Here it is folks after several re-writes, then shelving because of work and life commitments. It's ridic long but I hope you like it.

hugs,

chips

x

xoxo

You wake up feeling sore all over. You don't bother to open your eyes but you half-heartedly attempt to sit up in bed. It takes more effort than it's worth so you collapse back onto the firm mattress and soft pillows.

After a moment you find yourself drifting off to sleep again but the footsteps outside your bedroom force you to open your eyes and stare at the closed door.

The person on the other side fumbles with the door handle then swears under his breath before opening the door and stepping in.

"Good Morning." He says as he walks up to you carrying a tray with a radiant smile.

You sit up gingerly and rub your eyes tiredly. "Breakfast in bed?"

He sits next to you on the bed, carefully placing the tray between you.

A pot of tea, partly spilled, two mugs, French toast and diced fruit.

"Um hum. How was your sleep?" He leans over to you and kisses you gently. It's the kind of kiss that lingers; where lips take their time to part. He smiles at you then sits back and licks his lips.

"You get a whiff of citrusy shower gel and taste his minty breath on your tongue.

"You've had a shower and brushed your teeth." You mutter.

"I've been up ages." He explains. "I didn't want to wake you. I thought you needed the rest."

"Not fair, Stephen." Your voice is low. Seductive. "I smell of stale sex. You smell of meadows."

He blushes.

"So what have we got here?" You say looking at the spread.

"I made us something to get our energy going for today."

"You mean after last night?"

"Yeah." He goes even redder. "I guess."

Ah yes. Last night. All night. What fun between the sheets! Earth-shattering. Bone-tingling. Mind-boggling.

You look at him in his unnecessary t-shirt and boxer briefs. He got dressed. Not good. You are still butt naked and good to go if need be. His hair is deliciously dishevelled and wet from his shower. His cheeks are still a little stubble burnt. His lips are full from the intensity of your kisses. He has that relaxed air he always gets after being well and truly fucked.

Just thinking about that gets your juices flowing.

"You liked last night?" You ask as you reach a hand out to grab hold of his top to pull him to you.

His pupils dilate as he leans over the tray towards you. "Yeah. Course. I loved it."

You run your hands over his torso and abs through the fabric and he responds with that sexy smile of his.

"You want to be careful, looking at me like that, Stephen. You'll get touched... again."

"Like, it's been a while since we done it like that, innit? It's like you've got all your strength back."

"I'd say that was Olympic fit." You surprised yourself. You have been feeling like death warmed up recently and yet right now you feel reborn. In perfect health. The old you.

You bring his hand slowly down your bare chest, over your treasure trail and under the covers.

Looks like your old sex drive is back too. His eyes widen as his hand greets your semi erect cock.

"Again?" He whispers in shock.

"What can I say, Stephen? I've got a serious amount of catching up to do." You lift a suggestive eyebrow at him.

His hand doesn't make a move to work your dick though.

"Dr Scott said to take it easy." He says hesitantly. "And plus breakfast is going to get cold."

You coax him into placing his hand on your cock and encourage him to rub it. His mouth opens slightly as he teasingly runs his fingers over the length of your shaft.

"Dr Scott doesn't understand that this is essential to my recovery. It's complicated science." You mutter, settling back into the bed, hands behind your head with your eyes shut.

"I don't get it either." You can hear the smile in his voice. "But if it helps."

He grabs hold of your dick firmly and you groan when he properly gets to it; slowly stroking you, rubbing the head of your cock and then working the shaft until your dick tents the material of the covers. You harden under his ministrations.

"It helps." You groan.

He pulls his hand away suddenly just as you are really getting into it and you have to bite your lower lip to stop the moan of disappointment.

"But you've got to eat something first, Bren. Doctors orders. Remember?"

Clever fucking move. He has just coerced you. That's your thing! Sex in exchange for eating his breakfast.

"Fucking doctors."

"Try the pain perdu."

You stare at the French toast and inhale its enticing aromas. Still, not quite as enticing as Stephen. "You mean eggy bread."

He laughs. "No! I mean pain perdu. It's way posher than eggy bread!"

"I doubt that."

He narrows his eyes at you defiantly.

"It is."

"How do you make it?"

"You get a brioche loaf, right, and you cut thick slices out of it. Then you mix eggs and sugar in a large bowl. You slowly pour in a mixture of milk, cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla extract in it. I also put a pinch of salt to balance the sweetness. You can put in a splash of cognac, or Grand Marnier or summat as well for taste if you want. Then you soak the brioche in the egg mixture..."

"Then you fry it?"

He nods.

"That's eggy bread!" You say definitively.

He frowns at you and you give him a shit-eating grin.

He picks one up and gives you a crafty look. Then he presses it against your mouth until you are forced to take a bite. He follows that bite up with a spoonful of freshly diced sweet fruit.

You munch away while he stares expectantly at you. Once you have swallowed he asks,

"So? What do you think?"

Bloody. Amazing.

You cock your head to one side and act as if you are deliberating your answer.

"Well?"

"I think I need to try a bit more."

"Okay." He grins.

He feeds you both breakfasts in silence using his fingers. Alternate bites.

You then him. Fruit then French toast.

"It's not bad you know." You say when you are nearly through.

"I know." He grins.

Surprisingly you don't feel nauseous the way you normally do. How strange. On any given day you would be half way to the toilet bowl by now. Maybe it is because Stephen is here. Back with you. Distracting you.

He holds your gaze as he feeds you. You open up for him when he brings a morsel of food to your lips. You nod in appreciation. He smiles with satisfaction. You lick and suck his fingers clean of the juice from the fruit. He stares at you with wide eyes as you take liberties and seal your mouth around them, sucking them into the tight heat of your mouth, mimicking what you can do to his cock.

It gets sensual.

He teases you with the last bite food, putting it close to your lips only to swallow it himself with a cheeky smile. You kiss him, your tongue exploring the corners of his mouth to taste the flavours and he melts against you. One arm curls around your neck to bring you close so that the tray precariously rocks on the bed between you, causing the tea to nearly spill and the crockery to clang together.

You both compose yourselves and pull apart.

His look is intense as he puts the tray on the side table.

"Come to bed." You whisper, your voice thick with anticipation.

"I'm already in bed." He grins.

"You know what I mean."

He pushes down the covers resting over your lower half then crawls over to you to straddle your bare thighs.

He rests his hands on your chest then whips his top off, flinging it to one side of the bed.

There is something different about Stephen today but you can't pinpoint it and you are too consumed by desire to think too deeply on it.

You sit up to kiss him. Your hands travel over his whole body, hearing his gasps and sighs as they skim over his sensitive nipples and over the plains of his slim but toned chest and abs. Then you run them over his back. Your fingers still as you feel a small raised area over the skin of each of his shoulder blades.

"Ah, yes!" Stephen murmurs against your lips then keeps kissing you, clawing at your skin, but you make him stop and blindly feel the area of skin in question.

"What's that?" You say as you touch the two bumps on his back.

He gives you a curious look. "Are you being serious?"

"Yes."

"Bren. You have them too." He looks at you as if you have gone mad.

He gently runs his hands over your shoulder blades and suddenly you can feel what he means. They feel so sensitive.

"Why do I have them?" You ask.

He gently kisses you and you can smell his sweet breath he is so close. "Because that is how we were born."

He pushes you down onto the bed and kisses down your neck and along your shoulder. You look at him in confusion while he lifts your arms over your head, pinning you down.

"There is nothing wrong with what we do." He whispers to you.

"What do you mean?" He is not making sense and you get an intense feeling of foreboding.

He kisses your mouth. "This. I am so happy that you are not hiding anymore. I love it when we are together." He kisses your neck. "I love that I can call you mine to people." He kisses you over your heart. "Honest."

"Stephen." Your heart is beating a mile a minute.

"We can be who we are, Bren. Isn't that amazing?"

He stares intensely at you then continues to tease you with small kisses everywhere his lips can reach.

Why does this feel a bit like déjà vu? You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach like something bad is going to happen. Or is it that you are thinking of what has already happened to him. The brutality he sustained only because he was someone you cared about.

"It's not that easy." You say.

You run your hands over his arms to prove your point. To show him his scars. To hit home with the truth. To remind him that being in a relationship with you can be downright dangerous. But he hasn't got any scars on his arms. You inspect them closely, skimming your fingers over his skin carefully with bewilderment etched on your face.

Where have they gone?

"Bren?" He looks worried but you ignore him.

You scrutinise his legs. The long unmissable scar over his left lower leg has miraculously disappeared too as have the other finer ones.

You push him onto his back and strip him out of his boxer briefs so that he lies naked under you. He laughs in bemusement when you check him from head to toe, feeling every inch of his familiar skin. He relishes in your exploration. He doesn't understand its purpose.

He is scar-free. You turn his head to one side briskly. Even the one at the back of his head is gone.

"Brendan, what's up with you?" He pushes your hand away and frowns slightly at your odd behaviour.

"Where are your scars?" You ask him frantically.

"What scars?"

"The ones on your arms and legs. The one at the back of your head."

"Are you having a laugh?" He laughs and wraps his legs around your waist, pulling you down onto him. "Stop it. It's not funny."

He thinks you are joking with him.

"Come on." He kisses you, enticingly. "Stop messing around."

He rolls you over so that he is on top again then descends to pay lip service to your chest. Your back arches up off the bed as he teases your nipples with his tongue.

Is it the chemo you are on? Is that what is messing with your head right now? What other explanation can there be?

When he grinds himself on you, you get distracted from your thoughts.

"Don't be weird." He whispers heatedly and takes your hands to rest them on his hips. He tongues your neck and kisses you making you feel sensitive all over.

There must be a logical explanation for the disappearance of his scars but right now your brain is fogged up with lustful thoughts. Once you have found release you will make sense of this.

You growl softly when he works his tongue over the skin of your abdomen. When he sits up you look down at his cock which is sitting, hard and unattended, on your belly. You spit into your palm and fist it slowly. He groans and rocks up into your hand, setting a pace, before shuffling down so that your cocks are next to each other, rigid and thick. He grabs them both in his palm sizing them up.

Yours wins in terms of size but his is beautiful; that single vein down the middle, the thick head. You watch as he jerks you both off with one hand. He closes his eyes as the sensation of friction overwhelms him and he leans over for a brief kiss. You grab his butt cheeks, the firm swell of them in your palms and he gyrates against you. When your fingers creep and find his hole his eyes spring open and he gasps. You rub against him knowing that is all it takes for him to want to get fucked by you.

"Yes." He sighs.

Precum is already collecting at the slit of his cock; crystal clear and viscous. You swipe at it making him hiss. Then you lick it, tasting him. That seems to turn him on because he quickly moves down your body and his mouth descends on your cock, running over the underside before taking it down his throat with a skill that came from intense compulsory lessons from you. No wonder he is this good! He deep-throats you with every plunge until he runs out of breath and pulls off you. He pants while looking at you and fists your wet glistening cock.

Those eyes of his will be the death of you. They are so transparent. They give away his lustful thoughts.

Once he has his breath back he descends on you once again but you realise that you are too close to cumming so you switch it up.

"No." You stroke his cheek. "My turn."

You turn him over without preamble.

He looks dazed but goes with it as he settles onto his elbows and knees. You get behind him and push his hips back towards you and spread his knees apart before stuffing your mouth on his tight hole.

"Fuck, Brendan!" He moans loudly and then grinds down on you. "Fuck!" He repeats.

You push his butt cheeks apart and lap at him, like a thirsty dog, feeling the twitchiness of his sphincter against you. You lightly bite a round bum cheek confusing him into pulling away slightly then pushing back to your lips again. You press your tongue flat on his entrance and let him move his hips to rub himself against you. Your dick throbs heavily between your legs and his bounces rigidly too due to his movements.

"Ready?" You whisper passionately.

You can't ignore your need any longer so you grab the lube bottle.

"Yes." He sinks his head into a pillow.

You pour some lube onto your fingers and push one into him. All the way in. He groans and relaxes against it. How very different to the first time when he freaked out and nearly bottled it.

You push a second finger in soon after, feeling his smooth tightness as you slide in. He moans sensually and turns around to stare at you with glazed eyes. You kiss one butt cheek and then the other and smile at him.

"Your ears have gone red." You say pointlessly. Actually he has gone red all over from the adrenaline rush.

He smiles back.

"Have they?" He sighs when your fingers begin to drive into him over and over again until he is writhing, fucking himself onto them.

You pull out to quickly grab a condom, put it on and lube up. He reaches back to stroke your sheathed erection. It isn't long before that isn't enough and you take over. You rest your dick in the cleft of his arse cheeks.

The anticipation is killing you as you see your target; pink, tight but giving. You push against it and the head of your cock breaches his tight ring, eliciting a gasp out of him.

"You okay?" You ask when you notice that he is fisting the sheets with white knuckles and his toes are curling impossibly. Maybe he is sore after last night's exertions.

"Yeah." He sighs. "It's so good!"

Fine then. You push his shoulders down onto the bed forcefully, making him gasp in surprise. Then kneel behind him taking your time burying your cock in him. You watch as it slowly disappears into his heat. You can hear his muffled moans despite his head being stuffed into the pillow.

You tap his arse and lean over him to whisper into his ear. "Stay right there, Stephen."

One hand keeps a firm hold of his hip. The other feels the peculiar raised bumps near his shoulder blades. When you touch them, he jolts like an electric current has run through him.

"They're really sensitive right now." He mumbles.

You thrust unhurriedly into him and he spreads his knees further apart. You get mesmerised by him; how he takes every inch of you with just the right amount of friction as if he is a custom made glove. A perfect fit. You start slow but it is a pace your impatient body can't maintain forever so eventually you both collapse down, he that he is flat on the bed and you cover him with your weight. You settle between his legs and continue rocking into him, feeling him under you, nothing separating your bodies, his fingers intertwined with yours.

His breath is your own and the flutter of his pulse in his neck is tantalisingly close so you kiss it. You skim your hands over every bit of available skin as you plunge into him and hear the sweet sounds of his pleasure.

When you realise that your weight must be crushing him you roll him onto his side and continue to drive into him. You wrap a hand round to stroke his cock and he rewards you with a whimper of overwhelming passion.

"Oh my God!" He sighs.

You kiss between his shoulder blades. You blink and look at them closely. When you touch them again Stephen has the same reaction he did earlier. That spasm of bliss.

He pulls away from you and turns to grin at you. "Don't. I'll cum."

How curious.

He moves away from you. You lie on your back and he hops on you to impale himself on your dick once again. You grit your teeth at the sensation of being completely engulfed by him so quickly. He bounces on you with energy.

"Ah, yes! Brendan!" He calls out breathlessly.

You feel up the muscles of his arms and stomach, tracing the contours and the flex and extension of them.

You grip his waist firmly as you feel your orgasm building up. You steady him then slam up into him ferociously ready to rub one out of both of you. His face is one of pure ecstasy as he holds on for dear life as you pummel into him. You are on the edge. This close to cumming. And so is he. You feel him contract around your cock as he goes completely rigid above you, like a primed bow.

He digs his fingers into your sides almost painfully and cries out, "I can't keep it in, Brendan!"

He sprays a thick wad of cum over your chest and stomach, jolting uncontrollably from the orgasm like he is being zapped by a Taser gun. You cum soon after, propelled by him, a muted shout escaping your lips. You push up into him while gripping his hips firmly so that he remains fully seated on you. You don't think you have ever cum so hard. You think you are going to pass out.

You fall back into the bed as the last of your involuntary shudders runs its course. You are panting harshly as you close your eyes and wipe your sweaty brow feeling toneless and ineffective all of a sudden.

Fuck.

That. Was. Intense.

Stephen didn't even have to jerk off to cum. You fucked him into an orgasm.

You emit a small smug laugh as he collapses onto you and kisses you.

"That was hot." You whisper against his lips.

"Yeah."

He rests his head into the croak of your neck so that you feel his breath on you. His body feels heavy on yours and his breathing slows down to the point where you figure he has fallen asleep. That wouldn't be unusual. Stephen has always been one for a post fuck nap but then he mumbles quietly,

"I'm buzzing, me."

You hear a rustling sound behind him and feel a breeze wash over you, like a fan is pointed in your direction. You open your eyes. You are faced with a flash of brilliant fluttering white.

You push Stephen off you powerfully and scramble off the bed. A pair of long large white wings is sprouting from his shoulder blades as if it is the most normal thing in the world. They flap behind him majestically while he looks at you apprehensively from the bed; naked, flushed and sweaty.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He says, looking like a fallen angel. "I said I couldn't keep it in though."

You look up at him in confusion and trepidation. You point at his wings. "I thought you meant cumming. Not that!"

You stare at the ala in horror.

"I just felt so happy."

"You shouldn't do that, Stephen." You say. You feel a twist of pain in your stomach. You take the condom off your flaccid cock, throw it away and march up to bed.

"Put them away." You command as he sits on your bed looking up at you with tears forming in his eyes.

"No!" He says defiantly. "I have nothing to be ashamed of and neither should you."

He leaps up into the air and lands softly on the floor aided by the powerful flap of his wings.

"And I know you are worried that someone is going to hurt me or summat but you shouldn't. It is beyond your control. I am happy like this, Brendan. Especially when I am with you." He smiles encouragingly at you and takes your hands in his. "Dead happy."

You can't join him in that emotion because that feeling of foreboding is back.

Something bad is going to happen to him.

"I just want you and me to be together." He says. He pulls you into a hug. You comb your fingers through his hair and then touch the downy feathers of his wings.

Stephen kisses your cheek and whispers, "See. They're not so bad."

You relax against him. It is only when he reaches behind your back that you realise that you have sprouted your own wings. Jet black ones. You look curiously over your shoulder and let them fan out.

You look at Stephen.

"This is a dream. Isn't it?" You say, finally putting two and two together.

"Don't be silly."

It is though. It must be. You close your eyes and open them again. Stephen is still in your arms looking at you as if you are the centre of his universe. You still both have ala. You are still in your bedroom in your apartment in Dublin.

"You okay?" He asks.

Your apartment looks normal and other than the absence of scars Stephen looks the same. You stare at yourself in the floor length mirror; two grown men wearing nothing with fucking wings. You body isn't the weedy disease and chemo eaten one you have become used to but the robust athletic physique you used to possess.

"Or we are dead." You say when you look back at him. "That's it isn't it."

"The doctors said that the chemo would take it out of you." He says looking upset and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Maybe you need to rest some more."

You rub your eyes briefly. Maybe he is right.

"Everything is going to be okay, Brendan." He says with a smile.

You kiss him as if it might be the last time then you stare into those blue eyes of his.

"I don't want to lose you, Stephen." You say gruffly.

He smiles up at you and you pull him into a tight hug, combing one hand through his hair. You look beyond his shoulder at the bed; at the t-shirt that he took off before you had sex.

It was blue but this one is black with a neon pink logo on it that says Chez-Chez. It is stained by old blood. You step back removing your hands from him. They are dripping with fresh red blood.

You stare in horror at Stephen.

He is still standing but his eyes are closed. The wings are gone and his scar free body is suddenly covered in open bleeding cuts, bruises, dirt and grime just like you remember from the barn all those years ago.

"Stephen?" You cry out in distress.

He doesn't respond to you so you shake him briskly but he remains unmoving, rooted to the spot.

"Stephen!" You shout. "Stephen!"

XOXO

"It's alright, love." A voice says soothingly. "You're alright."

A gentle hand on your forehead.

"Stephen." You whisper. You hear his name on your lips and picture him in your mind, right there; leaning over you.

Your eyes open slowly and are met by four people huddled over you: Declan, Cheryl, Nicola, and Paddy. Your army of meddlers. Every member just as annoying yet dear to you as the next.

Stephen isn't here.

"Mate, you've slept for ages." Paddy says gently. "You alright? Want me to get the nurse?"

It takes you a second to remember where you are. You feel so disorientated for a minute. You came into casualty yesterday morning via ambulance and you were admitted onto the medical oncology ward for investigation and rehydration. Stephen was with you or at least he had been at the cafe round from the hotel and then again in the emergency department.

So where is he now?

God, you feel weak. Snippets of your dream flash through your mind leaving you feeling shaken. It may have been bizarre but it still felt real.

Fucking Cheryl and her story.

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

"Ready to enter Ireland's Strongest Man." You say hoarsely. "What time is it?"

Your son is staring at you anxiously, chewing away at a nail.

"Nearly two-thirty." Niks says.

God. You have slept for ages. You vaguely remember coming to the ward yesterday and seeing the doctors on ward round in the evening and then this morning but otherwise you have struggled to stay awake.

There is one question on your mind. 'Where is Stephen?' But you worried to receive an unpleasant answer.

"So what's the verdict?" You ask instead.

"You should be able to go home tomorrow or the day after, they reckon." Paddy says.

"You'll need to see Dr Scott in clinic soon though for a check up." Cheryl says.

You slowly sit yourself up. "Why?"

"Because you are obviously getting really bad side effects from the chemo and he wants to see whether your symptoms are improving or whether he needs to change your regime." She wipes her wet cheeks.

"That sounds like trading in a gold standard with second best." You say.

Niks clears her throat and says, "Paddy and me will step out for a bit. Give you guys some time alone."

She kisses your forehead and he squeezes your shoulder before leaving the room.

"Is it bad news?" You ask once your friends have gone.

"No! Don't be silly. You are already looking so much better." Cheryl says. "By the way your mum called. She's coming a little later."

You groan. "Please kill me now."

You regret your words immediately. Your son's face drops. After a moment he finally breaks his silence,

"I don't know why you are always so hard on grandma, dad. She has never done anything to you."

"I am not always hard on her." Only usually.

Cheryl takes your hand. "She is worried sick. What if this had happened when you were all alone at home, Bren?" She gets a wave of emotion. "What if Ste hadn't been with you?"

The mere mention of his name acts like a bolt of lightning through you.

Your mouth feels parched when you allow yourself to ask. "Where is he?"

Declan says. "He flew back to England an hour ago."

You feel numb. Stephen has gone without so much as a proper goodbye as if nothing you said yesterday mattered. As if it wasn't enough.

"I think he wanted to stay, love, but the flight was pre-booked and he had the kids to get back to and the business. He looked cut up about it. I think he would have stayed if he-"

"Shut up, Chez." You say.

You know she is lying. The truth is he didn't want to stay.

Stephen has gone. Full stop.

You feel an overwhelming sense of grief that you don't want to reveal to your family. They can't know how much it upsets you.

"Get out." You whisper.

"What?" Dec says.

"Both of you. Get the fuck out."

"Brendan, don't be silly."

"GET OUT!" You shout.

They look at you then each other in shock.

"Okay. Fine." Your son says in upset. "But this is fucked up. I don't know why you push people you love and who love you back away all the time."

"You don't know what you are talking about, son."

"You're not normal, dad."

You turn your head away as you hear them step out of the room.

XOXO

Yesterday...

Stephen slips through the curtains tentatively.

"Dec said you wanted to see me." He takes a step towards you. His face is tear-stained. He has been crying.

"Yeah."

"So I'm here." He says.

He looks at the machines and drips. He takes a step away from the equipment.

"So that was a dramatic way to tell you that I have cancer." You say, making light of the situation.

He doesn't see the funny. He folds his arms tightly around his chest. "Yeah. Pretty dramatic."

"Ta-da." You say.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asks eventually. The way he says that is like he doesn't want to show you he cares but he does. It's obvious in his stance.

You indicate for him to come closer to you. Then you take his hand in yours. You want to feel him. His hand is warm, limp and trembling in yours.

"Didn't your husband tell you something about knocks to your body making you stronger in the end? Maybe I'm Superman now."

That's it big boy. Remind yourself of his hubby before you do anything stupid. Stephen is married now so no brainless shenanigans like thinking things could ever happen between you again.

You look down at his hand in yours, searching for the wedding ring that will act like a bucket of cold water and make you come to your senses.

He isn't wearing one. You let go of his hand.

"Marty was only talking about bones." He whispers.

"Where's your wedding band?" You ask him. You can hear your heart in your ears like you have just run a marathon.

He stares down at his hands then back at you.

"Yeah. I was going to tell you..."

"...Going to tell me what?" You say.

He swallows nervously and wrings his hands together. "Like, I never got married in the end."

You are not sure if you have understood him properly.

"So you had one of those civil partnerships? Unions?"

"No, Brendan." He shakes his head. "I mean I am not with him anymore. We split up."

You try to assimilate his revelation.

Stephen isn't with Martin anymore.

"I wasn't going to tell you." He whispers. His shoulders are slumped. "I didn't want you to think that I didn't go through with it because of you and what happened last time."

He studies his shoes.

"You mean at the hotel when I came to your room?"

When you nearly had sex. When you finally said, I love you, Stephen.

"Uh. Yeah." He shakily runs a hand over his buzz cut. "I wasn't thinking of you at all."

He is a shitty liar and right now he is lying through his teeth.

"No?" You ask.

He becomes fretful. "No. Do you know how long it took me to get over you?"

You subconsciously touch the crucifix that is dangling from your neck; proof that you never really moved on from him.

"Did you?" You whisper.

His eyes are defiant. "Can't you tell?"

He is trembling.

On one hand, Stephen has been very emphatic about moving on from you. The parcel containing his bloodstained uniform and your crucifix. The different look. The fiancé. On the other hand, he has shown you that he is far from over you. The declaration of love. Falling into bed with you too readily when he was with someone else. Leaving Martin.

"Stephen."

"What?"

"I get why you would want to move on. You have every right. When it mattered, I wasn't there for you." You take a deep breath. "I want you to know that it wasn't easy for me."

"What wasn't easy?"

"I didn't just leave and forget everything." You swallow against your inability to vocalise your emotions. You owe him this much at least. "I missed you."

His eyes widen with shock at your frankness.

"You never checked to see if I were okay. You didn't care."

"Do you honestly think that?"

He sniffs and nods briskly.

"'Course I did, Stephen, and I did check every day for months."

"You did?"

"Douglas." You say simply.

He recoils in surprise.

"Before your... friendship with Dougie-boy, he and I had a thing going."

He frowns. "You mean, you and him were like, I mean, when ..."

He's got the wrong end of the stick.

"It was strictly business, Stephen. Douglas was a naughty boy back in the day. Hard to believe since he looked like an accountant. I used the dirt I had on him to blackmail him into giving me a regular progress report on you."

He holds his head in shock then starts pacing the small space. "God. That is really fucked up!"

"Blame me not him. The guilt got to him in the end. He said he had become too good a mate with you to talk to me behind your back. And he told me that you'd moved on so I stopped..."

Hoping

"... Harassing him."

He bites on a nail. "When?"

"About five months after I left." You grunt. "Just after I got your present."

"Present?"

"The parcel."

Brendan,

All this is behind me,

S

A twitch goes off in your cheek.

"I'm a smart boy, Stephen. I read between the lines. You found someone. I know now that it must have been Martin."

You feel a wave of fatigue and rest back onto the hospital trolley.

Stephen clears his throat and yet his voice still sounds croaky. "He helped me heal."

"I know."

"And he helped me get on with my life. He was good to me. He was good for me."

"I get it but I can't listen to it."

"And anyway it's not like we had a perfect relationship, innit?" He whispers indicating a finger between the two of you.

His eyes widen as he looks at you and he blinks slowly. God, he looks like he needs protecting right now. Like he needs someone to wrap their arms around him and give him strength. You want to be that person.

Maybe your relationship wasn't perfect but you were the happiest you had ever been and you thought he was pretty damn perfect. The good, the bad and the stuff that irritated the shit out of you; his restless legs under that tatty chequered red and black throw of his, his obsession with action movies, his million watt smile, his uninhibited party rocking, his quirks, the nose wriggle, the expressive hand gestures, the tossing and turning in bed, his shy smile and filthy whispers, his worrying addiction to citrusy desserts, his fetish for drinking tea out of massive mugs, his four pint alcohol intolerance, his insistence using you as his taste tester for his culinary inventions, his pointless chat and knowing looks, his pig snort laughs, his drive and determination, his loyalty to you. The way he made you feel like a king.

He rests his hands on the trolley and leans over you.

You haven't answered him.

It's not like we had a perfect relationship, innit?

He is so close that you can smell his aftershave. He settles his hands on the side bar of the trolley.

"So why am I still feeling like shit then?" He whispers.

"I don't know." You whisper back.

You look at his lips. Those pouty kissable lips. You have possessed them countless times before whenever you wanted. However you wanted; gently, roughly, languidly, urgent. Taking. Giving. With his body against yours and his long bashful lashes and reddening cheeks when you stopped to whisper what you wanted to do to him into his ear. His eager hands and mouth. His horny moans. His smooth body against your hairier one. Delicious. Responsive. Clinging to you as though he never wanted to let you go.

"I think it's because I have only ever really wanted you." He says. His hands grip the metal bar so firmly that his knuckles look white. "And I don't know what to do to get over it."

You did not expect him to say that especially after the rejection at the coffee shop and the money he tried to give you back to get closure.

"Do you want to get over it?"

"Yes." He nods briskly. "We never work out. You said so yourself. And feeling like this, not being able to get you out of my head, it's killing me. It's like I'm under a spell that I can't break even if it's the right thing to do."

You would have agreed with him a few months ago. You were sure that you weren't destined to be together but now you are not so sure. You crave nothing else. You crave his open affection for you and the optimism he used to have about your future together as a 'normal couple'. There was a time when that would have been met by your fist in his face or ribs. And he would scamper away until you coaxed him back. Where the words you said were just another weapon against him.

You will come back to me. You always will.

You have had eight years of growth since then; two with him and six after. You have evolved into the person you are now; someone who is more comfortable in their skin, who is slower to anger and use violence as communication, who has fewer secrets and demons.

You can now acknowledge that you need and want him and that time or the people around you cannot influence or change how you feel about him.

You look at him square on.

"Paraic does this game called What if. You know it? No? It's irritating. He says What if and then asks me a question. Like, what if you only had one wish in the world? What would you wish for, dad? He asked me that the other week."

"What did you say?"

"I avoided the answer. It's what I do. You know that." You say. "So ask me now."

He frowns.

"What if you had just one wish, what would it be?" He says.

"That you and me could be together."

His hands come off the bar as if it has suddenly turned piping hot. He clasps them together and steps away from you.

"Don't say that."

"It's true." You say.

He smiles then frowns. Inner conflict. "You should wish for your cancer to go away or summat."

You give him a wry grin. "Five minutes with you now have felt better than the last six years in good health."

He hesitates. You can feel him swing back and forth in his mind, towards you then away.

He doesn't take long to make up his mind.

You feel his lips on yours; a gentle glancing pressure that you think is in your imagination until you open your eyes and see him right there point blank.

Then he touches his mouth.

"It's strange without your moustache." He whispers. "Kissing you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He sighs and then says, "Brendan. I need to tell you something. I am so-"

The curtains draw back and a doctor comes in, coughing loudly to alert you of his presence.

Stephen straightens up. The mood between you is killed by the third man in the cubicle.

"Sorry to, uh, disturb you gentlemen." The doctor says, looking between the two of you, clearly aware that he interrupted a moment. "You're already looking much better, Mr Brady."

"Have you been reading Bedside Manner 101? It shows."

The junior medic doesn't know how to respond to that so he turns to Stephen, "You'll have to step out for a few minutes. I've come to insert a catheter."

You wince at the thought. "At least take me on a date first, doc?"

The medic laughs nervously. "It shouldn't take long. I'll get your boyfriend back in as soon as we're done."

Boyfriend.

You look at Stephen to gauge his reaction.

He is still touching his mouth as if he can't believe he just kissed you.

"I should go." He says.

"Yeah. Sure." You say.

But come back.

"Bye, Brendan." He says and turns to leave.

"Stephen!" You say abruptly.

He turns around, alarmed at the urgency in your voice. "Yeah?"

You look over at the doctor who shuffles in the background preparing for the catheterisation, knowing he is the third wheel.

You take a shaky breath out.

"I love you, Stephen."

XOXO

Six years ago...

The music is thumping so loudly in the club that you can barely hear any conversation over it. That's Fridays for you. Everyone is up for it, unwinding after a week of stress.

Most of the punters are on their feet, dancing to Rae's beats. It wasn't your idea to hire her as resident DJ especially after your rocky relationship with her at the beginning but Stephen was very persuasive when he approached you between the sheets with her name as a potential employee.

'Just trial her again. I think you'll like her this time.'

He was right. With jealousy not clouding your judgement you actually thought her set was good.

The club night is nearing an end and he has been so busy behind the bar that the most you have got out of him so far tonight has been an apologetic smile when you tried to say something to him only to be interrupted by a customer shouting out an order.

The thing is tonight is the last time you are going to see him until Monday because you have made plans to hang out with Pete for the first time in a while; catch a game, drink some beers, reminisce on your misspent youth, listen to some rhythm and blues and take stock of your lives. How you are both about to take big steps into 'proper adulthood' with his engagement and your gay co-habitation. Blokey (cough) stuff. You and your best mate from when you were wee páiste.

It's not like Stephen hasn't got things to do. He plans to do most of the packing since he won't have the disruption of his kids being around. They are spending time with Amy's dad this weekend.

Then Monday he is moving into your place. You take a deep breath in and out.

God. He is fucking moving in.

You watch him across the room. He is glancing at his watch so you make your way across the dance floor. It takes you fucking years with all the moshing but you get there in one piece after shoving some particularly drunk uncoordinated dancers out of the way.

Of course he isn't at the bar by the time you get there so you grab Rhys.

"Put the main lights on and tell Rae to wrap it up, will you. Ten minutes to closing."

He nods and you make your way down the stairs to the cellar. You know you will find Stephen there. He has automatically fallen into the habit of at least partially restocking of the bar before he goes so that you are good to go the next day.

As you get to the last few steps of the staircase you stop in your tracks because you hear two voices in the cellar.

"Gissus a hand, will you?" Stephen says urgently. You hear the strain in his voice and the tinkle of bottles in a crate. "Ta."

"No problem."

"So what was I saying? Oh yeah. We've barely spoken tonight, me and Bren."

"So like you two are really doing it, huh? You're going to be roomies?"

That twang. Recognisable anywhere.

Douglas.

You bristle with annoyance at how close they have become. They are always together and you didn't see it coming. One minute, Dougie-boy was your dogsbody and the flat mate of Stephen's ex. The next he was coming round to your place for dinner on Stephen's invitation.

'Oh didn't I tell you Doug was coming over? Must have forgotten.'

"Roomies? You mean moving in together?" You hear the smile in Stephen's voice. "Yeah."

"I don't get it."

"What's not to get?"

"Ste, you're nice. And I know he's your, dare-I-say-the-word-out-loud, boyfriend, but Brendan? Well, Brendan is Brendan."

Fuck wit.

"You don't know him like I do. He's well nice really."

"He doesn't even define your relationship. Why can't he just admit that he is your boyfriend? Like say the words. 'I love you, Stephen and I think you are an awesome boyfriend."

"Who talks like that anyway?" Stephen sounds sombre when he says. "I know how he feels about me, I think. I mean he asked me to move in right?"

"He gives me evils."

"No he doesn't!"

"Check it out next time. He's like this. Watch."

There is a pause then a laugh from Stephen. Is Doug impersonating you? The bastard.

"Actually, he does do that!"

"See!"

"But it's kind of hot. Like he could take anyone on. Even you. Macho man."

"Funny, dude." You hear more tinkering glass then Doug says, "So, like, help me understand this, when you guys are alone together what do you do exactly?"

"I don't know... like talk about stuff. And stuff."

"I can't see Brendan talk to anyone without making them shit their pants."

Stephen laughs again. "You should be a fly on the wall next time."

"Nah thanks. I'm not sure I'd be prepared for what else I might see."

"Stop being gross!"

"Come on! Guy like Brady. You're probably at it like rabbits... Shit! Just got a visual. Damn!" Doug says. "How did you get together anyway? I can't see him asking you out like a normal person."

You wonder whether you should walk in and stop this little gossip session about you but it is interesting to get insight into how other people see you so you stay in the shadows.

"Actually, um, I'm not sure how it happened. In the beginning, he were just my boss and I thought he didn't like me very much. Then he started acting really nice. And one day we went out, just me and him, like on a night out and at the end of the night we ended up at his place and I were buzzing, right, because we were getting along great. And then we kissed."

"He kissed you?"

"Actually I think I kissed him and he acted totally grossed out by it."

"Good actor."

"I guess. Then the next day was really awkward because I thought he were going to fire me. But then he followed me down here after ordering me to bring some crates up. We were alone and he locked us in. Hold this."

"Why?"

"Just hold it in front of you like this."

"Okay." Doug says sceptically.

"So then he walked up to me like this..." You hear Stephen's footsteps on the hard floor. "Like a panther or summat. I were scared, right, because I were thinking he's going to thump me because I kissed him yesterday and he isn't into blokes."

"Wowa, buddy! A little too close there!"

"That is how close he got." Stephen whispers. "And I was trapped to the pillar like you are now."

"Aggressive fucker, ain't he?" Doug quips.

"I were cacking meself. Then he took the crate away from my arms like this."

He remembers everything. It was two years ago so assumed that only you had kept a video perfect memory of what had happened at the very start of your relationship.

He better not do a complete re-enactment with Doug though.

You would break that shit right up.

"And he got really close. I could almost taste his breath. A bit of whiskey mixed in with gum. And my heart was beating really hard. I thought he could hear it. I couldn't move."

"Let me guess, he kissed the fuck out of you." Doug says like it is obvious.

"Yeah."

"Don't, Ste."

Stephen laughs. "Don't worry." You hear him pat Doug's chest. "You're not my type."

"Hey! Don't say it like that. I could be someone's type."

"Come on. Let's get these crates upstairs." You can hear the grin in Stephen's voice.

"Are you saying that I don't appeal to people?"

You take the last few steps and walk into the room. You've had enough of eavesdropping.

"Dougie, Dougie, Dougie. Shall I answer that question?" You say.

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of you.

"No. Please don't."

"Hi, Bren." Stephen beams at you. "Where did you come from?"

"Why? Were you talking about me?" You ask innocently.

"Doug was just helping me bring some drinks upstairs." Stephen says.

"You don't work here, Douglas." You tell the American. "Shouldn't you be with your friends, partying and what not? You're a paying guest."

"Ste puts me on the guest list. I come here for free." Doug says. Of course. Bessie mates and all that. "And I was just helping out a friend. I was trying to be nice."

"That's sweet of him, isn't it?" Stephen says as he walks up to you.

"Why don't you be nice upstairs?" You tell Doug. "Dance, sell coke. Generally get the fuck out of here."

Stephen frowns at you as Doug scampers out of the cellar.

"Why are you so mean to him?"

"He is always hanging around you like a foul smell."

"Now I'm going to have to apologise for your behaviour."

"Or not."

You close then lock the door, cutting down the noise of the club above almost completely and turn to look at him.

"You're not going anywhere." You growl.

He smiles because you are saying the exact words you said to him the night you kissed him in the cellar for the first time. You stalk up to him and he gives you a lopsided smile.

"Why didn't you just say you wanted some private time?"

You don't answer him. Instead you step up to him and force him to march backwards until his back hits the same pillar it collided against two years ago.

He gasps when you push your body against his and bring your hand up to cup his face.

"Is this how you remember it?" You ask quietly.

"Oh God, did you hear me speaking to Doug?"

"Yep." You say as you rest a hand on his waist. "And then I leaned in to inhale you like this. That aftershave had been driving me crazy for weeks."

"I didn't know that." He smiles.

You gently touch his lips with yours.

"And again." He whispers.

So you repeat the light kiss.

You stare at each other. This feels like you are marking an occasion. The start of a new chapter in your lives.

You steady his chin between your fingers and you both delve in for a passionate kiss. You are ready to make a meal of it but he is first to pull away.

At least he sounds reluctant when he says, "I've got to finish getting this stuff up."

He looks at his watch.

02.05.

"I'll get someone else to do it."

"I don't want the others to think that I get special treatment because I'm with you."

"But you do." You raise your eyebrows at him. "You are sleeping with the boss. What do you expect?"

He smiles.

"And in three days time you'll be living with the boss."

"Oh yeah!" He says then he puts his hands on your chest. "Do you want to come over to mine tonight? Like, as a farewell thingy."

"Much as that has its appeal I've got Pete staying over for a lad's weekend. Can't change plans."

He looks disappointed. "I understand."

"I'll see Monday, anyway."

He grins again then. "Yes. And we'll be roomies!"

"Roomies?"

"That's what Doug calls it."

"Fucking Doug."

He laughs. "I am going to make it my mission for you two to get along."

"Good luck with that."

He gives you a quick kiss. "I'm going to start cleaning up upstairs then."

"See ya."

He gives you a wave and then runs up the stairs.

"See ya."

XOXO

Present Day...

You walk past the reception desk of the ward dressed in the clothes you came into hospital wearing. You aren't feeling great but at least your gait is steady. A little rehydration goes a long way. You pulled your drip line out leaving a small blood bath on your bed before stemming the flow with a bit of tissue. You try not to think about the pain that was involved in removing the catheter without medical assistance. You still feel a little sore in your prized possession.

The nurse behind the desk stands up when she spots you making your way to the door with shock on her face.

"Mr Brady? What are you doing out of bed?"

She walks round to block your way.

You look down at the clothes you are wearing and then back at her.

"Walking out of here."

"But you aren't fit for discharge yet. Please get back to your room."

You lean in towards her so that she leans away from you looking a little frightened by the intensity in your eyes.

"No."

You wink at her then walk out of the ward and hospital.

xo

You are lying on your sofa, wrapped up and trying to get some sleep when the incessant knocking on your door starts. It isn't your sister, your sons or Niks since they all have a set of keys. Whoever it is must have been let into the building by one of your neighbours so they aren't a stranger.

You gingerly make your way to the front door figuring that it is probably Paddy, here to have a go at you for walking out of the hospital against medical advice.

"Coming. Chill the fuck out." You say then swing the door open.

Your groan is heartfelt.

"Thanks. That's the way every mother wants to be greeted by her only son."

"Chris might be locked up but he still exists, ma." You mutter referring to your estranged older brother.

She scowls at you and lets herself in, making her way to the kitchen area and placing a pot wrapped in a cloth on the counter.

"Why are you being an eejit, Brendan? You should be in hospital. Declan was beside himself on the phone a short while ago."

"Because I was fed up of being mothered like some kid." You say pointedly.

"You should go back." She puts the pot on the cooker and starts heating it up. Microwaves are still not on her radar.

"I'm fine right here." You reply. "Or at least I was."

You collapse back onto the couch and cover yourself up again like you were before your mother disturbed the peace.

"Bye, ma."

"I'm not going anywhere. And you should throw that tatty thing out. It spoils the aesthetic of the room."

You look down at the red and black chequered pattern of the throw. Stephen's old throw.

"Your son says that you shouted at him and your sister."

"That happened." You close your eyes to block her out.

"And he said that it was because you got sensitive over Cheryl mentioning that boy's name and finding out that he left Ireland. The one who turned up here a couple of days ago at dinner."

You squeeze your eyes tighter. Here we go, you think. She is going to use this as the latest reason to justify why you should rethink your sexuality.

"Is it? Is that why you are behaving self-destructively?"

"No. And I am not being self-destructive. I'm fine."

"He looked too young for you." She says.

You sit up and crane your neck over the couch to see her as she stands at the cooker.

"Dad is nearly twenty years older than you."

She stirs whatever the contents of her pot are vigorously. "His name is Stephen. Is that right? And you said he was your... boyfriend?"

"Yes." You say in exasperation. "A long time ago."

"And what does he do?"

"Do you care?"

"I heard that he went through a rough time a few years ago."

"Who told you?" You had always assumed that Cheryl had kept Stephen from your mother. Maybe it was your son...

"He seemed polite enough from the brief time I saw him."

"Men who like men can do manners, ma."

"That is not what I meant. I don't know why you are being so defensive, Brendan."

You lean over the couch.

"Why don't we cut to the chase, mother? Where you tell me that my cancer is because I sleep with guys and what happened to Ste is because he sleeps with guys and the reason why Par kissed that kid in his class is because his father sleeps with guys. And how all this is God punishing me!"

She stops stirring and stares over at you. Then she marches up to you, briskly. Brady style. You are a little scared by the anger in her if truth be told.

She shakes the wooden spoon at you. "SHUT UP, YOU SELF PITYING CHILD!"

You recoil from her. Mama Brady is enraged.

"If you must know then maybe I would have been happier if you liked women. Who wouldn't? Life would have been easier for everyone. Do you know how much my life has changed since you have come home and come out? I get looks at church. I have people telling me that they are praying for you on a weekly basis. You are a topic of conversation at my book group. I hear whispers die to silence when I enter rooms when the Buzz prints yet another story about your latest conquest. And some think that your dad left me. Not the other way round. And do you know why? Because they say I made you like this. That it is my fault for smothering you and it's a good job your papa got away. I have tried to understand you, Bren. This is not how I was brought up. So you need to tell me. Teach me. I have tried coming over. I have asked you questions but you shut me down every time." She jabs the spoon at you. "I don't know what more to do!"

You sniff the air. "The pot's burning."

She skips over to it and takes it off the heat. "And now you have made me ruin the stew!"

"Sorry."

She narrows her eyes at you. "For the stew or for being a difficult, uncommunicative son?"

"Both."

She looks into the pot and takes a bowl from a cupboard. She ladles some into it and tastes it with a finger before grabbing a spoon and bringing it over to you.

"It will do. A bit smoky." She says and sits down next to you, passing you the bowl.

"Thanks."

She gives you a smile. She has a knack of making your feel like a little boy with one look.

"You're welcome." You try a mouthful and then put it down.

"I'm not going until you have had the whole lot."

"I know." You say in defeat. She isn't lying. She'll move in if necessary.

"Tomorrow, I want you to call Dr Scott and make an appointment to see him." She says.

"Okay."

You lean back on the couch and stare at the ceiling.

"So this Stephen, was he a special person to you?"

The level of cringe is immeasurable.

"Yes. We were together two years."

"And he knew the boys."

"Yes he did."

"How?"

"It was back in Hollyoaks. They would come over to see me and he was there... and we came out here a few times together."

"He came to Dublin?"

"Yep."

"But you didn't bring him round to meet me?"

"No."

She nods. "Have you told him about me?"

"Yeah. I told him about this. How you gave it to me." You point at the crucifix around your neck. "He said he liked the sound of you."

"Are you embarrassed by me?"

"Come on, ma. Course not."

"I gave birth to you." She says indignantly. "I would have liked to meet him."

You laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it. It sounds like he was someone you actually let stick around not one of those other boys. That counts for something." She says. "Why was he in town?"

"He wanted to return something to me, I think." You rub your eyes tiredly.

Get closure. Leave your heart bleeding.

"Quick visit."

"He did what he set out to do." You sigh. You have had enough of talking. You don't do deep; at least you haven't for a long time. "It doesn't matter, mum. He is gone now. And I'm done talking about him. I feel like I'm under inquisition here."

She stands up, "Not a problem. I'm happy you opened up, Brendan." She fusses around you, tucking the throw around you then picking the bowl up to give it to you again. Then she ruffles your hair and gives you a wet kiss on the cheek. Only the fear of becoming a complete cliché stops you from wiping it.

She walks away but not towards the front door like you hoped.

"Where are you going?" You ask her.

"The study." She says. "I've got to ring Dec, Par and Cheryl to let them know you are okay. And I have brought the book I need to read for my next book group meeting so take your time eating your stew. I'll check in on you in half an hour to see how you are getting on."

She gives you a smile that is hard as nails.

It is at times like this when you realise that your sixty-five year old mother would whoop your ass in a fight.

XOXO

Six Years Ago...

You check the time. 02.50. You are the last person at the club and as you lock up you think about Stephen's invitation to go over to his for the rest of the night.

You shouldn't but you can't resist ringing him.

He answers with, "Didn't I just see you ten minutes ago?"

You can hear his footsteps on hard asphalt. He is still walking.

"Was it just ten minutes?" You say with a cheeky grin while locking the office door and systematically turning off the lights.

"You miss me already, don't you?" He teases.

You groan. "I'm regretting calling you now."

He laughs. "I'm like still fifteen minutes away from home."

"Call me when you get in?" You make your way down to the ground floor of the club.

"What?" He sounds amused. "Like what do you think is going to happen to me on the way home, that I'll get raped or summat?"

"Please! No! I just thought you could tell me what you are wearing in bed."

You make your way to the main door.

"Perv!" He giggles then asks, "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Down boy. I know I'm hard to resist but I told you. I've got Pete."

You double lock the door to the club and stick the huge padlock across it.

"No. You aren't that irresistible! It's just that I have the house to myself, so..."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll see you on Monday, yeah? Enjoy watching the game with Pete."

"I will. See ya."

"Oh wait! By the way, have you noticed that Warren keeps staring at us?" He says. There is genuine worry etched into his tone.

You grin. Warren is a pussy cat. Compared to some of the people you have gone toe to toe with he barely measures up. So you say,

"I didn't want to say anything but I think he fancies me. Caught him rubbing himself while looking at me the other day."

"Funny! Somehow I don't think he is into taches but... anyway; maybe I am being a bit paranoid. It's just I knew him way back when. He isn't someone to mess with. He can be really creepy, Bren."

You wonder what has brought this on. Stephen has voiced his concerns about Warren to you before but not for some time. You can't help but think back on a strange conversation you had with Foxy last week where he accused you of stealing cash from him. You dismissed it in your mind but it jabs back into your memory now. When you next see him you plan to confront him about it just in case he has got the wrong idea.

"I wouldn't worry about him. He is small fish. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okay, Bye."

"Bye, Stephen."

XOXO

This is going to be your second half day return to work since your hospitalisation two weeks ago. You are taking it easy when you are there, concentrating on mundane daytime administration which is still far more interesting than staying at home all day.

You collect your mail which is in a box on the ground floor of your apartment building as you head to your car. You skim through it quickly. Bill. Bill. Spam. Bill. Personal letter. Bill. Spam. Bill.

You bin the spam into a nearby bin then get into your car. The bills are piled up on the passenger seat but you hold onto the letter.

You haven't started the engine. You are literally shaking because you recognise the handwriting on the envelope straight away.

Why is he writing to you? You rip into the paper hurriedly and unfold the A4 paper. His writing has improved from the childlike scroll he had due to his dyslexia into something more confident.

xo

Dear Brendan,

I don't know what to write. I am so confused right now. I can't stop thinking about you or your letter even though I got it over a week ago.

And I feel really crap that I left you at the hospital without saying a proper goodbye. I hope you understand that it was the only way I could be sure that I would be able to leave.

I hope you get better soon. I really do.

Ste

xo

What letter is he referring to? You never sent him a letter.

And then you remember your mother's visit.

'Where are you going?'

'The study. I've got to ring Dec, Par and Cheryl to let them know you are okay.'

You run back out of your car, up the stairs and into your apartment. You walk over to your office and go straight to your desk's drawer. Just like you thought. The letter you wrote to Stephen, that you never intended to send, is gone.

You snap your phone open angrily and quick dial your mother's number.

"Hello?"

You are so livid with her that you can barely speak. "How did you know about it?"

"Oh, hiya, Brendan love. How are you doing?"

"Did you hear me, mother? How dare you send it off?"

"What are you talking about?" She says sheepishly.

"He was never meant to read it." You hiss down the line, gripping your phone so hard you think it might snap. "Who asked you to stick your nose in where it wasn't needed?"

"Why did you leave it somewhere where anyone could have found it?"

"It was hidden."

"Declan found it easily enough. He told me about it and after what you told me about that English boy, well, I recognised what he still means to you and I sent the letter."

You should have known that this would have something to do with your older son.

"Why did you write it otherwise? And why didn't you throw it away?" She asks.

"Because..." You haven't got a ready answer for that.

"Because you weren't ready to let go and because you still have feelings for him. I might be old fashioned but I'm not stupid." She says. "Now I would love to chat, Bren, but I am in the middle of book group. By the way you must read A Visit from the Goon Squad. Marvellous."

She puts the phone down on you.

You slowly try to exhale your anger away.

xo

Dear Stephen,

Sorry for confusing you. Ignore my letter. I already know what your feelings are for me. You have made them perfectly clear. I didn't mean to put pressure on you.

I wish you all the best in your life.

Brendan

xo

Dear Brendan,

I need to get this off my chest. When you told me you loved me at the hotel and the hospital and when you said that you still wanted to be with me it was something I have wanted to hear you tell me since we got together. And when you finally said it you can't imagine how happy you made me but at the same time it seems a bit scary and impossible and unachievable after everything we have been through.

I am not the person I once was. I've grown up and I don't think I can deal with all the stress we went through together.

You made me really happy once, Brendan. You did. But I had to compromise to get that happiness. I had to play by your rules. I can't go back to that anymore but I think I would like to try being friends if you want.

Love always,

Ste

P.S. I hope you don't mind but I called Declan today. He told me that the doctors say that you didn't have a relapse. I am so happy to hear that. Please let me know if you don't want me to speak with him or Paraic. My e-mail is ...uk. It will be quicker to get to me than regular mail.

xo

From: .ie

To: .uk

That is not a problem. You can stay in touch with the boys if you want.

BB

xo

From: .uk

To: .ie

Dear Brendan,

Thank you. I won't bother you again. That is what you want, isn't it?

Ste

xo

From: .ie

To: .uk

Stephen,

That is not what I want.

Brendan

My phone number is attached.

xo

From: .uk

To: .ie

Dear Brendan,

I have attached my mobile number if you wanted too. Just in case you need it, I guess.

Chat soon.

Ste x

xo

Dear Brendan,

We crossed paths with an Irish guy with a moustache in hiking gear today. Leah said he reminded her of you. She remembers you. Not because of the hiking gear obviously. Anyway, that's why I'm sending you this post card. Me and the kids are on a weekend adventure trip in Sherwood Forest.

Ste x

xo

From: .ie

To: .uk

Stephen,

Can you see me in hiking gear? Don't answer that question. Hope the nettles didn't get you or the Hay monsters.

I'm putting my name forward to smother you with calamine lotion if you need.

BB

xo

You look at the e-mail and delete the last suggestive sentence before sending it.

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

No nettle stings. But a few insect bites.

Remember how you would always volunteer to rub calamine lotion on me if anything bit, stung or cut me?

It just came to mind. Remember?

x

xo

Message-

From: BB

Vaguely...

Totally.

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

I was thinking I don't really know what has happened with you over the last few years. I'd like to know.

x

xo

Message-

From: BB

Check your e-mail.

BTW, shouldn't you be asleep? It's gone midnight on a school night...

BB

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about stuff. You?

xo

Message-

From: BB

Working. Texting you.

BB

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Hope the rest of the night goes okay. I'll read the e-mail now.

S x

xo

From: .ie

To: .uk

Dear Stephen,

As requested this is the last six years of my life in bullet point. Warning- Reading this could cause profound drowsiness.

- I came back to Dublin and moved into the apartment that you saw when you were over here. Never moved since. I didn't speak to the neighbours. Apparently they spoke to me. So maybe I ignored them.

- I met Nicola through Paddy. He introduced us soon after I got back to Ireland and now she is my business partner, my friend and my biggest frustration. She's a fighter. If Amy and Mitzeee could have babies, they'd produce Niks.

- Paddy and I have made our peace. Never thought it would happen but there you go. I would trust him with my family's life now. He came out six months ago. Declan thinks he 'does gay' better than I do. He educated me recently. Apparently you are a twink. I can't remember what that means but I think it's a compliment. I'm a daddy-bear. That sounds illegal.

- Cheryl still mothers everyone. Now she also has a husband (smooth talking Italian) and three sons to take care of. She is about to pop with their fourth. The only female offspring of the next Brady generation.

- You know about the boys since they talk to you.

- Declan he is into his second year of vet school. Still with Aoife. Still vegetarian. Still with that shaggy dog. Still meddling with my life like he knows best. He probably does.

- Paraic is like his old man. He scares me sometimes. He is like a Duracell battery. Never stops but he is smart and Eileen knows how to handle him. She exhausts him by signing him up to every club in school. I think he joined debate team last week. He goes into the senior school next year. He will wreak havoc.

- I see Eileen more than I'd like to now that we live in the same city. She's okay when she's on mute.

- My mum's name is Eva. I didn't introduce you because I thought she would disapprove of us and I didn't want you to be subjected to her vitriol. But I got her wrong. She is the reason why you and I are talking again. Long story. I'll tell you some other time.

- When I left Hollyoaks I vowed to get on the straight and narrow. No dealing. No crime. So Niks and I opened VIBE five years ago and THE ELECTRIC three years ago. I still get the odd parking fine though.

- Until recently my routine was work, gym, family, Paddy and Niks.

- Then a few months ago I started to feel unwell. Niks took me to the doctor and I found out I had leukaemia. Three months in and I have completed my induction chemotherapy and now I am on maintenance. The side effects are a bitch but on the plus side, I've been told I look better without the moustache.

- What did you think? Sexier with or without. Find attached photographs to aid decision making.

- Now I work part-time and work out part-time.

- I got cornered by one of the neighbours recently. He gave me a get well soon food basket so I couldn't say no to his invitation to a chess game, Now we get together for a game a couple of times a week. The moral of the story is miracles do happen. I think I made a friend all on my own from scratch.

- So that's me if you are still awake.

BB

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

You look good in both pictures. They are both you. x

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

So you and your neighbour are friends? It's fine if he is your boyfriend. I don't mind.

xo

Message-

From: BB

He's my friend. Just a friend. I don't have a boyfriend. No time. No inclination. That could change if it was for one particular person. If that particular person wanted to...

xo

Message-

From: BB

Haven't heard from you in a week. If it's because of what I said last time, forget it. I didn't mean to blur the lines. Friends?

BB

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Friends.

x

xo

From: .uk

To: .ie

Dear Brendan,

How is it going? The boys say that you are looking much better these days and that you are back to working full time. That must feel amazing. I remember how it felt for me to get back on my feet again. Now you can look forward to the rest of your life, can't you?

The bistro is going great. I don't want to brag but I think we are the best eatery in town, pound for pound. If you were ever thinking about coming to Chester you should come and check it out. Can you believe that it has been nearly three months since we last saw each other?

Stephen

xx

xo

From: .ie

To: .uk

Dear Stephen,

I will.

BB

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Have you heard that Warren got arrested last week? Apparently he got caught breaking and entering into some estate out of Chester trying to nick antiques. With his track record he is going away for a long time. Mitzeee is throwing a party tonight.

xo

Message-

From: BB

Have a drink for me. I'll light a candle to mark the moment.

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Are you working? I can't sleep.

xo

Message-

From: BB

Yep. Club's packed so I've locked myself in the office. You want me to sing you a lullaby?

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

No. I want to talk.

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

BTW, I haven't told anyone that we still keep in touch. Not even Par and Dec.

xo

Message-

From: BB

Do you want to?

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

I don't know. Sometimes I do. Like why are we keeping it a secret? But then I think they'll get the wrong idea. They won't understand that we are mates now and that there is nothing else.

x

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

Brendan?

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

I've upset you. Haven't I?

xo

Message-

From: BB

You're lying to yourself if you think that we are just friends, Stephen.

xo

Message-

From: Ste Hay

I think that even if there is something else we shouldn't do anything about it. I told you, I can't go through it all again.

XOXO

You look up from your phone. You are in your office at the club. You can feel the vibration of the club's music through the walls but the volume is muted by the room's sound proofing.

I can't go through it all again.

Your jaw twitches with a deep emotion that you haven't felt for years towards another person. Possessiveness.

You have been communicating with Stephen for three months now. You were beginning to feel that things between you might morph into something more concrete than a series of e-mails and text messages into something that involved physical presence and not holding back on what you really wanted to tell him.

He has completely squashed your assumption.

The room feels claustrophobic all of a sudden so you step out into the dance area. You duck and weave through the midweek clubbers mainly composed of university students and make your way to the bar.

You grunt a hello to the bar staff and then pour yourself two glasses of whiskey. The first goes down in one. The other you take back with you to the office.

You pick up your phone again and stare at Stephen's text message.

He likes you, you are sure of that. In fact, you are pretty sure he loves you but he doesn't want a relationship. The problem is you aren't sure you can keep up the pretence of just being his friend.

Without thinking you ring his number. He takes longer to answer than your nerves find comfortable.

"Brendan?"

"You said I could call a while back."

"Um, yeah. Sure."

"You wanted to talk." You say.

"You sound angry."

Do you? That is what happens when the person you care for tramples on your heart. He should know. You did it to him.

"I'm not." You say forcing your voice to soften. "I'm frustrated."

"Oh. You didn't reply to my text so after a while I thought... I thought you were done with me for today so I'm in bed now. I was going to try to get some sleep."

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you get a visual of him tucked up in bed alone in a t-shirt and boxers. Inevitably your filthy mind inserts you into the picture. You get into bed with him, push him down and say something cheesy and nonsensical like,

'It's not bedtime yet.'

"You thought I was done with you?" You ask slowly.

"Yeah."

"You're the one who just texted saying you aren't willing to give us a try!" You find your voice rising so you force yourself to calm down. "I'll never be done with you, Stephen."

"Really?"

Jesus, he can be thick sometimes. "Really."

You hear the movement of bed sheets. "So, like, I know you are dead busy and so say no if you can't come but there is going to be a, uh, thing at the bistro. It's a closed door party for close friends and family, like, for Christmas but, um, obviously before so if you want to spend your proper Christmas with your family you still can. You can say no though. I was just thinking out loud."

Eight and half years have passed since meeting him for the first time, six and a half since leaving him, five months since finding out he was getting married to someone else and three months since you last saw him.

His invitation now sounds just as beautiful to your ears as hearing the doctors say to you that there was no evidence of cancer at your last check. Better in fact.

"It depends." You say.

"Depends on what?" He asks.

"Are you inviting me as a friend only?"

There is silence and then a sigh.

"No. I don't think so. I mean, not just as a friend."

You smile. Every bone in your body relaxes and you feel yourself fall back into the chair and exhale.

"Then yes."

XOXO

Five years later...

You move on in life don't you? Like you did after finding out you had leukaemia five years ago.

Shit happens. Bad Shit. The kind of shit that gets you close to putting blades to your wrists, a bag over your head and then jump off a bridge. But you don't because you know you have kids who would lose a father. You have a sister who cares for you and friends. Not many but solid ones. They would never forgive you. They would miss you incredibly. They would care that you have gone. The only ones you thought because with every fibre of your being you were certain that he didn't.

He made that perfectly clear. He wasn't there when you needed him most. He turned his back on you years ago when he sent you back the crucifix and then entered a long term relationship with a man he called a fiancé for some time. When that relationship dissolved you thought you could be together again but he emphatically told you 'no'.

The irony was not lost on you. You had done the same to him. Maybe this was divine retribution.

So you tried to move on. You worked the Brendan Brady front. For six years no one could see the heart ache you felt from his absence from your life. All they saw was your badass demeanour, your deportment, your swagger and your refusal to settle down.

There has only ever been one person who has been able to seen through the carefully constructed Irish bad boy persona. Actually, that person didn't need to see through it because you dropped the act when the two of you were alone.

He owns your heart and, while he may not realise it, he has the power to build you up and tear you down at will. He is your fire and your rock; your everything. He could wrap his arms around you and make you feel at peace or give you one look and make you want to fuck his brains out. His kiss can right a thousand wrongs and his smile set off a warm glow inside you. He can make you act goofy and soppy and not care.

You feel a squeeze in your hand.

"Hey. Daddy-bear." Nicola says. "It's like you are in a different world."

You look across at her in the dim light of the cab on the frosty winter evening. She is under so many layers and covered by so many winter accessories that you can just about make out her blue eyes, rosy cheeks and 'cabin crew' red lipstick through it all.

She grips your hand firmly and her gold wedding band gleams in the darkness.

"Day-dreaming." You cast an eye up and down her swamped body. "Look at you. You sure you've got enough layers there?"

"It's cold." She mutters.

"The frown is kind of sexy." You give her a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off!" She laughs.

"I'm serious."

"Whatever. Look, I'm sorry we are running late. I couldn't decide which dress to go for."

"They both looked good but not at the same time."

She grins at you, then leans in to give you a small kiss on the lips and adjusts your scarf and floor length coat which hides a black tuxedo with a white bow tie and crisp white dress shirt.

"We are nearly there now." She says.

You look out. Great. It's fucking snowing. Who decided winter was a good time of year to celebrate this?

"I can't believe the day has come already. Declan is just a baby." She exclaims.

You smile. "You can't believe it?"

The car glides slightly on a slippery patch so you lean forward and say,

"Oi, moron, watch the driving, yeah! We need to get to our destination in one piece."

"Calm down, mate." The cabbie says indignantly. "It was a spot of black ice."

"Brendan, please." Niks says softly and strokes the back of your hand soothingly. "Or he'll chuck us out."

"He can't drive."

"It's your tact and patience... That's why I love you." She says drily.

You give her a wry look in return. "Is Paddy there already?"

"Yeah. We are the last ones. You are going to get a telling off. Someone won't be happy with you."

"I'll be fine. I've got ways to calm the dragon down." You smile. "Besides. This is your fault. We could have made it in twenty minutes on foot."

"Not when it's snowing and we are dressed all sexy, Bren. Not then."

The taxi stops outside Sherlbourne Hotel. You pay up then step out and run round to Niks side to let her out.

You then walk through the Corinthian pillars together and up the stairs into the hotel lobby. You are greeted by three young men that are dressed in tuxes too; Freddy, Dan and Aiden. Declan's lifelong friends.

"Hi, boys." You greet.

"Hi, Mr. Brady." You give them each a handshake.

"Fredrick." When you give him your hand he uses it to pull you into a hug and a slightly uncomfortable kiss on both cheeks.

He laughs and his cheeks go red, "I'm being European."

"I see." You say and take a step back. You remember your son saying that Freddie has an ongoing crush on you.

You are a DILF apparently. Paddy kindly informed you of the meaning. You wore the title like a badge for about a week.

Dan, Freddie's boyfriend, says with a smile. "I'll take your coats."

Niks and you take your outerwear off and pass them to him.

"By the way, Declan told us that you have been clear for five years." Aiden says referring to your cancer. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I didn't really do anything. Just kept waking up every morning." You reply but you are smiling. You beat the odds. Adult acute leukaemia has a 34% five year survival. You are in the minority but you've done it. So far you are disease-free.

"And tonight is amazing." Freddie says. "It has been a long time coming."

You nod. "I'm sure we'll be sitting for dinner soon. Make sure you get in there. Declan will want you with him."

"Yeah. We were just waiting for you. His orders. We'll be right behind you though."

You give them a wink and then take Niks hand to lead the way to your son's engagement party.

XOXO

You look around you the minute you get into the room.

Declan and Aoife beeline towards you the minute you lock eyes with them. They look so young and somewhat naive, beaming and dressed up for the occasion. You suppress the cynical voice in your head that tells you that they have arguments, silent treatments, irreversible conflict and a nasty breakup to look forward to at some point in the future. Declan's only twenty-four and she's only a year older. Surely time will pull them apart.

But the 'new you' allows yourself to be glad for them. You are proud and happy that your son has found someone who he feels he wants to share the rest of his life with but you did ask them a few questions when they approached you a few months ago with the news soon after his graduation from university.

'You're too young.'

'You were twenty-one when you and mum tied the knot and it was because she was pregnant!'

'Exactly. Look how that turned out.'You replied. 'Aoife's not pregnant, is she?'

'No!'

'So why don't you give it a few more years.'

'We've been together longer than any relationship you and mum have had.'

'Your point? Don't you want to see what else is out there? Play the field? It's only ever been that girl.'

'I'm right here, Brendan.'

'Dad. We aren't asking. We're telling you. Deal with it.'

"What time do you call this?" Declan says before he pulls you into a heartfelt hug.

"Ask Niks. I was ready." You reply.

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping him on the straight and narrow." He tells her.

"Not when I am getting ready for an occasion. I can't stick to time." Niks protests.

"Looking good, dad!" Aoife says with a smile as you hug her too.

She knows that being called dad by her riles you up but you don't rise to her taunt.

"Thank you, daughter. You scrub up nicely, too."

"We thought you might get stuck in the snow." Declan says. "The news said that it's not safe to drive during the night. We may all need to stay here overnight."

You can think of worse things. It might be nice to have a night away from home as a break from routine.

"Good job it's a hotel." You say.

"So when are we sitting for the meal?" Nicola asks. "I've been starving myself to fit into this dress."

Aoife grins. "Soon. But get a drink at the bar first, yeah?"

You look around. The place is heaving but your eyes only pick out the familiar faces. Your sister is with your mother and her husband and brood. Cheryl is too busy wiping her boys' noses to notice you have arrived. You recognise some of Declan's university friends. They seem impossibly current, trendy and world weary. The kind of people who wear vintage clothes ironically and reject mainstream culture. Paddy is playing tonsil tennis with Eddie, his boyfriend; a quiet young lad who is fitter than fuck and happens to work with him at Jo-Jo's garage.

"Oh. There's my hubby!" Niks exclaims as you catch sight of the man in question. "See you at the table, Bren, and congratulations once again you two! I'll catch up with you at the table, yeah?"

She briefly hugs Dec and Aoife before teetering away to catch up with Tim. When it came to getting her man, Nicola really put the work in. You could put money on theirs being the slowest courtship ever known to mankind.

"Hi dad!"

You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. You turn to face Paraic. He is not so sweet sixteen. He may be dressed in a suit but his dirty blond hair is a mess. There is a glint of mischief in his brown eyes and his recent growth spurt has meant he is nearly as tall as you and Declan but of stockier build. His top-level grades initially slipped when he moved into senior school and got distracted by friends and crushes but he is back on track; the likeable currently single all rounder.

You touch his hair, "It's called a comb. It's not the enemy."

"Yeah, but I like it like this." He says and ruffles it again. "By the way, I would go to the kitchen if I were you." He pokes a finger into your ribs. "Someone isn't happy you are late."

"Looks like you're in trouble." Declan says with a smile.

You look at your sons and daughter-in-law to-be.

"This smile can get me out of all kinds of scrapes." You grin and leisurely walk out of the room heading towards the hotel's kitchen. You know your way. You have done it numerous times before.

The minute you get there you see him busy at the pass.

The door slams shut behind you drawing attention to you. Stephen looks over at you. His hands still and he gives you a smile. Then he goes back to looking at the orders in his hand, dressed in chef whites. He looks flushed from the heat of the place but totally in control. His voice is clear over the noise of chopping, dicing, cutting, prepping and communication between the kitchen's subsections.

"Okay, guys, pay attention. My boyfriend has finally decided to grace the place with his presence so the guests will be sitting down now. We can start making starters." He briefly gives you a cheeky look. "Is each section happy with the orders in front of you?"

"Yes, chef!"

"Good. Listen up. Here are last minute special orders. Five pepper and tomato tarts without onions. Three sea bass, light on the chilli and no cream on ten of the butternut soups."

"Yes, chef!"

"Do me proud, guys. I want every plate to look perfect. This is for family."

He puts the special orders down and walks up to you with a smile on his face.

"Hi." You say.

"You shouldn't be in here, Bren. How many times-"

You put a finger over his lips, shutting him up.

"You looked so cute there. All sexy shouting orders like that. Don't spoil that with this."

You imitate a mouth opening and closing with a hand gesture.

He looks grumpily at you so you take his hand and lead him out of the kitchen.

"I can't be gone long." He whispers when you push him onto the wall of the corridor, hold onto his waist and step into his personal space.

"Give us a kiss." You murmur and try to capture his lips with yours as you trap him to the wall.

He ducks away from you.

"You have lipstick on your mouth."

"I do?" You rub your lips furiously. "Fucking Niks. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Why was she kissing you?" He asks.

"She can't keep her paws off me." You quip. "She undressed in front of me at home. She attacked me in the cab."

"I trust her with you for a few hours and this is what happens." He gives you a small smile. "I should tell that bitch to back off!"

"Don't you start!" You smile. "When Martin flies over to visit I have to sit and listen to you and him chat away to each other as if I'm chopped liver. Fucking Martin! Your ex-fiancé Martin! And to top it off you have sat me down with him for dinner. Sometimes I think you hate me."

"You get along."

"What gave you that idea?"

"You talk." He says sheepishly.

"When I have to. Look I have no personal problems with the guy but he fucking had you, Stephen. How can you expect me to have a decent conversation with him without me wanting to chop his dick off?"

He winces at the visual your words conjure but he smiles at your obvious unhidden jealousy. "Sorry. I thought you were over it. It's just I don't see him like that no more. It were ages ago. He's a mate now."

You grunt.

He brings his hands up to your shoulders.

"And you are my guy." There is a twinkle in his eye. "How about we call Nik's kiss and Martin sitting next to you equal?" He negotiates.

He looks at your lips and rubs what you assume is the last hint of rouge from them.

"Sound's fair." You concede.

"Why did you think this was a good idea?" You indicate the kitchen with a nudge of your head.

"I work here and I wanted to do something nice for Declan."

"By locking yourself in here when the party is out there?" You say.

"By cooking him the best veggie food he is ever going to eat at his engagement party."

"It's called spoiling."

"On his special day?"

"Maybe not. Are you going to join us at some point?"

"Can't." He bites his lower lip. "But we'll catch up later at home, yeah?"

"We aren't going home tonight." You say. "We'll be snowed in here by the end of the night."

"Shit really?"

"We'll need to take a room." You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Here?"

You step even closer to him.

"You. Me. A bedroom. No children. I'm talking about yours by the way. Coming into our room uninvited like it's their God given right. Disturbing sexy time."

"Sexy time?" He suppresses a smile.

"Yes."

"They aren't even with us right now. They're at Mike's birthday do in Manchester." Stephen says.

That's the thing about having a complicated family set up. There is always a family do or gathering of some sort sometimes with overlap. That is why Pete, Amy and Ste's children are notable omissions from the guest list.

"Even so. I am thinking we should shack up here tonight. Like an appetiser for our anniversary."

"You remembered." He is shocked. Sometimes you wonder to what extent he underestimates you.

"Our five year anniversary. How could I forget? I was forced to fly overseas in the dead of winter, just before Christmas, to claim you as mine again like some knight in shining armour."

He laughs. "That isn't exactly how it happened, though."

"Yeah well the general gist is you kept pushing me away so I had to get all Tarzan on you."

"You thought Pierre was my boyfriend."

"He was over you like a rash."

"He's straight."

"He still believes that? Anyway, I wooed you, successfully I might add, and you came back to Dublin with me."

"Eventually." He injects.

"Eventually."

"And soon we are moving back to Chester." He smiles.

"So I can be your trophy boyfriend while you open yet another restaurant."

You kiss him and he groans as he opens his mouth under the pressure of your lips. His hands find the back of your neck to pull you in even more and you press yours into his back.

"Trophy boyfriend slash restaurant and club manager." He says breathlessly when you pull apart.

You rest your forehead on his and smile at him.

"Brendan, I've got to get back to work. I don't want them thinking I'm slack just because I have handed in my notice."

"You are far from slack." You grab his firm arse, give it a squeeze and wink at him.

"Oh my God. You are proper randy tonight."

"There's love in the air, Stephen. Maybe it's got me in the mood."

He pushes you off and gives you a small kiss. "Love is in the air?"

"Are you fishing?"

"Maybe."

You grab the lapels of his white uniform. You stare down at him. His looks back at you in anticipation.

"Fine." You stare intensely into his eyes and he melts into your gaze. Then you whisper, "Fuck me, Stephen. I could bend you over and fuck you right now."

You burst into a wide grin.

"Bren! That is not what I meant!" He blushes furiously.

You surprise him with a small kiss and then whisper, "I love you," while looking straight at him.

You kiss the small place on his neck that gets him giggly. "I love you, Stephen."

And then you look him in the eye so he knows you mean it.

He takes a deep breath in and then lets it out before breaking out into a huge smile.

God. You want to get him into a hotel room now.

"I've got to go." He says reluctantly.

"Okay." You reply.

"Love you, too, Bren. We'll celebrate five years later."

As he walks away you think that really you are celebrating thirteen years. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

XOXO

Present day...

You are driven by possessiveness. You want Stephen to be yours again.

Just two short weeks shy of Christmas you find yourself walking down Chester high street wrapped up for the winter and carefully walking on the icy ground. You are following the directions he e-mailed to you until you stop outside his bistro. The front of the eatery is glass paned and decorated tasteful for the festive season.

PECKISH!

Stephen is sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table chatting away with his small group of guests as he hosts his pre-Christmas Christmas lock-in. He looks a bit different to when you last saw him. He has grown out his buzz cut for one.

It's the usual suspects Amy, Pete, Doug, Mitzeee, Jacqui, Rhys and Rae and Stephen's kids. There are another three children who you don't know and another man sat next to Stephen that you take an immediate dislike to.

He is typical of the people that used to get close to Stephen when you were together. Cute, smart looking, well above average and annoyingly attentive. And he has an accent. French. What is it with Stephen and non-English men; Martin, Doug, this guy, you?

The only welcome sight is Stephen's children who are twice the size you remember them.

You push the door open to be welcomed by inviting smells and a comfortable atmosphere that makes you feel like you have just stepped into someone's home.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Amy says when she sees you and stands up angrily. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

You have managed to sour the light joyful mood in a split second. She marches up to you with Rae right behind her and folds her arms across her chest. She hasn't changed at all. She is still a slip of a woman, waif-like in appearance but tough as nails inside.

While it is clear from little Leah's face that she recognises you, Lucas looks at you blankly. You are surprised by how much this bothers you especially when you know that both kids probably know Ste's ex very well.

It only fuels your need to part of his life again.

You push your hands into your jeans pockets. "I've come to see Stephen."

"Yeah. Well, that is not going to happen. You can leave now." Rae says.

"Rae, stop it." Stephen says as he rounds the table to go up to you. You had expected a wall of hatred but you had assumed that he would warn them that you were coming.

"I get that you are angry with me but he invited me." You say firmly to Rae and Amy. "I will only leave if he wants me to."

Amy cocks her head to one side. "Ste would have told me if you were coming."

"Ames. He's telling the truth. I did invite him." He looks apologetically at her then gives you a tentative smile. Everyone else is throwing you dagger eyes.

You are not welcome.

"And I want Brendan to stay." He tells those invited.

You love how he stands up for you. He shows how he is strong in ways that you hope you will be. He is not shy to stand up for what he believes in even if he stands alone without apology or compromise. That is such an admirable quality. Noble almost.

That is what Chez was referring to in her story where Stephen sprouted his wings. They symbolised his strength and pride in what he felt for you and gradually over time he helped you try to sprout you own. You did tentatively under his guidance but you have never fulfilled your potential, never really soured.

You have always been yourself with him in private but in public, you have never been entirely free, unrestrained and uninhibited. The occasional touch and look were not enough. Even your declaration of love in front of the doctor, a stranger you were never going to see again, was a crumb when compared to what he deserved.

Maybe that is what this eight year long journey has been about; Stephen as your knight in shining armour saving you and telling you that what you feel for him is okay.

Better than okay.

You stand in front of him and all your non-believers.

"Hi." You say.

"Hi."

"Stephen."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

His face is a picture. All the tone drops out of it at the sheer shock. Of your three words voiced in front of people who have at various times questioned your true feeling for him.

Leah and Lucas whisper furiously to their mother. Mitzeee squeals and Doug whispers, "Oh my God!"

You place a hand on his cheek and he melts into a smile. You then let it grip his hand and curl your fingers together. His is limp in yours.

"And you know that I can't stop thinking about you and that I want to be with you." You take a breath in. "So I came here because I want you to be my boyfriend."

Stephen's lips twitch and he shakes his head slowly and almost unnoticeably. Then he gives you a lopsided smile.

His hand gives yours a squeeze and in that moment you realise that you don't give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks; not the people in this room or the strangers outside.

You just want to be with him come what may.

His eyes tear up a little. You wonder whether you have misfired and totally got the wrong end of the stick. You rub his cheeks gently with your thumb and Leah walks up to her father to give him a hug while looking at you cautiously.

He drapes an arm over her but keeps his attention on you.

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

"No." He says. "It's just that, uh, that really shocked me."

He gives you a watery smile and you can't help but say, "You're beautiful."

He laughs incredulously so you give him a small wry smile. "And you are kind of leaving me hanging here."

"Oh."

You lean in to kiss him figuring that he can always give you a good old fashioned slap if he thinks you are being fresh. But he lets you capture his lips and as cheesy at it sounds it feels like coming home. You taste the saltiness of his tears and the wine he must have been sipping. Christ you could go on doing this forever. You suddenly wish you didn't have company, especially a fourteen year old Leah standing right there almost squashed between you. Unspeakable thoughts enter your head so you are forced to step away from him.

Leah is grinning at you like a lunatic. "Brendan, you can't just kiss dad like that in public!"

She blushes and covers her cheeks.

"Why not?" You say and lick over your lower lip.

She covers her face completely. "Don't know!"

"It's okay if he is my boyfriend though." Stephen says quietly.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

Leah widens her mouth and then shuts it.

Lucas pipes up. "Yeah, true. That would be okay." His tone is completely authoritative.

"God, I feel like I'm in school again or summat." Stephen says to you.

"What if I asked you out on a date, would you say yes?" You give him a sly grin which he returns.

"Depends."

"Bren. There is a free spot here." Pete says cautiously. "Come. Take a seat."

There has been a shift in the noxious atmosphere. The dagger eyes are gone but there is wariness. That's fine. You are willing to handle your sceptics.

"Thank you."

They shuffle so that you can sit next to Stephen.

"What are you having? White or red?" Doug asks.

"White please."

A glass of wine is poured for you and you reach for Stephen's hand.