I had a fantastic holiday (and wrote heaps more of this story), so updates should be relatively frequent.

Here's the next instalment.

'Ummm, Brendan.'

He turned to see Steven wrapped in a towel, stood awkwardly on his staircase. He looked even skinnier without clothes. He almost looked ill.

'Where are my clothes?' he asked.

Brendan internally kicked himself. He'd almost forgotten about Steven being in his house, he'd certainly forgotten that he was supposed to be washing the lad's clothes thanks to Anne and her wee, life-altering announcement. She was sat at the other end of the sofa at the moment, eyebrow raised and a smirk of enjoyment on her face.

They'd agreed to carry on as normal for now, as though there was no baby, but that hadn't stopped Brendan from raiding his secret stash of chocolate for her, or making her a cup of tea. Now, he was even proving her with a show.

'Your clothes are still in the wash,' Brendan answered. 'Go into my wardrobe. They'll be an old tracksuit of Macca's in there. You can put that on for now.'

Steven had barely even turned around to walk back upstairs before Anne was digging her heel into his thigh and saying:

'He's back then.'

'No. I just found him in my office this morning.'

'But he's come back to you. Isn't that what you wanted?'

'He has to want to stay, Anne.'

'You won't be happy until he's on his knees begging, will you?'

'He doesn't have to beg,' Brendan explained. It was obvious when you thought about it. 'He just has to ask.'

'All this because he hurt you?'

'Hurt me,' Brendan scoffed. That was joke. They'd never disagreed on many things, but it seemed Steven was one of them.

'He walked away from you, Brendan, and it hurt.' She emphasised the last word like it meant something. 'And what?' she continued, sounding more threatening than comforting. 'You were afraid he might hurt you again? Afraid he might leave The Estate and leave you behind forever? So you take away all his other options.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said dismissively. He wished she'd drop this topic.

She didn't drop it.

'Look, Bren,' she lowered her voice. 'I know that you're feeling … bruised, but trapping him here isn't going to make either of you happy.'

'We'll see.' He deflected her words with flippant remarks, scared of facing the truth.

'Brendan, you can't force someone to love you. You have to let them make that decision for themselves.'

'I've never forced anyone to love me,' he snarled. 'They always begged me to stay.'

'You bought Vinnie's love,' she snapped back angrily. Why couldn't she just let this go? 'And Macca's, and Shaun's and Eoghan's and all the guys before them. And Steven, the only boy's love you weren't able to buy with fancy clothes, the one who somehow liked you in a way none of the others did…. Look what you've done to him.'

She got up and kissed him gently on the cheek and whispered: 'Let him go, Bren. If you care about him at all, let him go.'

Brendan just flicked over the tv channels until he settled on the news and Anne walked out without so much as a "goodbye".

Maybe she'd been saying something important, possibly something about the unborn baby, but she'd had that tone she always had when she tried to lecture him so he'd blocked it out. Though maybe some of the lecture had sunk in because when Steven reappeared in Macca's tracksuit looking sheepish and uncertain, Brendan couldn't help but feel a flash of guilt.

'Better?' he asked.

Steven nodded just a little, muttering. 'I used your soap, sorry.'

That was weird. Steven had showered here enough times, lathering himself with soap, helping himself two three pumps of shampoo, using all of Brendan's fancy creams in ridiculous quantities and for all the wrong reasons; rejuvenating eye cream all over his face, face moisturiser on his hands. He'd never once apologised before. Now he wouldn't even sit on the sofa without an invitation. He just shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other at the edge of the room. Brendan felt uncomfortable just looking at him.

'You can make some brunch if you like,' Brendan suggested after a moment or to. 'There's some bacon in the fridge. There's got to be some bread somewhere for a sandwich.'

'Right. Yeah,' Steven agreed. He was almost like he was relieved to have orders to follow as he disappeared into the kitchen.

He was silent the entire time he was preparing the food. He didn't ask any questions, didn't say anything meaningless about the news or what he considered to be news something about some apparently-famous celebrity. He was silent, which was a new trait he persevered with when he returned to the room with one plate of bacon sandwiches.

He handed them over and slumped silently to the wooden floor.

'Where are yours?' Brendan asked.

'Oh … I. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to, so I just….' He drifted off, eyes fixed on a knot in the wood which he was dancing over with his fingers. Brendan just closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. This was all kinds of awful.

'Here,' he muttered, pushing his sandwiches towards the lad. 'Have this.'

'But they're yours,' Steven said, only half reaching for the plate.

'I've lost my appetite,' he explained, which was true. And, because Steven looked like he was about to apologise, Brendan found himself cutting him off before he began: 'It's not something you did. It's something Anne said earlier.'

That seemed to be enough, and Steven snatched the plate away greedily, stuffing his face like a starving orphan. He was going to make himself sick with the rate in which he was shoving the bread into his mouth.

Brendan was still watching the lad when Walker and Warren pushed their way through his front door.

'We've got a new Macca then,' Warren noted immediately.

'Steven's only here because he's using this kitchen to cook dinner tonight,' Brendan said off-handedly. He turned his attention to the news, hoping to show Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber that no one in this room was as important as some gang fight in North Dublin.

'No dinner for me,' Warren said. 'I'm taking a couple of Red and Orange Zoners into Dublin. We're going to put a few more cameras above the ATM machines.'

Brendan nodded his approval. There was a whole section of Yellow Zone dedicated to scamming credit cards using those cameras. They needed as many options as possible. Both Walker and Warren looked expectantly at Brendan for a moment. He didn't know why, not until Walker rolled his eyes and muttered:

'I'll do the paperwork then, shall I?'

'Looks like it,' Warren smirked, giving him a friendly punch. Too friendly. Brendan preferred it when they were arguing.

'Anyone in the office, Brady?'

Brendan just shook his head and watched his two henchmen disappear through the door and close it behind them. He glanced down at Steven, who was licking his finger and pressing it to the plate in order to snatch up the last few crumbs. He expected the boy to ask about the scam in Dublin, or at least moan about having to cook for everyone.

Neither came.

Steven was silent. What had happened to the boy who'd brazenly taken his Johnny Cash CD out of the player and forced him to listen to Katy Perry? What had happened to the boy who'd kissed him so forcibly on the balcony? What had happened to Steven?

Brendan knew the answer, he just didn't want to think about it.

::

Steven had cooked dinner quietly, apologising every time he knocked a pan against the side, or shut the cooker too loudly. He'd stayed in the shadows of Central Square while everyone else ate, only sneaking into the light at the end to steal a few scraps from the near-empty plates. He was deft in his movements, it was obvious why he'd fallen so effortlessly into a life of crime. He was clearly a natural.

'You surprise me, Brendan,' Walker said calmly in his ear. He'd almost forgotten that the two men were sat next to him. He'd been a little too engrossed in Steven's scavenging. Brendan glanced sideways to see Walker was doing the same.

'It's nice that I still have that effect on you after all this time,' he flirted easily.

'I meant Steven,' Walker continued unfazed. 'I thought he might have been sitting with us this evening.'

'Why would you think that?'

'It doesn't usually take you this long to fill the "boyfriend" chair,' he nodded to Macca's empty chair pointedly.

'It's different,' Brendan dismissed. He hoped he looked as disinterested in the lad as Walker was. 'I don't want Steven in my life, just in my bed.'

That comment cracked Walker's placid exterior as he pulled a face of pure disgust. Brendan let out a low chuckle before continuing:

'Speaking of which,' he got to his feet and called Steven's name. The boy glanced up nervously, but it only took the smallest beckoning gesture for the boy to come scurrying over. 'Get Green Zone to wash up, will you Walker? Steven is going to be busy.'

'I'm sure.' Walker didn't flinch that time, he just put his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle attracting the attention of the final few Green Zoners. 'They're not going to like it,' he warned, gesturing them over.

'Well if they complain, remind them that The Estate is not a democracy. Here, everyone does what I say.'

'My liege.' Walker gave a sarcastically regal wave of his hand. Brendan refused to give the idiotic man the satisfaction of a reaction. He just looked down to Steven, who was struggling to summon the strength to drag himself onto the platform and said:

'With me.'

As he was now forced to expect, Steven said nothing and just followed obediently.

Ste didn't know what to do. He felt like he was on show, stood mutedly in front of Brendan twisting his hands over and over. He couldn't look up at the man. He was too nervous he'd somehow do something wrong, cause him to snap somehow and then maybe he'd throw Ste back onto the cold Estate streets. He couldn't do it. He was sure that one more night curled up under a thin blanket in the damp doorway of a Blue Zone house would kill him off and if someone from the zone caught him…. He couldn't take another beating.

'You're very quiet, Steven,' Brendan's voice broke the quietness. Ste glanced up briefly. The older man was on the sofa, legs splayed, arms running along the back. He managed to fill the entire thing effortlessly. He was looking at Steven with a puzzled kind of expression, head tilted slightly, mouth just a little ajar.

'It's not like you,' he continued.

'Sorry,' Ste muttered, dropping his gaze downwards. It was all he could think of to say as he picked with the cord from Macca's old hoodie which he was wearing. The aglet was chewed to bits and all that was left were flakes of plastic and fraying ends.

'You're very apologetic too.'

'Sorry,' he repeated. And then because he realised he'd apologised: 'Sorry. I mean … sorry.'

'Stop!' Brendan snapped and Ste was grateful because he was beginning to get stuck in a loop he wasn't sure he'd ever get out of.

He could feel Brendan staring at him, but he couldn't look up. He didn't have the strength to hold Brendan's gaze. Instead, he found a knot in the floor and looked at the pattern of it. It was an ugly imperfection in the otherwise perfect wood. He felt like he could understand that.

'Okay Steven,' Brendan's voice distracted him. 'You can go now.'

'What?' He couldn't stop himself. He looked up. Brendan had moved, he was leaning forward, ready to get up and physically remove Ste from the house if needed.

Ste didn't understand it. He'd done everything Brendan had asked. Maybe it was about the soap, or maybe dinner wasn't good enough.

'I said,' Brendan repeated, casually getting to his feet as though he wasn't tearing Ste's world apart. 'You can go now.'

A large hand rested on Ste's shoulder, dragging him to his feet and ready to guide him back to the streets, to the cold, to the hunger, to the loneliness. And before Ste could stop himself, he whispered:

'Please don't make me go.'

'Pardon?' Brendan put a hand to his ear. Ste was sure Brendan would have heard but he couldn't rock the boat by accusing him of anything. He just repeated:

'Please don't make me leave.'

'Steven,' Brendan sounded sympathetic and the hand on Ste's shoulder moved up his neck and began caressing his cheek, dragging Ste's gaze upwards. Ste did as his hands asked, finding Brendan's bright blue eyes. It was the first time he'd felt anything like safe in weeks and the safety felt so brittle.

'No need to look so scared,' Brendan reassured him. Ste felt fingertips stroking the base of his neck, soothing him gently, just like the words that followed: 'I won't make you leave. I will never make you leave. The question, Steven, is will you want to leave?'

Ste shook his head firmly. He couldn't leave Brendan. He needed him too much. He was everything in Ste's tine pathetic world. He was all he had left; the one beacon of good, swimming in the sewage water of his life.

'I'll never leave,' he promised.

He'd obviously answered correctly. Brendan's hand on the back of his neck became firmer, pulling Ste close to him, their lips brushing together gently. Ste reciprocated eagerly. He needed to show Brendan how grateful he was for this second chance. A second chance he didn't deserve.

Thanks for reading. X

(P.S: How long do you guys think is reasonable time between updates? I get some reviews telling me I wait too long – I usually wait 6-9 days.)