Brendan
"Brendan? Can I talk to you?"
"I'm kind of in a rush here." He's in the middle of buttoning a shirt - the forth one he's tried on today - when Lynsey comes to see him.
She leans against the doorframe, still clutching the books from the class she's just finished.
"It won't take long."
"Fine. Just talk to me while I'm getting ready." It sounds like an instruction rather than a request, and Brendan deliberately doesn't look at her. He doesn't want to see if she's stung by the way he's acting. His resolve might slip.
Once he's got his shirt on he crosses over to the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He considers asking one of the guards to get him a razor - it's been a few days since he last shaved, and a beard's begun to grow, but he remembers that Steven likes it that way. Whenever Brendan had grown it long the boy had nuzzled close in the bed they'd shared, cuddling up to him like a cat, bristling his cheek against the dark, dense hairs of Brendan's beard. When Brendan smooths a hand over the stubble, he can imagine for a moment that it's Steven's hand. Steven's touch.
"You haven't visited me in a while." She sounds nervous in a way she rarely does with him.
"Been busy." It's more of a grunt than a reply. They both know it's not true, that it can't be. He's never busy, not in here.
"Maybe you could help me out tomorrow? I have a class, and -"
"Sorry, I can't." He leans forward over the sink, splashing his face with water, the noise temporarily drowning her out.
"Brendan." She's got that voice on her. That we're going to talk about this whether you like it or not voice.
"What?" He snaps, forcing her to reel back like he's delivered a blow. It makes the temper die in him. He didn't mean to scare her. That wasn't part of the plan. He's quiet when he speaks again. "What do you want, Lynsey?"
"I'm sorry about what happened the other night. What happened with Ste." They haven't even discussed the fact that Brendan knows. She seems to realise that he's found out somehow, that it's the reason why he's been avoiding her in recent days.
He doesn't let her off the hook. He says nothing, waiting to see if she'll try to get herself out of it, or tangle herself further.
"We were going to have dinner at my place." She's whispering, and he saves her the chance of being overheard, ushering her into the cell and closing the door behind her. He may not want to speak to her, but he doesn't want her to lose her job. "Just something casual, that's all."
"And yet somehow you all ended up in a gay club." He's spitting the words, barely concealed hate there. It's not because it's a gay club, not anymore. It's because Steven went there. Steven.
"It was Doug's idea."
"Of course it was." He never doubted that since the start. "I bet he presented it to you really nicely, didn't he? Wrapped it up in a neat fucking bow - you could all have a good time together and get Steven a new boyfriend. Perfect."
Lynsey's silence seems to confirm that he's not far from the truth.
"I know you're angry with me."
"I just -" He can't keep still he's so frustrated. "Why you, Lynsey? Why you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've always tried to..."
"What?" He's sure he sees tears in her eyes. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be making her feel this bad. But he can't stop himself.
"Ever since I came here I've tried to be there for you. Everything with Silas - with anyone who's ever tried to hurt you, or mess with you."
"I know."
"You're like another sister to me."
"Brendan." She says it warningly, and he knows she's thinking about boundaries and the fact that he's overstepping them. But he's never been any good with boundaries. He's broken every single one.
"I know you love him, Lyns." Brendan can't bring himself to say his name. "I know you're planning this future with him, but first chance he gets he'd be rid of me. He's trying to do it already."
"That's not true - he just wanted to give Ste a good night out. He was trying to be a friend."
"Jesus, take the boy bowling or buy him a milkshake. Don't take him to a gay club!"
"He's not ten, Brendan."
"No, he's - he's mine." Brendan sinks onto the bed. He's all dressed up, but he doesn't feel it. He feels like a child. "He's mine."
Lynsey's still standing across the room from him, keeping her distance, but he gets the feeling that it's just for show: he can see her foot tapping against the concrete like she wants to join him.
"You could at least tell me how he is."
"He's fine. He's - he's gorgeous."
"I know."
"Except..."
Brendan's head shoots up. "Except what? What is it? Is he okay? Are his kids okay? Lynsey?"
"Relax, they're okay. It's just that...he seems kind of sad."
Brendan's heart drops. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that when he wasn't dancing and drinking, he was just...he was just so sad."
Fuck.
"That's why nothing happened. That's why nothing ever will happen, with him or anyone else. That's why I really went with them to that place - because it was harmless. Ste would never try anything with any other guy."
"You don't know that." This is what he's been dreading for months: Steven being out there, finding out that the world has so much more to offer than what Brendan can give him.
"Yeah, I do. He loves you. And maybe Doug is trying to split you up, but he doesn't stand a chance. Even if you don't forgive me, please don't hold this against Ste. Today's the big visit, isn't it?"
Brendan motions to his clothing. "Do you think I'd look this good just to be sitting with the bastards in here?"
Lynsey smiles. "Then show him how much he means to you."
::::::
Ste
He's had to wear a suit. Tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt would look suspicious. When he'd tried them on earlier, momentarily forgetting about where he was supposed to be today, Amy had hovered outside his bedroom door.
"You can't wear that to an interview!"
He'd laughed with her, pretending that he'd never had that in mind, before hastily changing into something which wouldn't arouse her suspicions.
Here he is, on the bus, in a suit. Going to prison, to visit his boyfriend, in a suit. Lying to the mother of his kids about going to a job interview for something he's cancelled, in a suit.
He fidgets in his seat, the material cloying and scratchy. He'd never planned on wearing this thing more than once, on the rare occasion that he had somewhere important to be. He realises now that he should have picked something more comfortable; he's going to be red all over if he has to wear this every time he visits Brendan. He'll have to start thinking of another cover story for Amy: he's seeing a friend in town, or he's going out to the shops. Except he's sure she'll see right through him. He can count on a single hand how many friends he has, and sooner or later she'll want to meet Doug. And he doesn't have the money to be wasting to go to the shops. He doesn't have any money at all; he takes so long hunting for spare change for the bus fare that he hears tutting and complaining behind him from the other passengers in the queue.
Ste looks out of the window. Where he lives almost looks appealing when it's moving by so quickly. When he plugs his headphones in and listens to music on his phone, he can almost convince himself that he's a character in a film. Someone with a far more exciting life than he has, who's not on his way to visit his boyfriend in prison. Perhaps they're running away together instead, leaving it all behind.
It's only when he's nearly there that he begins to feel the first flickers of excitement build in him. He forgets about his uncomfortable suit and the fact that he shouldn't be here, that he should be making his way into town to try and get more money for Amy and the kids. He clears his head, lets it fill with thoughts of Brendan, and what lengths he's gone to to make Ste a part of his life. There are stabs of doubt as he wonders what Cheryl will think of him - will she even like him? - but when he gets off the bus and makes his way to the prison gates with his visiting order, he doesn't regret the choices he made to get here.
He's used to being searched. He can see the discomfort of the other visitors at the procedures, but it feels like nothing compared to his time inside. He's lucky, he gets one of the more friendly officers, and they even manage to make some small talk while they conduct the search.
"You look good, Hay." Ste can see her looking at him appreciatively, and it's not unlike the way Mitzeee was looking at him outside the school gates. What is it with these women? He comes out as gay and suddenly there's an entire flock of them. He could have done with that when he was younger; his teenage years were like the sahara desert.
"Ta. This suit is..." All wrong.
"Very smart. Your Brendan will love it."
He's too surprised to say anything. Your Brendan. He knew that they'd been public knowledge in this place, but in all the time he's known this officer she's never mentioned a thing.
She gives him a last wave goodbye before he's ushered through. Ste keeps an eye out for Cheryl, but there are so many people waiting that not even her distinctive curls, skyscraper heels and heavy make up are visible amongst the crowd. He brings a hand up to his face, hoping that no one's looking at him. He presses his palm against his cheeks - first one, then the other - hoping that the touch of his skin is enough to calm the flushing. Another reason why the suit was a bad idea: he's overheating, badly.
When he makes his way into the visiting room, he's not alone. Cheryl's already there, waiting for Brendan. He's seen her in tears in the past, has seen her anxious and unsure of herself, but there's no trace of that now. She looks more confident than he feels, and her face lights up when she sees him.
"Steven!" She rises from her seat, and her arms are already open. Ste immediately feels more at ease. There's none of the coldness that he was fearing, and when he hugs her it feels familiar, like this isn't the first time they've done this. He already feels some of his earlier tension ebb away.
"Actually, it's just Ste." He smiles, warmed by the idea of Brendan mentioning him to her. Ste can hear his voice clearly when he imagines it: Steven.
"Oh. Typical of our Bren. He's always doing that."
"Except with you," Ste notes. "He calls you Chez."
She finally lets go of him. She's wearing a low cut top, same as always - Ste doesn't think he's ever seen her in anything that could be described as subtle - and her breasts swell in a way that's got every man's eyes on her. Ste recognises one of the gawping visitor's as a friend of Ethan's.
"Aw, he's called me that since we were kids."
Ste can feel his smile fading. Since they were kids. It conjures up images that Ste's tried to keep locked away: an eight year old Brendan. Him trying to protect Cheryl even then. Her not knowing, never knowing.
He scrapes his chair back, eyes to the front as he waits for Brendan to come in.
"I feel like a right scrubber next to you."
He laughs. He was the one who'd been feeling like a fool alongside her.
"I didn't even want to come in a suit. I had to because -" He stops. His mouth has a habit of doing that, running away with him. He turns to face the line of men again, hoping that Brendan will remember what he said last time about not being in the back again. Even now it makes Ste panic, wondering if Brendan's changed his mind. They'll be even more pressure this time with Cheryl coming too. He wonders if it'll always be like this. If every time he'll fear being left alone at the table, the world feeling like it's growing smaller, closing in on him.
Brendan's forth in the line. Ste rises from his seat, brushing down his suit unconsciously, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. Cheryl seems more confident beside him. Perhaps she's used to this, doing it for the past five years. Or perhaps she just hasn't got as much to lose as he does. Brendan's told him about how she has someone back home - Nate, Ste thinks his name is. Whatever happens with Brendan, she's got that to fall back on.
So do you; it's like a nagging, persistent voice in his 's got a family already. He hates that he has to remind himself of it. He's letting them down just by being here, just by forgetting.
There's still an atmosphere. Ste senses it straight away in the way Brendan reacts towards him; he doesn't seem to know where to put his hands, whether to reach out and hold him. Ste tries to smile at him, tries to show him that he'd let him. Cheryl gets there before he can, holding Brendan close. Ste looks at him over her shoulder. Their eyes stay locked until she lets him go.
"You look well." Cheryl's full of cheer and enthusiasm, but Ste doesn't feel it - Brendan doesn't look like Brendan, not to him. He looks incredible - all stubble and defined muscles and arms so big that they look like they could crush him, but there's something wrong with his eyes: they look sad. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping.
They sit down. It's a strange experience, having Cheryl beside him. He doesn't feel like he can take Brendan's hand as easily. It scares him that he's not sure if he could even if it was just the two of them. He's still trying to work out if Brendan's angry with him. If he's angry with Brendan.
"You too. How are you?" He's got Cheryl's lipstick all over him, and when Ste points it out to him he hesitates, and for one precarious moment Ste thinks he's about to ask him to take it off himself. The moment passes, and Brendan brushes it off with his fingers until they've told him it's gone.
Ste feels like he's in a daze as Cheryl updates her brother: how things are with Nate - a millionaire apparently. Her life seems alien to Ste, even more unattainable than Doug and Lynsey's.
"I've got some news about the kids too."
Ste looks between them, alert now. He's learnt not to mention Brendan's children, that it's a sore spot which is better left alone. Brendan's made it clear that he thinks any contact with them would only hurt them.
Brendan doesn't say anything, but Ste can tell that he's listening.
"They want to see you, Bren."
"That's brilliant!" Ste says before he can stop himself. He looks at Brendan encouragingly, hoping that he can project his happiness onto him.
"No." His voice sounds so defeated that it makes Ste wince. "I don't care what they want. It's not happening. We've already had this discussion."
Ste and Cheryl are both ready to argue. Brendan looks between them, seeming to realise the implications of having them both here. It's two against one.
"Declan's older now. He can make that choice," Cheryl says.
"And Padraig? He's still just a kid. They're both still kids."
"You could at least call them if you don't want them seeing you here."
"No." He's emphatic, growing weary. Ste's sure he's only continuing to talk to them because Cheryl's here. If Ste brought the topic up he'd have walked out by now. "I don't want them involved in any of this. Whatever else has happened between us, Eileen's a good mother. They'll have a good life with her. I'm not going to wreck that."
"You won't be wrecking it," Ste intervenes. He knows he should stay quiet. He hasn't even met Brendan's family, but from the few stories that Brendan's let slip, he feels like he knows them. "What about me, eh? Would you tell me that I don't deserve to see my kids?"
In other circumstances Brendan would tell him that it's not the same, that Ste's conviction was for shoplifting, not for murder. But with Cheryl here he can't say a thing, and Ste knows it.
"Exactly!" Cheryl's triumphant at having someone on her side. "And you're innocent - no offense, Ste," she adds. He waves a hand, dismissing it. As far as he's concerned, what she's saying isn't wrong. Brendan's innocent to him.
Brendan sinks back in his seat. "Jesus, if I'd known it was going to be like this I'd never have agreed to it."
"Would you rather I hate your boyfriend?"
Ste feels like he's holding his breath, waiting for Brendan to correct her. He's not my boyfriend.
"Yes, actually. Feel free to." He shoots Ste a smile.
"Well sorry, but I can't. It's just a shame that dad can't be here to meet him."
Silence breaks around the table. Brendan looks away from them both as Ste fights for something to say. He doesn't understand how Cheryl can't see. Why doesn't she notice?
"He'd love to see you happy." Her words are draining the colour from Brendan's face.
"Right, does anyone want anything?" Ste rises from his seat, almost knocking Cheryl over in the process. The curls of her hair bounce from the sudden movement.
"What?"
"I'm going to the vending machine. Want a drink or chocolate or something?"
He doesn't miss the glance that Brendan throws his way, a silent thank you.
"Get me a - actually, don't worry. Better not. I'm trying to lose some weight." She looks between them, eyes wide. "No Cheryl, don't be stupid, you don't need to lose any weight."
"No Cheryl, you don't -"
"Oh, never mind." She waves her hand dismissively in the air.
"Bren, you want anything?" Ste asks, already predicting the answer. Brendan's never been one to turn down his food. When he does, it's cause for concern.
"Yeah, get me one of those caramel wafer things." He reaches in his pocket, shaking his head like he's trying to clear it when he remembers that he doesn't have any money there. Ste wonders how often he finds himself doing that; unconsciously acting like a free man.
"Sorry, Steven. I'll pay you back next week." His ears have gone red. He look ashamed.
"Don't be daft. It's a chocolate bar." Even if Brendan had money on him he'd refuse it. It feels nice to do things for him, even if it's so minuscule in comparison to what he wishes he could do. Ste leaves the table before Brendan can argue with him, making his way across the room to the vending machine. He puts a handful of coins in, only realising when he's got something for Brendan that he's not hungry at all, that everything about this was to do with distraction. He knows he won't be able to do this for ever. It's going to look stupid if he makes an escape every time Seamus is mentioned; he's going to look stupid, like he's not capable of handling anything difficult.
Ste looks through the glass window towards Brendan's table. He wants to go back there, to join them, but something about where he is feels safer. Here he doesn't have to worry about stumbling over his words, of letting something slip.
They'll start wondering where he is. Perhaps they'll start talking about him. Maybe he's imagined how friendly Cheryl's been towards him, and she's really wondering what her brother's doing with someone like him. They look right together, sitting across from each other. They look like family.
Ste takes a step forward, not looking where he's going. He walks straight into someone, an apology already slipping from his lips before he sees who it is. He can feel his mood souring.
"Alright?" Kevin seems to have had the same idea as him; he turns to the vending machine, eyes only leaving Ste's for a second while he pays.
"Fine," Ste says stiffly. His face is turned away, his neck rigid. He feels like the veins on his arms are all standing on end.
"Didn't think I'd see you back here."
"Why not?" His tone is affronted. Why wouldn't he come back?
Kevin shrugs. The lack of an answer makes Ste prickle with annoyance.
"Come on, why not? I'm gonna be here for however long it takes." There's a bite to his words, an anger returning to him that he hasn't felt since he was released.
Kevin laughs. "Calm down, mate. I was just saying. I didn't think Brendan would follow through with it."
He's backing Kevin against the vending machine. He barely even realises he's doing it; takes a few steps forwards and Kevin retreats back, deer in the headlights, but there's still an edge of enjoyment there that makes Ste feels uneasy. The kid shouldn't be this smug.
"We're not like you, mate."
"Don't know what you mean." Ste can feel him trembling, but his eyes are shining.
"Forgetting about Simon a second after he leaves. Really great support you are, when he needs you the most."
"How do you know I've forgotten? You aren't even here, Ste. You don't see any of what goes on inside anymore."
It stings. It's the truth: he doesn't know. Five minute phone calls aren't the same as being here. It hasn't even been a month and there's already been a distance, a divide created.
Kevin reads it in his face; sees the weakness appearing beneath the cracks. Ste laughs, tries to show that he hasn't got to him, but it sounds desperate.
"Brendan tells me everything. I'm surprised you're even here - didn't think you'd be getting any visitors." It feels almost too easy: Kevin's face seems to crumble in on itself. He looks young. Too young to be here.
"Everything okay?"
Ste hadn't heard the officer approach, but he flinches at the sudden interruption, putting distance between himself and Kevin.
"Everything's fine."
"I'm not asking you, Hay." The officer looks at Kevin. Ste doesn't know if he's putting it on, but he looks scared. He's sure that he's going to drop him in it.
"Everything's fine," Kevin echos, straightening up and smoothing down his clothes. Ste's hands had been on them. on him, and he hadn't even realised. He takes deep breaths, stay calm, don't do anything, remember everything you've learnt. But the voice in his head doesn't feel real: he's losing the strength of it.
The officer doesn't believe him, but he leaves them alone. Ste looks towards the glass. Cheryl's talking, leaning towards Brendan, and neither of them look like they've noticed a thing. Brendan wouldn't have remained in his seat if he had.
"Brendan tells you everything, does he?"
Ste turns around. Something about this doesn't feel safe.
"What are you trying to say? Come on, spit it out."
"Nothing." He's doing one of those half smiles.
"No, come on. If you've got something to say about Brendan, then say it." He's shaking, thinks it's with rage - hopes it is. This boy, this kid, shouldn't be the one making him scared.
Kevin steps closer to him, gets so close that his lips are at Ste's ears. He can feel his breath against his cheek.
"Brendan invited me into his cell."
"No." Ste shakes his head. No. "You're lying - you're -"
"Ask him. Ask him, and he'll tell you."
"He would of told me already. If it was true, he would have said something." His mind's full of questions - when did this happen? Was it days ago, before Brendan called him and told him he could visit? Was it out of guilt, inviting him here today? Is that what all of this has been about?
Kevin looks like he can hear every single one of his doubts.
"What did you two do together then?" He crosses his arms, voice thick with disbelief, but his heart's hammering. "You're dying to get it out, aren't you? Tell me."
"I just thought you might want to know, Ste. That while you were outside, waiting for Brendan to call, he was with me."
He's had enough. He grabs Kevin, has his hand on his t-shirt to pull him in closer. His fists are clenched, and there's a ringing in his head, a pressure there that he knows, he knows won't be lessened until he hits him. He's pulling his hand back, his hold on Kevin growing tighter, the boy wriggling in his arms, but there's still that smile on his face, in his eyes, and Ste hates him -
There's shouting, and for a second he thinks it's Kevin: he thinks that it's because of what he's done to him. He's in a daze. He feels himself being dragged backwards, away from Kevin, and then it's his own shouting that fills the room. It's him who's wriggling, trying to get out from the officer's arms. He recognises that voice, looks up and it's sees that it's Darren who's got him in his grip, another officer with a hand on Kevin's chest, although there's little need; the boy isn't fighting.
"Get off me." Ste feels tiny in Darren's arms. Every one of his attempts to release himself is met with resistance, and he exhausts himself with the effort of trying to break free.
While you were outside, waiting for Brendan to call, he was with me.
He only stops struggling when he sees Brendan and Cheryl from across the room, the glass window separating him from them. They're both staring at him, and it's only now that Ste realises that it had been Brendan shouting all along.
::::::
Brendan
"That was...eventful."
"Not now."
He brushes off the protective arms that Cheryl has around him, making his way to the front of the visiting room.
"Brendan, I really don't think you should be -"
"Not now." He'll apologise later for snapping. She's forgiven him for worse.
He makes a beeline for Darren.
"I want to see Steven."
"That's really not my decision to make." He's colouring, and Jesus, Brendan wonders how he's stayed in this job so long.
He doesn't have the strength for his usual means to get what he wants. He couldn't take seeing the look on Cheryl's face if she overheard him threatening a man's family.
"Let me see Tony."
"What?"
"Steven will be with him. He'll want to be with someone who makes him feel safe." He releases a shaky breath; he's not that person. Not right now.
Darren stutters, makes excuses that doesn't have time for. He's already looking over his shoulder, seeing how many officers are guarding the door. Tony's office isn't far from here. He knows that Steven will be there, curled in a chair, trying to calm himself down. He'd bet his life on it.
"Visiting hours aren't over." Brendan sees Darren shoot Cheryl a glance over his shoulder, and he knows what he must think: he's being a bastard. Since Steven was dragged away he's barely even looked at her.
"Maybe he's right. Maybe you should wait a while." Cheryl's voice is tentative behind him. When he turns to her her face is like a china doll's: heavily painted, eyes as wide and curious as a child's.
"Sorry This wasn't meant to...I wanted it to be different, the first time you met him."
"Looks like you've met your match there, Bren."
"He's not usually like this."
"What happened?"
"That's what I need to find out." He leans in, kisses her forehead. "I need to find him."
"It can't wait?"
"No. Not with Steven."
"Bloody hell. You're really serious about him, aren't you?"
He kisses her again, can smell her perfume all around him.
"I love you."
"You love him more though."
She's joking, he thinks. He laughs like he's meant to.
::::::
It takes fifteen minutes of begging before he's allowed to see Steven. He's in Tony's office, only he's not in a chair like Brendan had thought; he's sitting in the corner of the room on the carpet, hugging his knees to his chest. He looks furious, and beautiful.
Tony won't leave them alone together. He agrees for the officer to leave the room, but he stays at his desk, paperwork all around him. He gives the illusion that he's working, but he's a bad actor: a furrowed brow and a look of concentration isn't enough to stop Brendan from seeing the glances he throws their way. He doesn't trust him, and Brendan finds himself respecting that as much as he despises it.
"Steven." He joins him on the floor, sitting opposite him, back against the wall.
"Go away." He's sniffling but trying to hide it, wiping his nose roughly against his sleeve, taking deep breaths that sound like he's gasping. "I mean it, right. I don't want to see you."
"If you just tell me why -"
"You know why." Steven's eyes are rimmed with red. He's staring at him like he doesn't even know him, and Brendan's shame about doing this in front of Tony disappears. He has to fix this.
"What exactly did Kevin say to you?"
"Why are you asking? So you can work out how much to tell me, how much you're gonna have to lie?"
"No." Maybe. "He's not worth it, whatever it is. I told you, he's just a rat -"
"A rat who you invited into your cell."
"What?" It feels like his world is shifting. "Steven, he's - he's lying, okay? Yes, I talked to him, but -"
"You talked to him? About what, Brendan? Why would you even say anything to him, after the way he's acted towards me? You know how I feel about you two."
"It was nothing. It was stupid. He came to find me when I was..." Brendan glances across at Tony. He's not looking at them, but he's listening; he must be. "I was in a bad way, and he came to my cell, asked to come in."
"And?"
"And I told him to fuck off."
Ste snorts.
"I swear. I swear on Declan and Padraig's lives. I swear on your life, Steven, and you know if anything happened to you I'd...I told him to go away. I told him I didn't want anything to do with him. Jesus, Steven, I told him that you're my..."
"Your what?"
"My...you know..."
"What? You can't even say the words, can you?" His eyes fill with hurt.
"My boyfriend, okay. I told him that my boyfriend wouldn't like it, and he left, tail between his fucking legs. That's why he's doing this. His pride got wounded. That's all it is."
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare."
"Steven -"
"I cancelled a job interview for you."
"What?"
"I finally got something. It was nothing, nothing big, but it could have been something - it could have been a chance for me and Amy and the kids. I wrecked all that for you."
Brendan closes his eyes. "I never asked you to do that." That's what he says: not I'm sorry. Not forgive me. Not I don't deserve you.
I never asked you to do that. He hates himself.
Steven stares at him with enough hate for the both of them.
"I called Doug."
Brendan's skin feels clammy. He doesn't understand how they could go from that to this.
"Douglas?"
"Tony let me call him. I needed someone - anyone, who could understand this. Do you know how lonely it is, not being able to tell anyone about you and me? Amy not having a clue what's going on under her nose."
"That's not my fault," Brendan mutters, and some of the old, familiar resentment burns like a fire in him. He's wished countless times that she knew of his existence.
"Isn't it? It's not my fault that you ended up here, that you did something she'd never understand."
Brendan swallows, throat tight. Steven's words burn like acid.
"I didn't mean that." The boy's voice is soft, tinged with remorse, and for a moment Brendan drinks it up, wants Steven to feel guilty, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. He knows why Steven hasn't told her, why telling her is something that seems so impossible. He deserves this. He did this.
"Come on then. What did Douglas tell you?" He doesn't want to talk about Amy anymore; he can still visualise her face from across the visitor's room, taking in the sight of him. The instant judgement there.
"He saw you and Kevin together. He said he hadn't wanted to tell me before, didn't want to upset me. Fat lot of good that did."
Brendan rests his thumb against his temple, rubbing it back and forth, eyes closed. He knows how bad this all sounds. He's the villain in his own life, and now he's the villain in Steven's.
"He's been waiting for this, hasn't he?"
"Don't go blaming Doug like you always do."
"He couldn't wait to stick the knife in though, could he? Taking you to some fucking gay club, filling your head with all these stories."
"Stories? Is that what they are? Cos they sound like the truth to me."
"Nothing happened. We talked, that's all."
"A heart to heart, was it?"
"No. I told him to fuck off. Again."
"Seems like you're not saying it loud enough, because the kid's not getting the message." His bottom lip's jutting out. Brendan wants to take it between his teeth, wants to destroy them both.
"Tony." He doesn't look at him when he says it, but he can sense Tony turning towards them. Probably been listening in the whole time, waiting for an opportunity, the nosy git.
"What?"
"Can you give us some time alone?"
"I told you, I can't do that."
"Patrol outside if you want. Get your boys to check up on us. Create a bloody peephole and knock yourself out. Just give us something, won't you? I need to talk to Steven. Alone."
"I'm not leaving Ste alone with -"
"Tony." Steven's throat sounds croaky, how it is after he cries. He clears it. "Please. Just give us a few minutes." He sounds determined, and Brendan doesn't know whether to be hopeful or afraid.
Tony rises reluctantly. "I'll be right outside. Let me know if you need anything." He directs it all at Ste, shooting him a small smile before he closes the door behind him.
Brendan doesn't know what to expect, feels suddenly unsure whether being alone with Steven is the right thing to do. At least Tony was a buffer between them. Without him, he's faced with Steven's full fury and his disappointment. His shoulders have sagged. He looks exhausted, and far younger than his years.
"Tell me."
"The time that Kevin was in my cell..." He steadies himself, wonders if what he's about to say next will make him lose Steven for ever. "I'd been drinking."
"Did you do anything with him?"
"What - no. No, of course not, I told you, I told him to go away." He feels unsettled, didn't get the reaction that he'd been expecting. "Steven, didn't you hear me? I'd been drinking."
"Yeah, I heard you. So you didn't kiss him, or -"
"I didn't even touch him. But I...I'd been drinking."
"Right. You said."
"So..."
"So what?"
"So I could have got caught. I could have got my sentence extended. You do know that, don't you?"
"Of course I know that."
"And you're not mad?" Brendan can't believe it.
"Of course I'm fucking mad. I could kill you for it, Brendan."
"Go on then. Kill me." He stares Steven down, lets him know that he's entirely serious.
What he does is, he kisses him instead.
Brendan doesn't touch him, doesn't place a hand on him. If they're going to kiss, then it has to be on Steven's terms. The boy's hand is in his hair, his lips parted as wide as if he's yawning, and underneath the minty tang of toothpaste Brendan can taste him, and he tastes the same as he always has.
Brendan moans when Steven ends the kiss.
"I don't know why I did that." Steven puts his fingers to his mouth, rubs the tip of his thumb over them. They look swollen, used. "Kevin do that for you, did he?"
"No." He sounds short of breath. His leg's brushing against Steven's on the carpet.
"Kevin do this for you, did he?" Steven's hands are on him before he can take in what's happening. There's the sound of Brendan's belt being deftly undone, the boy's hands warm and reaching into his underwear.
"What are you doing?" Brendan glances behind him. He can't see Tony outside, but he knows he must be there. He could come back into the room at any moment. "I really don't think we should -"
He wants to: it's not that. It's been weeks and he wants to feel him again, and his resistance is weakening at the way Steven's looking at him. There's still anger in his eyes, but there's something else now too. He wants him.
"Stand up." Steven rises to his feet as he says it. He's wearing a tracksuit, and it shines it's so new. It's got a large zip down the front of it, and Brendan imagines the sound it will make when he takes it off.
He stands up, dazed by the unexpected direction, but there's a tingling in his bones, an anticipation that makes him follow the action.
Steven reaches out, both hands moving to Brendan's arms, trying to steer him.
"Move to the side a bit."
"What?" His mind feels clouded, fogged.
"To the right."
He does what he's told, and when Steven stops him, his grip on him strengthening, he stares down in wonderment as the boy begins to loosen the ties of his jogging bottoms.
"What are you -"
"Touch me."
"What?" Brendan tries to stare behind him at the door again, but Steven stops him with a hand cupped underneath his chin.
"Tony can't see us from this angle. If he looks in it'll look like we're talking."
"Steven..." His eyes flicker to Steven's trousers. He's tenting the material, and Brendan knows what his dick will feel like in his palm, its skin warm and taut, pre-come leaking from the slit.
"Come on." Steven's pupils are as large as a cartoon character's, dark and fringed with black lashes which create shadows on his skin from up close. Or perhaps it's a trick of the light, or Brendan's imagination; he doesn't believe this boy's human at all.
"Wank me off." He takes Brendan's hand in his own, moves his free hand to unzip Brendan's trousers then delves it inside his boxers. Brendan grunts at the sudden feel of it, Steven's skin tickling along his pubic hair. Even as Brendan hesitates, hand rubbing against Steven's dick but not taking it in his grasp, he can feel Steven palpating his cock, thumb brushing over the head.
Brendan gets lost to the pleasure of it. He closes his eyes, leans a hand against Steven's shoulder as the boy alternates: massages his balls, fingers him till he's bucking in his grasp, strokes his dick from root to tip.
His hand is still inside Steven's boxers. He can feel the softness of his treasure trail. His dick's rigid; he gets hard quickly, this boy.
"I want to get my mouth round you." He's unsure if he's said it out loud at first, until he hears Steven. He's moaning, sounds helpless and delicate.
"We can't - Tony." It doesn't stop him from kissing Brendan's earlobe encouragingly, lips moving down to his neck, hands still working fervently. "Please."
"Please what?" He knows what, but Steven's pretty when he begs.
"I hate you."
"I know." His hand moves from Steven's dick to his hole. "This what you want?"
The boy tongues him harder and Brendan kisses him to get him to settle, feels his moans hit the back of his throat as he toys with Steven's hole, his finger ghosting around it, rubbing against the muscle there, listening to Steven's reactions to know how much he likes it, how much pressure to apply.
He bites down on Steven's lip as the boy works his cock. Steven draws back, blood across his lips at the same time that Brendan comes. Whatever doesn't end up in his underwear is washed away by Steven, his tongue sweeping across his palm. Brendan kisses him, wipes the last traces away, swallowing down the sourness and the metallic taste of the blood.
He pushes the boy roughly against the wall, the impact making them both moan.
Brendan's got one hand around Steven's cock, two fingers in his hole, and when he comes he comes with a scream that Brendan tries to muffle, gets the boy to bite down on his shoulder. They're covered in marks; Brendan imagines that pretty little blonde of Steven's seeing them, questioning. When Steven kisses him, Brendan's smiling.
They're a mess. Brendan wipes the boy down, Steven hissing when Brendan takes his softened cock in his hand, cleaning it up. He's sensitive there afterwards, always has been, but when Brendan's hand moves to his entrance he bats him away, inserting a finger and staring Brendan dead in the eye while he does it. He fucks himself, back and forth, back and forth, eyelids heavy. His gaze travels from Brendan's eyes to his cock, tells him he wants him inside him, and if Brendan can find a condom, then fuck Tony. Fuck them all. There's a large desk in front of them. He'll take his chances.
He's got nothing on him, and neither has Steven. He watches the rise and fall of Steven's stomach as he fucks himself as Brendan does his trousers up. Steven's not finished being angry; there's a fire inside him that this hasn't put out, and when he opens his mouth Brendan expects to hear it again. I hate you.
He doesn't let Steven speak.
"I love you."
The boy doesn't look surprised. He looks aware of his own power, but he can't be, can he? If he knew what he means, exactly what he means, then he'd run from this room now. He'd be scared of being loved this much.
He stares at Brendan defiantly.
"I know."
He kisses him until the door opens.