The first thing that Ste notices about Brendan Brady is the large dark moustache that almost dominates his face. He's never seen anything like it, the length of it, the way it lies down the corners of his mouth.
Brendan is sitting on the previously unoccupied bed, and he stares up at him when Ste approaches, his eyes trailing down from his face to his body. It makes Ste bite his bottom lip, feeling that every inch of him is being assessed. It's different to the way Warren was looking at him before, his eyes full of barely concealed judgement. Brendan's expression is neutral, closed off, and Ste wonders what Brendan sees when he looks at him.
He's slimmer than Warren, but appears stronger somehow. He's wearing a vest, his arms on display, and Ste takes in the sight of them, his broad shoulders, the large cross tattoo that's on his right arm. A religious murderer.
He looks in his early thirties like Ste had guessed, and his skin is pale, dark shadows under his eyes. He reminds Ste of someone who works in a garage, rough, and he can easily picture Brendan covered in grease and oil. He can already tell that he definitely wasn't a choir boy in a former life.
"Hello roomie," Brendan says in a thick Irish accent, and Ste wonders why it sounds like a threat.
"Hi, I'm Ste," he replies, holding out his hand, like it's a habit he's picked up from Ethan and Doug.
Brendan stares at his hand, then looks up at him, never breaking eye contact for less than a second. Ste drops his arm, fidgeting with it nervously, trying to pretend that he wasn't just rejected.
"Close the door, then. You're letting the draft in."
The idea of shutting them in together fills Ste with dread, but he does as he's told, and the door clangs shut ominously.
It's suddenly quiet, and Ste finds himself longing for the noise from the other prisoners for the first time since his arrival. All he can hear is the frantic drumming of his own heartbeat, and he doesn't know whether to watch Brendan, to make sure that he's not going to shove him against the wall and beat the living daylights out of him, or to avoid his gaze, lest he offends him somehow.
He settles for something in between, sitting on the bed and looking at the floor one minute, and Brendan's dark eyes the next.
Brendan lies on his bed once more, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back on them. Ste can see the hair under his armpits then, more hairy than any man he's ever seen before, some peeking through the top of his vest too. He feels ridiculously insubstantial next to him, and draws his knees up to his chest, hugging them. No wonder the guards were laughing. I must look like his twelve year old son.
Ste longs to break the silence. The idea of making conversation with a killer makes him feel sick, but right now it's preferential to getting on the wrong side of him. He finds himself wishing that it was Doug here instead. He already feels at ease with him, can't imagine the American hurting anyone.
"So...you're Irish." Ste feels instantly stupid, and thinks this may rival the "I carried a watermelon" scene that Amy made him watch a thousand times from Dirty Dancing.
He thinks he hears Brendan snort.
"Good observation, boy."
Boy. It reminds him of Terry, the way that he'd reduce him to less than a person by that word alone.
"Well I've never met an Irish person before, me. I mean obviously I've seen them on tv, but that's not really the same, is it?"
Brendan leans on his elbow to look at him. "You talk a lot."
"I've only said like two words..."
"Two words too many."
Ste closes his mouth, but he feels distinctly irritated. It's going to be a long few months if Brendan won't even let him talk.
He turns to his side, facing the wall and away from Brendan. He's not even hungry but he wishes that it was lunchtime already. Anything to make the time pass quicker.
"I didn't even introduce myself, boy."
Ste slowly turns back to look at him, surprised. "I already know who you are."
Brendan smirks. "I bet you do. They've probably told you the lot, haven't they? Name, age, date of birth, former address?"
Ste stares at him, confused.
"You think I don't know the kind of stories that get told about me here?"
Stories. Ste doesn't understand that. It's not exactly a story if it's true.
"Well maybe I heard a few things," he concedes.
"From who?"
Ste shakes his head.
"Ah, I get it. Not a snitch, right? That's smart. You've learnt the rules already."
It's not a rule that prison has taught him. It's a rule his whole life has taught him.
"So what's my name then?"
"Brendan Brady."
Brendan laughs.
"What?" Ste says self consciously.
"The way you say things. That accent of yours. Jesus. Straight from the gutter."
The gutter. Like he's some kind of rat.
"You going to tell me who you are, then?"
"Ste Hay."
"Ste?" Brendan's forehead creases. "What kind of name is Ste?"
He feels heat rising to his cheeks, the fact that he's being mocked striking him like an iron fist.
"What's wrong with that?" He asks, anger creeping through.
Brendan knows he's touched a nerve, but he merely looks amused.
"It's not a proper name. It's like half of a name. What's your full one, boy?"
"Can you stop calling me that?" Ste raises his voice. "I'm not a boy. I'm twenty three."
Brendan glances down at his body, as if saying you're anything but.
"I'll stop calling you boy when you tell me what your proper name is."
Ste rolls his eyes, knows that he'll never hear the end of it.
"Fine then. It's Steven, but no one ever calls me -"
"Steven. Steven." Brendan says it like he's rolling it on his tongue. "I like that. That, Steven, is a proper name."
Ste hates it. It reminds him of his mum calling him it when she was yelling at him to get another bottle of vodka for her, or when Amy's in a mood with him.
"Everyone calls me Ste."
"Well I'm not everyone, am I? I'll call you whatever I want."
Ste wants to scream. Suddenly the fact that he's stuck in here with a bastard outweighs the fact that he's a murderer.
"What do I call you then?" Ste mutters under his breath, so low that he doesn't think Brendan will hear, although a part of him wants him to. "Your highness?"
"You're a mouthy one, aren't you?" Brendan says, and Ste expects him to look furious, but his eyes are sparkling, like this is a game they're playing.
"I'm just honest."
"Really? Nicking some frozen pizza from a shop doesn't seem very honest, Steven."
Ste's eyes widen. "How did you..."
"I'm not the only one people talk about here. Some guys on my floor heard there was a new boy coming in. Wanted to know what you'd done."
Ste wonders how the news could have spread that fast. Doug wouldn't have told anyone, would he? Ste guesses that it's come from Warren, that he's heard it from Ethan and now bandied it about for the entire prison population to know.
"So what was it, hmmm? Were you bored, is that it? Thought you'd get your kicks from stealing some sweets from the local shop?"
Ste stays silent, hating the tone of Brendan's voice, the way he presumes to know what kind of life he led.
"Or was it for a girl? Thought you'd impress her, did you? Swipe some make up for her -"
"Shut up, okay?" Ste shouts, sitting up on his bed. "You think you know everything, don't you? Well I didn't do it for fucking sweets, Brendan. And yeah, maybe I did do it for a girl. For the mother of my kids actually, because I couldn't afford to get them the things they needed. And I know I shouldn't of done it, but you do what you have to for your family, don't you?" Not that you'd understand that. You killed yours.
Ste gasps for breath, feels like he's just released something that was burning inside of him, something that he wanted to say to the jury during his trial. He knows what they were thinking about him, knows that they thought him some silly kid who was trouble, that he was stealing from the state, that he wouldn't amount to anything. It was horrible to see his own fears reflected back at him like that.
Brendan stands up and moves closer to him, stopping when he's at the foot of the bed, staring down at Ste. He'd thought Warren was intimidating, but it was nothing like this. Brendan can make him shiver with one look.
"You ever tell me to shut up again, and I'll break your arm," he promises, and Ste doesn't for a second think he's not telling the truth.
He cowers in the corner of his bed, despising what he's been reduced to, but he daren't answer back, not again, not with Brendan looking like he could rip him apart with his hands.
"Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good," Brendan nods, seemingly satisfied. He sits back down on his bed. There's silence, and Ste thinks that's it, it's back to ignoring each other, but then Brendan asks quietly, "How many kids do you have?"
Ste wonders if he should tell him, wonders if it's safe to give him anymore personal details. Brendan may be here on a life sentence, but as far as Ste knows he could have a million and one cronies on the outside, willing to do his bidding. If he gets Amy and the kids into trouble...
"Two," he says, thinking that much won't hurt.
"At your age?"
"Well one's not...one's not mine," he admits. It feels strange saying it, because Leah is his. He cooks breakfast for her, takes her to school. He buys her clothes, gives her a bath, brushes away her tears, comforts her when she falls over or falls out with a friend.
"You're raising someone else's kid?"
"Yeah, but...well she's my daughter, isn't she? The dad hasn't even met her."
Brendan's quiet, and Ste wonders if he's judging him, if he's thinking typical council estate family, a girl with two kids with two different dads.
"That's...decent of you, Steven."
Ste doesn't understand Brendan, doesn't get how he can go from being almost nice to him, to threatening to inflict bodily damage, and back again. Maybe this is the way psychopaths work.
"Er...yeah, well you know, it's just the way it is."
Ste wants to ask about his family, if he's even got any left who want to talk to him. His mum would disown him if he ever hurt Terry. Except she already has disowned me. Ste shakes the thought from his mind. He hasn't thought about his mum properly in years, and he's not about to start now. That's the problem with prison, though. There seems to be an endless amount of time in front of him to just think.
Brendan stands up and Ste flinches. He realises he's become like a frightened mouse in the short amount of time that he's been in here, aware of every sudden movement. Especially every one that Brendan's making.
He goes to the bucket, and Ste's shocked when he starts undoing his flies without any warning. His eyes are rooted to him until Brendan turns, and fixes him with a look.
"You going to watch the show, or..."
"Sorry, sorry," Ste mumbles, and turns away, staring at a spot on the wall. He can feel himself blush, and he tries to count to ten, to calm his embarrassment. There's something about Brendan that makes him uncomfortable. Ste doesn't want to look like an idiot in front of him. Brendan's clearly top dog around these parts from what Doug says, and he can't afford to get on the wrong side of him, or make Brendan think that he's an easy ride.
He can hear Brendan peeing in the bucket loudly, and it seems to go on forever. Ste feels like a fool for listening, but he can't not listen. There's nowhere to escape. He's hoping he can hold his bladder long enough to somehow go to the toilet when Brendan's not here. It's a humiliating thought.
He's intensively relieved when it's lunchtime, almost falling out of his cell to get to the dining room, trying to move out of Brendan's sight as quickly as possible. Lunch looks just as disgusting as breakfast, but he fills up his plate as full as they'll allow, and finds Ethan and Doug sitting at the same table as earlier. He wonders if people here have their own chosen territory, and anyone who sits down without permission is forced to leave.
"Alright, Ste? You met Brendan then? We heard he came down," Doug says, looking pensive.
He's glad for the concern, appreciates that someone here is looking out for him.
"Yeah. He's..." Ste wonders how he can possibly describe him. "Moody."
Doug and Ethan laugh. "That's Brady," Ethan says. "Man of one word answers, a permanent frown on his face."
Ste tries to hide his surprise. Sure, Brendan is hardly the giggling type - the idea of it makes Ste want to laugh - but there had been amusement in his eyes. It had looked like he'd actually enjoyed teasing him.
"As long as he hasn't tried to hurt you," Doug asks, surveying him.
"Not yet," Ste says darkly, knowing that it could be a whole different ball game by tonight, when there are less guards patrolling. He has the horrifying image of Brendan strangling him in his sleep.
"Don't make the guy sick, Doug. Look Ste, all you need to remember is to aim for the guy's eyes if he tries to kill you. Just poke him right in the centre - he'll be blind as a bat, you'll still be breathing. Sorted."
Ste wonders if this is some kind of a joke. "Are you meant to be giving me advice on how to blind someone?"
Ethan shrugs. "It's not like I'm ever going back into the police force."
"Look can we just stop talking about people killing me and me poking someone's eyes out. It's putting me even more off my lunch."
Ethan holds his hands up in defense. Ste can barely look him in the eyes after what Doug had told him before. He's been in Ethan's position, getting the shit kicked out of him everyday of his life. He doesn't know if he could sleep with someone he despised though, but then what if his life depended on it? Maybe Ethan simply gave up.
Ste goes to clear his tray away, staring around the room, taking everything in. He can't believe that some of these men have been here for years, and some are most likely going to die here, or be released when they're old, when people they love have moved on, even passed away. At least he has a life in front of him, even if it's an uncertain one. Nothing's going to stop him from being released in a few months.
Among the groups of men Ste spots Brendan, and moves out of the way of people blocking him, trying to take a closer look. He wants to know if a guy like him has any friends, or if he's a loner in this place like Ste suspects he is.
The table he's sitting on is full, but Brendan only seems to be talking to one other person, turned away from the others. He looks deep in conversation with a man with light brown hair which goes down to his ears, and a small silver hooped earring.
Ste moves a step forward to see them more clearly, and it's then that he slips on the floor, almost falling flat on his back. Before he knows what's happening he's being held up by a firm pair of arms, and settled on his feet.
"Woah, be careful! You could have hurt yourself."
He's surprised to see a female prison officer with her arm still on him, looking at him concernedly. Her accent is Irish like Brendan's, although they sound like they're from different regions. He's barely seen any women working here, and it's almost a relief to see someone who's as small as him.
"Sorry, I was distracted. Thanks for helping me."
She smiles at him, seeming as pleasantly surprised by his soft tone as he is by hers.
"No problem. Are you new here?"
Does everyone know? Ste's starting to worry that he sticks out like a sore thumb, that he looks like Bambi searching for its mother.
"Yes. Just came yesterday."
"Welcome." She seems to know that there's nothing welcoming about this place, but Ste admires her effort. "I'm Lynsey."
"Ste." He's getting tired of all these introductions, and can foresee a million more, but it's hard to be rude to Lynsey, with her long dark hair, green eyes and milky white skin. She reminds him of a china doll.
"Nice to meet you, Ste. Try not to trip over next time, yeah?" She waves and continues monitoring the lunch line, and by the time Ste looks back to Brendan and his mystery companion, they're gone.
"I see you met Lynsey," Ethan says, coming up behind him and dumping his empty plate, Doug following.
"She seemed nice."
"Oh yes, she's very...nice. Everyone in this place is after her though, so don't get your hopes up."
Ste hadn't even considered it. The last thing he wants is some kind of twisted prison romance with a copper, even if guys like Warren purposefully hunt it out.
"Don't worry, I won't."
"Besides, Doug would have something to say if you did, wouldn't you Dougie?" Ethan turns to grin at him, and Doug grimaces.
"Do you have to keep doing that?"
"I'll stop when you stop having a massive boner for her."
"Ethan! You're so gross."
Ste watches Doug's cheeks flush pink as Ethan laughs next to him.
He turns to Ste and whispers conspiratorially, "He's had a crush on her since he arrived. Guy's one step away from creating a Lynsey shrine, decorating it with candles and running in a circle chanting."
Doug tries to laugh it off, but Ste can see that he's having difficulty.
"I wanted to ask you something," Ste says, breaking off Ethan's high pitched laughter.
Doug is like a dog with a bone. "Sure, anything, ask away."
"I saw Brendan sitting in here a minute ago. He was speaking to this guy. Longish hair, about Brendan's age -"
"With an earring?"
"That's the one. Who is he?"
Ethan looks between him and Doug. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"
"I'll tell him. You have to go and meet Warren anyway, don't you?"
Ethan's face darkens instantly, the joy that was previously there vanishing. "Yes. I should go, I don't want to be late."
Ste's stomach tightens when he thinks how true that probably is.
When Ethan's gone, Ste looks at Doug uneasily. "It feels wrong, just watching while he -"
"I know. Trust me, I feel ill every time I think about it. But he told me that this is his choice, Ste. There's nothing I can do about it."
"Can't you...I don't know, tell one of the guards?" Ste asks desperately.
"What are they going to do? They know this kind of stuff happens, and they do nothing to stop it. They can't watch us twenty four hours a day. And even if they did intervene, Warren would find out. He'd make sure I'd die for it, trust me."
Ste doesn't want to push it, couldn't bear if someone got hurt because of him.
"Sorry. I know this must be crap for you as well."
Doug doesn't say anything, and Ste gets it. There are no words to say how hard it is.
"So anyway, the guy with Brendan," he continues, wanting to distract him.
"I don't want to be the one to deliver more bad news, but that guy he was with..." He stares at Ste apologetically.
"Oh fuck, he's this Walker guy, isn't he?"
Doug nods, and Ste lets out a loud groan.
"Great, so out of all the people he could have been mates with, he chooses the other leader of this place?"
"Well that's the thing about these kind of guys, Ste. They tend to stick together like that."
Ste had expected them to hate each others guts, to have some feud spanning years, not to see Brendan and Walker casually eating chips side by side, looking one step away from lovingly feeding them to each other.
"I don't stand a chance, do I?"
After lunchtime Ste's introduced to his first lesson of the day. He had expected it at young offenders when some of the lads were still young enough to have compulsory education, but not here. He hadn't thought it would be particularly important to people who he imagines had skipped school on a regular basis, so he's surprised when the first class he goes to is packed.
He's decided to choose English, reckons that maybe he can even retake the GCSEs that he failed at. He wonders if he's lost when he steps into the room and sees Lynsey standing in front of a room of at least thirty men. He only moves closer when she beckons him encouragingly.
"I thought you were an officer," he stutters.
"Not quite. We all wear the same type of uniform here, so it's an easy mistake to make. I teach English here though."
He should have known that someone as young and pretty as her wouldn't be patrolling the floors, breaking up fights.
"Take a seat, Ste."
Doug sits at the back of the class, smiling at him and taking his bag off the seat he'd saved. Ste almost wishes he wasn't here, doesn't want to see his face when he has problems with his writing, jumbling up the words. His anxiety about it makes his hand shake when he holds a pencil and writes the date.
He can tell that Lynsey is trying to ease everyone into this slowly. She's a natural teacher, managing to not patronise them, while still working out each individuals skill set so she doesn't overwhelm anyone. She seems genuinely interested in the subject, which Ste can't personally understand, but her passion makes him listen, out of some kind of immediate, strange respect for her.
It's nothing compared to the rapt attention that Doug pays to her though. Ste soon forgets about worrying about Doug noticing the way he reads and writes. His entire focus seems to be on Lynsey, and he follows every movement she makes with his eyes. When she drops a book he runs to the front of the class to pick it up for her, even though it would probably have been quicker if she'd done it herself.
Ste knows what Ethan means now. That shrine suddenly isn't sounding so ridiculous.
At the end of the lesson Ste looks down at his work. His handwriting is messy, almost illegible now even to him, and he bets that he's got nearly every spelling wrong. He glances at Doug's work. Even in his Lynsey induced haze he's managed to fill up his A4 sheet, handwriting all joined up neatly.
As the men file out of the classroom they hand their work to Lynsey, and Ste can see how excited they are, how they want her approval, a few even thanking her for the lesson.
When Doug's back is turned Ste hurriedly crumples his work in his palm, and shoves it away in his pocket. He stays at the back of the classroom as Doug walks up to Lynsey. He hears them talk in quiet voices for a moment, then she briefly touches Doug's arm, and he leaves, motioning to Ste that he'll wait outside for him.
Ste knows he won't get out unnoticed. He should of been the first one out of there. At least that way he could have slipped out without alerting Lynsey to his presence.
She smiles at him, and he hates that she has to be so nice about this.
"How did you find your first lesson, Ste?"
He should feel like a boy, a little boy who's been spoken down to, but somehow he doesn't. It's like she really wants to know.
"It was fine." None of his other teachers ever understood about his dyslexia, never even asked him about him. Why should she?
"Can I have your work, please?"
"No."
Lynsey blinks, clearly not expecting that, not from him. He feels like he's disappointed her, and that somehow matters.
"Why not?"
Because I'm useless and stupid and can't do anything.
"I just didn't want to do it."
"I saw you writing, Ste. When I came round the class you had a piece of paper in front of you -"
"Stop pushing it!" He demands, anger bubbling at the surface.
"Ste, I was just -"
"Look I said I didn't want to do it, alright? I'm in prison, I'm not in fucking school all over again!"
He walks out of the classroom, his hands curled into knuckles, his face red and hot.
He wants to tell her that it's not her he's angry with. She's not the one who dropped out of school or got a girl pregnant. She's not the one who hit the person he was meant to be caring for, the person he was meant to love. She's not the one who's found herself behind bars again, sharing a cell with someone who people fear.
It's not until he feels a hand grab his arm that he remembers that Doug waited for him, that he's most probably heard the entire conversation.
"Wait a second," he says, racing after Ste.
"Let go of me." Ste tries to shrug him off, but Doug merely continues to follow him, not giving up.
"How could you speak to Lynsey like that? She was just trying to do her job, Ste. She's a good teacher, a good person, she doesn't need crap like that."
Ste rounds on him, furious. "Just because you have some of crush on her doesn't mean that we all have to lick her shoes! I'm not some sixteen year old at school, Doug. I shouldn't have to do these stupid classes."
"That's the whole point, you don't have to. You chose to do it, and then you go and pull a stunt like that?"
"Just leave me alone."
"No." Doug pulls him firmly to face him, two hands on both his shoulders. "I'm not just saying this for her. I'm saying it for you too. If you do anything else like that Tony's going to hear about it. Your sentence can be extended."
"What, for shouting at someone?" Ste says dismissively, but now the thought's in his head it's starting to worry him. He hadn't even considered that he'd be stuck in this place for longer over something which seems so minor.
Doug can see him calming down, and he drops his hands from Ste's body. "Please, just...don't do that again, yeah? I'm saying this as a friend, Ste."
A friend. Ste grabs hold of his words like they're his oxygen. One of his biggest fears when he'd heard the guilty verdict had been the possibility of being all alone, of having no one to talk to.He knows it's not wise to trust someone he's only just met, but there's something about Doug. He believes what he'd said to him at breakfast about people making mistakes sometimes. Ste bets there isn't a single day that goes by that Doug doesn't think about the girl who'd died after he dealt to her.
"Yeah. I'm...sorry." Ste feels like he's been saying that word a lot lately, like he's got in on loop. Every time it's true, but that doesn't mean it can always repair the damage.
"I'll apologise to Lynsey the next time I see her," he continues, trying to block out the memory of her face. He's surprised she isn't used to it, prisoners talking to her like she's shit, but the hurt had still been in her face at Ste's words.
Doug thanks him, looking like a weights been lifted off his shoulders. Ste's tempted to ask him how long he's been in love with Lynsey for, but their relationship has already taken a bruising, and he's not about to push it further.
When Ste goes back to his cell, he finds that he's not alone. And there's not just the two of them like he'd anticipated.
His bed's been taken by the body of Walker, who's lying flat on it, Brendan leaning on his, facing him. When Ste's footsteps sound their conversation ceases, and their eyes bore into him. He feels like he's intruded on something, and wishes he knew what they'd just been talking about.
A smile spreads slowly over Walker's face, and he stretches lazily in the bed, the movement revealing his midriff, tanned and toned. His frame is long and elegant, and he draws himself up to his full height when standing. Ste feels about two feet tall.
"So this is the boy you were telling me about, Brady?"
Brendan grunts, and Ste wets his lips, a nervous habit. Walker follows the path of his tongue, eyes blazing.
"Nice to met you, Ste," he says, all politeness. He smiles, baring his teeth, and it makes Ste think of a vampire.
"Was there something you wanted, Steven?" Brendan interrupts.
"I just...just thought I'd have a lie down."
"Aw, had a hard day have you sweetheart?" Walker questions, like he's a small child.
Sweetheart. Ste doesn't know what to say to that.
"Walker, our meeting's over. So if you could..." Brendan brushes him off with a flick of his hand.
Ste's wondering if his earlier assessment of their close friendship was misguided. Brendan is looking at him like he's an irritant.
"God, no one lets me have any fun around here." Walker sighs theatrically, his eyes never leaving Ste's. "You can call me Simon, Ste."
"Okay..." Ste trails off, wondering if he's meant to be grateful about this.
"I'll see you soon." He turns back to Brendan. "See you later, Brady."
Ste steps aside to let him through, and doesn't move again until he's sure that Walker's gone. He goes over to his bed, noticing the crinkle on the covers.
"Sorry about the bed," Brendan says, reading his mind. "That's Walker for you. Makes everyones house his home."
"It's hardly my house," Ste replies, looking around at the cell, at the chipped walls and lack of light.
"When you've got a life sentence this place becomes your house, trust me."
This is the first time they've broached the subject of Brendan's sentence, and Ste doesn't ask questions, waits to see if Brendan will open up about it. He's not entirely sure if he even wants him to, if he wants to see how a murderer's mind works. But a part of him needs to know that one all important question. Why.
"Do you ever get any visitors?" Ste asks tentatively, thinks that that's not too much, surely?
"My sister. Cheryl."
Ste's surprised that Brendan's said her name out loud, that he's shared a part of his life with him, however small. He hadn't expected it, not just that, but the fact that Brendan does have visitors. At the most he'd imagined a friend from the past, but a family member? He doesn't know how Cheryl can look Brendan in the eye after what he did to their father.
"That must be nice. I mean obviously not nice her having to come here, but to see her. Must be nice to catch up and stuff..." Ste finishes off lamely.
Brendan looks at him like he's crazy for a moment, then laughs, deep, throatily.
"I get what you mean, boy. It is what it is."
"What do you mean?" Ste probes, before he can stop himself.
"Nosy fellow, aren't you?"
Ste's about to open his mouth and say sorry for perhaps the hundredth time that day. No. If I keep on apologising that he's going to think I'm weak. That I can't stand up for myself.
"You don't have to tell me. It's just a question."
Brendan seems to consider this, staring at him thoughtfully. "It's...difficult. Seeing my sister." Ste doesn't doubt that.
"She gets upset when she comes here. I don't like seeing her in pain."
Ste thinks what a weird thing that is to hear from a killer. He doesn't know how Brendan's dad died, but he knows how this thing works. A shooting. A knife. Strangulation. It's not teddy bears and bunny rabbits.
"I..." Brendan hesitates, the words stuck in his throat. "I don't like her coming sometimes," he says quietly, almost a whisper.
"Why not?"
"She talks about...about my kids. Shows me pictures of them. You're alright with your two, Steven. Your sentence is what, two months? Three? I'm never getting out of this place. Not with the things I've done while I've been in here as well. You won't ever know what's it like. I get older and see my boys growing up. One day they'll leave school, they'll find their first jobs, they'll get girlfriends. I won't be able to go to their wedding, or see their children. They want nothing to do with me, and why would they?"
It's the most Ste's heard Brendan talk since he got here. He wasn't expecting something so raw, something ripped from the heart of him, Brendan sounding like he's choking.
He hadn't even thought that Brendan might have a family. Of course he should have known it could be a possibility, but after what he'd heard about the man, the image of him holding a child seemed terrifying.
"But...if your sister comes here, can't she convince them?"
Brendan shakes his head emphatically. "My ex has poisoned them against me. Tells them that I'm scum, that they can't come and visit. She's not wrong though."
Ste had never considered that he'd be sitting here, hearing a member of the prison elite tear himself to shreds.
"My Amy isn't exactly happy with me at the moment either." He's not sure if he expects that this will make anything better, but he can't take the weight of Brendan's grief, needs to numb it slightly with his own, even if it stings.
"Amy?"
"Yeah - the mother of my kids, Leah and Lucas." He realises he's revealed their names when it's too late. His earlier fears of Brendan getting someone on the outside to hunt down his family have subsided though, by the intimacy of Brendan's words. He has no idea if this is the truth or if the man's feeding him a pack of lies, but even if he is, Brendan looks like a person who's lived in the depths of hell, and Ste doesn't think you can fake that.
"The last time I saw her at court she was so mad at me. I think she just wanted to grab me and shake me, you know? Scream at me for everything I'd put her through. I wouldn't have blamed her. I doubt she'll come and visit me here." Saying it out loud for the first time makes it real, and Ste sinks lower onto his bed, the reality hitting him more and more. What if Amy takes away his kids like Brendan's ex did to him?
"How long have you been together? You and this Amy?" Brendan questions, shaking Ste out of his reverie.
"Oh - we're not together anymore. Not like that. We haven't been for years."
He hears Brendan's bed squeak as he turns over in it. When Ste looks at him he sees Brendan staring at him intently.
"Boy like you, you must have left a girl at home?"
Boy like you. Ste's never been anyones first choice, rather the person they're stuck with when the world looks too bleak for any other possibility.
"No. Just me," he says, thinking how true that feels right now.
Brendan continues looking at him, almost curiously.
"You snore, boy?" He says abruptly, disarming Ste.
"No..."
"Good. Because doors are locked at ten o'clock. We've got a long night ahead of us."