He feels funny. On edge. Surrounded by the empty silence of Amy's flat, and very little to distract him from the continual ache in his body muscles – his nerves pining for that release. The release that only comes with a needle.
His stomach hurts with the need, and it's been hurting for hours but he could escape the sensation when Brendan was here... when they were talking of marriage of having sex in that way that they do.
He calls Brendan now – looking for that distraction by any means possible. Only trouble is Brendan's not one for idle chit-chat, especially over the phone. So when Ste babbles determinedly to him and asks him questions, Brendan cuts him off…
"I gotta go, Steven."
Obviously he has to. He's with his solicitor… trying to sort out the wretched remains of his home. He doesn't have time for Ste's aimless spiels.
"Oh right. Ok. Well I'll see ya later then, yeah?" Ste asks.
He pictures Brendan coming to collect him, taking him home and fucking him, and both of them pretending for another few hours that Ste's skin isn't constantly shaking from his withdrawal.
Brendan doesn't reply, and Ste's responded to by the low hum of the dial-tone.
He takes a deep breath and tries to slow down his heartbeat, currently beating more rapidly. Somewhere beneath his determination there is a voice screaming out in panic that he's not going to be able to do this. It's been little more than 24 hours since his last fix, and his body already feels like it's collapsing in on itself.
But he is determined. So he looks at the photos of his kids and takes deep breaths, and bites down on his lip hard and digs his fingernails into his skin and clenches his phone up in his fist to stop himself from calling Brendan again and begging him to come back. Or just make noise. Anything to stop the silence. Anything to stop him hearing the sounds of that ticking clock, which seems like it's just counting down until the moment he caves and fails everybody.
Relief floods him when he hears the key in the front door-lock. And when Amy walks in, pouted mouth and stern eyes, it's all he can do to not throw himself at her.
But he can't.
She's angry.
Angry at him for barging in, angry at him for punching Doug, angry at him for screwing up everything, and never stopping.
"I'm sorry." He says immediately. Just needs to say anything – to keep alert, and functioning like a normal human being and not show her that he's weak. That's the last thing she needs to see, when he's here to prove himself.
"You have got some nerve." She says darkly, tossing her handbag onto the coffee table.
"Where are the kids?"
"At my dad's." Amy replies, "I couldn't trust you'd be sober if I bought them back."
"Course I am, I've been with Brendan haven't I?"
Amy says nothing. Just looks at him expectantly.
Waiting for him to leave maybe.
But Ste doesn't even feel that intimidated by her anger. He's happy to see her regardless. It's been so long. And she looks gorgeous; long hair falling to her elbows and even a slight tan from her travels, which looks good on her.
"I've missed ya." He says honestly.
His need to keep talking and reacting is overweighing the need to keep his dignity.
And Amy's face softens, only slightly.
"I'll put the kettle on." She says.
XOXOXOXOXO
For a little while their conversation is polite… uncontroversial. Amy tells Ste about the kids and her boyfriend, Simon. She tells him about their travels and Leah's worrying obsession with fake tattoos and Lucas's with motorbikes. She even goes as far to joke about his likeliness to Ste, what with his fascination for speed-driving. Ste smiles warmly at the thought.
"Wish I coulda seen 'im learnin' to ride a bike." He says sadly, "Did Simon teach him?"
"Both of us, yeah." Amy replies. She looks awkward but keeps her voice firm and unapologetic.
Because it's Ste's fault after all, not hers.
That's when things go silent… stale. The real important topic lingers over them suffocating.
"Look…" Ste swallows, "Ames… I just… I dunno, I…"
He tries to think of the words… anything to explain how he could have lost it so completely, become the shell of his former self, becoming unobtainable to his own children and let them go like that.
"I couldn't cope." He finishes quietly.
"I know." Amy says, "And I'm sorry, Ste. Just… Simon was telling me I needed to live my own life and… and by the time I realised how bad things had got, it was too late. I couldn't speak to you."
She pauses, before whispering, "Do you even remember? When I came to see you?"
Ste blinks. He doesn't remember anything of the sort, and his heart sinks in dread.
"It's when you were moving out of your flat." She says. "And I came round and just… you scared me, Ste. And I told you then that you had to sort yourself out and that you couldn't see the kids otherwise but… I dunno, it was like you couldn't hear. You were just… like a whole other level of high and I didn't know what to do."
"I don't remember anything from then." Ste mumbles, ashamed.
"You hated everyone."
"No!" Ste protests immediately, because he knows that's not true. He never hated Amy – ever. She's his best friend, always, no matter how fucked up he gets or how fucked up everything gets around him. She's his saviour, in more ways than one, and he'll never ever forget it.
"I was never angry at you." He says earnestly. "Y'know… when I was with Andy I was always tellin' him all about ya. Even though he didn't care, I still told him a…all about your travellin' and… and how your dead clever and how brave you are…"
"Ste." She sighs, like she wants him to stop.
"No really!" He insists, "I know you think I was different or… or not there or whatever but… I never forgot you Amy, ever. I love you, don't I?"
There are tears in Amy's eyes as she reviews him.
Her gaze lingers on his face and then travels down to his hands and she mutters – "You're really shaking."
"I'm fine." He says, perhaps too forcefully. "I haven't had breakfast yet."
He tries to force himself to sit still. He tries to force his skin to stop trembling and his palms to stop sweating and his skin to stop switching from hot to cold and the nausea to go away. Because he can't fuck this up. He has to get Amy and the kids back.
"Ste," Amy breathes – and her voice has what Ste always used to refer to as the 'teacher tone'… where she sounds dead serious and orders his complete attention.
"What?" He says, nervous… defensiveness creeping in.
"I don't want Leah and Lucas to have the life that you had when you were a kid." She says gravely, "I don't want them to have a parent who's only half there when he's speaking to them."
"I know."
"And you don't want that either, do you?"
Ste takes a deep breath – is torn between agreeing with what he knows is true… and shouting bloody murder. THEY'RE MY KIDS, I CAN SEE THEM WHENEVER I WANT!
"…. No." He answers shakily after a moment.
"I know that… today you're okay, and you're sober and that's good. But that doesn't mean you will be tomorrow. And I'm not naïve enough to think it does, and Brendan shouldn't be either."
Ste feels tears prickle in the backs of his eyes. He's losing. This isn't going the way he wants it to go, and the worst thing is Amy's right. Just like she always is. He's in no fit state to be a father to those kids, not yet, and that's the worst thing about all of this.
"I'm really tryin'." He says tearfully… but it sounds feeble and pointless.
"I know, Ste, and I'm so proud of you. I am. I am."
"I'm gonna get better."
"I know. I believe you."
She really sounds like she does, and it's comforting.
"And I can see them then?" He says slowly, choosing his battle, "When I'm completely better?"
"Yes."
Again, he feels that she means it. He feels a smile shimmer on his own lips.
"Doug said they miss me… is that true?"
"Yeah!" Amy cries, full of over-the-top enthusiasm that doesn't meet her eyes. Like she's talking to a child.
But Ste needs to hear it– doesn't even care that he's being patronised. He just wants Amy to keep talking like this because he doesn't have enough strength or hope in him to do it on his own.
"And do they miss Brendan?" He presses.
But then Amy goes quiet.
All it takes is that moment of silence for Ste's whole resolve to feel like its crumbling on tenderhooks, and he internally pleads with her – say yes. Tell me they miss Brendan like mad, that you want to give Brendan another chance, that Brendan and I are destined for success, that I can marry Brendan like a normal person and we'll live happily ever after.
"Ste…" Amy says, reluctantly "What I said about them not having the life you did… that includes abusive step-parents."
Ste feels that lurch, like when one misses a step.
"What are you tryin' to…"
He's interrupted by his phone ringing. He grabs it; desperate to hear the low Irish drawl that settles him in an instant.
But it's not Brendan.
"Steven Hay?"
"Yeah?"
"Your boyfriend has been admitted into hospital."
XOXOXOX
Ste feels his heart is in his throat as he tears through the corridors of the hospital. He can't understand… the man on the phone said Brendan had head injuries… how had he got head injuries when he was at the solicitors?!
The receptionist is excruciatingly slow in responding to his demand for directions. Her eyes peer over her glasses at him with concern, and she says "Are you okay, sir? Are you here to see a specialist?"
"W…what? No!" Ste snaps irritably, dismissing the woman's words and insisting, "I wanna find the head injury unit!"
Once he's found out he tears into the ward, nearly taking down two nurses in the process. So quick he is that his mind takes about thirty seconds to catch up with his legs:
He blinks stupidly… reviewing Andy in the hospital bed.
"Alright stranger?" Andy says silkily. His voice is cracked with pain and injury. His head is bandaged. His face blooded and bruised.
"Andy…" Ste whispers, finding it hard to find his voice.
"You look surprised."
Ste tries to think back to the phonecall… Had the man actually specified that Brendan was in hospital? Or was this some kind of sick joke?
"I… I thought they said Brendan was here…" He mutters numbly, but then realises… "They said my boyfriend was here."
"Well I am your boyfriend…" Andy says, as though it's obvious, "Till further update."
Ste doesn't know what to do. He just hovers awkwardly in the doorway… reeling. His mind feels fucked; a mixture of confusion and fading panic. He doesn't know whether to shout, run or feel concern. How the hell did Andy… strong, thuggish Andy… get himself beaten up?
"You look like shit, baby." Andy interrupts his thought stream, "Fuck is up with you?"
"Could ask you the same thing." Ste mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow; the wetness of withdrawal.
"Some psycho fuck paid me a visit."
Ste tries to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach.
"What… like a deal gone wrong or somethin'?" He asks, willing that to be true.
Andy smiles gently.
"I always liked that about you, baby." He says.
"What?"
"That you're thick as fuck."
Ste grits his teeth, spins on his heel, snaps, "Right, I'm goin'!"
"It was your tash-man playmate!" Andy confirms loudly, making Ste fall to a halt in the doorway.
For a second all he hears is white noise… the internal ringing of fury and anger that can transcend itself into a fist against flesh. The cloud of red that used to have him beat and torture.
Brendan's betrayed him.
Gone against his wishes.
Lied. Potentially jeopardised his freedom from bars.
And with it, their relationship.
He feels his fists tremble in his tracksuit pockets, and for the first time it's nothing to do with the withdrawal.
But his voice comes out surprisingly steady when he breathes, "Have you told the police?"
"I dunno. Depends if you want me to."
"Why would I want you to?"
"Well I dunno – I've got no idea what's goin' on with you and that fuckin' psycho, do I?! You hated 'im, last I 'eard! I thought you and me were together, baby. Only two fucking years, but then you're gone, fucked off – and I've got no idea whether he's kidnapped you or what! What am I supposed to think?!"
Ste blinks… had never even thought about it like that. Between reacquainting with Brendan and the pains of getting clean, he'd never even considered his haze of a life back with Andy… struggles to even remember what it entailed.
"I'm… I'm back with Brendan." He says simply. "Together, I mean."
He suddenly feels like he's breaking up with somebody, and it's bizarre. He never even really had that kind of relationship with Andy… not really… but they were together. And Andy's right… he had just taken off without a word.
"Right." Andy reflects, "Thanks for finally lettin' me know."
"I'm sorry."
Should he be apologising? Andy burnt down Brendan's flat, after all. And treated Ste like shit when they were together, not that Ste really has a right to complain about that, seeing as he didn't at the time.
"As long as you're happy, baby, that's all that matters." Andy says, "At least I know now, eh?!"
"Yeah." Ste says. He can't think of any other words.
"I was gettin' fuckin' worried about ya!" Andy chuckles joylessly. "Listen baby – I need you to do me a favour. I got a stash back at mine, yeah, I need you to bring it here for me; I'm gaggin'."
"No, I can't!" Ste insists automatically, physically backing away from Andy's bed, "I can't – I'm clean now."
Andy scoffs. "I'm not askin' you to snort it, I'm askin' you to bring it here!"
Ste feels a wave of panic. Even the mention of the substance has his body reacting with vigorous need – surging in pain and desperation, itching and prickling harshly. His stomach moans and winds agonizingly as if begging him for its food… its drug.
"Y…you can't have it here anyway," he tries to reason weakly, "They'll see ya – they won't let ya."
"They've already figured out I'm on the smack, kidda, it's hardly a fuckin' secret is it?!"
"Well… can't you get one of your mates to bring it?"
"Right. Fine." Andy sighs, "Take my key, yeah? Go to the flat and tell one of the lads to get down 'ere – sharpish. I'm not messin' about!"
Ste hesitates… eyes wavering towards the flat keys on the side table.
If he does this for Andy… then maybe they'll be even. Maybe everything will be okay again.
Ste's hands linger and he picks up the keys… leaves them hovering in midair above the surface.
"Andy… you're not gonna tall the police about what Brendan did to you, are ya?" He whispers.
Andy scoffs – sees right through him, "You ain't tryin' to blackmail me, baby, are ya? You wouldn't do that to me."
"Please." Ste pleads shakily. "Please Andy… I…"
"I what?"
"I can't lose him again." Ste admits quietly.
Andy reflects on these words… really looks at Ste. Ste doesn't know if he's even ever had a conversation with Andy like this before. Amidst their constant haze of being annihilated it seems unlikely. The moment now is intense in a way it has never been with them before.
"Please." He whispers again. He'll get on his knees and beg if he has to.
"I wouldn't do that to you, baby." Andy replies – his voice crackling softly off the walls. "Besides, I hate the fuckin' feds, don't I?"
"Yeah."
"Just get the boys to bring me my stash, won't ya?"
"Yeah."
"And if you ever get fed up of tash-man… I'm still gaggin' for it."
"…Yeah." Ste mutters… but he's distracted now…
…In the window behind Andy's bed, Ste sees Brendan striding down the hospital corridors, his eyes scanning each room frantically.
Brendan's eyes finally find Ste… his expression unreadable.
"I've gotta go." Ste says… already marching from the room.
The cloud of red is back. He's angry… fucking furious… LIVID…
His body is shaking and alive with emotion unlike anything he's felt for years.
"Get the FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" He screams… tearing his throat apart with the sheer volume of it as Brendan reaches out for him.
"The hell are you doin' here – I said wait at Amy's!" Brendan cries.
As if he's angry.
As if he's got a god damn right to be angry.
"You went behind my back – I told you NOT to go near 'im!"
"Shhhh!" Brendan hisses, "Keep yer voice down, will ye?!"
"No, just GET LOST Brendan!" Ste shouts.
He shoves Brendan hard out of his way and storms through the hospital – doesn't care which way he's going. He feels hot… BOILING… sweat polluting his forehead and neck and chest, so much that he feels dizzy with it, nausea creeping up his gut and throat.
The power of his fear is overwhelming – his fear of losing Brendan, of losing his life and watching it helplessly spiral all over again.
"Shit…" He gasps as the walls fade brightly in and out of focus around him.
He keeps walking as fast as he can… can barely see anything but bright spots in his eyes and, shit, he's going to be sick.
"Steven!"
"Go away!" He moans – but his voice is faint and distorted in his own ears, "I'm not talkin' to you!"
He leans on the wall for support and now he feels freezing – just like that, in a split second.
He moans and everything's bright – too bright – and then hands are clasping him and everything's back in full focus – SCREAMING at him with Brendan's bastard face close up against his own.
"Woah, woah – you're okay! You're okay!" Brendan insists.
But he's not okay. He needs a fix – NOW. There's no time to waste; his body is betraying his willpower and physically punishing him.
He tries to swallow – push down the overwhelming sickness that threatens to erupt… but he can't.
He retches, vomits. Trembles, sweats, freezes, vomits and reels… doesn't know how best to use his words; to beg for a hit or to beg Brendan to get the hell away from him.
"Alright," Brendan soothes, and he's rubbing his back as though Ste hasn't just screamed at him, "It's alright, Steven."
"Sir… is everything okay?" The distance voice of a nurse.
"It's fine – he hates blood, that's all." Brendan explains.
This seems to satisfy the nurse because Ste hears her high heels clip-clopping briskly away from him. The sound pounds through his skull loudly.
"Need…I… Get OFF!" Ste moans.
"I know you're angry at me but I can't leave ye like this, Steven."
"No, I'm goin' to Andy's." He decides.
He uses the wall to pull himself off the floor… wipes his mouth numbly with the back of his hand and heads towards the fire escape… anything for cold fresh air.
There's a stash at Andy's. That's what he needs. Can't see any other alternative in this moment because he can't live like this… with this sickness and pain. He can't live with Brendan and the constant fear he's going to lose him again. So he'll take it all back… slip the needle in… make it all go away once more.
"I said GO AWAY!" He screams when Brendan follows him.
"Okay listen, I know I messed up, Steven, but I had to make that guy know he can't treat ye the way he did, okay?! I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand!"
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO! I TOLD YOU!"
"I know and I'm sorry okay?!"
He doesn't sound sorry. Just irritated.
"Christ sake, Steven, I did it for US!"
"NO! Nothin' you EVER do is for us, Brendan! If you were thinkin' of me you'd of NEVER gone round there!"
"A guy like Andy isn't gonna tell the police; c'mon, the man lives in a drug-den!"
"WE DON'T KNOW THAT!"
He doesn't think he's ever felt so angry – so terrified. This is why he should have never let Brendan back in his life; because now the prospect of removing him is too much to bear.
But Brendan acts like he doesn't care about that. He's brazen and careless and a FUCKING STUPID ARSEHOLE LIAR.
"Where are you going?" Brendan sighs… still following.
He doesn't know where he is or where he's going, all he knows is that he needs to keep walking – away from Brendan, towards the drugs.
"Steven, stop."
"I need to do up."
"Oh yeah. Yeah I can see how you came to THAT conclusion!" Brendan shouts after him, angry again now, "Just go get fucked up, just give up after everything - that's a really smart idea!"
"Why shouldn't I?!" Ste demands, "Why should I do ANYTHING for you when you won't do owt for me?!"
"I'm doing EVERYTHING for you!"
Ste grabs the car door, tries to yank it open but it won't budge.
"Steven, what the hell are ye doin'?!" Brendan cries, concerned now. And he grabs Ste, firmly this time, so that when Ste fights back it has no effect… and Brendan's dragging him away from the car…
"GET OFF!"
"If ye don't want the police gettin' involved you might not wanna steal someones fucking car!" Brendan yells, teeth grit with the struggle to keep Ste under control.
He doesn't care whose car it is.
If it's not Brendan's, it doesn't matter… he just needs to get AWAY… away NOW.
"Stop fightin' me, Steven!" Brendan pants.
Ste feels his back hit the brick wall of the hospital and he fights but he feels weak and limp and doesn't stand a chance as Brendan holds him firmly by the shoulders – restraining him.
He's losing power. Losing will. He can't maintain this level of vigour with his muscles screaming out in distress like they are.
He's in agony.
He gives up. He slumps like the puppet of Brendan's manoeuvre.
He feels tears prickle in the back of his eyes and nausea wallow in his belly and he can't cope with this anymore; he can't do it.
"It's okay." Brendan sighs.
His forehead rests against Ste's. Fresh and cold against the burning sweat.
He slowly lets go of Ste, but Ste doesn't have the energy to fight anymore.
"It's okay, Steven. This is the worst of it I promise and then it's all gonna be over, okay?"
Ste shakes his head vigorously. It won't ever be over, it never is.
"I swear, jus' a couple more days and then it'll get easier." Brendan insists.
Ste can't even bring himself to talk. He wants to shout and scream and make Brendan realise what he's doing to him…
But his voice is small and exhausted when he moans, "I hate you."
"I know." Brendan sighs. He flinches though, in his expression. Presses his fingers to his temple as if curing a major headache, and that headache is Ste.
"I hate this power you have over me." Ste sniffs weakly.
Because it's true.
Now more than ever, Brendan holds all of the power to either make or break Steven.
Trouble is, Brendan has only ever broken what he loves.
"I'm gonna make it better." Brendan whispers, "I promise."
"You can't. I can't do it Brendan; I can't." Tears roll freely down his cheeks now.
"Just a couple more days, and then I'm gonna spend the rest my life makin' you glad you gave it up." Brendan says, "I know I screwed up today, Steven, but that's not gonna happen again – I'm gonna be with you, okay? All the time if you want me to be."
"I can't do a couple more days."
"You can."
"I can't lose you again." The tears roll harder at the thought. The fear still consumes him… a rigid terror because he doesn't work without Brendan and he's so scared of that fact.
"You're not going to." Brendan wraps an arm around Ste's neck, drags him in to a strong hold so that Ste's tears wet Brendan's neck. "Hey – listen to me. You're not gonna lose me, okay? I'm not gonna let that happen again."
He so wants that to be true. Needs it to be.
He raises his arms and clings to the back of Brendan's leather coat – physically clings and thinks he'll never let go.
His body's drawn to Brendan in the exact same way it is to the needle – like he'll die without it. Trouble is he can't have both. And right now he's chosen Brendan… chosen to get in his car and go to Cheryl's and spend a night in hellish agony. Aching, sweating, crying, trembling, vomiting, yearning. Cursing, shouting, crying, blaming, shoving and blackmailing. But Brendan puts up with every bit of it – holds him and supports him throughout the night like he'll be with him all the time, just like he said.
