Brendan
The paper with Steven's number is almost torn. He's had to find the back up, the one that Steven had insisted he keep if he lost the first one. He tries to keep it in the drawer in his cell, where he can't smooth it over with his thumbs whenever he wants to see it, making the writing fade. He doesn't need to keep it anymore - he's memorised the number - but he can't throw it away.
He thinks about calling him the first night. He has no idea if Steven got home okay, and there's no assurance that the dainty little blond of an ex of his will take care of him. He doesn't know what he thinks could happen; Steven's more at risk in here than he is in the outside, but it doesn't stop Brendan from imagining different scenarios and possibilities. He comes close several times, dialing his number and planning what to say in his head. It's Amy that picks up, and he loses his nerve and slams the phone down like he's been struck. It's only afterwards that he thinks of excuses he could have come up with: he could have been a friend of Steven's calling, and the fact that he's hung up has probably only raised Amy's suspicions. He imagines her telling Steven about it, and Steven knowing it's him, and realising that he's too much of a coward to speak to him.
He starts waiting by the phone. The games room is next to it, and he spends the time when he's not with Desmond or at the gym in there. It's slowly clearing out since his arrival. The men who used to play pool become wary of his presence, and only the brave ones are still playing as he sits in the corner, not watching, not looking at anything, just waiting for the phone to ring.
It's becoming something of a running joke, him being the one to answer it. Each time he hands it over, trying to hide his disappointment. It's the other men's wives or children or parents. A few times it's Cheryl asking how he is, and he often has to call her back to apologise for being irritable. He doesn't mean to snap, but every time that she calls is a time when Steven could be trying to get through. That's what Brendan tells himself, because the alternative is unbearable to think about; the alternative that Steven might not be trying to contact him at all.
He's close to giving up. Days spent without him has made him weak, and he's slumped on the chair in the games room out of habit more than anything else. He doesn't expect anyone to call for him, and he's tired of hearing the excitement that comes when the other men speak to the people back home.
When the phone rings in the afternoon, Brendan lets someone else get it. He's got his eyes closed and his arms crossed, and despite the noise around him, he's drifting into an uneasy sleep. He hopes that, surrounded by the other men, his mind won't let him dream.
"Brady."
He opens one eye sluggishly. One of the men's staring at him. He doesn't dare touch Brendan to alert him; he knows better than that by now.
He holds out the phone to him. "It's Hay."
He must be dreaming.
"What?" His mouth feels dry.
"That boy of yours." There's a mocking edge to it, but it barely registers with him. "Go on, I want to get back to the game."
Brendan takes the phone from him. It feels like a solid weight in his hand, too solid for any dream, and he moves from his seat and backs himself further into the corner, away from the other men. They've resumed their game, and Brendan hopes the noise will drown his conversation out. He doesn't want anyone to hear this.
"Steven?"
He's going to kill someone if this is all a joke. If he's been set up. He'll kill every fucker in here.
Then he hears Steven's voice. A simple hi that makes Brendan feel like he can't breathe.
"You okay?" He drinks in the sound of his voice, that accent which he'd know anywhere.
"Yeah. How are you?" The line's clear. It sounds like Steven's beside him.
"Fine." There's a silence. There's so much he wants to say - far more than these initial pleasantries - but suddenly he's lost. He doesn't know where to start. "Kids okay, Steven?"
"Yeah they're good. Thanks for asking."
"Course." He's never met them, but they're Steven's, and for that he cares.
"And your journey was alright? Traffic okay?" Jesus. They'll be talking about the weather next.
"Fine. We got home quickly."
"Good." Another pause. Brendan leans in closer. He's in luck: one of the men has just won the pool game, and there's a sound of raucous triumph. "I miss you."
It breaks the ice between them. He's sure that he hears Steven let out a sigh, something like relief.
"I miss you too." And he can hear it; he can hear the strain in Steven's voice. How much he means it. What this is doing to him. "I've wanted to call everyday. Every fucking day."
Brendan almost laughs. He thought it was just him.
"You should have."
"I didn't know if you wanted me to. I thought maybe you wanted some time."
"No." He's shaking his head even though Steven can't see.
"Is everything alright there?"
No. It's hell without you. Knowing what I had. What I've lost.
"It's...you know. It is what it is."
"Don't forget that you've got people in there, Bren. Des and Ethan and Lynsey. How have your sessions been?"
He'd been hoping that Steven wouldn't remember. That he wouldn't ask.
"It's been..." He's not as good as lying as he used to be.
"What?" He can hear the panic rising. Steven should never have to worry about him.
"I told him something." He's clutching the phone as close as possible to his ear, hunched in on himself, hoping that no one else can hear a single word of what he's saying. "I didn't mean to."
"What was it?"
"I told him about the dreams I have." He hopes he won't have to elaborate.
"The nightmares you mean?"
"Yeah."
"That's not a bad thing, is it? Maybe he can help you with them."
His naivety is beautiful. Brendan wishes he could live life through his eyes.
"I can't tell him the details, Steven." He says it slowly, hoping that he'll catch on. Surely he realises why he can't tell Desmond anything.
There's a moment where it seems like Steven's going to argue against it, but then there's silence on the end of the line.
"Steven? You still there?" He listens intently for the slightest hint of a noise or a breath - anything.
"Sorry. Just thinking. And don't say that's dangerous knowing me."
"I wasn't gonna." He was.
"I didn't think...sorry. I know why you can't tell him."
It stuns Brendan for a second. He hadn't expected Steven to understand quite this easily. He'd been waiting for him to get angry. To tell him to be a man, to grow some balls and tell Desmond the truth.
It's not that he underestimated him. He knows - knows - that Steven would never say that to him. But it's in Brendan's head, that maybe all of this is just another way for him to be weak.
"What did you tell him?" Steven's voice is curious. As though right now, there's nothing he cares about more.
"Nothing. I didn't say anything." It's excruciating, thinking of the silence that had stretched on for the remainder of the session until he'd finally managed to make his escape. He'd barely been able to look at Desmond as he'd left.
"He'll understand." Steven's so certain. "But Bren -" He's got that voice on him. That soothing, please stay calm voice. It has the opposite effect: Brendan thinks he knows what's coming, and he leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes, hand clenching around the phone.
He can't. Steven must know that. He can't.
"One of these days, maybe..." Steven's voice is tentative. Gentle. But it's still all too much.
"No." He hopes it sounds as emphatic as he wants it to. It should be a full stop, but the boy's always talking, his mind always busy with something,and it takes more than that to shut him up.
"One day you might want to tell him."
"Want to?" He raises his voice, nails scraping against the wall. "I'll never want to."
"You might be surprised. With Amy - everything I did to her - I just wanted to tell someone in the end. Talking to the counsellor, it was -"
"I'm not you. Seamus isn't Amy." He's being vicious, and he can practically sense Steven recoiling. He's dismissing his past, dismissing everything Steven's trying to tell him.
"I'm not saying -"
"Yeah, you are." He doesn't know when to stop. Perhaps if Steven was with him now, and he could see him and feel him, then he'd be able to control this. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bastard.
But he's not here. All Brendan's got is his voice, and it's the best thing he's had since Steven left him, but it's not real enough. He can't feel his arms around him.
"I'm just trying to help." Steven's angry now, and frustrated, and all Brendan can do is make it that much worse, because he still isn't sure that he knows how to make it better. He's learnt the art of fucking things up even more than they were before.
"Just go back to that girlfriend of yours." He hangs up the phone, and he kicks the wall so hard that the wallpaper peels. An officer comes over to him, Oi, Brady, but he's not listening, and he doesn't care. Several of the other men back away from him, and he can see the alarm in their faces. Is he that much of a monster, that even these men - even these criminals - fear him? He knows what they've done. He knows their pasts, and some of them make him look like the fucking easter bunny. But here they are, fearing him. Wanting to run away.
It's not a good feeling. It doesn't give him any satisfaction. Not anymore.
Brendan leaves the room. If Steven doesn't call him back, then he doesn't want to be around to know it.
::::::
Ste
"Where are you going?"
Amy's come home from picking up the kids to find him in front of the bedroom mirror, outfits spread across the bed and the floor.
Having settled on some jeans and a clean shirt, he's currently in the process of trying to do something with his hair. It looks like he's been dragged through a hedge.
"Out."
"I guessed that, Steven."
He flinches at the name. He should be used to it: Amy's called him Steven in the past whenever she wants to put him in his place, usually when he's done something to spectacularly piss her off. But it's still raw.
"Just going to a club." He gathers all the discarded clothes together, shoving them away in his drawer. He wants to put some music on, get in the mood for tonight, but he knows Amy will only complain.
"Right."
He deliberately pretends that he hasn't noticed her displeasure.
"The kids want to see you, you know."
He feels a twinge of guilt. He can take Amy being angry at him, but it hurts when she uses Leah and Lucas against him like that. She knows what it does to him; knows how much he wants to do right by them.
"I'll come and have dinner with them before I go out." He knows how half hearted it sounds. He's beginning to feel like one of those absentee fathers. The sort which he had. The sort which he told himself he'd never be.
"Ste." She's being sympathetic now, reaching out for his hand. He doesn't know which one is worse. When she's worrying about him like this, looking at him in concern, it makes him feel like there is something to be concerned about.
"I'll go and see the kids now, yeah?" He's already heading towards the door. He feels slightly ridiculous for getting dressed up so early. He's just doused himself in aftershave, and he wonders if the kids will smell it on him, whether they'll comment on it.
"It's not about that."
"Really? Cos I thought you were trying to say that I'm neglecting them."
"I never said that!"
That's what he heard.
Amy runs her hands through her hair, and she looks so tired that Ste wants to put his arms around her and hold her. Just for a second, they're young again - properly young, back when they were barely in their teens, and he can see the girl he first met. He can see all the mistakes he's made, and how she's seen them all too, and yet she's stuck by him through every single one. She's still here, and he hasn't done a single thing to deserve it all.
He sits on the bed, eyes to the floor, not looking but listening. It's stalemate. He's calling a truce.
"I just thought things would be different this time."
"Different how?" It takes all his control not to start another argument. What did she expect of him? Did she think he'd come back and immediately find work, and give her all the things that they've never been able to afford? Did she think that he'd finally make her dad proud, that Mike would invite them over for family dinners? Perhaps she thought that prison was some sort of holiday camp, and he'd come out refreshed and ready to give her the future she wanted.
"I thought that you wouldn't be out at all hours again."
"Amy, I've stayed in every night this week. I've been locked up for three months - I deserve to let off steam." He knows he's not being entirely unfair. But even he's not convinced. He doesn't want to go to this club tonight. He doesn't want to be in a room full of sweaty, drunken strangers. He doesn't want to get off with a guy he doesn't know. He doesn't want to be that Ste anymore.
He doesn't want to forget Brendan.
"You might have stayed in, but you haven't been with us." Amy's eyes are shining with tears, but she's strong, stronger than he is right now.
"What are you talking about?" It's unnecessary. He knows.
"You've been here every night, but you've hardly said anything. Remember what you told me when you came back? You said that you were glad. That you'd missed us. But I look at you, and I watch you with the kids, and I don't feel that. I don't feel like you're glad to be here at all."
The shock of her words is like a blow. It's the truth, and lying to her would be insulting to them both.
"I love you." It's not a lie, and it's the first thing he thinks of. "I love you."
"I love you too. But I want you to want to be here. I want you to talk to me. If something's bothering you -"
He gets to his feet. He can hear the kids voices from down the hallway, and he hopes that they haven't heard any of this. He and Amy have always resolved to never let them hear any arguments; they'd seen first hand the effect that they could have.
Ste kisses her cheek. Something's trapped inside him, and he wants to tell her everything, wants to tell her about the phone call and how it's been messing with his head ever since. He wants to tell her about this man, this man who's changed everything, and how he's been fighting to hold onto him ever since they met, but he keeps on pushing Ste away, doing everything to make him let go.
"I'll stay in." It's what he settles on, and he feels relief at the words, at the decision. He doesn't want to go through it all again. It's exhausting, the constant search for something, going out night after night to get a diluted kind of pleasure which leaves him with nothing after it fades. He's changing his clothes before Amy's even left the room, putting on something more comfortable. The smell of the aftershave lingers, but the kids don't seem to notice it when he joins them again. He's just their dad.
His new clothes still lie in his wardrobe, unworn. The visiting order's still in his drawer. It feels like a lifeline. Before he goes to bed, he has to look at the letter again to make sure it's real.
::::::
Brendan
It happens by chance. He passes a guy in the corridor. He's larking about, up in Brendan's face, playing the big guy in front of his mates, and before he can react Brendan's got him by his shirt collar, dragging him and pushing him up against the railings. There are officers about, but they look entertained by this little display. Stunts like this make their day more interesting, and they watch but don't intervene, seeing how far Brendan will go. If he touches the guy - seriously touches - then they'll get involved, but before then he's fair game. He can have some fun.
It's nothing more than light intimidation. He intends to let the guy go. He doesn't have time for this. It's nothing, and he feels bored as he messes with him, watching him quiver and his friends laugh around him, seeing him crumble.
Brendan's close. So close that he smells the booze on his breath.
He lets go of the guy, smoothing out his shirt. He whispers so no one else can hear, asking where he got the moonshine from. He learnt yesterday that Walker's been transferred somewhere north, and he thought that the moonshine would dry up with his departure.
The guy's reluctant to tell him, but Brendan forces it out of him. It's almost too easy. All it takes is a few threats about what he'll do to the man's family, and the secret's out of the bag. Jesus. Do these men really think that Brendan has an army of people helping him on the outside?
But it works in his favour, and a couple of hours later he's sat in his cell, moonshine warming his insides. He'd rarely touched the stuff in the past, has never trusted Walker's little concoction. There could be anything in that crap, but he finds that he doesn't care now. He doesn't care about being sensible, about keeping out of trouble.
He doesn't care.
He's barely aware of the door opening. He looks up, expects to see an officer, to have been busted. It's not an officer. It's Kevin.
"Can I come in?"
"You already are in," Brendan grunts. He takes a swig from the bottle, wincing and closing his eyes against the taste. He doesn't know what the fuck they put in this crap; doesn't want to know.
Kevin takes a step closer, but Brendan holds up a hand.
"Now you're in, you can get out." He relishes seeing the disappointment in the lad's eyes.
"But -"
"Fuck off."
Kevin's eyes roam over the bottle that Brendan's clutching tightly to his chest.
"Thought you didn't touch that stuff?"
The comment piques Brendan's curiosity despite himself.
"How do you know what I do and don't touch?" His eyes are heavy lidded. This stuff works quickly, which suits him just fine.
"Simon told me."
The mention of his name in unexpected, and Brendan feels like his body's jolting with the shock of it. He wonders where he is now - whether he's already arrived at the other prison, or if he's still in the car on the way there. He wonders if he's afraid.
"Had a lot of little chats about me, did you?" He should mind being talked about, but a part of him feels numb to it.
"You and Ste."
The bottle of moonshine almost slips from Brendan's grasp.
"Sorry about him being gone," Kevin continues quietly. The door's closed behind him - when did that happen?
"You sound really sorry."
He's sure he can hear Kevin laugh softly.
"Things already soured between you two then?" The boy slowly takes a seat beside Brendan on the floor, knees drawn against his chest.
"I don't remember when it became your business."
Kevin carries on as though he hasn't heard anything.
"Ste wouldn't be very pleased, would he? Knowing that you're risking everything, drinking that stuff."
It feels wrong. It feels wrong that Kevin's talking about Steven at all.
Brendan sits up. He doesn't know what he looks like in this state, but he knows that he's been able to scare Kevin before.
"Leave me alone." He enunciates every word clearly, and the way Brendan's talking has made stronger men crumble, but Kevin's not breaking.
"I reckon he'd be really upset." The kid seems to take an infinite amount of pleasure in goading him.
"I reckon I just signed a visiting order for him."
There's a moment when shock registers on Kevin's face, but it's masked quickly.
"That's why you're drinking, is it? To celebrate?" There's scepticism there. If Brendan was sober he'd do everything to silence it. "Because you look bloody miserable to me."
"What do you want?" He's tired of hearing how much he's messing up. How he's not behaving like he should. The sooner he finds out why Kevin's here, the sooner he can go back to trying to wipe the phone call from his mind for ever.
He's sure he's seeing things. He's sure that it's his imagination that makes him think that Kevin's trying to be sexy. Trying to do something with his eyes and his mouth and his voice that he can only describe as seductive. He wants to laugh.
"Now that Ste's gone..." He trails off, and it's so suggestive that Brendan does laugh then, full of disbelief. Steven and Walker have been gone for less than a week, and the kid's already trying to move into his bed. Unbelievable.
He doesn't answer. Kevin doesn't deserve one.
"Think about it." Kevin gets to his feet, wiping the dust from his arse. He's got the same frame as Steven, the same build. Could almost be mistaken as Steven from a distance. But he's not. He's not Steven, and that's the difference.
When Brendan's alone again, he climbs into bed. He's drunk all the moonshine he has, and the empty bottle lies hidden under the covers beside him. He doesn't know why there's a small part of him that still doesn't want the officers to see, but he tries to shut his mind against it as he waits for sleep to come.
::::::
He's been shaken awake roughly.
Brendan tries to roll over and ignore it, but whoever it is isn't getting the message.
He sits up suddenly, hearing a yelp at the unexpected movement. A very distinctive, Douglas Carter sounding yelp.
"What?"
"Alright, you don't have to yell." Douglas takes a step back. At least he's still able to scare someone in this place.
"Sorry, Brendan. I tried to stop him." Ethan's sheepish, not looking at Douglas when he glowers at him for making excuses.
"Didn't try hard enough, did you," Brendan mutters. His head's pounding, and he realises with growing dread that the bottle of moonshine isn't with him anymore. The reason for this little early morning wake up is suddenly a lot clearer.
"Get up, Brendan."
"I could be naked under these covers, Douglas."
"I've checked, you're not." Seeming to realise how this sounds, the boy colours and tries to hide it with more hostility. "I'm not doing this while you're lying there with your eyes closed. Get up."
Brendan sighs, only following the command because he wants to see what Douglas's intention is. Watching him playing the hard man has always been a source of entertainment, and he doesn't want to miss seeing it in action. It's been a while since he had a real laugh.
He's only in his boxer shorts, and he enjoys watching Douglas squirm, taking in the size of him, suddenly looking like he thinks this is all a bad idea. He's been at the gym even more than usual since Steven left.
It's Ethan who throws him a shirt, crossing his arms, decidedly unimpressed.
"What's all this about then?" He towers over Douglas, and he can see that the boy's all too aware of it. He thinks the kid will back down, but he surprises him.
"This is about you being a sack of shit."
Brendan raises his eyebrows. "A sack of shit? It's been a while since I heard that one." He doesn't think he's ever heard heard that one - at least not directed at him. God knows he deserves it though. "What have I done this time?"
"Ethan came in and saw you, you know. Saw you slumped in bed with that thing."
"That thing? Moonshine, you mean? What's the matter, Dougie? Never drunk alcohol before?"
"Not when I'm in here, no. Not when I should be trying to get out. Not when I have someone waiting for me at home, depending on me to do what's right."
His words have the desired effect. Brendan's eyes feel like they're stinging. There's a pressure inside his head.
"It was nothing." They all know it's a lie. He he could have risked everything. He still could.
"I should tell Ste about this."
"Jesus, he's not my mother." Inside he's panicking. Steven already despises him, must do after what he said in their phone call. But hearing that he deliberately tried to sabotage everything that they were working towards - he'll be lucky if he ever forgives him.
"Why did you do it, Brendan?" Ethan asks, and there's no hostility there, not like with his friend. He's genuinely curious.
"Me and Steven had an argument." He's shocked by his own honestly.
Douglas laughs. It sounds cruel.
"So the first real sign of trouble now that he's released, and you go running to the bottle? Really mature."
Brendan's had enough. The kid might not be entirely wrong, but he doesn't have to listen to this.
"Alright, Doug."
Douglas turns to Ethan, looking as taken aback as Brendan feels. He knows somethings shifted in recent weeks, but he never thought that Ethan would be taken his side.
"What? You think this is okay? Ste's dreaming up big ideas of their future together, and Brendan's trying to get an even longer sentence." He dramatises the words even longer, as though Brendan could possibly forget that he's already facing life.
"No, but...just back off, yeah? Ease up."
Doug stares between them, clearly incensed. He storms from the room before Ethan can stop him, the door swinging on its hinges from the impact.
Brendan rubs his forehead. He doesn't know whether this entire thing has been comical or a massive pain in his arse.
"Tell your boy that it doesn't suit him, trying to be tough."
"Shut up." Despite his words, it's said without venom. Ethan sits on the bed beside him, keeping a slight distance. Brendan thinks that's wise: somedays, he's still not entirely sure what he's capable of.
"You can see why he said all of that, though." It's not a question. Brendan's meant to agree with it, meant to accept it. The worst thing is, he does; he does agree. Steven deserves more.
"He needs to keep his mouth shut."
"He cares about Ste."
Sometimes Brendan wishes he'd chosen someone less desirable, less likable. Someone who people wouldn't do anything to protect. If he hurts Steven, he knows there's at least a dozen people lining up to make him regret it.
"The question still stands. Why did you do it?"
He'd been hoping that Ethan wouldn't continue to press it. Brendan knows why. That's not the problem. Steven had been pushing him, trying to get him to open up to Desmond about everything. It didn't matter that he wasn't talking about doing it right now; the idea of him ever telling Desmond about the nightmares, about Seamus, is terrifying.
He can't tell Ethan any of this. He wonders if he even knows what this is like, having this secret that he can't share. Brendan can't even imagine what it would feel like, having the burden lifted. To not have something constantly at the back of his mind, a reminder not to get too comfortable, because it'll always be there.
"I told you. We had an argument."
"You and Ste have had loads of arguments. I've seen more functional couples on Jeremy Kyle. Brendan, you broke up with him for months - even then you weren't doing this. You weren't risking everything."
"What is it with you people?" He lies on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and starting to feel his blood rush from the hurried movement. "I've signed the visiting order. What more do you want?" The visiting order that's now as good as useless. He imagines waiting for Steven to come, the time ticking away until he has to face the truth: there won't be any visits. Perhaps Steven will be out at one of those clubs he goes to. He'll be meeting other men, men who can give him what Brendan can't.
"He doesn't just want a visiting order. He wants you."
Brendan's silent. He doesn't know what else to say. The words are stuck in his throat: I want him too.
"Call him."
"I can't."
"Call him." Ethan says, firmer this time. "Tell him you're a useless bastard who doesn't deserve him. Tell him you screwed up again. Tell him that you love him but you're a pathetic -"
"Yeah, okay. I get it."
He thinks Ethan's going to give up, but he turns to him after a moment.
"I see why he likes you though."
"You coming onto me?"
Ethan slaps him on the leg.
"Sorry, did you just hit me? Felt like someone was tickling me."
"Shut up. Stop deflecting."
He almost asks if Desmond taught him that word.
"You're brave, aren't you? You look after people, protect them. You protected him."
"Ethan, I swear. I didn't kill Silas and Warren."
Ethan looks unconvinced, but lets it drop. "Go and call Ste. Now."
"No." He's scared. Scared that Steven might be out, and that his imagination will run wild. Where he might be. Who he might be with.
"You call him, or I'll..." Ethan hesitates, and Brendan can almost see his mind working, trying to conjure up an appropriate punishment. "I'll tell him that you've been hanging around with Kevin."
Brendan splutters. The kid thinks he can blackmail him? Him?
It's working. He can't ever let Steven know that Kevin's been sniffing around. He knows how he'd take it. How he'd jump to conclusions.
"You wouldn't."
"I would."
"You wouldn't," Brendan repeats, and he shows a reason why Ethan wouldn't, clenching his fists until his knuckles go white and strained. It doesn't go unnoticed.
"You're not going to hit me."
"Wanna bet?"
"No. Because when Ste visits he's going to see my face, and I have no problem with telling him who made it that way."
Brendan opens his mouth to argue back, then realises it's futile. Ethan's got him good. He's played him at his own game.
Ethan waves. "Bye, Brendan."
Brendan really fucking hates him.
::::::
Ste
The phone's ringing.
He doesn't know why he rushes into the hallway, making sure that he gets to it before Amy does. It's pointless; it won't be Brendan, and he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. He can't summon the enthusiasm he'd need to speak to Doug or Ethan. They'll want to know about his life outside, and he can't explain to them that everything feels disordered and overwhelming. They'll think he's a headcase.
"Hello?" He knows Amy would tell him off for his tone. It feels impossible to be polite today.
There's a pause, and Ste prepares himself for a wrong number or a telemarketer. Then there's a voice.
"Steven."
Ste feels hope rise in his chest. He struggles to keep it down, trying to stay calm.
"What do you want?" He sounds sulky, like one of the kids when they're not getting their way.
"Just to talk."
"You're shit at talking." It's not entirely a lie; talking's never been their strong point. There have been easier, better ways of communicating.
"I know." All the anger seems to have died, and Brendan sounds weakened from it. Drained. "You're not busy, are you? I didn't interrupt anything?"
"Just been with that girlfriend of mine."
"Steven." It sounds like he's pleading. Ste wishes he would stop saying his name like that. It's distracting.
"No, don't. Don't think you can just hang up on me and accuse me of - of being with Amy, and of not understanding what it's like to find things difficult, and then call back a day later after I've been thinking about -"
"Thinking about what?"
Shit.
"Thinking about you," Ste admits, determined that he'll hang up the phone right this second if he hears a mere inkling of smug satisfaction on the other line. He doesn't, and he isn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Now he has to continue with the conversation. Now he has to try, and risk getting hurt all over again.
"I've been thinking about you, and I don't want to."
"I'm sorry."
"You say that too much."
"I never used to say it at all."
"And you think you should be proud of that? It doesn't matter if you say it or don't - you're still fucking up." There's silence, and Ste's words seem to reverberate around him. They sound harsher than he intended - or was this exactly what he intended? Did he mean to wound him, to bite back?
"You're right."
Ste can hear the background noise. He knows what it must have taken for Brendan to make this phone call, especially when he's not alone in the room. He would have known that there's a chance of the other men listening in and judging him.
"Do you still want me to visit you?" He needs the answer to be yes. He doesn't know what he'll do if it's not.
"Of course. I was being a dick before. Of course I want you to come."
"Then what was all that about?" Even now Ste doesn't know if he's asking the right questions. Everything still feels so delicate, so sensitive. But it's not him who's close to breaking.
He waits to be told to fuck off. Perhaps Brendan will say it in nicer terms, but it's still what he expects.
"I know you're right."
Ste feels like he's holding his breath. That maybe if Brendan thinks he's talking to himself and no one else, he'll continue. He'll tell him everything.
"I know I have to tell Desmond what happened." He's whispering, and Ste doesn't know if it's because he doesn't want to be overheard or because this - all of this - is too difficult to say out loud. "I just...I really don't want to, Steven. I don't want to."
"I know you don't." He has to interject now. He can't listen when Brendan's in such distress. "But you're going to survive this."
"Am I?"
"Yes." And he feels it then; he feels, unequivocally, that this is the truth. That they can get through it. "He cares about you, doesn't he."
"He's paid to listen to me," Brendan dismisses.
"No. He cares. He's not like some of the others - he's not just there because he has to be. He'll believe you, Bren."
"And Cheryl? And the jury, and the judge?" Brendan's panicking now. Ste can hear it in his voice, and it's like he's asking Ste to ground him. To calm him down.
"Don't think about them."
"I can't not -"
"Take one thing at a time, yeah?" He realises it's the only way to move forward. If Brendan starts thinking about the future, about a month or a year from now, then it's going to drown him. "Des first. He can help you."
"You promise?"
"I promise. When I come and visit, we'll sort it out. We'll sort it all out. We're gonna get you out of there, Brendan."