"See, this is exactly why I wanted to leave! I should have never have let you talk me into staying!"
"Ye can't stop him seein' his kids, Amy. They mean the world to him, you know that!"
"Brendan, he scared them half to death! They should never have to see him like that! Never!"
"He didn't know you would be here, okay, that's not fair!" Brendan cries.
Amy bundles Lucas into the back of the car. The boy is docile and cooperative… the events of the day stirring obedience in him. He and Leah are both quiet, looking at Brendan with worry in their eyes as their mother rants and rages.
"No, you told me that he was better!" Amy accuses, "You lied to me! And that answer-phone message – you said he was in rehab!"
"He was. He's not anymore."
"Clearly."
"Look, just stay until the mornin', he'll be sober then; he can see them."
"Brendan, I have to put my children first." Amy says, exasperated. "Okay, I care about Ste, I want him to see them but they can't be subjected to… to drink and drugs. And if he was in his right mind, he wouldn't want that for them either."
"He loves those kids, Amy."
"That's not enough." Amy pushes past Brendan, tries to get into the drivers seat.
But he's NOT going to let her go. He talked her round half an hour ago; he can do it again. Whether she's right or not, he doesn't want to have to tell Steven his kids are gone again. Steven's face in the ballroom… right after he punched Douglas and the kids saw… he'd been crushed. Mortified. All he'd said was a desperate choked-up, "Sorry!" to his children before legging it out of there as quick as he could.
Brendan needs to make this better.
"There must be somethin' we can sort out, Amy, please."
"What?! You have them stay the weekend? So I bundle my kids off with an ex-convict and a drug-abuser?! I know; maybe you can tell Leah stories about prison, and Ste can show Lucas his needle!"
"Don't do that."
"What?! That's the fact of the matter, Brendan. I am not putting my children in that environment."
"I'll PAY for you to stay here tonight, and then we can discuss this like fuckin' adults in the mornin'. You and Steven can talk about it – not me."
For the first time, Amy's anger wanes.
She looks genuinely upset… desperately sad as she croaks, "I can't. I can't, Brendan – I can't talk to him like this."
She climbs into the drivers seat.
"Amy, we've gotta help him – me and you, we're all he's got."
"I have to put the children first." She repeats, like it's her mantra.
She starts the engine. He's losing her.
He jumps in front of the car, hands on the bonnet, shouts through the window to her, "What, and the best thing is to keep them from seein' their Da'?!"
"Brendan, move out the way!"
"He's gonna get better Amy. I swear to you."
He means it. Fuck sake, he means it. Now more than ever he needs to get Steven back to good health – can't have Steven's kids look at him in disgust like Brendan's do him. Steven doesn't deserve that. And Brendan was selfish and weak and irresponsible and pathetic to sign him out of rehab, but it's done now and now it's down to him alone to make this right again. Like he alone destroyed it all.
"You're gonna be proud of him." He says firmly, "You and them – you are."
Amy starts the engine. She gives Brendan one last look before he moves aside which is sad… desperately so. Brendan knows she loves Steven. He also knows that she thinks Steven's a lost cause. She thinks all this is the tail-end of Brendan's destruction… the thing she warned Steven about from the start. She thinks she's lost him to the sorrow and self-destruction that's lingered in his blood from the very beginning.
Brendan's going to prove her wrong.
"Steven?!" He calls, striding through the corridors of the hotel.
He can't think where Steven would have gone. He's booked them a bedroom here under the name 'Brady', but would Steven have thought to check at reception? Probably not, in his state.
"Steven?!" He calls into the mens bathroom.
"Nope. Just me."
Not Steven then.
Douglas.
He's lent over the sink, letting the blood run from his nose into the running water.
Even after all this time, Brendan feels a sense of satisfaction at the sight.
"Don't mess up that sink." He says shortly, and makes to leave before -
"You need to get him outta here." Doug says groggily – voice nasal from the blood.
Brendan would like to add a black eye to that portrait.
"He shouldn't have let them see him like that."
Brendan turns. He reviews the sorry sight of a hypocrite before him. He moves towards Douglas with slow calculated steps, eyes fierce, feeding off the way Douglas flinches ever so slightly despite his better judgement.
"Like what, Douglas?" Brendan breathes, "Like all them kids you pushed drugs to all those many many years ago?"
"Yeah, that was years ago." Doug says – acting like he's brave even though Brendan could crush him. "I was a kid – what's your excuse?"
"I like it." Brendan says lightly; baiting him. "Yeah. I bought him crack cos I like the way he gets all feisty, y'know, like he could do fuckin' anything."
Douglas's eyes widen in shock… believing him. So quick, like everybody else, to believe the worst in Brendan. Even this.
So Brendan continues, voice silky and menacing as he whispers, "Yeah. I like the way when he looks at me, it's like he can't really see me. And I like the way I could snap him in half cos he hardly eats a fuckin' thing and you know what I especially love?"
Douglas swallows… doesn't know what to think.
"I especially love when he starts cryin' and shakin' and looking like he's bein' fuckin' tortured cos he can't have any more of the stuff. Cos I said no. Cos I wanted him to be sick, I wanted him to practically tear his own fuckin' skin apart cos he's so desperate – yeah I love that."
"Okay Brendan, I get it…" Doug mutters, voice nearly gone, realising him mistake.
"And you know what else I love, Douglas? I love them scars all over his skin where he cut himself without anybody knowin'. And his boyfriend that forced him to fuck other blokes, and how everybody treats him like a scumbag for it… that… THAT I especially love."
Douglas is silent. The power of Brendan's declaration seems to have crippled him into speechlessness. He didn't know about the scars then. Didn't know about the life his negligence landed Steven in. Because a couple of aggressive texts sent him running off in the opposite direction.
"So clean yerself up." Brendan says, voice reverting back to lightness. "Wipe your nose there. And get the fuck over it."
And with that he turns on his heel and strides towards the bathroom door.
"Brendan?" Doug calls weakly after him.
Brendan stops, but doesn't give him the gratification of turning around.
"He went into the car park." Doug says, "I saw him getting in your car."
XOXOXOXOXO
"FUCK!" Brendan screams out.
Fucking Douglas was fucking right. The space where Brendan parked his vehicle is empty… nothing but two cigarette butts left behind to mark Steven's presence.
"Fuck, fuck… FUCK!" He kicks a bottle of beer fiercely and it shatters – hard – against the nearest wall.
It's all flashing through his head at the speed of light… a call from the police, a car wreckage, a broken body inside, a funeral with nobody in attendance, the loss of the man he loves – gone forever because a lifetime of heartbreak boiled over in one misguided evening.
"Brendan, come back inside and we'll call the police!" Cheryl calls from behind him. He hadn't even realised she was there.
"No, get back to the party Chez."
Brendan's eyes gloss over the carpark. Now he's going to have to nick one too – just to go after him. Can't have him driving round like a fucking lunatic, drunk and high and distraught the way he is. FUCK. Fuck… fuck…
He hears the blood pumping in his ears with panic. Feels like he could actually pass out from it. FUCK.
"Brendan!"
"I said go inside Chez!"
"No, Brendan…"
Brendan turns. Cheryl is pointing up the hotel driveway… the long stretch of gravelled road that winds around the fountain. And there's Brendan's car. Steven is driving it back up the drive and pretty carefully too, it has to be said.
Brendan blinks, stunned for a moment that he's come back.
And then absolutely furious.
When Steven gets out of the drivers seat, Brendan spares no thought for the sad hopefulness on his face… nor the balloon he holds in his left hand.
He grabs hold of Steven by the scruff of the neck… shoves him hard against the side of the car.
"The fuck d'ye think you're playin' at?!" He hisses furiously.
"BRENDAN!" Cheryl shouts.
"Could've got yerself fuckin' killed – is that what you want?! Take my car and kill yourself in it?!"
"Get off me." Steven snaps, pushes at Brendan but Brendan pushes back harder – feels the impact as Steven slams a second time against the car.
"YOU'RE PUSHIN' YOUR DAMN LUCK!" He shouts. And he's losing it – he knows he is. But fuck. Could have given him a fucking heart attack. He can't lose Steven now. Not now, when he's going to make everything better. Not now, after everything.
"I ONLY WENT ROUND THE CORNER!" Steven screams back.
"THAT'S ALL IT TAKES!"
Brendan lets go of him… has to remove himself from Steven before his anger boils to irreversible levels that he's bound to regret.
He tries to breathe, rakes his hands through his hair in exasperation. God sake, does Steven have no care at all for his own wellbeing? He could have gone 'round the corner' and never come back, the state he's in.
"Fucking… fucking IDIOT!" He spits. He kicks the stones hard but its not enough… not enough force... not enough destruction.
Then he points to the balloon, because it seeps in through his cloud of panic and fury and somehow he knows that THAT is the reason for Steven's recklessness.
"The fuck is that for?!" He demands breathlessly.
Steven holds the balloon limply. He looks sheepish all of a sudden… like sense is finally overcoming him.
"I jus' got it for the kids." He mutters. He looks so vulnerable as he asks, "Are they still here?"
But Brendan doesn't have time for vulnerability right now.
He's ruthlessly sharp when he answers, "No! And what? You're gonna take it all back with a death-ride and a BALLOON?!"
"I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!"
"ANYTHING ELSE!" Spit flies from Brendan's mouth as he screams it.
Fuck, he needs to calm down. He needs to get away from Steven… clear his mind of those god-awful images of Steven's dead crumpled body, flaming car.
Thankfully… unexpectedly… Cheryl steps in.
Her voice is softer than it's been all night. Responsive to Steven's helpless state.
"Right, come on." She breathes. She takes the balloon lightly from Steven's hand… pushes him gently by the shoulder, "It's just best if you go to the room and sleep this off, okay?"
"I'm sorry, Cheryl." Steven says, and he means it – it rings with earnest self-loathe in his voice.
"Brendan, I'm gonna take Ste upstairs." She says.
Brendan meets Cheryl's eyes – sees genuine concern there, for both of them. She won't cause a fuss now, he can tell. Now isn't the right time and perhaps Cheryl is the only one here with any sense of perspective anymore.
So he allows Steven to be steered inside by her whilst he collapses to squat down and take deep breaths and clear his head.
He follows the anger management guidance from the course he took up in prison. Breathe in… two… three… four. Breathe out… two… three… four. Breathe in… two… three… four. Breathe out… two… three… four.
When he finally goes back to the room twenty minutes later, Steven is curled up in bed with the duvet pulled to his chin. There's a jug of water on the table beside him which Brendan can only assume was given to him by Cheryl. There's also a glass, but Steven's chosen to use it as an ashtray instead. He's put a sock over the bedroom smoke-alarm.
Neither of them says anything as Brendan changes out of his suit, stripping down to his briefs. There's not much to say really… the events of the day having taken their toll and the effects of Steven and alcohol causing Brendan's head to hammer painfully.
He's just happy to collapse down on the mattress, let the comfort of the bedding soothe him. He lets his eyes fall shut and his muscles to sink into relaxation.
When Steven shuffles over and puts his head against Brendan's chest, Brendan does nothing to stop him. Without opening his eyes he folds his arm around Steven's shoulders, strokes the skin of his arm back and forth, back and forth.
This is the way it's always been with them. They've never made apologies. They've shouted and ranted and then made love in the same hour… never addressing it as anything out of the ordinary.
But today it is out of the ordinary. Today there are things that need to be sorted… and with some element of immediacy.
"You can't take drugs anymore." Brendan says.
It seems an obvious thing to say, and yet to both of them it carries more weight than before.
"I know." Steven says quietly.
"I'm gonna get your kids back, Steven. I'm gonna get ye a job. I'm gonna put everything right – but I need you to help me as well."
"I know."
"And I want ye to quit smoking."
"Fuck off."
Brendan laughs. It breaks the tension. He feels Steven's lips form a smile against the hair on his chest. Pulls him closer, if possible, with the fondness caressing warmly in his stomach.
"Okay, fine, one thing at a time." He says.
Things fall into silence after that, and they're both drifting off into an early nights sleep before they're awoken by a tentative knock at the bedroom door.
"Bagsie not me." Steven mumbles sleepily.
Brendan sighs; can't be bothered to argue about it, and stumbles in his half-asleep and half-naked state to the bedroom door.
And is surprised to be confronted by a fully-awake, fully-dressed Douglas. With John-Paul standing slightly back behind him… obviously for support. The coward.
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Brendan drawls distastefully.
Douglas's eyes trace nervously past Brendan to Steven… who is now sitting up in the bed with an equally cautious expression.
"Okay, listen," Douglas says, "I've been thinking really hard about this and… I don't know if I'm doing the right thing but…"
He hands Brendan a piece of paper. Brendan takes it, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Is this the reply to my love letter, Douglas?"
"It's Amy's address." Douglas says, silencing Brendan in an instant. "And I'm not giving it to you so you can both go round there shouting the odds, okay? I'm giving it to you cos I'm trusting you to be sober and… and responsible. And because… well because the kids really miss you, Ste, so… you should probably work something out with her."
He adds, with quietness that could be interpreted as shame; "And I think you deserve another chance."
The room is silent for a moment.
It's been a long time since it was the four of them like this, Brendan notes to himself. Tension bounces off every wall.
"Why now?" Steven finally asks, breaking the quiet.
Douglas shrugs, sheepish. He says nothing of his and Brendan's conversation earlier.
"Just… don't make me regret it, okay?" He says.
Steven nods. He looks quite stricken… stunned. It's been a long time since anyone besides Brendan decided to take a chance on him.
"Right." Doug nods, his duty accomplished. He takes one look at Brendan's undressed state and says with an element of un-disguisable distaste, "Sorry for disturbing you."
And then he's gone as quickly as he came, with body-guard John-Paul (looking equally put out by the saga) trailing behind him.
Despite his begrudging gratitude for what's just happened, Brendan still can't help but slam the door right on the backs of their feet.
He climbs back into bed with Steven… places the hand-written address propped up against the water-jug.
"I don't get it." Steven breathes.
"What?"
"Why's everyone bein' nice to me?"
Brendan shrugs, non-committal. "Because, ye deserve it Steven. You're not… you're not as bad as you think you are."
He settles back down under the covers; leaves Steven to sit and reflect on those words for a moment. And Steven's eyes gloss over and fade… like he really is stewing on exactly that.
Next thing Brendan knows, Stevsen's hands are either side of his face, and he's leaning in for one of the deepest, firmest, most grateful kisses Brendan thinks he's ever experienced in his life.
He responds to it immediately; pulls Steven against him so Steven's chest lies above his; their tongues entangling intimately. Brendan folds one hand around the back of Steven's neck, keeping him close, while the other trails tenderly up the back of the lads tshirt, feeling the smooth skin of his back.
He turns him over in one swift surprising motion; has Steven on his back against the mattress, Brendan above him and they kiss deeply and leisurely like they have all the time in the world to do just this. Through the collision of lips and tongues and noses, Steven's legs entangle themselves around Brendan's waist and pull him close, groin to groin.
"Wanna finish what we started this morning?" Brendan growls seductively.
Steven nods with such haste Brendan almost misses it, before he pulls Brendan's vacant lips back against his own.
"I love you." Steven whispers breathlessly between kisses, "Thank you."
Something in the earnestness of that phrase bothers Brendan. He lowers his lips to Steven's neck and sucks the skin there tightly in the way he likes… but he's distracted whilst doing it… disturbed by Steven's gratitude.
After a moment he has to pull away. Steven reaches for lips again but Brendan backs up, out of reach for a second to comment –
"Thank you for what?"
What could Steven possibly thank him for? For prompting this entire mess of a situation to begin with? He's always so quick, so willing, to act like Brendan's deserving of him when the exact opposite is entirely true.
"You've got nothing to thank me for, Steven." Brendan says sombrely.
"Jus'… for bein' you." Steven says, his voice light with honesty.
And his eyes glimmer with a nostalgic old sparkle… the sparkle he used to wear so openly before he spiralled into his dark tunnel. Brendan's momentarily breath-taken by it… stunned in the way he so randomly finds himself sometimes by how much he loves the man beneath him. How impossible he finds it that Steven can love him as much in return.
He's so wrapped up in the ridiculousness of the feeling that he almost misses his mobile ringing.
Steven passes it to him though – has to put it under Brendan's nose before Brendan blinks back into focus.
Brendan sighs, gives Steven a wink that says 'one minute' and answers into the phone, "Yeah? What?"
"Is this Mr Brendan Brady?" A voice he doesn't recognise.
"Yeah…"
"This is DC Fischer speaking."
"Okay…" Brendan mutters, feeling a familiar dread… mind racing as he tries to think of reasons why the fucking police would be calling him right now. "What can I do for ye?"
It's then that the DC Constable tells him about the arson attack… and how in his absence, his flat has been burnt to a mere crisp.
XOXOXOXOX
And this series of events now spiralling out of control is EXACTLY why I should have finished this a few chapters ago!
;)
