At last, the truth.
Brendan hasn't interrupted once. He's let Walker tell him everything, and though there were plenty of times when he wanted to intervene, he's remained silent throughout. But he's expected to say something now, to react.
He decides to settle for the truth himself.
"It's fucked. It's all fucked." His mind's fucked. He'd known from the start that Walker was close to his brother, had always noticed the way that he'd talked about him, different to the way he talked about anyone else. He'd heard details of Shawnee's murder, but he'd never guessed that there had been anything romantic between them. Walker had never brought her name up.
All of this - everything he's told him - it's changed everything.
"I thought it might have that effect." Walker looks sombre, the colour drained from his face.
"How could you..." He can't process it, is aware of the officer still standing in the corner of the room. Brendan doesn't know what he's heard; they've spoken in hushed tones throughout, but he wonders if Walker even cares, if he has anything left to hide. "How could you kill someone that you..."
The idea of Walker killing a woman has always repulsed Brendan. He'd make an alliance with him to begin with because he was useful. He could get moonshine, and sometimes it was the only thing that got Brendan through the days. He'd continued their arrangement, something that always veered between a friendship and a business agreement, because he had no one else. Walker never seemed the same as men like Danny and Warren; he hadn't murdered the person he loved in cold blood like Warren had.
"I didn't mean to." He seems desperate for Brendan to understand this, like it's one of the only things that matters now. "She wouldn't let me leave."
"Jesus, Walker. You don't hit a woman, not ever. You don't hurt her - you don't kill her."
Walker's face twists. "But you're perfectly content with hurting a man, aren't you? What makes you so different? How is it better that you beat Vinnie to a pulp? He loved you, didn't he? What makes us worlds apart?"
Brendan's about to argue back, but the words die on his lips. What does make him so different?
The anger drains from Walker's face.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't of said that. It's not the same."
"No. It's - you're right. And what I did to Seamus..." It feels eerily familiar, all of this. The knife. The stabbing. A jury thinking that it was premeditated. Losing control.
"He abused you. Shawnee never..." He swallows, eyes drifting shut. "She was never anything but good to me."
"How could you hide all this?" It's been pressing on Brendan since Walker finished. He's known this man for years, and he's never suspected - never imagined that this would be his story.
"The same way you could."
"But - you never...all this time, you've been screwing around in here, acting like you could never care about anyone, and you were in love." He can't adjust to the idea of it: Walker planning on living with a woman. Wanting a future together.
"Me and her, we've always been private." He looks up sharply, stuttering over his words. "Were. I mean - we were private. I didn't want to share her with anyone in here. And you should know as well as anyone. Fucking people, it doesn't...it doesn't change the way you feel about someone. They're just...bodies."
He thinks about how easily he was going to spend the night with Kevin. If he'd gone there, he knows it wouldn't have changed anything. It still would have been Steven that he'd close his eyes and dream about.
"I still don't understand." It's too fast, all of this. An overload of information, and he's constantly aware that he only has a short time left with Walker in which to figure all this out. "You killed Warren and Silas because of what they did? Because of Steven?" All along he'd thought it was out of love, but now - now he knows it was the act, and Walker's hatred for it. "You never found the men who hurt your brother, did you?"
"No. It was only afterwards that I found out who it was. Charlie visited me in here, told me about that night." Walker laughs joylessly. "Doesn't do me much good in here, does it? I can't even touch them."
"Warren and Silas were your chance to get it right." Brendan feels like he's thinking out loud, looking at the past few weeks in an entirely new light.
"Partly," he says softly.
"Partly? What's the rest of it?"
Walker looks towards the officer, as though internally hoping that he'll put an end to their visit.
"Simon," Brendan says, firmly this time. "What's the rest of it?"
Walker's eyes reluctantly meet his.
"I knew you'd do it."
"What? Do what?"
"Kill them." Walker holds up a hand, silencing Brendan when he tries to speak. "You can deny it all you like, but I knew you'd kill them sooner or later. It doesn't matter what promises you made to Ste. We both know that you'd do anything for him. Fuck, Brendan, he'll - he'll be the death of you, you do know that? He's more dangerous for you than anything else has ever been. Even if you waited a few months, you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself."
"Give me some credit." But his words are weak. Walker's right. "Why not just wait for me to do it then? Why do you care so much?"
"Because I owed you, didn't I? I fucked you over."
"Not arguing, but what are we talking about specifically? There's a lot of history to be dealing with," Brendan drawls, the memories still vivid in his mind.
"What I did to you and Ste. Trying to break you up. I won't ever forgive myself."
Brendan's shocked that he cares. Never once has his seen genuine remorse for what he did.
"It all turned out okay, so..." He can't believe he's trying to make Walker feel better. Jesus. Maybe he's turning soft under the knowledge that this could be the last time they ever see each other.
"I betrayed you."
"Betrayed? Come on, you've always said you hate dramatics." He's not denying it though: it was a betrayal.
"I used your own rape against you, Brendan. That's something I promised myself I'd never do. Not with anyone."
Brendan glances over his shoulder. The officer's listening intently, but from his frustrated expression he hasn't managed to hear anything of worth. Brendan turns back, leaning in closer. No one knows but Walker and Steven, and he doesn't plan to change that in this lifetime.
"I still don't understand how you knew."
"Maybe because of Cam. I know the signs."
Brendan scoffs, looking at Walker in disbelief. "The signs? I'm not a case study. I'm not a cliche. I'm not a fucking statistic."
"That's not what I'm saying," Walker jumps in, immediately on the defensive. "Of course you're not. But I lived with it for years, remember? All I could do was watch while Cam got worse and worse. And I knew there had to be a reason that you killed Seamus. Yeah you're violent, but you're not senseless. There's always a reason with you."
"Don't know whether to take that as a compliment, or..."
The corners of Walker's mouth twitch. "I know what it's like, Brendan. I know what it's like to have parents who don't give a shit about you."
"I wish my dad hadn't given a shit about me. I wish that was all it was. That he'd have just left me alone."
His body's shaking from talking about it. He shouldn't be saying anything. It was hard enough with Steven, and to be telling someone that tried to ruin his life, take away the only thing in here that matters -
"I know our situations aren't the same."
No. They're not. They can't be, can they? Otherwise what's to stop him from hurting Steven? What's to stop the boy going the same way as Shawnee?
If they're the same, then what's to stop Brendan from killing him?
"When I first thought...when I had my suspicions, about your dad...I swear, I was never going to do anything about it. I had Vinnie crying on my shoulder half the time, wanting to know why you were being such a bastard to him. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to try and explain what you'd been through -"
Brendan holds onto the table tightly, eyes boring into Walker's.
"You didn't, did you?" It makes his skin crawl, the idea of the men he's been with knowing about his past. He'd been terrified that Steven would react differently to him, the first time they had sex after the boy knew. It felt like Brendan was observing him; would he try and be more gentle, let Brendan lead things completely, believing that if he didn't it would remind him of Seamus? Would there be flickers of disgust behind his touch? Would he see him as used goods, damaged? Was he fucking him out of a sense of guilt, because he felt too bad to end things now he knew?
"No. I promise, I didn't say anything. I told you, I didn't ever intend to. But then Ste came, and -"
"And you couldn't help yourself." It's impossible to forget all that Walker's done.
"I was jealous." He says it slowly, as though it's taking a great deal of effort to do so. "I wanted him, and turning you two against each other...it was all too easy. You were so ready to doubt him, to believe that he had turned on you. It's your greatest weakness, see. You don't believe anyone could love you."
"And you used that."
"Yes. And instantly regretted it."
"Funny. You never seemed like you did." He feels like he's snarling.
"I couldn't have told you. If I did, I'd have to explain why I was so sorry."
"No you didn't!" He's raising his voice, only resuming whispering when Walker stares over at the officer, reminding Brendan that they're not alone. "You could have apologised. You didn't have to reveal anything."
"I'm not exactly good at apologising. Something we have in common." He sighs, drawing his face into his hands. "But I'm saying it now. I am so, so sorry."
Brendan almost wishes he hadn't said it. He fidgets in his seat, unsure of how to respond, not knowing whether he should accept it or not.
"I didn't want you to end up behind bars for the rest of your life."
"I already am." He doesn't understand how people don't get that. He'd loved Steven's naivety at first, his belief that Brendan could one day be released, but more and more people are talking to him like it's possible. Like he'll see the outside of these four walls while he's still young.
"You and Ste, you have a chance together. A real chance. Something that me and Shawnee never had."
"Yeah, because you killed her."
He watches as Walker flinches, real, raw pain making his expression contort.
"I didn't mean that." He never thought he'd be defending someone like him. There aren't any excuses when it comes to hurting a woman. To killing the person you love.
But this, all of this, is close to home. Too close for his liking.
"It's okay. Nothing I don't deserve." He continues as though Brendan hasn't said anything. "You have a case, even if you don't realise it yet."
"A case?" He thinks he knows where this is leading. He doesn't like it, suddenly wants this little visit to be over.
"Women have been given reduced sentences before. Rape and violence - it's something that a jury will sympathise with. I've seen it. They've killed their husbands in the most brutal way imaginable, but they haven't got life."
"Yeah, women."
"Why should you be any different? That's exactly what Cam thought; that because he was a man he wouldn't be taken seriously. Fuck that, Brendan. Fuck it. Rape is rape. Do you think that Ste suffered less because he's not a woman?"
"No. Of course not." He'd seen it all, had witnessed first hand what it did to Steven.
"Then apply the same rules to yourself. Come on, think about it. You tell a judge and jury what Seamus did to you. Tell them when it started, how it happened. Tell them the hell that he put you through. It's going to be pretty damn hard to argue against. You haven't got a track record. Okay, so you've done some shitty things while you've been here. You're not Snow White. But you never killed anyone before."
"They won't believe it. No one's ever believed it."
"Ste has," Walker reminds him, head cocked to the side. "I have."
"Steven loves me." He lets the words wash over him, cocooning him with their warmth. "He believes me because he loves me. Other people - strangers - they're not going to care what I have to say."
"All you need are people on your side. Cheryl -"
"No." He's firm, unwavering. "No. She can never find out."
"Don't you think she already knows?"
Brendan looks at him, appalled. "Of course not. She doesn't have a clue."
"She must know something," Walker continues, unfazed. "All those years spent in the same house, with the same father - she's not blind. Even if she doesn't know the exact details, a part of her must realise. She's just in denial, is all."
"Since when are you the expert on my sister? You've spoken to her for what, two minutes? Said hello, smiled? You don't know the way her mind works."
"I know that she adores you. Worships you, even. She wouldn't be here week after week if she didn't. She'd have given up on you long ago. She believes in you, just like Ste, and I don't think it's because she thinks you're innocent."
Brendan can feel his heart beating painfully in his chest. He's toyed with the idea that Cheryl knows more than she's letting on, but he's never seriously considered that she's questioned his innocence.
"You don't think she really knows..." He feels startlingly vulnerable, turning to Walker for answers.
"Like I said, not everything, no. But I think deep down, cutting through the bullshit, she thinks you did it. And she thinks that there's a reason why."
Hope rises and falls in Brendan's chest. For a moment the picture that Walker's painting seems within reach. He imagines telling Cheryl. Imagines a world in which she could understand, and not turn her back on him.
The image disappears like smoke.
"She would never forgive me. She loves him. He's her daddy."
"She'd choose you." He says it with such confidence that Brendan half believes he can see into the future. "And if she doesn't, fuck her."
"I can't lose her." He can't visualise a world without her. Growing up, she was all he had.
"You'll still have Ste."
"Will I?"
"Brendan, listen to me. Listen. You have to tell someone. Someone who'll fight your corner. Not Osborne or one of the officers - they're useless. You and me both know that. You have to go to Tony, or that therapist - Des, is that what he's called? It's time to end this. Let it go, all of it, do you understand? You've been carrying this around for too long. If Cam had told someone, he might still be here. His life - all our lives - could have been different."
"Don't try and make me your brother. I'm not your second chance." Something hurts about the idea that Walker's only saying this for Cam's benefit, that Brendan's simply a way of getting this right instead of a person, unique and with a history entirely different to Walker's.
"You're right. This isn't even about me. This is about you. And I think you know that you've got to do this. It's your only chance of ever getting out of here, and hanging onto that boy. You'll push him away otherwise. It's what you always do."
Brendan feels defensive, wants there to be some other solution to this. "Maybe I won't." Even as he says it he feels like lies are spiralling from his mouth. Walker's right. It's what he does.
"You do realise I'll come back and kick your arse if you don't do this?"
Brendan can't help but choke out a laugh at the idle threat. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm doing this for you. I killed for you, all so your cute arse could be with the man I want. So you better make it worth my while."
"No pressure then." He sighs, staring at Walker. I can't do this. Don't ask this of me. "What are you going to do? If you move from here?"
"Subtle change of subject."
"I'm serious."
Walker pretends to think. "Maybe play some pool, go to the gym more, work in the gardens. Top up my tan."
"I mean -" What does he mean? "Are you just going to continue like this? Finding other Steven's -"
"They'll never be other Steven's. I think we both know that."
Brendan grunts in acknowledgement, the old, familiar feeling of possessiveness rising to the surface.
"I'll just get on with things. Not much else I can do, is there?"
"Will you appeal?"
"No. I've already admitted to what I've done. I don't want anyone thinking that they got it wrong, that I'm covering for someone. You'll be their first suspect, and the whole point of this is that you don't get into trouble. I'll die in prison. There's no point pretending I won't. Maybe I'll be lucky, and die young. Or maybe I'll be old and I'll have suffered, and deserved it. I'll just...live my life."
"It's not a life though, is it?" Brendan feels unbearably sad for him. He isn't even sure if he likes him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting this ending to be different.
"I don't know. Maybe not to some people, but I've been in love, haven't I? Isn't that what life's about?" He bites on his lip, a small smile spreading across his face. "And I stopped those two bastards from hurting anyone else. I'd say I won something, wouldn't you? Even if it's not everything."
"That's a nice outlook, Simon, but it doesn't really keep you warm at night, does it?"
Walker looks over Brendan's shoulder, not responding to his words.
"Time's nearly up, Brady. Our company's getting itchy feet."
"I don't give a fuck about our company."
"What else do you want me to tell you? You've got what you came here for, haven't you?"
Walker's right. This should feel enough. He's found out the truth; it's time for him to wash his hands of him.
"What do I tell the lad?" He keeps talking, questions suddenly forming in his mind, and he realises that nothing's truly finished.
"Who? Ste?"
"The little sewer rat. Kevin. You two have been..." He waves his hands around, reluctant to say the words. He doesn't want to think about that.
"Shagging?" Walker offers. He's never known Brendan to be one to shy away from sex.
"Yeah." He gives him a disdainful look. "How do you want me to handle this? Call it a last parting gift to you, dealing with the mess you left behind."
"I don't want you to tell him anything."
"You do realise he'll be moping around like a lovesick puppy?"
"Oh, please. He only ever slept with me because you turned him down. All his birthdays will come at once now that Ste's leaving. Just don't give in, yeah?"
Brendan stiffens in his chair. "What are you saying, that I'm going to jump into bed with him the first chance I've got?"
"Don't act all insulted. It's not your style. I know you love Ste, and that's all very well and good and rather sickeningly beautiful, but like you said - it doesn't keep you warm at night, does it? And when he's not here, and you're alone, thinking about who he might be with..."
Brendan should have known. Should of known better than to trust this bastard.
"And you'd be the first one to congratulate him, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Brendan," Walker drones, eyes to the ceiling. "That's why I murdered two of the most dangerous people in this place. So you and Ste would stay apart forever."
"You expect me to trust you? You think that one thing is going to erase all that you've done?"
Walker looks at him again, a renewed sense of guilt in his eyes. "Just - stay away from Kevin. He still wants you. Trust me. Even when I'm on top of him he still can't shut up about you."
"Says a lot about your performance."
"We both know you never had any complaints."
Brendan drags back his chair, the noise filling the room, already ready to move towards the door. He's had enough. He can't allow himself to feel sorry for a man who's so unpredictable. He never knows which Walker he's going to meet.
Walker rises with him. "Too far?
"Too far."
They stand facing each other.
"Would a hug be too much?" Walker raises his arms, challenge in his eyes. "Maybe a kiss?"
"Goodbye, Simon." He's still not moving. Walker stares at him expectantly. What are you waiting for?
Brendan looks down at his shoes, scuffed through years of use. He's been meaning to get new ones for months now, to give Cheryl some of the money he's earned from cookery class to get a new pair for him. Humiliation has stopped him. His sister shouldn't be buying things for him, not at his age. And what's the point? What's the point in having nice things, when soon they'll be no one in here that he wants to impress?
"Thank you." It feels like one of the hardest things he's ever had to say. He prays that Walker doesn't laugh at him, or crack a joke, or force him to meet his eyes. He wants to do this without being interrupted; needs to get it out. "I'll always be grateful for what you did for Steven. That day in the library... I'll never forget it. And..." He doesn't know if he can keep going. Everything's screaming at him to walk out of that door. "I'm sorry, for Cameron. I'm so, so sorry."
He doesn't tell him that he understands. That Cheryl was all he had growing up. That she kept him alive when it seemed impossible to exist. If he'd lost her when he was younger, and had no one else -
He doesn't know what he'd have done.
"Thanks." Walker's voice is low, muffled. "Thank you."
Brendan nods over to the officer, signalling the end of their conversation. Even before he reaches the door, he knows Walker will call him back.
"Brendan?"
He stands still, not facing him, just listening.
"Remember what I said. About the truth."
Brendan gives a slight shake of his head, letting him know he's heard, and leaves.
It's the strangest party he's ever been to.
They're all in his cell, swigging back water like it's beer, playing music, celebrating a murder. Two murders.
Ethan's verging between dancing - very badly, Ste's embarrassed to see - and leaning back against the wall in a daze, looking like he wants to ask them all to pinch him. Doug does, eliciting a groan and a good natured punch to the elbow.
"Sorry!" Doug's laughing, spilling water onto the floor. "I just wanted to show you this is really happening."
"He's gone?" Ethan's like a boy asking his parent to reassure him.
"He's gone!" Doug shouts it, dancing while he does so, arms splaying in the air.
"I think there's some punch in your water, mate," Ste says, taking a sip of his own, knowing that there's nothing there but wanting to calm his nerves. Brendan's been gone a while now, longer than he was, and he can't shake the idea that he's done something stupid. Something characteristically Brendan in its martyrdom.
"I wish. I could use some now. Numb the pain." Doug points at his eye, a black bruise having gathered there.
"Yeah, about that...can we..." Ste nods over to the corner of the cell, motioning for Doug to join him. There's little point; it's tiny in here, and he's sure Ethan can still hear them, even with the music drowning them out.
Ste doesn't want to look at the damage he's done, but being a coward would be worse.
"I'm really sorry."
"You've already told me. Don't worry."
"No, but - I punched you."
"I don't need reminding, trust me. It still stings. I had to get Lynsey to grab a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen for me."
"Shit. She must hate me."
"I did my best to explain. It was kind of hard without being able to tell her the details of your plan - you know, confessing to two murders you didn't even commit." He crosses his arms and shakes his head like a disappointed teacher.
"Don't." He can't stand for Doug to mention it. It feels surreal now, what he was about to do. If it had been anyone else but Tony that he'd spoken to, he might not be here now, being able to celebrate anything at all.
"Everything alright boys?" Ethan comes between them, putting his arms around them both, swinging them back and forth. "You both look like someone's died." He laughs at his own joke, and Ste knows it's cheesy as fuck, but he laughs along with him. There's a touch of uneasiness about it; he's not sure if he'll ever be okay with this, getting joy from someone's death, regardless of who they were, or what they did. But he's trying. For Ethan, he's trying.
"Staring at the door every three seconds isn't going to make him appear, you know," Ethan says, knowing grin on his face.
"What?"
"Brendan. You're waiting for him, aren't you?"
"I just thought he'd be back by now, that's all." Ste says defensively, pretending he doesn't care when everything inside him is waiting to see him again; the suit, the moustache, the way that Steven rolls off his tongue in that familiar Irish drawl.
"Maybe him and Walker are having their own celebration."
Ethan's words earn him a shove from Doug, and wide, warning eyes.
"Sorry Ste. I'm just being idiot. It's the booze...or, you know, the pretend booze," Ethan says, taking another swig from his water bottle.
"Don't worry. I know you're just messing." He laughs along with them, but uneasiness coils in his stomach. Walker and Brendan have a history. Realistically he knows that there's no chance of something happening even if they wanted it to. Walker's in an interrogation room. There's going to be an officer with him at all times.
But that doesn't stop Brendan from playing footsie under the table. Ste should know.
There's a shout of joy from Ethan, making Ste jump, and he looks over to where his gaze has wandered, seeing Brendan at the door, looking in at them. He looks shaken, but he offers Ste a small smile. It's like Ste's thoughts alone have conjured him, and the boy lets out a sigh of relief.
"Hey." Ste untangles himself from his friends. "Everything okay?" He resists the urge to say that Brendan's been gone for ages. He doesn't want to be that kind of boyfriend.
They turn away from the others.
"Jesus. What music is this?" Brendan looks mildly offended.
"Dunno. Something of Doug's. I kind of like it."
"Sounds like it belongs in an sixties disco."
"Sixties - you were a teenager then, weren't you?"
Brendan's answer is a tight lipped scowl.
"Anyway." Ste's anxious to get back to the thing that really matters. "Was everything alright?"
"Yeah. There's nothing for you to worry about." He traces along Ste's cheek with his thumb, eyes on his lips, head leaning forward, dipping closer. Ste takes a step back. He doesn't need these distraction techniques, not now.
But Brendan's doing his best to take his mind elsewhere.
"I can't stop thinking about before." He ignores Ste's attempts to put some distance between them, stepping closer again, hand trailing to Ste's hip. Ste looks down, and fuck, is it really possible for someone to be so large when they're not hard? In the tightly fitted trousers that Brendan's in, he has the perfect view of the outline of his cock.
They could go somewhere, right now. Back to Brendan's cell. It'll be just the two of them, and they can pick up where they left off. Maybe Brendan will take him from behind this time, and Ste will feel the spike of his hairs on his chest against his back as Brendan pulls them together, skin sticky with sweat.
He thinks about the cream, and about how it had felt in Brendan's hand when he'd been jerking him off. The ease of the glide. The way it had made Ste throw his head back against the pillow, and given him the sensation of all his muscles spasming at once.
Brendan can see every dark, dirty thought forming in his mind. He's pressed against Ste's body, hand drifting lower to cup Ste's arse, and neither of them care that they have an audience.
"Want to go back to mine?" Brendan's voice is low. He's the most persuasive person Ste's ever met, and he doesn't even have to try.
Yes is on the tip of his tongue, when his head clears and he remembers how close they'd come to losing everything. How he still doesn't have the answers that he wants. He pushes Brendan away, feels like it physically hurts to do so, and swallows down the saliva that's gathered in his mouth. He's so easy when it comes to this man. There's nothing he wouldn't do, and it scares him half to death sometimes.
"Stop it," he warns, and he watches as Brendan delights in knowing how much he wants it. "Just...concentrate."
"I don't think I'm the one who needs to concentrate."
"I'm trying to say something here."
"The floor is all yours, Steven. Go ahead." Brendan says, mock seriously.
"Right. Right. Okay," Ste mumbles; now that he's been given the chance, he's not sure how to begin. He glances over at Doug and Ethan, relieved to see that they're too busy jumping up and down to the music and singing at the top of their lungs to care about anything they're saying. "Did you say goodbye?"
"Yeah. Cried as well."
"Really?"
"No."
"Oh. Well you never know," Ste says, affronted. "You have been mates for years, haven't you?"
"I wouldn't exactly call us that."
"Fuck buddies who occasionally have a laugh together is too long," Ste says sardonically, and if Brendan can see his jealousy then he doesn't comment on it. "What did you say to him?"
"We just...talked." Brendan reaches a hand out, grabbing some chips from the nearby table. He has a habit of eating with his mouth full, has done since Ste met him. It should be disgusting. Ste still hasn't worked out why it isn't.
"About what?"
Brendan rubs his forehead, and Ste knows he's probably giving him a headache, digging for information when all Brendan wants to do is forget. But he'll wonder for the rest of his life what happened in that room if he doesn't ask.
"The past."
"The past?" It isn't the answer he was expecting. Talking about the past with Brendan is largely impossible; it feels like he's causing him pain just by asking for the smallest, most insignificant details.
Brendan just eats, cramming his mouth with more crisps. Ste watches, largely fascinated by his uncanny ability to fit all that into his mouth like a party trick. He doesn't know why he's impressed. His cock's slid down his throat easily enough.
His skin flushes. He hopes it's not noticeable.
"What kind of things?"
"What we each got for our thirteenth birthday. Things like that."
"Don't be sarky."
"Don't pout. It makes me want to fuck you."
"I heard that," Ethan calls from the opposite end of the cell.
"Stop listening then!" Ste yells back, marching into the room and turning the sound system up. When he joins Brendan he's started on some mini cocktail sausages, licking his fingers clean after he's finished each one. "Do you still think he didn't kill them?"
"Oh no. He killed them." He says it casually, as though they're talking about the weather. Ste stares at him in shock. He knew it himself, but hearing it from Brendan - from someone who was so sure that this was another one of Walker's lies - has cemented the truth of it in his mind.
"How?"
"Just went into their cells and stabbed them."
"Fucking hell."
"I know."
"Why though? Did you find out?"
Brendan finishes the last sausage, reaching for a tub of Pringles.
"Brendan?"
"No. I have no idea. He wouldn't tell me."
Ste feels disappointed. He knew the chances of anyone finding out were slim, but he was sure that Brendan was their greatest chance of discovering the truth.
"Does it really matter?" Brendan asks gently, offering him a crisp.
"No. I guess not." He chews on it slowly, realising that he's probably lost the opportunity forever. "It's gonna be weird, isn't it? Not having him around."
"Everything changes eventually."
"It doesn't have to." There's a needy, desperate edge to his voice that he doesn't like. He'd love to be the grown up about this, to accept the change that's going to come to them in two days. To walk away and not want to spill his guts out with grief.
"Yes it does."
It's Ste who wants to change the subject now. "Are you gonna come inside?" He says, his tone all false cheerfulness. "We've got water and everything."
"Ooh, how risky of you."
"Come on. I know it's not much of a party, but I think Ethan wants you here."
"And Douglas?"
Ste hesitates. He can't guarantee that he won't show any hostility towards him. Putting them in the same room together is like setting off a loose canon.
"Two against one, innit?"
Doug eyes them warily as they close the door behind them, opening his mouth in protest when Brendan switches the music off, selecting his own CD instead. Johnny Cash's voice fills the room, immediately changing the atmosphere.
"No offense mate, but I already have to listen to this every morning when you do your exercises. Can't we have something a little more...you know, cheery?" Ethan suggests, being the peacemaker when Doug looks like he's about to advance. The black eye makes him look slightly more threatening, but even now, Ste's pretty sure Brendan could end him.
Ste waits for Brendan to correct him, has never liked anyone calling him mate.
"Two songs, then it's all yours."
Comprise. Ste feels like he's doing a double take, as though he hasn't heard correctly. He doesn't draw attention to it, thinks that if he does then he's in danger of losing it. Aside from a muttered, "nice black eye, Douglas," Brendan mostly behaves himself, and it makes Ste feel like he can breathe again. If Brendan's fine about all of this, then he's fine.
They're almost dancing. Shuffling might be more accurate, especially on Brendan's side, hands occupied by the paper cup of water he's holding, but Ste's moving around him, uncoordinated, grin stretching his lips. Brendan lets out a laugh, watches him like he's never seen anything more crazy or beautiful. Ste never thought they would be doing this: all of them together in one room, not fighting or arguing. Not throwing accusations around, or hurtful remarks being fired. For a moment he considers that this is just another one of Brendan's ways of saying goodbye, of preparing for Ste to leave; being on his best behaviour, bottling up his anger until the time when he can allow it to explode.
But the way he's being with Ethan, smiling - not without some tension or difficultly, but smiling nonetheless - makes Ste think that all of this could be real. That maybe when he leaves, he won't be leaving Brendan with nothing.