A/N:

Guys thank you sooooo much for the lovely reviews and pms about the last chapter. I'm astounded that you're so exceptionally loyal that you would stick around even though I update once in a blue moon. I honestly get it if some of you decide the wait is too long and decide to walk away when they're in a "happy place". But I have whole heartedly bought into this plot which is why I can't make it any shorter! And I will honestly finish this. You have my word that they will have a happy ever after (eventually).

Firstly this chapter is insanely long, and I honestly apologise.

Secondly, this chapter has in it two moments from the first draft of the plot, so it might feel like we're going backwards a little bit as there are a lot of mentions of stuff that's already happened. I'm a little concerned that because of the wait it feels like a memory test, I really really hope it doesn't! I've tried to make it more memory prompts as opposed to tests by emulating the amazingly talented electric violinist (go read her stuff!) but I don't think I've done a very good job.

Thirdly I loved the resounding message from the reviews that there was a sweet romantic feel to the last chapter and I've tried to do the same in this one. There also wasn't gonna be any sex in this chapter…obviously my subconscious disagreed!

Lastly I really hope you enjoy and please leave some words because I do treasure them all.

Chapter Warnings:

Kinda mild for UP really, angst and sex as pro forma.

Chapter Twenty-two – Steven Hay.

It's dead dark when we drive back to the flat. Big looming shadows travel over us between the proper glarin' street lights. It's dead dark and dead silent. The radio plays and, if it's a good song, I'll forget meself and sing along which makes him laugh at me in that silent all tongue way. But that's the only thing that's the same as before; the only thing to say it's still us after the storm. It's like all that's happened has allowed silence to destroy something in us, and there are no words for my mouth to race out. It's dead silent and dead dark but he's still here, still keeping me safe, I guess.

Even when we get into his and he sticks on that lounge light, and we're like 'home', even then it's different. His skin is drawn and pale, and his eyes are pretty much midnight. He looks like he's seen something that makes him feel sick - he's been looking like this since he told me all his secrets. So that thing that makes him feel sick it's himself innit? I hate that. I hate that he thinks of himself as disgusting and like proper perverted, it's so dumb right? Cos he's so fucking brave and kind, and we all know that, it's just him that's blind to it.

It's been ten minutes and he won't even look at me, and he won't relax. He sort of stares at the floor like he's try'na make holes and then he walks backwards and forwards over them. He's acting like, I dunno, nervous or sommit.

"It's OK, you know," I tell him quickly, in case he thinks he shouldn't have told me his story. "I get it right? And I'm glad you told me right? So thank you."

He laughs slightly, still refusing to look at me.

"Well it's time you knew the truth Steven-" and the tone of his voice it's like he's talking about the biggest, nastiest, sickest crim: that's how he sees himself. But I've known bad people aint I? I've known the lowest of the low, I've known filth, I've known….never mind. The point is he's not one of them in't he? He don't even come close.

"You're not half as bad as you think you are, you know, Brady." I tell him.

He walks up like dead slow toward me. He waits till he gets close to look at me. And when he finally does it's like his eyes proper wanna dance all over me, like he's drinking me in, all of me, like he needs to look at every inch of me - like I'm sommit special he needs to explore. There's a kinda half smile on his lips, same as he had on the roof earlier, it's like he can't believe I'm here or that he thinks I'm one of the best people he's ever met. It's like he loves me.

He don't talk until he's dead close, right up into me, he breathes my name all breathy so I can feel it over me. The wash of his scent and the feel of his air makes my skin burn don't it? Always does; it's just like that with us; it's what's the word? Inevitable.

But then he says, "don't ye think you should run away from me?"

God he's proper dumb.

"Why? I'm not scared of you."

He blinks slow like me answer's stupid, but then he smiles and whispers like he can't quite believe it, "you've never been scared of me."

I think back to when I first met him. I guess I was a little bit nervous, me, y'know cos of all those stories those like Mr Carter had told me; and the way Brady looked that night with that ridiculously small red shirt and eyes that were just violent. When he caught me naked in his pool he could have proper gone nuts, but something in me said not to be scared and I weren't and he didn't. He didn't even shout - he just backed away from me. Then when I eventually got him to take me to bed he was dead soft and slow with it, not a hint of this monster he talks about. I guess I knew even from that first night that he wouldn't ever hurt me; even back then I knew that he would do anything to protect me.

"You've always protected me innit?"

"Not always Steven," he whispers, and his eyes brush over my cheek bone, my jaw, it's almost like I can feel it. "I even hit you."

It's not until he speaks about that that I remember it. It's not important no more, though it felt proper life ending at the time. When I ran away from his house with my jaw stingin', I don't think I had ever felt so rejected, now I know what it's like to be proper hated. But I know Brady only did it cos I pushed him and gave him no other choice. I felt like I was proper falling for him, that we were falling for each other so I tried it on even though he told me his business associates were downstairs. Didn't know who one of them was though, did I? Didn't know he was gonna come in and see us kissin'. So Brady did what he had to and punched me, made out like I was coming onto him out of the blue, rejected me in front of…y'know.

I think of that moment, that thug, and my skin feels all cold and clammy. My heart's like proper racing. I feel sick with memories. But Bren catches me gaze with proper self-disgust in his eyes, like he thinks it's him who's making me feel sick. He starts to back away a little, but I hold my arms around his neck, preventing him.

Brady aint the one who makes me feel sick - he's the only one that makes me feel cured.

"Even then," I whisper.

His hands wrap around mine like he's trying to release my fingers. But I lean forward, lean my forehead on his so he knows I'm staying. I need him to stop backing away from me. How can he 'ave told me all those secrets and still wanna keep so much distance?

"Even then, you were protecting me. Brady just take a look at yourself will you? You're so much better than you think you are, you. And you're dead good to your family aint ya? And you're loyal, generous and brave."

He laughs a little as he says, "if I'm ever looking for a personal spokesman then I think the jobs yours."

I blink slow, a little annoyed, I wish he'd take this seriously. He don't get how much he's done for me. He's not ever gonna hurt me, I've never been so certain of owt but that. So he can tell me all he likes about the monster and the way he treats other guys, I know with me he's different. I trust him, I guess what I'm tryna say is that - I get what he said tonight but I still trust him. And how can I not when he's changed my whole life? Before I first met 'im I was a proper little scally, me. I still get into a lot of trouble, I make a lot of mistakes but he's always here. Always, forever. So I lay everythin' on the line for 'im. Everythin'.

And as I start to tell him I shut me eyes cos I couldn't take it if all he does is close off from me yet again.

"I would say the reason I'm standing here today really is cos of one person," I whisper.

I think of it all, everythin' that's happened to me, the dealin', the overdose, the homelessness, the sellin' and…him. There's only one reason I survived.

"This person gave me a chance when I had nothing," I open me eyes and he's proper staring at me, his forehead pressing' harder against mine like he needs me to stay and say these things, like he needs me to convince him that he is good. There's still doubt in his eyes only cos he can't believe he's my world.

"And made me feel safe when I had nobody," my finger's flex into his the skin on his neck, warm and thick, my whole body needs him.

"He also taught me how to love," I tell him, slower now.

He exhales quick like in disbelieve and his eyes shut.

"And he changed my life forever," I say. His hands press against my hips, his fingers gripping into my skin. "He means everything to me."

I get it, how he can be this good and not know. It's the power of them others innit? Mr Fox and the Loft surround him, darken him like the night, so he's forgotten who he is, forgotten that there's good in him and I will remind him.

I will show him who he really is.

"Do you know who 'e is?" I tease lightly.

He shakes his head in that way he does when he's laughing at me. His eyes open to dance playfully over me. His hands map over my hips, his fingers splaying against my skin, I can feel every movement he makes.

"There are other things as well, might give you more of a clue…" I tell him, and I slide me hands down to his chest. My hearts proper banging and I'm dead hesitant, me. With everything that's happened tonight it feels like it's been like forever, though really it was this morning.

"Like what?" Brady whispers his voice all sorts of sexy.

I bite my lip, like a little nervous and his eyes flash dark proper on fire. There's no denying how much we want each other.

"He's dead fit innit? You know he's the only guy who-"

But as soon as I start he shakes his head like he don't wanna hear it and says, "Steven, come on."

His hands leave my hips, and he fucking starts to move away from me. Seriously.

"You're a bit of a… what's the word?... hypocrite though."

He gives me that soft teasing smile, "I don't think you mean hypocrite."

"Yeah I do!" I remain insistent. "You bang on and on about how beautiful I am and how it's a crime I can't see it, right? But you won't take the same words back."

His fingers pull my hands away from him as he steps back into the shadow.

"Ah Steven," he breathes brushing his thumb over me jaw like I'm fragile and he could break me. "I'm nothing like you."

I go to resist but he presses a finger against my lips, gives me that deep look right in me eyes before he walks away. And I know he's gone from me again, I know those walls are all up in place. I know it all cos I get him innit? I get him, because we're the same. He's had people change his life in the way I had when I was too young to know. He's had bad people make him something he didn't ever wanna be, exactly like me.

The only difference is he's not been saved.

***UP****

He brings in cups of tea, that neither of us drink. Sticks on the telly but I know neither of us aint watchin'. It's dead silent for a while again, proper awkward. I can't really take it no more, all this bloody silence, so I take a walk round the 'ouse.

I walk past the bedroom door and see all those photos I saw this morning. Hundreds of Bren and the kids. This morning that's all I saw - Bren and the kids; now I see Eileen's in like every one of them. When Bren is helping Dec with his skates, or pushing Paddy on the swing, she's in the background looking at him like she can't quite believe him, like she's dead proud. There's something about him in these photos: his eyes are bluer; and there's less of the tash; and he just seems…different. He looks like any normal Dad who I might have babysat for. He looks like he don't think you should be scared of him, or run away. These days he wears his believe that he's this big dark monster all over 'imself: the big dark tats, grey lifeless eyes, proper stupid gangster tash and violent words. You can see past that show in these photos cos Eileen's there savin' him. I wonder what would have happened if she'd survived, where he'd be now and if he'd be happier. Maybe, she could help me save him, if I learned more about her maybe I could help him be the man he wants to be. Maybe I could be enough to help Brendan Brady overcome monster.

His eyes meet mine as soon as I walk back into the lounge. His gaze stays dead on me, it feels like I'm walking in slow motion because he can read every word in my soul and it's finally like he wants to. I sit down next to him, place my palm on his cheek.

"Brady," I whisper I don't know what I'll say but I know I need to make this count, I need to convince him I'm not going anywhere and there's no reason why I should. I need a mirror for his soul, like the one he used for me body.

But his phone starts ringing piercing our hold, and he sticks his finger at it before leggin' it out the door.

I collapse back into the sofa, crossing my arms and pulling my hoody up. I stare through the window to his shadow moving outside; wishing my gaze was strong enough to break through glass – that stuff there in the window and the thick bullet proof stuff he surrounds himself in.

When I've been away he's stuck on the fairy lights by the window cos it's Christmas innit? Even if all this talk of monsters and disguises makes it feel like Hallo-bloody-ween, it's still Christmas. So he's stuck on the Christmas lights. They're kinda pretty, flashing red and green, green and red. And as I look at 'em something catches me eye, sitting on the window sill. A box shape, wrapped in green with a big red bow. It looks almost like a present. I can't work out how it got there without me noticin'. I'm pretty sure it weren't there this morning. Fuck what if it's from Walker? Like a goodbye shot.

I walk toward it with me heart like proper racin', if it were from Walker it could be anything. Walker's eyes were proper monsters eyes. When he walked toward me earlier you could see there was nowt but black in his soul. So this box could be anything at all.

But Walker's not the reason I lose my breath as I flip the label:

"Merry Christmas Steven. BB X"

Me eyes proper stare at the words, expecting them to change. I can't look at owt else. I do hear the door move a little bit but it's more like I feel Brady walk back in, my skin proper aware of him, me whole body like sparklin'. He walks up close to me and I don't even think I need to tell me body to turn around or step into him, it just does like a magnet. I can't look at 'im yet, but we stand dead close to each other. You could light a ciggie off the heat between us, but I can still feel that his skin's so cold from the frost outside.

"Steven?"

"You got me a present?" I ask, my eyes finally finding him.

He blinks slow, like he'd forgotten about it, and runs a hand up through his hair in that way he does when he's stressed.

"It's nothing special don't get over excited."

He tries to dismiss it, of course he does, but it's not what he's got me is it? It's that he's got me anything, that he thought of me at all. Me body's like tingling, and this could turn out to be a lump of coal and still I'd love him for it.

"You got me a present, Brady." I say cos I don't think I can say owt else not when it's like fireworks are bursting inside me.

Every Christmas, Leah and Lucas would try to give me one of their teddies, they'd wrap it up in newspaper or bog roll and stick it on me bed like their stockings were stuck on theirs. I would always sneak the teddy back into their collection though – but it meant so much. Other than their treasures, I've had three proper Christmas presents in my life: I was four and I got a huge teddy, loved it and took it everywhere with me, even when I was too old to have it really. I even took it on holiday when I was ten and watched it get sliced open at the airport cos Terry had used it as a hiding place. When I was thirteen I got a bike, a proper big red mountain bike. I was so ecstatic that even though it had a flat tyre and I was pretty sure it was nicked from down the road I loved it. On Boxing Day Mam told me I had to sell it or not come home for dinner. Last year Amy bought me three DVD's, all ones I'd mentioned I wanted to see and lied to school about seein'. It was dead sweet of 'er so I kissed her on the doorstep, Terry saw it though…

I shake meself out of me memories, focus on the box in my hands. This is mine and no-one can take this away. I feel the shiny green paper between me fingers, touch the big red bow all silky. This present is mine, it aint nicked and no one can tell me I'm not good enough for it.

"A present," I say it again.

Bren smiles at me, he smiles at my excitement and he walks closer to me. He lets the space between us disappear again, so I feel nothing but him and those memories of past really don't matter cos I can't think of nothing else. I'm only Brady's.

"It's Christmas," Bren reminds me, his voice a whisper, a sexy Irish whisper. "So yeah I got you a present. What do you do with presents Steven?" he laughs a little, more impatient than anything. "You open them! Do it then!"

His eyes don't leave mine as I start to unpeel the paper. I reveal a black velvet box. And I think even if it were just a box it would be the most posh thing I've ever held. The box is just more wrappin' tho innit? Me hands shake a little, and I think he's probably laughin' at me. But when I take a glance up at him he just looks expectant I guess, and a little worried. So I get on with openin' it.

It's the watch. That leather watch. You know that big black leather chunky Gucci one. The one I saw when we took the twins to see Santa, and it reminded me of me Dad. It's…mine. It's my present. Bren takes it from me for a moment and flips it over, and on the back it says:

SH Dynamite

I think my lungs are proper out of oxygen. I think I might just be frozen here and that it's only the warmth of Brady's breath over me cheek that's keepin' me blood pumpin'.

I don't say nothin' for a bit, cos I can't can I? But he gets proper angsty and says, "Jeez Steven, nothing like keeping a man waiting – what do you think?"

"You got me a present," I know I'm talkin' on repeat here, but I don't think I can say nothin' else.

"I meant something slightly more verbal! "

I stare at him, how does he expect me to even talk? It's not really bout the present no more. It's what he did. It's that he knew. That he saw me looking at it and he knew. That he remembered me sayin' bout me Dad, that I wanna be like him, and he knew. That he cared enough to know, and he went and got it despite kicking me out, and paying for me to leave, and whatever the fuck he did with Walker.

This, what I'm holdin', is the evidence that even when we were apart he was thinkin' of me. It's the promise that he wants me as a part of his life. And he's still starin' at me expectin' me to say somethin' more, idiot!

I grip his head between my fingers and I don't give him a second to back away before I'm kissing him, hard. I kiss him how I need him like I'm trying to mould myself onto him, so we never need to part again, so we're part of the same body. And he starts movin' against me, he does. I can feel the burn of his tash against my lip, and the almost presence of his teeth, and the rush of his air against mine. His hands are still clenched at his sides and I know this is only gonna last a second, but he's not denying me this stolen moment of time. So I tell him silently from one kiss to another, I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

When he pulls away, it's not like we part, our foreheads are still pressed together. He takes a moment, opens his eyes and just beams at me.

Of course it only lasts a second before he leaves completely but he's still smilin', and his eyes are still sparklin' like those fairy lights.

He laces the red bow around me neck, proper smiling, the first time he's smiled tonight.

"Suits you," he teases, playin' with the ends of the silk. "So I take it that you like it?"

"The necklace not so much!"

"Shame."

He takes me hand slowly, wraps the watch around my wrist and I know I will never ever take it off.

"Like that better?" He breathes his voice proper low.

I watch the way the gold of the watch flashes in the Christmas lights, and I can't believe I'm here with him – the best man I've ever known, being given the best thing I've ever owned.

"I love it," I swallow hard, and it's like he mirrors me – like he knows exactly what I mean, that I mean so much more than the watch. "Thank you, Brady."

"Stop calling me Brady," he complains, makin' a knot in the ribbon and pulls pretending to be all threatenin'.

"What do you want me to call you then?" I ask, and a cute little image of Leah pops in my head so I add, "hairy man?"

He raises an eyebrow, like he's laughin' but try'na remain serious.

Still acting like the big threatenin' man he tugs a little on the bow so I'm right before him, and there's this hitch in his breath as I step closer.

"Bren," I whisper and he beams at me like I've just given him a gift, and I know I'm gonna say it now cos there's no way this moment's ending, "kiss me."

I don't make it a plea, I'm not gonna embarrass myself. It's an offer he can take or leave and I do half expect him to turn around. But then his sigh turns into a smile and he's pressing his lips to mine. This kiss is different, it's soft and slow and proper full of everythin' we are, it's gonna last.

I know he won't tell me, but I know he loves me too. When someone proper loves you, you don't need the words, it's not about speech, you can feel it in the way they look at you, and the way they kiss you, and the way they know you like no-one else.

We take a couple of steps back till he's pressin' me into the wall. I don't know if it's him that moved, or me, but it's like neither of us really meant to, like we needed the support to keep us standing. The kiss gets stronger, more intense, and his hands grip tight into me hips as I feel him get harder underneath me. I know we both need this.

I run my fingers down his proper hard body and start to undo his belt and he lets me, for a second. But then his thumbs slidin' into the gap beneath the watch and he's dragging my wrist up the wall above me head. And it's all that dominant, gentle, control, that dominance that only he is an expert at, that dominance that's purely Bren.

He lifts away a little, his eyes open but he don't look at me face, he's like proper starin' at me body, and then he's unpeelin' me shirt, proper focused, proper wanting, like I'm his present. And God just the way he's lookin' at me makes me ache for him. You can see the power he holds in every inch of him. I feel his gaze over every hair and I've never felt so worshipped.

He takes his time, touches every inch of me as he leaves me standing here kegless in nowt but the red ribbon.

"Deffinately suits you," he whispers, his voice so fucking deep the words go straight to me cock.

His finger loops under the red ribbon's bow, and he pulls, undoes it slowly, pushes it from me. The feel of the cold silk sliding off me burning skin makes me whimper, I can't help it. But then his features scrunch up, his eyes close.

"Fuck," he exhales, like the word goes right into my mouth.

He stares at me, eyes proper dark. This look on his face I don't recognise, like he's seein me in a different way, but before I can think, he says it again, "fuck."

Then he's dropped me wrist and I can't feel him no more. My clothes are still pooled around me feet but the distance lets him smile at me like I'm nowt more than a friend.

He bends down to pick up me shirt, like I'm just gonna put it back on, and then he whispers something totally proper ridiculous, "I'm gonna go and make tea."

"I don't want tea."

His hand slams into the wall, hard, his whole body's trembilin'.

"I'm gonna go and make tea."

I should leave it there, I know it and you know it. He's proper stressed right now, talkin' bout it is only gonna piss him off. There's a chance the kiss could continue later if I shut up. But me mouth's not like that is it? And I'm pissed cos we were proper getting somewhere and he goes and walks away from it. And cos I can see it in his eyes, I know what it was now - he thinks I'm a child, and there's nowt more insulting than that.

"You know the whole of today, ever since you told me you weren't gonna sleep with no-one else I've been dreaming of us, of there being an us like a proper relationship. But that's not what you want is it? You still don't actually want to be with me."

He don't turn to look at me, he just whispers, "I want to look after you."

"Yeah you want to look after me, keep an eye on me, keep me safe, protect me…like I'm a fucking pet!"

I yank on me clothes preparin' for a fight.

All he gives me is a fuckin', "no."

He won't even look at me and I know he'd do anything to take back those words this morning. He'd do anything not to love me.

"No? No, what? Come on Brady." I'm shouting and I'm walking round to face him now cos he don't ever walk away from me that easily. His heads like dipped and his eyes are shut, and his belt is still fucking open!

"No what? I'm wrong – you want us to have a relationship?"

He regrets it I know, not just the kiss but everything, telling me all that stuff, making me feel like I know him. He keeps doing this: letting me in a bit and then leaving me in the cold. He leaves me in this flat so I feel like I can know him. He tells me that he wants to be with me, no-one but me. But as soon as things get tough he backs away, that's what Walker was about, if he did that it was only to protect 'imself from me. He regrets bringing me in close, and that pisses me the fuck off, because there is no-one who knows me better than 'im.

He stares at me long and hard for what feels like ages, like he don't proper know who I am. And then he just starts to walk past me.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"I'm not having this conversation."

I grab his wrist and I know I'm proper pleading when I say, "please, Bren, all I'm saying is I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me too."

His hand wraps around my neck, like I'm small and manipulatable, like I'm a kid.

"Why can't you see I'm trying to keep you safe?" He asks through gritted teeth.

"From what? You've already said you don't feel the same way about me as you did those other guys."

"From the world I live in," he sighs, like that answers good enough.

But he don't know that I chose to make myself a part of his world, a choice that weren't owt to do with him, a choice that he can't ever know about. He can't protect me from it now I know how dark it goes now, especially when he weren't anywhere near.

He strokes his thumb along my jaw like I'm breakable, but anyone could see in the shaded blue of his eyes that it's him that's fractured.

"Steven can't you see I'm keeping you safe from everythin' I stand for, you're too good to be ruined by it," he promises and as I watch him disappear into the flat I wanna say the same words back.

***UP***

He makes spaghetti bolognaise. Fucking spaghetti bolognaise – like he don't know that's my favourite or something. I wish he'd stop doing stuff like this, if he'd rather do anything than love me, then do anything but act like it.

We sit in more silence, and then eventually he puts down his fork with a clash that sounds like it could break the night. He looks straight at me and says.

"Do you have a dream, something wanna do something with your life?"

Seriously?!

"Nah I wanna work for Blake me, and starve, and have you come and take me in for a week whenever you think you can handle it."

He shakes his head, his eyes goin' proper overcast and he makes me feel guilty for bein' rude.

"Course I wanna," I say, not lookin at 'im . "I was always gonna, but it don't matter now does it…nowt like that matters anymore…no-one to show that it can get easier…little twerps like me ain't worth dreams."

Me mum used to say that all the time – when I'd try to do good at school, or I'd make dinner and Terry would think I was showin' off. 'Little twerps like you aren't worth dreams' – that's what I've heard all me life.

I can feel Bren starin' at me, and I can also feel tears burnin' so the last thing I'm gonna do is look at him.

"Steven," he prompts, "Steven look at me."

No way I'm going to is there? But with one thrust he's moves the plates between us and he clasps me jaw with his hand – makin' me anyway.

"Steven if anyone is worth dreaming it's you, you're…"

"I know I'm dynamite right?"

His lips twist like he don' like me sayin' it like that.

"Yes. Yes you are. Steven, you're so good, so talented. You're an amazing cook, all that food you made when the three of ye's were with me. You can make anything look easy, OK so you can't make pancakes for shit but not everyone's perfect." He teases to make me smile. "You're pretty much bilingual, you could do anything you want to with your life – anything, and nothin' and no-one, not me, not anyone, should get in the way of that."

"Nice speech, just one thing though I'm gay, me. Not bi."

He pauses for a second, "What? No, bilingual – it means speaking two languages."

"Oh see I'm proper dumb I don't even know."

"Shut up!" He says but he's almost laughin' 'cos he can see that those words he just said mean sommit – they mean the world.

I don't say nothin' for a bit – not a lot to say when someone tells you somethin' you've never once heard before. I pick up me fork and start to eat again, and see the watch glintin' from the kitchen light. I stop for a second and look at it, not just at it but at everythin' it means.

"Do you really think all that?" I don't think I really wanna ask in case he takes it back. But I can't believe someone who knows me as well as 'im thinks I can make sommit of meself.

"Steven you're incredible, your life is gonna be incredible."

"People don't tell me that."

"I know you better don't I?"

***UP***

2010

"Fuckin' load'a rubbish," mam says as she slams the report down on the table.

Terry just laughs.

Me mate, Dave, got an awful school report this year – he's got shit attendance cos he spends his time smokin' weed by the bike sheds. He's got three exclusions and twenty eight detentions. His parents still love him though, thinks the sun shines out of his fuckin' arsehole. His parents thinks his school reports a load'a rubbish cos nowt he can do is wrong. I've got one detention for bein' late cos Leah was sick and wanted me to lay with her. And I've got a school report that says, with help for me dyslexia, I could get 8 A's in two years time. Course that's fuckin' bullshit though innit?

"Don't sit there and think this means anything sonny, all this means is those teachers in that school don't know shit," that's Terry that is.

"Steven I'm your mother, though honest to God I wish I weren't. I know you better than anyone else – got it? So take it from me – this report is a load of bull, this report is just people wanting money we don't have."

I just nod cos she's right in't she?

"So don't go thinkin' that when you get back from this camp you can stop helpin' out Terry, right?"

"No Mum."

"Next weekend you gotta go see those guys with Terry again – got it?"

"But Mum, I've got…"I've got homework - an essay that'll mean I can make the French GCSE this year 'stead of next so I have more time to look for a proper job and not have to keep doin' fuckin' shit for Terry. But I've also got Terry's fist in me face so I say, "Nowt, I've got nowt. Next weekend – right on."

Terry's still that red colour he goes when he really needs to break sommit. 'E's still shakin', so I don't move a muscle. But then there's a knock at the door.

Thank God.

I know already it'll be Mr Carter. He's come to pick me up for the school trip, this army style camp. Physical and mental competes against the other schools. It's bloody amazin' I can go actually. Bloody amazing Mam and Terry would let me, like. But Mr Carter came 'round said it was dead important I was there, said I would bring sommit none of the other kids have got, and isn't it easier when it's free and they won't have to worry bout me for a week. Paid him for that of course, y'know in that way 'e likes. But he was dead sweet to make the effort.

Terry drops his fist, slammin' it instead into the table.

I move up quick. I Pick up me gear for a week of assault courses and proper physical pain, pain that I've earned and not just pain that comes from doin sommit wrong. And dreams. The gear I've packed for a week of dreams.

***UP***

Present

"The army," I tell Bren.

"What?"

"The army – I used to want to be in the army"

"The army?"

"Yeah. We went to this army camp thing once, me and the school like, and it was dead awesome – we'd just do so much and then at the end of the day there'd be this great feeling of like satisfaction, I guess. And I dunno I guess I kinda felt like I belonged. I mean it's crap right, and it's probably just cos like me-"

It's the first time I've told anyone that right? So I'm kinda expecting Brady to laugh, cos it sounds ridiculous don' it? Me and the army, like a joke without a punch line. But he don't, he just takes me hand, looks dead serious.

"You'd make an amazing soldier, Steven," he says.

And you can see he proper means it, and that lump gets in me throat again so me mouth starts rabbitin, "I might go see if they'll have me in a few months – I mean I have good GCSE's, me-"

"What if I said I could make it happen now?"

"You have to be 18."

"I can do it if you want Steven."

And you can just see that he could, cos Brady's like that innit? He makes things happen.

It's always been this dream of a new life - the army. The feelin' that maybe someone might want me, and escape from Terry and mam and everything they want of me. Could I really have it now? When I'm not sure where I'll go from one day to the next, when my whole life is in tatters, could Brady really give me this?

"But think about it. The next course could be next month, the month after, it means leaving here, leaving…leavin' everything, do you know what I mean?"

He looks dead serious as his question holds in the air. I know exactly what he wants to mean. He wants to mean leaving when everything is still up in the air with the twins and I still aint really said goodbye. I know he wants to mean that, but I also know what he means and doesn't want to. He doesn't wanna mean leavin' here, leavin' him, leavin' what we have when he's so ready to forget it but when it's the only thing I've ever had in me entire life that makes me strong.

"Really think about it Steven, are you ready?"

A/N: And yes this honestly was going to happen before Later!