They say at the moment of death your life flashes before your eyes. In the moment Danny threatened Steven's life, when faced with the possibility of a world without Steven in it, it was the past three and a half months spent with the young Mancunian that flashes before my eyes.

In the moments it took me to take Danny's life nothing else went through my mind. It was just Steven. So that choice, 'fight or flight?', Danny or Steven, it wasn't even something that I have to think about. No choice at all really.

{~}

It's nearing midnight, and I've had people knocking on the doors all night, assuming we'd be open. I turn out all the lights, ignoring them all and spend the night clearing up my mess.

First I dispose of the body.

"Because you can't just leave a body lying around the basement of the club." I say to myself as I roll Danny up in a carpet that had been dumped behind the club a few weeks ago and still hasn't been picked up by the council or bin men.

"Lucky for me, really."

Gloves on the entire time, because I don't want to leave behind DNA and forensic evidence.

It takes me a while to drag Danny's lifeless body up the stairs and to the club door, I'm out of breath and have broken out in a sweat from the exertion.

"You're a heavy little fucker, ain't ya?"

I realise I'm freaking out, I've been giving a Danny's corpse a running commentary for the last hour and thirty minutes. I'm talking to a dead man and have broken out in hysterical laughter more than once. There is nothing comical about this situation, but I'm buzzing, like my blood is on fire, edging on the side of giddy, terrifyingly giddy.

I could do with a drink. Settle my nerves.

"Stay." I tell the rolled up corpse as I turn away, walking to the bar. "Good boy."

But maybe I shouldn't.

"You're driving remember?" I tell myself.

But my hands are shaking, I can barely hold the bottle. I clench to make a fist a few times, and try to shake off the nervous energy. Will myself to normality.

"Fuck it."

I pour two fingers of whiskey and down it in one to help calm my nerves. Dutch courage. Then, another two fingers.

I have to steal a car, hot-wire it because I can't use my own to move the body. I can't remember the last time I did this, before Eileen told me she was pregnant, so it takes me a while. That, and my still shaking hands are making it hard to hold steady. When the engine roars into life just as a couple of policemen walk by I say a little prayer, thanking my lucky stars and drive away.

At first I think of burying the body in the woods, but I don't have a shovel and have no way of finding one at 2am on New Years Day. Beside, knowing my luck a dog will smell the body, dig it up to be discovered by an early morning jogger or perhaps a couple hoping for a quickie against a tree will trip over an exposed limb.

It's a definite no to the shallow grave.

I get the idea to dump it the river, the current will run it down stream until it meets a bigger body of water and any physical evidence will be washed away. The only issue is that it's New Year's Eve, and the pub is still packed, there are people everywhere. I have to wait for last orders, car parked in The Dog parking lot waiting for the last light from the Osbornes' flat to be switched off. I wait it out an addition hour, when I'm sure the last of the partiers have found the way home and the family in the flat above is soundly asleep, I finially push Danny into the river.

I had wrapped the carpet in bin bags and then used bricks from the skip to weigh it down. It takes longer than I thought it would for the last of the black bag to sink down. But then again maybe it doesn't take that long at all.

"So long Danny-Boy."

I torch the car at an abandoned petrol station just outside the village, burning my clothes along with it.

It's all done and I'm ready for bed, to go to sleep and forget this nightmare, so I'm shocked when I find myself banging on the front door of Steven's council flat at half six in the morning.

{~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~}

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Ames, who is it?"

Loud banging on the front door had woken us both just a few seconds before, Amy makes it out into the hallway before I do, dressing gown wrapped around her slim frame. It must be early still, Leah is normally waking me up by seven, climbing all over me while I try and sleep in after a long night at work or with Brendan. But neither has been a problem for over two week now, I've been having early nights.

"It's Brendan." She tells me, peeking through the net curtains at the kitchen window.

"It's who?" I ask, rushing over to join her at the kitchen window.

I can't believe my eyes, but it is him. Brendan Brady stood on my doorstep at the crack of dawn. He's stopped the assault on our front door, has his head rested against it, eyes closed.

"Want me to get rid of him?" Amy asks as I wonder aloud, "What do you think he wants?"

"You are not serious, Ste?" Amy asks indignantly. "After moping around for the past three weeks," she continues, "because he doesn't treat you right. Ste you are better off without him, he's never going to commit. He doesn't deserve you."

"What if he does want to commit? What if that's why he's here?" Amy doesn't look convinced, in fact she's wearing as expression of pure pity. "If it were Josh banging down our front door first thing in the morning would you just ignore him? Could you do that?" I know the answer already and don't wait for her reply. "You would need to know."

It's true, I know it and so does she but instead of saying that Amy opts for, "just stop him from waking the kids." Because the knocking has resumed.

After Amy goes back to her room and I check Brendan hasn't in fact woken the kids I open the front door. The first thing I think after coming face with him after so long is I've missed him so much it's hurt, and I kind of want to throw myself at him, bury my face in his neck while his strong arms hold me tight.

I don't. I have more pride and self-worth than that.

The second is that he looks terrible. Like he's been awake all night, and several nights before that, the dark circles under eyes have aged him. He must have showered before he came here because his hair is still wet and he smells of soap but he hasn't bothered with hair gel, and he's wearing a wrinkled jumper and faded pair of jogging bottoms.

I want to be angry with him, tell him to commit or to leave, but he must be cold and he seems kind of lost, so without saying a word I leave the door open for him and head to the kitchen to fill the kettle.

I turn around to find Brendan leaning against the wall that acts as a partition between the kitchen and the front room. Arms folded, shoulders hunched and he's taken to staring at an old stain on the floor.

"Tea?" I ask. He doesn't answer, I don't think he even knows I'm here. "Tea?" I repeat, this time touching him gently on the arm.

"What?" He seems a little startled, looking around the flat as if he's surprised to be here.

"You must be cold. I'll make us some tea, warm you up, or a coffee if you prefer?"

"Yeah. Sure, a coffee would be great."

I get the two mugs ready in silence, one with a teabag the other with coffee granules and three sugars. Brendan, he doesn't move just watches me move around the small kitchen. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time.

"Here ya." I hand him the coffee mug.

"Thanks." He takes a long sip, eyes closing.

I do the same, our kettles on its last legs, never gets the water very hot. We drink in silence. Once we're done, Brendan staring into the bottom of his cup like it's going to give him the answers to the universe, I can't keep quite much longer.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." I think he's trying to be reassuring, his face does something that seems like it's supposed to be a smile, but it all just comes off as defeated.

"Right, it's just that you don't look fine."

"This your way of telling me you don't fancy me no more?"

He's smiling, but despite the joke it still doesn't seem right. Smiling isn't something that always comes easily to Brendan, expressing feelings of happiness, and a lot of time he doesn't even try and be genuine. But this, this is different somehow, it's scares me.

"I'm just... I'm just worried 'bout ya."

"You're worried about me?" He seems surprised, like the very idea that someone cares enough to be worried is ridiculous. "You don't need to worry about me, Steven."

"I can't help it. You look proper rough."

That's the only way to describe it, Brendan's normally so well put together, puts a lot of effort in how he looks, how he presents himself to the world. The un-ironed clothes, bags under his eyes, it like the persona of Brendan Brady is unravelling from the seams.

"Didn't get much sleep." He explains.

"New Year's proper busy at the club?"

"Something like that, yeah." Brendan says, running his fingers through his hair.

"You should get some sleep."

"You trying get me into bed? All you have to do is ask, you know that." He's smirking now.

"I'm tryna be serious here. We've not spoken in weeks, and then you basically knock down my door first thing in the morning looking like something outta the Walking Dead."

"You want to be serious? You tell me you care, then what have you been playing at the last few weeks? Completely cutting me out of your life?"

"I-" That throws me off guard, I'm normally the one that so blatant about wanting to talk about my feelings. It's normally like blood from a stone with Brendan. "I didn't, I wasn't cutting you out, I just needed some space."

"Space! So what, we're on a break? You're the one that's always on about what this is, about defining this, but for three weeks you don't return my calls. I think you've been watching too many day time talk shows."

"See, this is why I can't talk to you, my opinion never matters. It's like you can't help but belittle me."

"I wasn't -. I didn't mean to -." Brendan paws at his watch, fiddles at the crucifix hanging around his neck, "I didn't come here to argue with you, Steven."

"Then why did you?"

"I was thinking we could get away. Spend the weekend at a hotel?"

"A hotel." Right.

"That's what you want right, that's what all this, you ignoring me has all been about? You want to be treated better? For me to treat you better. Well, this is me treating you better."

He still doesn't get it.

"What, by hiding me away at the seedy travel lodge in Chester? That's just more of the same. I ain't doing that no more, Brendan. I need more than that."

"Well maybe you're asking for more than I can give. You ever thought about that? I've already told you, you matter to me, that you're important. I can admit that." The fight seems to be gone, like he's run out of steam. "I don't know what more I can say."

I think my brain may short circuit or something, because one second I'm about a meter away from him and the next we're kissing. Or I'm kissing him, passionately and hard, not a slither of space between us and I push his body into the wall behind him. I've missed this.

"I know you deserve better." He tells me, pulling away just enough to speak. "And much more, but I'm just not there yet. I'm not ready."

"It's fine, I understand and I can wait." I really can. "For as long as you need, as long as where're together. Like properly together."

"We are, together. And I was serious before, about the weekend away. But not – what was it? - 'the seedy Travel Lodge in Chester'. I wanted to get away from here for a little while, I was thinking we could go down to London for a long weekend."

I don't say anything I actually think I'm dreaming, because this sounds like a proper romantic weekend away. Something an actual couple would do.

"Or if you don't like London we could go somewhere else, Birmingham, wherever you want really."

"How about Brighton?" I ask soppy grin on my face.

"Brighton?" His eyebrows rise.

"Yeah, Brighton. There are a bunch of people like us, in't there and nobody cares what you do, or who you're with."

"I think London will do." He smiles, and it's genuine and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "Christmas lights are still be up, it's beautiful at night, and during the days we could do all them tourist things, The Eye, Madame Tussauds, river boat tour of all them bridges. Anything you want."

"Yeah, sounds great."

"So you'll come?"

"I mean, I'll have to sort it with Amy, make sure she'll be okay with the kids. But yeah, can't wait me." And now we're both smiling.

"I've missed you." He says.

"Of course you have."

"Okay good, it's-" he brings outs phone to check the time, seems to be surprised that it's so early, "-six fifty now, I'll meet you round the back of the club at half ten?" He hesitates for a second. "On second thoughts I'll pick you up from here."

"Here, outside the flat?"

Where anyone could see.

"No point you lugging your bags all over the village."

"Okay yeah. Maybe you could get some sleep before then."

"Another coffee and I'll be fine."

"I was serious before, you don't look right Bren."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"You don't get to do that. You get to worry about me then I get to do the same, it works both ways."

He nods.

{~}

Amy's out of her room as soon as the front door is bangs shut, wanting to know what's gone on.

"We're off to London for the weekend." I tell her.

"Just like that?"

"No, not just like that. I told him that I ain't some dirty bit on the side that he's ashamed of."

"Yet he's taking you away for a dirty weekend, making it seem like some sort of amazing gesture to placate you.

"Play- what?"

"He's playing you for a fool."

"No he ain't. There are two people in this relationship right, and I have to take his feelings into account too. This ain't about Brendan not appreciating me, it's about him not being comfortable with who he is. And if I want to be with him then I'm just gonna have to accept that, right."

"Okay, just make sure your both getting something out of this relationship-"

"We are. Ames, I'm happier than I ever thought I could be right, and it's because of him. I just have to let him figure out that no one cares who he's with, that people ain't going to judge him for being gay. And maybe a weekend away from everyone we know can be like the first step to that."

"Yeah maybe." But she still doesn't sound sure.

"Amy, you don't need to worry. This will all work out, you'll see.

"You really think this weekend away will help?"

"I really do. But only as long as you'll be okay with the kids?"

"We'll be fine." I can tell she's being genuine, that she wants this for me. "You go pack."

{~}

Brendan warns me that the drive down is going to take longer than normal because the traffic is a state. It doesn't bother me, I've never been to London so I have no prior experience to compare it to. Never been anywhere really, grew up in Manchester, moved to Chester a few years ago. There was that one time I bunked off school with a few of my mates and jumped the barriers to get the train to Leeds. But that's about it. Anyway I'm not going to complain that I get to spend more time alone with Brendan.

We're on a motorway somewhere, it's nice, being surrounded by fields with sheep, horses and ponies grazing. Brendan's even bought snacks for the drive down. All my favourites, lemon sherbet, haribo, cheese and onion crisps and a couple of bottles of coke.

Brendan is quite, not that he normally talks much, but he's extra quite today. I think he's in his own head, maybe freaking about going on an actual couples holiday. So every time something comes to mind I have to remind myself not to say it, give him some peace of mind.

"We're about half way there, there's a rest stop up ahead. You want to stop and get something to eat? Stretch your legs a bit."

"Yeah sure, could do with the loo."

The toilets are in a separate building just to the side of the restaurant, I jump out before Brendan's even properly parked, suddenly desperate for a wee. I don't make it half way there, before someone grabs onto my wrist tightly. It's Brendan, he's got this nervous energy about him.

"Where you going."

"For a piss." I say point to the toilets not three yards away from us. "Like I said before."

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

He lets go of my arm, taking a step back and plays with the hairs on his moustache. He's acting weird.

"Bren, you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

It's a lie. He's not. It's not that I haven't seen Brendan unsettled before, but normally he exaggerates it, makes it into a performance to make the people around him uncomfortable. This time he's just trying to pretend that there's nothing wrong, that nothing's bothering him, that's the scariest part.

"You gonna be okay in there by yourself?" He asks.

"I'll be fine, I may not have been to London before but I think I can make the journey from your car to the loo." I keep it light, I think that's what he needs.

{~}

The place is a cross between a cafe and what I imagine an American diner looks like. Its old, dated, the colours probably aren't as vibrant as they once were when the place was first opened but the food is good. By the time I get back from the toilets Brendan has already ordered. Burgers with all the works and a large portion of chips for the both of us.

He's a lot less jittery than he has been, mellow even. I think it's the combination of the food and the music playing on the restaurant speakers. John Money or someone, I've heard Brendan listen to him before.

{~}

We're soon back in the car, not moving, surrounded by lanes and lanes of other stationary cars. I've managed to find a station playing pop, so it's Cheryl Cole, Katy Perry and the like for the rest of the journey. Brendan's not impressed but doesn't say anything, just shakes his head, smiling a little as I sing along.

Brendan probably thinks he's being proper stealthy about it, but I keep catching him looking at me, watching me. Like he can't bear to look away from for too long.

"Have I got something on me face?" I ask, smiling.

"What?"

"You're staring."

"No. It's just..." He doesn't finish whatever it is he was going to say, just shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road, even though we still aren't moving.

"It's what?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You were going to say something. What was it?"

"You look really happy, giddy almost. Like a little kid on Christmas morning."

"Do not."

"Yeah you do. You can't even stay still for more than five minutes. I'm just waiting for you to ask if we're there yet."

"Shut up." I know I'm sulking, proving his point but I can't help it.

"No it's nice. Seeing you happy… it's nice."

"Well I ain't been to London before, 'ave I. Not been anywhere really, me."

We're silent for a little while, I know we're both probably thinking about how I didn't have much growing up, completely different from Brendan's childhood if the stories Cheryl tells are anything to go by.

"You been down there a lot?" I ask.

"Few time. When I was a boy, with Cheryl, her Ma and our Da. Then when Eileen and I first got together we'd fly over for bank holidays."

"Sounds like fun." I know it's ridiculous but I'm jealous that he's done this already with his wife.

"Not really. A lot of pretending. Pretending to be a happy, loved son. Pretending to be a doting boyfriend. Husband."

"So no good memories?"

"Not particularly."

"So why'd you want to go back?"

"It wasn't the place, London's great, it was me. I was always trying too hard, to be normal to really enjoy it."

"You are normal." I tell him, squeezing his hand on the gear stick.

"Hmm." He nods non-committedly, looking down at where our hands connect.

"Anyway, we're gonna make a ton of great memories, ain't we? All them sights to see, great restaurants to eat at, and all of them wax figures are meant to be proper realistic like."

"Alright, calm down." He tells me, what looks like a fond little smile taking over his face. "Definitely like a little kid, excitable enough."

Brendan turns his hand over so our fingers are intertwined between the seats, bringing the back off my hand up to his lips.