"Well, what can I get you lads?" Rodney Piggott asked, looking expectantly at the two men who had interrupted his silent struggle with the broken light-bulb.
They were sitting in a fluorescent orange booth, opposite each other, eyes locked firmly together. Neither of them glanced in his direction. They didn't even seem to hear him speak, they were so absorbed in each other.
Some kind of power struggle, Rodney presumed. The kid getting out of line, maybe, keeping some of the stash for himself… He had watched CSI, he knew how these things worked. Well they could have their battle after they'd ordered, he wasn't going to stand here all day.
He cleared his throat impatiently. "Ready to order yet?"
"Sorry," said the younger one, finally noticing him and breaking his gaze away from the other man. His voice was gentler than Rodney expected, apologetic. He felt a stab of sympathy for the lad, wrapped up in whatever he was wrapped up in. There was something a bit innocent in his face. "Can I just have a coffee please?"
Rodney grunted, scribbling down the order. Open at three o'clock in the bloody morning to profit from one bloody coffee order. That Stuart had a lot to answer for.
"And you?" he demanded, turning to the other man, the gangster. He was still staring at the lad, but it wasn't really in the menacing way that Rodney had expected. More obedient. Like it was actually the kid that was holding all the cards, calling the shots. That was an interesting twist, Rodney thought. Maybe the kid had some dirt on him, knew where he'd stashed a body or something.
Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud buzzing noise. For a second, Rodney thought that the broken light had come up with a new way to torture him. But no, it wasn't coming from that direction. It was coming from the lad, from his pocket. His phone.
The two men in front of him seemed oblivious.
"Here, kid, you're phone's ringing," Rodney informed him, helpfully.
The lad's eyes turned back to Rodney. Worried, he thought. Guilty. Again, he felt a flicker of pity for him. He hoped he knew what he was doing, getting mixed up with this gangster fella.
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Ste was sitting in the passenger seat, staring intently at Brendan's face as he drove, afraid to rip his eyes away for even a second. The back of his hand was bleeding, he knew, from where Brendan's sharp fingernails had dug into his flesh as they stood hand-in-hand in those icy depths. Digging into him, gripping on to him, before he…
Ste tried to bite back the hazy, hedonistic grin that crept across his face as he remembered. It had been… like nothing he had ever known before. The hands, the tongues, the limbs, the bodies. It had been urgency, greed, rapture. And Brendan… Brendan was present. He was alive and open and naked, giving everything he had to Ste, letting him have everything, to touch, to stroke, to kiss. The smile was irresistible, pushing at the corners of his mouth relentlessly.
But he had to focus now, he chided himself. Focus on Brendan. The image of those trembling lips, those red puffy eyes, that tear-stained face, it burned in his brain, filling him up with helpless sorrow. Ste had made him see, he knew he had. When the words couldn't be found, Ste had managed to show him that he was not alone, would never be alone again. Brendan had seen that, Ste knew it.
But he needed to make sure he remembered seeing it, that he kept remembering. He needed to make sure that he didn't disappear into that rock hard shell again, so deep this time that Ste couldn't pull him out.
Brendan's eyes blinked as he stared at the road, trying to bat the sleep away.
"You're shattered," Ste said, eyes studying the man before him.
Brendan shrugged, glancing at Ste with a tired half-smile.
"Nah, I'm fine," he answered, eyes returning to the road. "Honestly."
"No, you're shattered," Ste repeated. "And it's gonna be ages before we get back. Look, look there!"
His attention had been caught by a fluorescent orange sign, glowing in the black night, quietly humming. COFFEE SHOP, it read.
"Look, pull in there," he reasoned. "We'll have one cup of coffee and we'll get on the road again. Fifteen minutes, maximum."
Brendan glanced at him again, the same tired eyes, the same half-smile. Obediently, he began to slow down. Ste felt himself relax a little, allowed that hazy grin to float back across his face. Things were going to be alright, he knew it. This was the beginning.