Chapter Thirty Two

Brendan slept fitfully that night. His usual nightmares were replaced with new ones, startling in their vivid sense of reality. One in particular had him jolting upright, body covered in a cold sweat. He knew it had something to do with what he'd walked in on earlier. Steven, laid across Samuel's lap like a broken doll, eyelashes fluttered shut over his perfect face. The way Samuel had looked at him, like he was precious and his. It made Brendan sick to his stomach, coupled with the worry he was already dealing with.

"Brendan." Samuel had greeted him, voice low so as not to wake Steven.

"What's going on?" Brendan asked blankly, staring fixedly at Steven's prone form.

"He fell asleep, what does it look like?"

"Why here? Why with you?"

"What exactly are you insinuating?" Samuel asked tersely, gently moving Steven's head from his lap and replacing the pillow on the sofa. He stood up, ushering Brendan into the kitchen.

"What do ye think?" Brendan growled, grip tight on the counter top.

"I don't know what goes on in that sick head of yours but I was being a father."

"Steven's too old for cuddles." Brendan said sharply, his knuckles white.

"He needed me, you weren't here." Samuel hissed. "He said his mother never held him properly."

"Pauline?" Brendan scoffed. "Good thing."

"That's not how Steven sees it, have some respect for the dead."

"I have no more respect for the dead than I do for the living." Brendan countered, remembering the way his Nana had flopped weightlessly in his arms at her passing.

Samuel glanced back over at Steven. He was covered with a blanket, still sound asleep.

"I'll take him to bed." Brendan announced, shouldering his way past Samuel. Samuel grabbed his wrist tightly in one hand.

"Leave him, he's tired. He was waiting up for you."

"Well I'm here now." Brendan snapped, wrenching himself free. Samuel was surprisingly strong.

"You know you'll wake him up, let him be." Samuel said, voice softer now.

"Fine." Brendan grunted. "Ye have to as well."

"Of course." Samuel bowed his head graciously, following Brendan into the hallway. "There's no need to be quite so aggressive, Brendan."

"Don't push me." Brendan said tightly. "It's been a long night."

"Doing what exactly? Or is it on a need to know basis?"

"Ye could say that." Brendan said darkly, nudging open his bedroom door.

"Does Steven need to know?"

"Not right now." Brendan said, closing his door halfway.

"I'll find out anyway." Samuel said pleasantly.

"Good for you." Brendan said, shutting the door in his face.

Brendan hadn't slept for those few hours he remained alone in bed. When he heard Steven's footsteps approaching he'd closed his eyes, not wanting him to know he was troubled. Now he lay in bed, sunlight pouring through a large gap in the curtains. He didn't want to get up and busy himself with anything. He didn't want to leave Steven alone for a moment.

Instead he draped himself over Steven's still sleeping form, pressing his nose against his cheek and brushing his lips over his skin. Steven wriggled a little, hands finding their way to Brendan's bare chest.

"What?" He murmured sleepily.

"Morning." Brendan said quietly, resting his cheek against Steven's.

"You aren't normally this cuddly in the morning." Steven noted, opening his eyes slowly. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" Brendan asked, clamping his legs tightly around Steven's. "Maybe I just want to."

"Mm." Steven stretched himself out with some difficulty. His spine popped, making him groan in satisfaction. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Like a baby." Brendan lied, shuffling away to give Steven space to move.

"Hey," Steven pulled him back, easy smile in place. "Where's my good morning kiss?"

"Morning breath, ye know."

"Like I care." Steven pushed himself up onto his elbows and gave Brendan a lingering kiss. "That's better."

"Do we have to work today?" Brendan asked, swinging his legs out of bed.

"I guess so. You aren't going to disappear again?"

There was a hint of uncertainty in Steven's voice that made Brendan turn back to him. He wished that he could tell him what was really going on but it wasn't time yet.

"I'm not going anywhere." Brendan promised with a little more solemnity than the situation required.

Steven smiled hesitantly, sliding out of the covers. He was still naked and only reached for a pair of boxers before heading to the bedroom door.

"Wait!" Brendan went ahead of him, blocking his path. "Aren't ye getting dressed?"

Steven smiled at him in amusement. "I was gonna shower first."

"Yeah, but can't ye put a shirt on?"

"To go to the bathroom? Why?" Steven asked, frowning a little.

"It would just make me feel more comfortable." Brendan explained slowly.

"But dad's the only one in the flat." Steven laughed incredulously. "Unless you think…" he trailed off, realisation dawning on him. "Brendan!" He gave him a solid shove. "What are you playing at?"

"I didn't say anything." Brendan replied stoically.

"We've been over this," Steven sighed, placing his hands on Brendan's shoulders as if to steady him. In reality the shove had barely unbalanced him. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Last night…" Brendan began uneasily. Steven coloured instantly.

"Okay, that was a bit weird of me, I'll admit. But it's nothing like what you're thinking. He's my dad!"

"It doesn't stop some people." Brendan said quietly.

Steven's mouth snapped shut abruptly. "I'm sorry." He said eventually.

Brendan shook his head dismissively. "You're right, I'm mistaken."

Steven's gaze still looked troubled. He stood up on his tip toes to wrap his arms securely around Brendan's neck.

"I'll put a shirt on." He acquiesced. Brendan nodded against him, unable to speak.

They walked to the club in silence. Brendan even let Steven hold his hand, partly concealed between their bodies. Samuel had gone to the club early to prepare for some important lunch time customers; big spenders apparently.

"Why do ye still wear the uniform?" Brendan asked as they walked up the steps. Steven paused, turning back to frown at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't wear it and yer dad runs the place. Why do ye bother?"

Steven frowned a little in thought. "I guess it's comforting?" He answered eventually.

"Really?" Brendan felt himself smile.

"I have some good memories in this uniform." Steven grinned.

Brendan moved to his step, pressing him against the railings. "Oh yeah? Same uniform is it?"

"Course." Steven looked up at him through long lashes. "Remember all the times you used to press me up against surfaces in this thing? Like you are now?"

Brendan's hand found his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "I remember." He murmured. "Have to do some re-enactments sometime."

"I'd like that." Steven replied, voice low and pleased.

Brendan pulled him closer; their lips brushing together. Steven smiled into the kiss and Brendan couldn't help but feel his burden lift a little.

A cough interrupted them. Brendan glanced up to see Samuel at the top of the steps, looking at them with a tight, pained expression.

"Could do with some help in here."

"No problem, boss." Brendan said pointedly, grazing his hand against Steven's hip as he pulled away. "We'll pick this up later." Brendan whispered into Steven's ear, making sure Samuel was watching.

Steven practically glowed with pleasure, the smile only leaving his face when he reached the top of the steps and took in Samuel's expression.

"When are they arriving then?"

"An hour. The place needs cleaning, top to bottom." Samuel said sternly, gesturing that Steven enter before him. Brendan took his time reaching the door, eyes never leaving Samuel's face. "Toilets could do with a clean." Samuel told him coolly.

"That right?"

"I would ask Steven to do it but it's rather a demeaning job, don't you think?"

Brendan barely missed a beat. "I'd be happy to then."

Samuel nodded, lips pressed together.

Brendan kicked the mop and bucket into the toilets, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He wasn't about to get down on his hands and knees and scrub, that was for sure. Fifteen minutes in and he was sure he was making the floor filthier with each stroke of the mop.

"Fuck sake." He cursed, slumping against the toilet wall.

Steven chose that moment to enter, closing the door shut after him. He looked Brendan up and down, amusement evident on his face.

"Well, this is quite a sight. The almighty Brendan Brady, cleaning toilets like the rest of us."

"Tell me I never made ye do this." Brendan said, pained. "This is slave labour."

Steven laughed, stepping over a particularly drenched section on the floor. "Of course you did, sometimes without a clean mop head either."

"I can only apologise." Brendan said sincerely. "Seriously, how do ye do this?"

Steven rolled his eyes, taking the mop from Brendan's hands. "You slide it like this." He said, demonstrating. "Put it to one corner if you can and then soak up the rest with a dry mop head, or if not some blue paper towels work just as well."

Brendan stared at him wonderingly. "Ye shouldn't even be doing this. Ye had yer own business once."

"I could say the same to you." Steven countered, finishing up the floor for him.

"Do ye ever think we should just…" Brendan trailed off, biting his finger.

"What?" Steven asked, replacing the mop against the wall. He leaned next to Brendan.

"Get away from this place? Start again?"

"Where's this come from?" Steven asked, stunned.

Brendan shrugged. "What have we really got to stay around here for?"

"Err let me think," Steven held out his hand, counting on his fingers. "Mitzeee, Phoenix, Dad, our jobs, our home…"

"Steven," Brendan moved to stand in front of him. "This is about us, not them. What do ye want?"

"I…" Steven trailed off uncertainly. "I don't know." He admitted honestly.

Brendan bowed his head, a feeling of defeat washing over him. "Forget it." He murmured.

"No, don't do that!" Steven pushed himself away from the wall so they were practically in each other's faces. ""I'm not ruling it out or anything, I'm just saying-"

"Daddy comes first." Brendan said bitterly. "Should have figured that."

"You aren't being fair." Steven told him firmly.

"Of course not. I can't keep doing this, Steven. That man out there-" Brendan pointed for emphasis. "Is out to destroy us. Why can't ye see that?"

"That's crazy; we've already spoken to him and things are fine."

"Things are not fine. He's goading me at every opportunity."

"Are you sure you aren't just rubbing each other up the wrong way?"

Brendan sighed in exasperation. "He's not going to quit until I'm out of yer life. Why do ye think Amy asked me to slip away quietly, hm? That was his doing."

"No." Steven shook his head adamantly. "You never said that before."

"I didn't wanna hurt yer feelings." Brendan argued.

"What, like you are now?" Steven said, raising his voice.

"I didn't mean to," Brendan said wearily. "I'm just tired of this pretence."

"He only asked you to clean the toilets." Steven muttered.

"It's not about the fucking toilets!" Brendan shouted. "Why won't ye just listen to me?"

"Why won't you just talk to me?" Steven shouted back. "You were dead weird yesterday and every time I think we're getting somewhere you shut me out again."

"That's what ye signed up for," Brendan said, widening his arms. "The fuck up that is Brendan Brady."

"Don't talk like that." Steven said fiercely.

"It's true though, isn't it? So fucked in the head that he even thought yer dad wanted to fuck ye!"

"What is going on in here?" Samuel threw open the door, making both of them jump.

"Daddy to the rescue!" Brendan clapped his hands. "I'm done." He shoved past Samuel, not looking at him.

As he ran to the stairs, Mitzeee was coming up them.

"Brendan? What on earth's the matter?"

"Nothing. Leave it, Anne." Brendan said, moving past her.

"Like hell." She said, going after him. "What's he done? It's Sam again isn't it?"

She followed him outside the club to the alleyway. Brendan leaned against the wall, taking deep, heaving breaths.

"I lost it." Brendan said, talking down to his knees.

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I asked Steven if he wanted to get away from here and he wasn't sure, didn't want to leave Samuel."

"Well, that's natural I suppose." Mitzeee said reasonably, leaning against the wall with him. "Did you at least tell him the other thing?"

Brendan looked over at her. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's not time yet." Brendan mumbled.

"You can't hide your feelings forever." Mitzeee sighed. "Look what happens when you do."

Brendan leaned his head back against the wall. "Samuel's probably filling his head with all sorts right now."

"Then go talk to him!"

"How can I? He probably hates me, don't blame him."

"Brendan Brady," Mitzeee said sternly, straightening up abruptly. "That boy in there loves the bones of you. Think of everything he's had to deal with, all the crap you put him through." She carried on even when he winced. "He's forgiven you for so much and it isn't because you manipulated him, or smothered him like Sam's doing; it's because you gave him a choice. He chose you. He could have given you up a thousand times over and he didn't. When are you going to realise that you're the most important person in the world to him?"

Brendan opened his mouth but Mitzeee silenced him.

"You go find him right now and tell him the truth. If you don't I'll come after you and that won't be pretty." She smiled then, flicking her long hair behind her.

Brendan felt the flicker of a smile on his own face. "If I wasn't gay, Anne…"

"Oh I know, love. Shame." She patted his face, smiling openly now. "Go on. I won't tell you twice."

Brendan leaned forwards to kiss her on the forehead before straightening and bracing himself.

"Wish me luck?" He breathed, feeling the adrenaline pumping through him already.

"You won't need it." She winked, giving him a little push. "Go on!"

Xxx

Sam poured Steven a drink at the bar, taking it over to him where he sat on one of the sofas.

"Those clients will be in soon." Steven muttered, putting two hands around the small glass and sipping.

"I've already called in some more staff. No idea where Mitzeee's got to." He said, glancing towards the stairs.

"I'm sorry," Steven said. "I don't know what came over us."

Sam sat down beside him, pulling Steven in close with one arm. "It's that man; you can't see straight with him around."

Steven's body went rigid. Sam looked at him in some surprise as Steven raised his head to gape at him.

"What?" He asked warily.

"Have you been talking to Amy?" Steven asked slowly.

"What's given you that impression, son?"

Steven pulled away from him. "The thing you just said, about not being able to see straight."

"Yes…" Sam frowned at him.

"I said it to Amy once."

"I must have overheard you."

"No. I said it years ago."

"And probably recently too. What's your point?"

Steven shook his head. "Tell me it isn't true. Tell me you didn't get Amy to warn Brendan off."

"Why on earth would I do that?" Despite his protestations, Sam was beginning to grow anxious.

"I'm so stupid," Steven said, gritting his teeth as the tears started to form in his eyes. "You haven't changed your mind about Brendan, have you? You still want him away from me!"

"Steven," Sam said quickly, grabbing his shoulders. "I only want what's best for you."

"Look me in the eye and tell me you think that's Brendan."

Sam mouthed wordlessly at him, unable to respond.

"I thought so." Steven said angrily, standing up.

"Wait!" Sam grabbed him, holding him firmly in front of him. "Listen to me a minute."

"I'm tired of listening to you!" Steven yelled. "I'm tired of listening to people who treat me like a child and act like they know what's best for me! You don't get to decide that, Dad! You threw that away the second you abandoned me."

"You know I tried, Steven! Pauline, she-"

"Don't talk about her!" Steven was like a wild thing, shoving Sam's hands away from him. "Don't talk about my mum, ever!"

"Steven, I-"

"And stop calling me Steven!" Steven growled, eyes blazing with heat. "Brendan calls me that."

Sam faltered, at a loss for what to say. "Maybe I was wrong to be so persistent. But the things I've heard about him, I can't just ignore them."

Steven calmed down enough to process his words. "I know he's done bad things, but he's trying so hard to change. We were so close last time but it was people like you meddling into things that messed everything up."

"He beat you, son. Just before he went inside. How can you excuse that?"

"I'm not!" Steven said fiercely.

"I'm only doing all of this because I love you, you're my son." Sam moved his hands to cradle his face. "I missed so much of your life; is it so wrong to want to protect you from harm? After everything Terry did to you?"

"Brendan isn't Terry." Steven said hollowly.

"Is he really any better though?" Sam questioned, searching Steven's face for answers.

"Of course he is. Terry didn't have anything good inside him. He beat me again and again and again and didn't give a shit about it. It doesn't make what Brendan's done any better, I know that, but he isn't him. He isn't."

"Okay." Sam breathed, trying to placate him. His hands were beginning to tremble and he could feel Steven shaking against him. "Come here." He pulled him tight against his chest, lips buried in his hair. "I'm sorry."

"Are you going to stop now? Can I trust you to leave us alone?"

Sam hesitated, not knowing the right way to answer that. It was one thing, trusting his son, but quite another to trust Brendan.

Steven sensed his reluctance, pulling away from him. He gave him a sad smile.

"You won't, will you? You said you would last time and you didn't."

"I don't know what to tell you, son." Sam said honestly. "I really don't."

Steven pulled completely out of his embrace. "I need to go see Brendan, sort this out."

"Now? The mood he's in? I don't think-"

"It's not for you to decide." Steven said stubbornly.

"What about us?" Sam asked helplessly.

"I don't know." Steven said, so soft and broken that it made Sam's heart beat painfully in his chest. He slipped away from him. "Don't come after me; it'll only make it worse." Steven told him once he'd reached the door. Sam nodded numbly.

Somehow he made it through his clients' lunch. He smiled in all the right places, said the right things. Every spare moment he got he glanced at his phone and the door, willing Steven to contact him. How long could it possibly take to talk things through with Brendan?

When his clients finally left, Sam decided to close up for a few hours to go and find them. He didn't care if Steven would be angry at him; it couldn't possibly get any worse than it was now.

He walked back to the flat in a daze, wondering how things had accelerated so quickly. What had finally broken Brendan? It had seemed like any other day in the war they were waging against each other. What had pushed Brendan to the edge to make him speak out in this way? Sam clenched and unclenched his fists, hardly knowing what he'd do when he was faced with Brendan again. If only he could make Steven see sense, make him realise that Sam only wanted the best for him. It was all a father could ever want for their son.

Sam unlocked the front door with some trepidation, expecting raised voices. He was met with complete silence. Feeling his palms begin to itch with unease, he walked through the flat, glancing into every space for any sign of them. He reached the bedroom, feeling as though he was in a thriller film about to witness something horrific.

Instead all he found was emptiness. He went to the wardrobe and saw that half of their clothes were missing. Some of the drawers had been emptied too; left open as though they'd been in a hurry. Sam felt his entire body go numb with shock. It was only seeing the piece of paper left on Steven's pillow that propelled him forwards. Written in Steven's scrawled, unmistakeable handwriting were two simple words:

I'm sorry.