It felt like it was over. Ste had tried to fight Lawrence off, but he was too small and too weak and he just couldn't hit back hard enough. The huge back of the hand across his burning cheek had finally knocked him to the floor, and since then there'd been no way out. His face burnt across his skull, his eye felt like it was on fire and he could feel a small warm trickle of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth.

He felt helpless.

He was helpless.

Lawrence had him pinned over the back of sofa. His arms were behind his back and felt like they could snap at any moment. His clothes were reduced to rags around the room. He felt exposed and naked and sick and weak and all he could smell was the ashen burn and stench of vodka and stale sweat.

His mind was blank with fear. He tried to think of something else. Anything else. He wondered if screaming would help, but Lawrence had a dirty, unwashed hand across his mouth and it made the air taste like soil. All Ste could do was struggle and squirm for escape.

Every touch of Lawrence's hands made him feel sick and stranded. He was alone, so, so alone.

'What the…!'

Ste didn't care who'd said it. He was just glad to hear a voice that wasn't Lawrence's. Ste felt Lawrence be yanked away and he collapsed weakly to the floor, huddling into a ball in some attempt to cover himself up a little.

'What is wrong with you Larry!' the voice came again, but Ste just had his head buried into his own knees, vision too blurred to know who'd saved him.

He felt someone kneel next to him, smelt the familiar comforting smell of Brendan's aftershave and then his hand on his cheek. The softness of his hand was soothing against his painful face. Brendan lifted Ste's face up and Ste was made aware of his blue eyes and his seemingly genuine concern. Brendan swiped his thumb across Ste's face to remove the trickle of blood. And then his voice, smoother and more comforting than ever:

'You okay, Steven?'

Ste nodded. He was okay now.

'Did he do anything to you?'

He shook his head. He couldn't speak. He'd forgotten how. He was hardly even aware of what was going on around him. He just knew that Brendan had stood up, but he still had a hand in Ste's head. It was like a weird hug, pressed between Brendan's leg and his hand. He felt just slightly protected.

And then he felt so deserted.

'Get rid of him,' Brendan said calmly.

Brendan didn't want him anymore. He'd been so closed to being damaged and Brendan must have thought that Ste wanted it. Brendan was abandoning him and Ste thought he was going to throw up with the thought. He felt so cold. The vomit felt like it was pushing up inside him and he was shaking violently.

'How?' what was no obviously Warren's voice replied.

'However you want,' Brendan replied coldly and Ste buried his head into Brendan's led and whispered:

'No, no. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

'What's wrong with him?' Warren's voice asked.

'I don't know. I'll deal with it.' That was Brendan.

'I'm sure you will.'

Ste could hear scuffling in the doorway and then he felt Brendan drop into a crouch. He felt an arm go around his shoulder and was dragged into Brendan's strong chest and the soft Irish whisper begin to comfort him:

'Hey, hey. What's going on? Stop your crying. Come on.'

'I'm sorry,' Ste repeated. He was so surrounded by Brendan. He felt so engulfed and safe, like he'd travelled to a fantasy world where everything was strong and gentle and perfectly made to keep Ste safe.

'You've got nothing to be sorry for, you hear me,' Brendan said firmly. 'Nothing.'

Ste nodded. He actually believed the man. He sniffed and pulled away, noticing that his tears were leaving a wet patch on Brendan's shirt. God he was pathetic. 'I'm sorry,' he mumbled again, looking down at the dusty floorboards.

'Hey. Hey!' Brendan's hand held his face tightly and forced him to look up. 'You don't have to apologise to me, Steven. You got that?'

Ste nodded as much as he could with his head in its brace like grip.

'Right, let's get you some clothes.'

Ste was even more aware of how naked he was now that Brendan pulled him to his feet and was half steering him up the stairs towards Ste's room. Ste just weakly sat on his bed and Brendan went into the bag he'd been bought for Barcelona and dragged out the adidas tracksuit.

He seemed to fiddle with the tracksuit for ages, but he threw it to Ste eventually. He was probably internally trying to work out how to burn it. Ste knew how much Brendan hated that particular style of tracksuit.

Ste muttered a "thank you" as he pulled on the clothes but he couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling that Brendan might blame him for what had happened with Lawrence.

'I didn't encourage him, you know,' he sniffed, zipping up his jacket.

'Wouldn't matter if you had,' Brendan shrugged. He was leaning against the wall. 'He should have stopped when you said "no".'

'No, but I've never … with a man I mean. Except for, you know, you,' he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. 'Never wanted to neither.'

Brendan was silent for a moment, and Ste found himself being drawn to look up. Brendan had his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes slightly squinting, like he was trying really hard to work out the mystery that was Ste Hay.

'It wouldn't matter if you had, Steven.'

'Well…' He felt like an idiot. He didn't know what he was trying to say, maybe that Brendan was special to him in a way that he clearly wasn't special to Brendan. 'I'm just saying. I don't do that kind of thing with other blokes. It was you. Just you.'

Brendan was quiet for a long time, and then he eventually said:

'Come up to house later, when the girls arrive. I've got a bonus for you, for a good job in Barcelona.'

'A bonus?' Ste raised an eyebrow semi-hopefully.

'Just come up to the house,' Brendan insisted. He didn't give anything away, he never did.

::

Brendan turned and began to walk out of the house. It wasn't until he left the bedroom that Ste was made aware of the noise coming from the streets. He looked out of the window, to see Lawrence sat in the back seat of the BWM with the men and boys of Blue Zone hurling abuse at him through the slightly open window. Ste ran down the stairs appearing out of the house just after Brendan.

'Hey Ste,' a boy with a foreign accent that Ste didn't know the name of from skateboarding House 14 called. 'You alright mate?'

'He's alright,' Brendan answered. 'Aren't you Steven?'

'Yeah, course,' he nodded. 'Nothing I couldn't handle.'

He fooled the boy from House 14, but Brendan just smirked like it was kind of cute that "Steven" was trying to act tough.

'You can come and hang at our house if you want, Ste,' another House 14 called. It wasn't unusual for people from Blue Zone to know him, and him not know them. He'd become a weird kind of famous as "The Barcelona Blue Zone Boy".

'Aww,' Brendan muttered, so only Ste could hear. 'It's nice to see you're making so many friends.'

'Shu'up,' Ste laughed, giving Brendan a bit of a dig with his elbow. He regretted it immediately, for a split second he thought Brendan might kill him. But Brendan just relaxed, smiled and said:

'My house … when the girls arrive.'

'I'll be there,' Ste nodded.

::

Once the boys from House 4 returned, and heard rumours of what had happened, or nearly happened to Ste, they were more than a little apologetic, but Ste was okay. In fact, he was better than okay. He'd caught the attention of Brendan again and he liked to be in that particular spotlight.

Thanks for reading. I know it's short so the next chapter will be up tomorrow.