The letter was innocent enough, when it arrived. A simple, traditional "You are invited to the wedding of Joel Fox and Theresa McQueen" on card, in typed envelopes that smelt faintly of roses; Ste would bet that was Theresa's touch.

"The invitation arrived!" He called back through the flat, in the direction to his bed, where his boyfriend was sprawled out like he owned it and grinning lazily in the morning sun.

"So?" Kyle muttered, heaving himself to his feet and staggering a couple of steps to plant a wet kiss on the side of Ste's neck.

Ste shook him off: his attention was focused on the calendar opposite him and the paper in his hand, "Yeah, we're free on those dates." He commented, wiping his neck discreetly.

Kyle raised a dark eyebrow, "What else is new?"

Ste smirked – his boyfriend, as ever, raised a valid point: it had been a while since they had done something exciting.

"Why don't we take a holiday?" Ste suggested, wrapping his arms around Kyle's waist lovingly, smiling up into his brown eyes. Kyle grinned back in silent agreement.

"You're going to be late," he whispered, kissing Ste softly and pushing him away with a glance at the clock.

Ste's body hummed with disappointment – he had been hoping for something rather more attentive, and the dismissal stung slightly. But Kyle was right – Ste was late for work as it was.

"I'll see you later," he promised as he left, blowing a kiss as he shut the door behind himself. As he walked down the path, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself to protect from the chill autumnal air, his mind was on the deli, and the food he would shortly be creating; the customers to serve.

The letter was a horrible, horrible joke, gone completely awry and not by Joel at all; Brendan was sure. For one: rose fragrance? Not even Theresa was that much of a girl, and Brendan would be damned if it were Joel spritzing away with his perfume.

Second of all: were they thick?

Brendan though back quickly, trying to remember a single instant in the past three years during which he had even mentioned considering returning to Hollyoaks. He drew a blank – there was no way! And, even if he had considered it, which he hadn't, he had never spoken to Joel about it. So why would Joel think he wanted to go there?

Grumbling to himself, Brendan slid the card back into the paper envelope and threw it into his desk drawer.

It was too late, now, anyway – the date on the card was for later in the afternoon; Brendan would never arrive on time.

"Michael!" He called through his open office door, and the younger man appeared, willing and eager, in the frame.

For a second, his expression reminded Brendan of...

Another reason not to go back.

"Yes, sir?" Michael offered hopefully, his hands full of paperwork and a cleaning rag still tucked through the loop of his uniform.

Brendan had meant to ask him if the file on the new building in the city centre had been found yet; he might have said something about the state the tables were left in the previous night; on a nicer day he might have suggested something about checking the facebook pages. But, in the end, when he opened his mouth to talk, what came out was, "I'm going away for a couple of days."

What? No, he wasn't.

"It's Joel's wedding, see?"

What was he doing?

"You going to be ok until I get back?"

HE WASN'T GOING ANYWHERE.

Michael, his impish features full of admiration, leapt to attention, "Of course, sir!"

Well that was settled.

Roughly, angrily, Brendan jerked to his feet. He found the jacket slung over the back of his chair without looking, shrugged into it, glanced at his phone (just in case some miracle happened and he was forced to let this particular endeavour go) and stalked out. He would drive straight to the ferry, buy a present on it, stay for a couple of hours and come back.

For Joel.

He had to admit – he missed Joel. The stupid, blundering presence around his club had become a part of him; he missed the way he would sulk after they fought, he missed the way he would smile – with a fierce pride, but pretending he didn't really care – when Brendan said something decent about him. He even missed Theresa; not for herself (really, he had never taken to the girl the way other boys seemed to), but for the happiness she brought Joel. It would be nice to see them again, after all this time.

The wedding had been good. Joel and Theresa looked overjoyed; she was beautiful, and Ste could admit that Joel had looked hot in his tux – a pretty couple if there ever was one. Cheryl had cried, of course, and Joel's mother had turned up to smile sadly from the front row; that was a nice, if odd, touch. Ste was so happy for them: only a few years ago they had next to nothing, but each other; now they had everything they could want, including each other.

They had the reception in the park – a small marquis with the food inside, a couple of waiters handing out champagne, a band in the corner and the sunset behind. Risky, if you took English weather into account; but the day had been perfect.

Ste smiled as he watched the happy couple, arms entwined around one another, lost to the world.

"They look nice," he whispered to Kyle, only to turn and find his boyfriend not, as he expected, on the bench beside him, but several metres away engaged in conversation with a handsome man about their age. Ste smirked – typical Kyle.

Cheryl was there, instead; Ste hadn't noticed her arrive.

"Hey, Chez," he greeted cheerfully, and she sent him a big, teary smile in return.

Ste teased, "Hey! He'll be fine!" It was cute, the way that Cheryl cared for the boy who wasn't hers.

Cheryl sent him a look – one that was probably meant to convey surprise, bewilderment, and condescension; it came across as desperate and frightened, "I know that! It's just that...neither of them are very good at cooking." She came up with an excuse randomly, and Ste bit back a chuckle.

"It'll be good for the deli, then, won't it?" He pointed out with a grin.

Cheryl laughed, too.

They lapsed into silence, watching the guests moving around. Ste had known some of these people so very long – Darren and Nancy, Rhys and Jacqui, Tony. It was strange, in a village as strangely tumultuous as theirs was, to see everyone happy.

Joel's face lit up - a beam of light in a floodlit room, a flame in the middle of a fire – and Ste's lips tugged upward in accord without knowing why.

"Oh," Cheryl sighed beside him, but the rejection of the noise was overwhelmed with what was coming from Joel's mouth – like a nightmare – as he released Theresa and took a couple of fast steps in the direction on the marquis.

"Brendan!" He called, and with another couple of steps he stopped, forcing Brendan out of hiding to come forwards to hug the boy.

They wrapped around one another, both laughing slightly, holding tightly.

Ste's heart clenched furiously.

What was he doing here?

"Chez," he started, turning to the bubbly blonde, but Walker was already there, pulling her to her feet and fixing a supportive arm around her waist.

"Why?" Cheryl whispered, but again Ste didn't hear – at that moment, Brendan let go of Joel, with the customary manly slap on the shoulder, and his eyes met the three of them in the corner.

There wasn't even a flicker – barely recognition, no regret and miles away from hurt. Bastard.

Why was he back?

Three Years Earlier

Ste had left Doug in the deli, entwined in the sheets from the walls, his brave forgiving smile forgotten before Ste had walked out of the door.

He had been in a frenzy – half sobbing as he pulled on his clothes, slurring his words desperately as he barked them to the taxi (and, of course, he wouldn't have enough to pay the whole trip, but maybe Cheryl could help out). The drive had been awful: an interminable waiting, a juddering mixture of his pained heart and frightened mind. What if Brendan didn't make it?

And he had looked so small, when Ste finally arrived.

Hooked up to those machines, pale sheets around his blood-free face, bruising marring his clear skin, the edges of his 'tache singed. There was nothing Ste could do – nothing but sit and cry as he held his hand; nothing but hug Cheryl to him as she sobbed; nothing but hand her over to Walker's care so that she might get some sleep, and fall asleep himself with his cheek on Brendan's still hand until the nursing staff shook him awake and directed him to the nearest B&B.

He had looked so small.

When he had woken, a week later, he couldn't remember Ste had been there, Cheryl had told him. Cheryl had told him everything, afterwards, when she tearfully told Ste that her brother was leaving and that he wasn't coming back, and even the thought of Doug had not been enough to keep Ste from staying in bed for a week, and eating his weight in junk food.

And he hadn't seen Brendan again.

Nearly.

Until now.

Present Day

Joel had looked happy; that was good, that was the whole point.

But Steven hadn't; Cheryl hadn't.

It killed him, every time.

Okay, reviews please! Just to let me know what's right, what's wrong, etc. Thankyou!