quickly.
Warren looks like he is enjoying himself. "I was referring to Ste and his fiancé, Martin, getting married tomorrow in Spain. Apparently it's legal there. They've got all their family and closest friends going."
"That's enough, Warren!" Niks shouts angrily. She starts with a barrage of abuse at him but you don't hear it.
All you hear is white noise and Warren's words echoing in your brain getting louder and louder. Screaming at you.
You knew Stephen was engaged. You know who to but this has made it all too real and inevitable.
The wedding is actually going to happen. Not sometime in the amorphous future that never comes but tomorrow.
Things are not going to be like in the past where he dumped Noah to come back to you or you coaxed him back after one of your break ups. This time he is making that commitment with someone he has been with for five years, who he has confessed to being deeply in love with and with whom he shares a complete life.
Even though six years have passed since Stephen was yours, it is only now that you feel like you are losing him for good.
"Brendan." Nicola's voice breaks through the fog in your mind.
You blink, releasing tears down you cheeks. You wipe them briskly and sniff.
Stiff upper lip, Brady.
Atta boy.
You square up and jut your lower jaw out like Warren's news hasn't cut you up.
"Yep." You say.
"I think you can get Stephen back." She says softly.
"Haven't you heard what I have said? I don't want him back."
"You're lying." She says. "I know about everything. I know that you and Ste were doing great in your relationship and he was going to move in with you. I know about how the kidnapping changed everything. That Warren did it because he thought you took his £50,000. I know that it all went wrong and Stephen got hurt and he nearly died. I know you told Warren to leave and never come back. I know that you left Stephen to come back to Dublin. Knowing you I can guess it is because you felt guilty about what had happened to him. You gave him £50,000 to start a new life pretending it was inheritance money. I know that his business is built on that money."
"What?" Paddy says in surprise. "How the-" He looks at you. "Is this true?"
Thanks, Nicola. Thanks a fucking bunch.
She takes your hand and continues. "I think you still love Ste. I think you haven't left him in your past because you carry a picture of him with you wherever you go and his crucifix is still around your neck."
You touch it.
"I gave it to him. He gave it back."
"Daddy-bear, I brought Warren here because I found something out. I wanted him to apologise to you for getting it wrong and messing with you and Ste's lives. I wanted him to be the one to tell you who took his £50,000."
XOXO
Six years ago...
You wake up to feel him right up next you with your hand wedged under him.
You tug your arm and he stirs sleepily.
"Morning." You say as you shake your dead limb trying to get the circulation back into it. You brush his hair off his forehead when the tingling disappears. "Mr. Sleepy."
He mumbles something incoherent back then an eye pops open and he looks at you sheepishly through his fan of lashes.
"I fell asleep on you, didn't I?"
He is all tousled hair, flushed dewy skin, swollen lips and bitter breath.
Morning Stephen.
Fuckable Stephen.
You like him like this; warm, heavy and compliant against you.
"I think I was tired."
You smile. "I think you were drunk."
"I'm a right light weight, me."
You slowly trace the contours of his body, feeling the goose bumps rise up under your fingertips. "Yeah."
He sluggishly plays around with the crucifix resting on your chest. "I like this. But, like, you never take it off."
"Guess not." You grab his hand and measure it up against yours, palm to palm. "You interested in it?"
"I'm interested in you." He rubs his forehead against your upper lip. His voice is soft. "I can't imagine you without it. A bit like your 'tache. In the beginning I weren't so sure about it because it made you look like one of them porn stars plus it gave me 'tache rash. But now I think... yeah."
You smile because he is rambling the way he does when he is still not quite fully awake. "What kind of porn have you been watching and why wasn't I invited?"
"Mexican, I think. I weren't watching properly, though. I caught Rhys a few weeks ago when I went round to borrow some baking tins. The door was on the latch so I walked in. Jacqui wasn't there and there were sounds like 'ah' and 'ooh' coming from the telly and Rhys got embarrassed. That's when I saw the porn star 'tache on the video. Was it a present?"
"What?"
"The cross around your neck."
"It was me ma's."
"Is she religious?"
"She's Irish." You say as if that explains everything. You have never talked to Stephen about your family back home. Your older brother (who is in jail), father and biological mother. They provide a looking glass into your soul; where you come from. What you are really about. Why you are the way you are. You aren't sure you want to reveal that to Stephen. He might run a mile.
But you can't help but let him take a peek.
"I was nine; playing with friends, messing about, climbing trees. Fell out of one, broke a couple of bones and knocked myself unconscious. I got admitted to hospital. Ma put this," You touch his fingers as he touches the cross, "Around my neck while I was in a coma. When I woke up she told me that it was a good luck charm and that as long as I had it round my neck I would be safe and she would be with me."
"Do you believe that?" He whispers.
You raise an amused eyebrow at him. "I haven't fallen out of a tree since."
"I think I'd like your mum."
You kiss him when he tilts his head to look up at you to stop him from saying anything else stupid.
You love your mother but she is weak. You watched as she suffered years of verbal and physical abuse from your father. She would pray that it would get better and begged him to stay when he drunkenly told her that he was moving on with another woman, who turned out to be Cheryl's mother.
You don't want Stephen to meet her. You don't want him to know that you became the kind of man that you fought your childhood defending your mum against.
So you kiss him deeply to avoid further talk on the matter and soon he is kissing you back. He climbs over you to straddle your hips. You feel his heat all around you as his energy draws you in.
Soon this is not about shutting him up but about getting it on.
He groans as his mouth moves to your neck and then pays lip service to your body, working his way down while you comb your fingers through his hair.
You stop his advances and he looks curiously up at you.
You feel a wave of something deep in you. It feels like indigestion. A bad case of it.
He brought up your mother and now he has got you thinking.
You are unsettled. Thinking about her vulnerability has made you conscious of Stephen's once again.
He was a victim as a child and then again as a young adult due to your violence. While you know you will never lay a finger on him again in anger, how can you guarantee the same of other people around him?
What if you can't be there to make sure he is okay all the time?
You failed your mother. How can you be sure you won't fail him?
Without thinking you take off your ma's crucifix from your neck and indicate for him to lean forward.
He looks down at you hesitantly. "What are you doing?"
You fasten the clasp behind his neck and press the cross against him, just below the depression between his collar bones. The gold gleams against his lightly tanned skin.
He rolls it between his fingers and gives you a smile so pure and sincere that it bursts into your cold dark heart and lights it up.
'He is a bit of an 'eejit' like me. Stuff like this... heartfelt gestures of love ... get us both giddy.'
"Thank you." Stephen whispers to you.
You feel a thud in your chest and the feeling of indigestion melts away. You pull him down to trap his lips to yours. You want to consume him; never let him go.
He smiles down at you when he pulls away and rests his hands on your chest lightly.
"No one has ever given me something precious of theirs before."
"It's not worth much." You mutter.
"It's worth something to you so it's worth something to me."
You trace his cheek and lips with your thumb.
God, he is sentimental.
"I love you, Brendan."
You feel the hammering of your heart in you chest. It feels like it is going to force itself out of your chest.
What an adrenaline rush.
You grab the back of his neck and force him to you so that you share air and savour your proximity.
You can't say the words but you can show him what he means to you.
You grab his hips and glance down at his cock that is sitting at half-mast on your belly.
He looks down at you with fiery eyes.
"Looks like something's awake." You grin.
"Yeah."
You pick up one of the many scattered condom packets on the bed.
"We better get started. We have to use all these condoms, right?"
You give him a sly smile and he laughs until merriment is replaced by horniness.
You can't see this ever ending.
Why should it?