Brendan gazes up at the ceiling, counting all the cracks. There's too many though, and he loses the number in his head. He used to be great at maths, got a gold star at his eight times tables in school. He can still remember that if nothing else, could recite it all now at the speed of lightning, a constant reminder of his childhood that he can never erase.

He feels like he can still smell Walker in the room, can hear the sound of the man's voice reverberating in his head.

"I heard...about your dad. About what he did to you. I'm so sorry. Ste told me everything."

Brendan doesn't realise he's digging his nails into his flesh before he sees the blood in his palm. He gets up off the bed, washes the red away in the sink. A new mirror still hasn't been put in, and he's grateful for that, doesn't want to see the reflection staring back at him.

He's a monster. He thought that Steven had been something that had offered him light, someone who finally understood, made him realise that the world could be good again. But he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve anything that could replace pain with pleasure, and the boy had sensed that, had betrayed him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He told me, Brendan. About those awful things that your father did to you. The abuse...the rape."

He'd pushed Walker out of the cell with an unnerving sense of detachment, didn't even raise his voice, had just told him to get the fuck out, had already heard all he needed to know.

Steven had been the only person he'd trusted with what Seamus had done to him, and first chance he'd got he'd run to Simon, probably laughed at Brendan while they talked about him, laughed at how weak he was, how pathetic at having let that happen to him.

He hears the door open, doesn't even turn around to look at who it is, but he knows it's Steven and not an officer, can recognise the sound of his feet shuffling, could bet money on the boy's head being down, not wanting to look at him ever again. Why would he?

There's no where to run though, and he can't escape him. He has to look, and when he does he regrets it acutely, because Steven's beautiful, and what he's just done feels like it's stabbing Brendan in the chest.

Brendan doesn't know why Steven's not already dead yet, should rip the boy out of his own skin for what he's done. He shouldn't even have any movement in his legs, should be on the floor surrounded by a pool of seeping blood.

Brendan's scared that if he tries to hurt him he'll kiss him instead.

"What happened to your hand?" Steven's voice is cold, and he's staring down at the wound which is still open.

"Doesn't matter."

"It's only just starting to heal after what you did to the mirror."

He wants to tell him drop the pretense of caring, that it stings worse that way.

"You a fucking nurse, Steven?"

Steven doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at him like he has the audacity to be shocked at Brendan's tone, like he doesn't know what he's just done.

"No, I'm just saying..."

Brendan goes back towards the bed, picks up a book and props it in front of him, using it to block out Steven's face.

He can hear the boy moving around the cell, the springs of his bed creaking as he sits down. The bed's worse since they started fucking, looks like it's about to collapse. He'll be able to hear it in the night from now on, hear as Steven tosses and turns, will know when the boy's still awake.

The thought's unbearable to him.

He's going to request a transfer today, going to ask to be moved to another cell, cite irreconcilable differences like they're getting a fucking divorce.

But not before he kills Steven first.

He listens to the sound of him breathing, thinks how that steady in and out will soon cease to exist. He imagines pretty little bruises covering Steven's body, his high cheekbones bearing the brunt of Brendan's fists, the look in his eyes as he gasps for breath, before all the life is extinguished out of him.

Brendan rushes over to the bucket in the corner, retches violently in it, coughs and splutters afterwards like he's getting rid of everything inside him.

He feels a hand on his back, tentative but there, and a slow rub.

"Are you alright?" There's alarm there, and concern now.

The coldness was better.

"Of course I am, stop fussing." He shrugs Steven off, can't stand to be touched by him.

"Was it something you ate?"

Oh God, he's trying to help.

"Just leave it."

Steven's too close to him, and Brendan moves away, would put a hundred feet between them and a brick wall if he could.

He wonders if this is the guilt setting in now. If the boy's pretending he cares because he realises how much he's fucked up.

Brendan grabs a piece of tissue, uses it to leak up the blood. He can feel Steven's eyes burning into him, sees the confusion there, and can't understand how Steven can make him feel like he's in the wrong here.

"What happened to you?" It sounds like an accusation.

You happened to me.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? If you're trying to hurt yourself then -"

"Jesus, Steven. That's not..." That's not what this is about. "It was an accident, yeah? Drop it." It comes out as a warning

Steven looks uncomfortable, is trying to work out in that little head of his exactly what he's done wrong. Brendan wants to scream at him that it's not exactly rocket science, get a fucking clue Judas.

"Maybe I don't want to drop it."

Fucking hell. The boy's making it easier to hate him, to commit another murder.

"What would you do if I hurt myself, huh? If my hand looked like that. If I was bleeding, or bruised."

That's not a fair question. It's not the same. Steven's more important than him, means so much more. These things shouldn't ever be compared.

"Come on, what would you do?"

I'd lock you away where no one could hurt you again, heal every mark on your skin with my lips, wouldn't let you go until the world was safe again. I'd never let you out of my sight because you're too precious, too good to be ruined by other people.

I know that's not healthy, I know it's fucked up, but my feelings for you are fucked up. You're someone I want to protect but I hurt you, didn't I? I pushed you against that wall and hurt you, but you still came back for more.

"You've got to look after yourself, Steven." Brendan allows himself to say that much, because he can't have the boy doing anything stupid once this is all over. There's no Danny Houston anymore but Steven's not much older than Vincent, and there's plenty of people in here who would take advantage.

But it's more what Steven's going to do to himself that scares Brendan. He knows from experience that it's your own thoughts that are the most destructive. It's playing on his mind, the image of Steven lying awake at night and going over and over why Brendan's done it, why everything's collapsed around them.

It's these thoughts that have followed Brendan around for his entire life. Why? Why was he the one who got raped, why was he the one who turned into a freak, why was he the one who killed and beat others down. Why can't he be normal.

But Steven has made his choice, hasn't he? Signed away this thing that existed between them, whatever it was. It belongs to Walker now, is his property to use against him.

"I need to tell you something."

Brendan feels a spark burning inside him, low but present. It feels strangely like hope, like the truth at last.

It shouldn't change anything, but he needs something to cling onto, wants to hear an admittance of guilt from Steven, something to right this wrong.

But the boy is stumbling at the first hurdle, opening his mouth like a gawping fish, nothing but hot air coming out.

He can't do it. He can't tell him.

"I think we should probably stick to our own beds tonight." It comes out in a rush, so far removed from what Steven wanted to say that it sounds strange, alien to Brendan's ears.

Brendan waits to be fed more lies, and surely enough they continue to spill from his lips, distanced from what's really going on here.

"Yeah, I just...I haven't been sleeping that well lately, and I'm worried I keep you awake, disturb you."

Brendan's the one who can't sleep through the night, has only managed it lately because he's been so worn out by this boy, feels safer than he has done in a long time lying beside him. He knows that Steven's the one who falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, lying cocooned in Brendan's arms.

"Okay." He doesn't trust himself to say more, doesn't trust his own reactions right now.

"Okay?" Steven echos back, sounding affronted.

"If that's what you want."

There's silence for a moment and Brendan can't stand it, feels like everything that's unsaid is traveling around the room right now, that this isn't right and it's not what I want.

"Yeah, it is."

"Can I talk to you?" Ste leans against the wall, has waited for ten minutes outside the English classroom. He doesn't want Doug to feel like he's being cornered, but after the way things have been the past few days he feels like it's the only solution, the only way he can get him on his own.

Doug turns back to Lynsey and nods to her, and it's then that Ste realises what he's possibly interrupted. He doesn't know if he'd be that loyal, whether he would pass up an opportunity to be with Brendan for a friend. It's a sobering thought, that when he's with Brendan it becomes the most important thing to him, and everything else fades into nothing. That's not the kind of person he wants to be.

"I thought you weren't talking to me?"

"I thought you weren't talking to me!"

They break into laughter at the same time, both realising the ridiculousness of the situation. Doug smiles at him sheepishly, and Ste beckons down on the hallway to the chairs by the pool table. It's so noisy in here that they stand the least risk of someone overhearing them.

"I'm sorry about how I've been acting," Doug says immediately, and it lifts the remaining tension that was in Ste's body. "I don't like Brendan, but I shouldn't have judged you like that. Maybe you see something in him that I don't."

Ste can see that it's taking all of Doug's strength to say this, looks like his face is contorting with how much he wants to scream don't go near him.

"I thought I saw something."

Doug looks at him sharply. "Past tense?"

It's humiliating to admit that he could have been wrong.

"Brendan's been acting...strange. Distant."

Doug chuffs a laugh. "That's Brendan for you. He's not exactly the love hearts and chocolates type, is he?"

"Yeah, but he would do little things."

"Like what?" Doug asks in disbelief.

Like making sure that Ste has more of the bed cover in the middle of the night, because he knows how he gets cold. Like making him feel desirable for the first time in his life, as though he just has to touch his arse at least once a day, has to comment on his appearance like he's something special. Like the way he made Ste feel less alone in this place, in his own life.

"I don't know. Just...he's not being himself."

Ste's grateful when Doug doesn't argue back, I've known him a lot longer than you. He knows it sounds crazy, knows that he shouldn't feel this intensely considering he's only known Brendan for such a short period of time, shouldn't feel this intensely at all about anyone ever, too dangerous, too obsessive.

"And..." He's about to speak the words that make him feel fucking furious, needy and pathetic, but he has to tell someone. "I found out that he slept with Walker."

He feels even more embarrassed as Doug stares at him in confusion. "Did you not know?"

"You never told me," he replies defensively, wants to try and lay the blame elsewhere rather than at his own door. He can't help but feel that it's his own fault, that Brendan must have recognised something in him that couldn't be trusted, that was wrong.

"I didn't think it was my place. And after you told me you and Brendan were together...I just assumed you knew."

Ste wonders if he was the only person in this place to not know, imagines everyone laughing at him behind his back, wondering how on earth Brendan could go from Walker to him. He's everything Walker's not, is skinny where Walker's built, feels weak in comparison to Walker's strength. He can't stop the assault of images in his mind, can see them even when he closes his eyes, imagines Walker and Brendan together, and how the fuck can he even begin to live up to that?

"Were they properly together?"

Doug looks uncomfortable, picks at the hem of his sleeve. "Not really together, no. I mean they mainly just...you know."

Yeah, I know. They mainly just fucked.

"Maybe that's why Brendan didn't say anything. It can't have been that important to him."

"He lied to me. I asked him outright, and he told me nothing had happened." Ste feels stubborn, determined to hold onto this slight. He knows that Brendan's told him the big things, the biggest thing, but feeling angry about this is giving him power, power he doesn't have if he becomes hurt instead.

"Why don't you ask him about it?"

Doug makes it sound so simple, so wonderfully easy. Ste longs to have that naivety, can understand why Lynsey loves him when everything with him is black and white. You end things with Brendan because he's a murderer. You leave Ethan alone because Warren's a psycho. You confront Brendan because that's the only way you'll get answers.

It must be peaceful to live in Doug's world.

"I can't, can I? Then he'll know that I spoke to Simon."

"So?"

"So..." Ste looks away, doesn't want to see the look in Doug's eyes at his next sentence. "Brendan doesn't want me talking to him. Spending time with him."

"Ste -"

"You don't have to tell me. You think he's controlling me, right?"

"He's telling you who you can and can't see. That's classic abusive behaviour."

"Thank you, psychologist Doug. That's really helpful, that."

"You know I'm only telling you this because I care. Brendan's hurt people in the past. Vinnie -"

"I don't want to hear it," Ste interrupts firmly. He can already imagine what Doug's going to tell him, that Brendan hit Vinnie. Ste had seen the signs himself, had been at the receiving end when Brendan had pushed him against the wall soon after he'd arrived, had sported bruises for days.

If Ste judges Brendan constantly by his past then how is he ever going to escape his own? How does he stand a hope in hell of being forgiven by Amy if he's passing judgement on someone who's the same as him?

Amy helped him, came to anger management with him, supported him until he began to regard the man he was as something other than worthless, pathetic, an abuser. He needs to do the same for Brendan, not out of some sense of moral obligation, but because he wants to. The alternative of giving up on him means that he can't be with him, and it's that that terrifies Ste.

He can't bear for anyone to attack Brendan, can't allow Doug's warnings to sink in, lest his starts believing them himself.

"He's trying to protect me. He knows Walker's dangerous. He just wants to look after me." A warm feeling is growing in the pit of his stomach at these words, spreading throughout his entire body. He feels the certainty of them, knows that Brendan does want the best for him, and the protectiveness feels like a safety net around him, holding him together.

"I have to forgive him, don't I? Like you said, maybe the thing with Walker wasn't important to him. Just because he didn't tell me, it doesn't mean he doesn't want to be with me. And I should tell Amy, tell her that I'm...you know..." He imagines saying the word to her, gay. He can imagine himself sitting in the visitors room, trying to get it to roll off his tongue for a full hour. "I should tell her about me and Brendan."

"Woah, Ste!" Doug holds his hands up, looks like he's staring down at the barrel of a gun. "I never said that you should jump back into bed with him and have a coming out party afterwards. I mean is Amy the type of person who would be happy about this? Finding out that you're sleeping with a -"

"Right, that's decided it for me. Thanks Doug, you're a lifesaver!" Ste feels a surge of affection for him that causes him to pull him into a tight hug, ending with a ruffle of Doug's hair which turns his quiff into an unruly mess.

Ste gives him a parting smile as he walks round the pool table, leaving Doug staring after him with an expression like he's just walked over his own grave.

Moonshine. It's not hard to get hold of. It doesn't cost Brendan anything, because there are no rules for him in this place. He makes the rules.

He gets just enough to make him drunk, not enough so that it's startlingly obvious. He can walk past the officers without them noticing the smell of alcohol on his breath, stumbles a bit as he moves but passes it off as natural human clumsiness instead.

He gets back to the cell just before lockdown, has purposefully avoided it so that he's not in such close proximity to Steven. When he's with him he can't think clearly. Everything feels muffled, his brain fuzzy like the boy's taking over his mind, is destroying all rational thought.

He needs to take the power back.

He pushes his way into the room. The light's out and Steven's already lying in bed. Brendan expects to be met with coldness and indifference, is disarmed when Steven smiles, tentatively but with some of his old affection.

It's hard not to smile back.

Brendan almost forgets for a moment, doesn't know if it's the alcohol or if he's so used to sleeping in Steven's bed now. He moves towards it, stops and takes a different path when he realises his mistake.

His own bed looks uninviting, and the word pops into his head. Lonely. He feels alone. He's not used to the intensity of it. Even when he was with Eileen, trapped in something that felt unnatural, he still felt part of something.

Even when he was being carted off to prison he still felt an odd sense of peace, like he'd finally killed something that had been tormenting him his whole life.

For the first time he feels like he has no one, and without Steven there's nowhere to draw strength from.

Brendan doesn't bother to take his clothes off. He can't do that anymore, has got more naked with Steven physically and emotionally than with any other person in his life, but it's over now. He climbs into bed fully clothed, wants sleep to wash over him and last for a long, long time so he doesn't have to wake up and do this all over again. It doesn't feel like a struggle. It feels like a war.

They lie in the dark, and Brendan begins to think that Steven's fallen asleep. Perhaps sleeping with a guilty conscience is easy for him. Perhaps there is no guilt.

It's now that Brendan knows that the nightmares will come. He has no defense against them. He knows that the image of Seamus will come to him tonight, that Brendan will be towering over his body in his dream, raising the hammer above his head and smashing it down onto his bleeding and broken body until there's nothing left to destroy.

He turns over to his side, facing the wall. God must have had mercy on him tonight, because he doesn't have a nightmare.

He dreams that he can feel Steven climbing into his bed, can feel his skinny legs curl around his own, his lips against his neck. He tries to push him away at first but it causes him more pain that way, so he relents, gives into it like it's the moonshine, like it's soothing the very depths of his soul.

Brendan lies back against the pillow, watches with glazed eyes while Steven strips him of his clothes and his own. The boy's hands are firm and assured like he's relishing the control that he's having. He knows that if there's any accuracy to this dream then it's only a matter of time before Steven's begging for him to take charge, can never resist Brendan manhandling him roughly and expertly, like it's a drug to them both.

Brendan looks down and sees he's hard already, and how the hell did that happen? Steven takes Brendan's cock in his palm, runs his fingertips over the head and then strokes it, a guttural moan escaping from his own throat like he's loving this most of all, like it's a fucking high to be able to do this to him, like he loves cock that much.

It's a prolonged kind of torture, the way the boy just continues the steady up and down, doesn't make a movement closer to take him in his mouth, has a satisfied smile on his face like this is all part of his great master plan. That he knows what it's doing, making it so it's impossible for Brendan to not want to roll him onto his front and drive his dick into him.

It's a dream, he's allowed to want this. He's allowed to do this, can face reality in the morning but for now he's giving into it, wants to make Steven the happiest man on this earth, wants to make himself happy and he hasn't wanted that in a long time.

"Are you going to do this all night, or do you want me to fuck you properly?" He says, his voice a challenge.

Steven lights up, looks so damn beautiful that this is worth it, having this now and losing it in the morning.

He lets Brendan place him into position, his arms gripping the pillow, his arse facing him. He's rocking back to encourage Brendan to move faster and stick his dick inside him, does the trick and makes Brendan laugh at his obscenity.

He grabs a condom, smears lube onto his fingers but Steven stops him, puts a gentle hand over his own.

"Don't. Just..."

He wants him to fuck him now.

Brendan listens to him. Steven's words are like the words of God right now, and he has to obey. He doesn't want to hurt him but he has a pretty strong feeling that Steven's tougher than he looks, that he came into this world fighting and he's been fighting ever since.

He's as much of a warrior as Brendan is.

Brendan transfers the lube from his fingers to his cock instead, coating it until he's ready. He runs his fingers down Steven's stomach, can feel the light scattering of hair brushing against the tips. This boy's extraordinary, extraordinary in the way he gives himself completely, seems to have an infinite amount of trust which no one's managed to kick out of him yet.

Brendan rubs the head of his cock against Steven's entrance, sees Steven's face drop towards the pillow, looks like he's bracing himself already for what's going to happen.

When Brendan pushes in he's engulfed by tight and hot sensations. He rests his forehead against Steven's upper back, kisses onto the skin as he goes in deeper, couldn't be anymore connected than they are right now.

This bed isn't as worn out as Steven's, and it doesn't creak with every movement. Brendan plans to change all that, wants to destroy it and all the others in the world, won't stop until he and Steven don't even know their own names anymore, are only able to make the carnal sounds of sex.

They're rocking now, rocking together as Brendan increases the pace. The booze has made his senses come alive and he craves for everything to explode. He can feel it building up at him, knows Steven's close too. They're going to come off the bed in a minute and Brendan won't give a fuck, will merely straighten them both out and keep on fucking the boy, nothing that could keep them apart.

The hardness of the floor won't be there in this dream. Nothing can hurt them.

Steven's making noises that Brendan's never heard before, is so free that he wants to feel that too, longs to have that same abandonment, to live so completely in the moment that everything becomes this, and the outside world ceases to exist.

When Steven gasps at him to go harder Brendan doesn't hesitate, thrusts into him so powerfully that they move towards the headboard, Steven's face almost colliding with it.

"You still want me to go harder?" Brendan asks, doesn't expect that there's much more that the boy can take, but Steven surprises him.

He doesn't speak, just nods like he's not capable of forming words. Brendan pulls out and pushes back in again, hears Steven mutter "oh God, oh fuck" and bite into the pillow. That's two pillows that he's close to ruining now, but fucking hell is it worth it.

When they come Brendan expects the dream to be finished, knows that this is usually what happens, had happened when he was a kid before the real nightmares had taken over. He would always wake up just after the violence or the death or the fall, would sit up in bed sweating, would laugh when he realised that he was safe, before he was never safe again.

It's only when Steven lies against Brendan's chest and settles there like he has no intention of ever leaving that Brendan forces himself to realise that this isn't a dream, that he's just slept with the man who he's going to have to leave tomorrow.

Brendan's doing sit ups, is listening to Johnny Cash and moving up and down to the music, trying to make it drown out everything else. He'd usually wait till the evening for this but he feels twitchy with a nervous kind of energy, needs to channel it into something else before he goes insane.

He's sweating profusely, doesn't know how long he's been doing this for but it could be hours, and his whole body is flushed red. Whenever he thinks about giving up he pictures Steven's face and it allows him to push his body to breaking point, to get the anger he needs to keep going.

He's facing away from the door, and when he feels hands wrap around his stomach he wants them to be Walker's, wants to fuck the man to make him forget everything. He wants it to be rough and frantic, the kind of sex that'll leave bruises and blood behind. It's better at numbing everything than any drug or glass of whiskey could be.

When Brendan finally allows himself to stop the steady punishment of his body he looks up, feels like he's staring into a too bright light. It's always like this with Steven. Everything is too much, and it's strangling him.

The boy's smiling at him now, and Brendan wants to go back to yesterday, to when Steven had been miserable, had spoken to Brendan like it was taking physical effort to do so, and the words were coming out like a punch.

Brendan can still feel the warmness of his hands on his body. It could never have been Walker, was too intimate a gesture. Walker wouldn't have prolonged it if it had been him, would have thrown him onto the floor and claimed his lips straight away. Steven is different, is deliciously slow with foreplay, like every touch is building anticipation to the event itself.

Brendan stands up, grabs a towel.

"Don't stop on my account," Steven says, gives him a heated look that was surely designed to provoke. His voice is light, sounds like he's joking but he's not, Brendan knows he's not. He'd make a bet on the boy wanting to sit on the bed and watch him as he exercises, observe his contracting muscles and flexing hips.

"I was just finishing up." Brendan makes a grab for his t-shirt.

"In that case, maybe be could..." Steven moves forward, has that look in his eyes and Brendan knows exactly what it means, the boy's intent written all over his face.

He tries to move the towel out of the way, tries to reach Brendan's bare chest and move the t-shirt from his reach. Steven's hands are firm as they scrape down him, and for one blissful second Brendan wonders what it would be like to just throw him onto the bed, and go back to the start again.

"Stop doing that, kid." His voice is harsh, his face almost like a sneer. He makes himself sounds embarrassed at what Steven's doing, at who he is. Like he's a parasite.

Steven blinks those long lashes of his, looks like the hope hasn't yet left him but it's increasingly draining from his face. He's growing paler, looks like he could wretch in the bucket just like Brendan had.

"I don't understand." He sounds incredibly child like, like a little lost boy.

Brendan feels like he's destroying something vulnerable, doesn't understand why this is making him feel so uncomfortable too, like he's having the life sucked out of him. It shouldn't be this difficult.

He can almost see what's going through Steven's mind right now, can see the word kid echoing in there, like he's never escaped Terry at all. Brendan wants to take it back, but it feels too late. The only thing to do now is dig the knife in deeper.

"I'm going to move out."

Steven scratches his neck like Brendan's words have buried themselves under his skin, and he's trying to desperately get rid of them.

"Is this...is this some kind of joke, Brendan?"

"I'll speak to Tony today, try and sort something out. A transfer or something."

"Why?" Steven says, comes out hollowly like all the emotion has already left him.

Brendan goes towards his bed, starts rearranging things, taking his clothes from his drawers and putting them down on the sheets.

"What - what are you doing?" Steven seems to have had a sudden burst of energy and he's panicking now, has jumped into life. He follows Brendan around the room like if he can just keep him within eyesight then he can stop this.

"Got to get my things together."

Brendan had expected this to be like ending things with Vincent all over again, had wanted it to feel like that, because it was familiar.

But this is new territory, something that he's never experienced before. It's not meant to be like this.

"This is crazy! Everything was fine. We were...we're together!" Steven stares at him with frantic eyes.

Together.

He's not giving up as easily as Brendan had hoped. Steven had been so distant with him before that Brendan had believed he'd let go of this thing without this much of a struggle, that it wouldn't feel like a fight. He'd never expected the boy to cling onto him, physically cling onto him, grab a hold of his arm so that Brendan has to shake him off to be free.

"You're just being a bastard, aren't you? You're just testing how far you can go with me, and I get that Brendan, alright? I get it, but you have to stop now."

Brendan shakes his head at him as if he's in disbelief at the sheer neediness that's coming out of Steven's mouth. As if it disgusts him.

"Get out of my way." He doesn't wait for Steven to follow his instruction, just shoves past him and continues to gather his things.

"Just tell me what I've done wrong."

He can't keep up with it, the way that Steven's veering from hurt to anger and back again. The boy doesn't seem to understand his own reactions himself, looks as fragile as Brendan's ever seen him.

He must know what he's done wrong, otherwise Steven's the psychopath that Brendan never thought he was.

He doesn't reply, tries to ignore Steven's existence but it's impossible to do. He can't not be aware of his presence in the room, can't not listen to the way that Steven's breathing erratically now, sounds like he's having a panic attack. Brendan's first instinct is to reach out and comfort him, to try and stop the pain even though he's causing it.

He'd rather smash his fist into a million glass mirrors than have to do this.

Steven stands in front of him and blocks his escape.

"Whatever it is we can fix it. There's nothing we can't do."

Jesus, the boy thinks they're invincible. Brendan hates that a part of him thinks he's right.

"You're just scared, aren't you?" Steven's grappling for answers, for explanations to all this. "You told me about your dad, and you're scared now."

Brendan doesn't get scared. Not anymore.

He allows himself to stand closer to the boy. It feels dangerous but it's important to make sure that this message sinks in loud and clear. Steven can't be doubtful about this, can't continue thinking that he's a good person. He'll never be good, tried to be once before the world let him down, but has never been able to try since.

He's lost that ability, and he's grateful for it sometimes. It allows him to break peoples hearts and not allow him to hurt, because he doesn't have one.

"I'm not scared. Now run along to your little friends, Steven. Be with Douglas instead."

"You want me to go back to Doug? Is that what you really want?

"You know what I really want?"

Steven opens his mouth to protest, but Brendan's not going to let him.

"What I want is to pick up a bloke that isn't you. Like I did today, like I'm going to do tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that until you get the message."

Steven's crying now, tears which sparkle and roll down his cheeks like diamonds.

"You were with someone else?" He whispers it, sounding like there's something clogging up his throat.

"There's always a guy, Steven. One who isn't you."

Brendan has never hated someone more than he hates himself now. It takes every ounce of self control not to brush away Steven's tears and repair the damage he's done.

He tries to keep Steven's betrayal alive in his head, otherwise this is impossible. Steven did this, he caused this and now he has to pay the price. Brendan thought this would feel like victory, nothing sweeter than revenge. Only it turns out revenge feels black, dark. Dead.

"Okay." Steven rubs at his eyes with his sleeve, looking more childlike than ever. "Okay," he repeats, seems like he's talking to himself more than to Brendan. "Leave then."

Even when crying Steven looks beautiful, his eyelashes thicker than their usual state, his blue eyes shining. He's staring at Brendan with detachment now like everything's been replaced with numbness, and Brendan needs that, feels good that Steven's managing to let him go, but there's a sudden strong desire for him to hold onto Steven, to stop this from slipping out of his grasp, and he has no idea where it comes from.

It makes it easier when Steven opens the door, gestures to Brendan to get out. He reckons the boy would kick him out himself if he could, would push him to the floor and spit on him, but he looks like he's trying to retain some of the dignity that he has left, that Brendan hasn't already taken from him.

He thinks this is it, thinks he's going to walk out of the door and ask for a transfer, last time he'll ever be alone in the room with Steven. He knows he'll be able to convince Tony, it's not a question of that. In the few seconds that it takes him to walk to the door he feels like he's saying goodbye to something.

But he feels a hand on his arm again, cold this time. It's not right that its lost its warmth, will never be right.

So fucking persistent.

"Brendan, this...it's not right. I don't believe you."

How many times does he have to repeat himself? It's like Steven loves the punishment, is the most masochistic person that Brendan's met. It's almost like he has faith in him, faith in this thing they share, but that can't be it, because he wouldn't have told Walker about Seamus.

Brendan flinches like he's been hit by an electric shock when Steven moves closer to his mouth, his intent clear. He pushes him roughly onto the floor and Steven crashes against the bed, knocking his back on the railing violently.

He cries out in pain, stares up at Brendan in horror like he never thought he could do that to him again.

It's his fault for believing that he could ever be anything better.

"You disgust me." There are tears swimming in Brendan's own eyes when he says it, doesn't know where they came from but they won't leave. They're clouding his vision, but he doesn't dare wipe them away in case Steven notices.

"Don't ever touch me again."

He slams the cell door shut behind him, can hear the sound of Steven releasing a cry when he's gone.