What's For the Best
“You look exhausted.”
Stephen is looking up at him, eyes brimming with genuine concern. He’s trying to overcompensate… trying to prove himself somehow, after he didn’t visit Brendan in prison. He doesn’t need to, and Brendan’s told him that, but still he does.
“I am.” Brendan mumbles. “Haven’t been sleepin’ properly. In there.”
Stephen nods. It’s uncomfortable here, lying on Stephen’s bed; his cheap hard mattress and thin bedcover. Worse than the prison beds, ironically. Anyway, Brendan hadn’t expected to lie down - he came here to talk, that’s all.
But now, with Stephen wrapping his arms across Brendan’s chest, his head resting on the bridge of Brendan’s shoulder, it’s hard to get any words out at all. So comfortable Brendan suddenly feels… and so quickly his eyes are sinking into the easiest sleep he’s had in months. By holding Stephen, he’s defying everything he decided in prison, and yet he can’t do anything else. He’s missed this too much. More than he even realised.
Brendan allows his eyes to sink shut. Allows his brain to shut down. And in doing so, he breathes words that are too honest to come out of him had he been in any conscious working state of mind.
“I want to make you happy, Stephen.”
Stephen blinks. Brendan feels the wisps of his eyelashes against his neck.
“You do.” He replies… and his voice is small under the strange intensity of such a simple statement.
“No.” Brendan sighs. “No. I make you unhappy.”
And now the room is possessed with an uneasy silence. There’s a strange claustrophobia that Brendan has unleashed by uttering such words. Words that speak volumes… words that unveil things Stephen doesn’t want to address. His body has gone still against Brendan’s chest… like he’s stopped breathing. Is he afraid? Or just trying to ignore the situation?
“I can’t give you what you want.” Brendan continues slowly.
“Yeah.” Stephen argues. “Yeah you can.”
“No Stephen. Because… you want someone who’s… who’s gonna show you off. Don’t you?”
Brendan can’t help it now. The words are coming out; words he poured and pained himself over for all those months he was inside. And he holds Stephen now; the small slender body that so SHOULD be in the arms of someone more deserving. Stephen, with all his endearing qualities that merit being showed off and publically admired. With his charm that Brendan so WANTS to publically proclaim belongs to him… and yet he can’t gather the guts to do so.
“You want someone who… who’s stable.” He continues, “Who can look after ye.”
“You can…”
“No, Stephen, I can hardly look after myself.”
Ironic… how Brendan speaks with such plain honesty NOW of all times… now he’s finally letting the boy go. He hasn’t told Stephen how much he needs him, and nor will he ever. He hasn’t told him how desperately painful it is to be unable to admit himself to the world. Hasn’t told him of the time he tried to take his own life; so full of shame that he was then. He hasn’t told Stephen he’s afraid the same thing will happen again. He hasn’t, because he could never let the burden fall on his strangely innocent shoulders. He met Stephen as a young and naïve lad… has corrupted that perfection enough… and will do so no longer.
“You want someone who can do better for you than this.” He re-enforces slowly.
“But… but what about what you want though?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Don’t……”
“I’m breaking up with you Stephen.”
There. He’s said it. And it’s like all the energy is sucked from the room. All gravity… all oxygen…gone. Like his heart is in his throat, scratching at it… like his blood has run cold… like his insides are curling and there’s a pumping in his ears… distortion in his head… like a hemorrhage, and it’s a wonder he can breathe… and wonder he can hold in the rising sickness...
“No!” and Stephen’s voice sounds so small as it cracks under the pressure of the tears, and comes out husky, needy and desperate. He doesn’t hide his tears the way Brendan does. He’s unashamed to release them; so comfortable he is around his lover… his tormenter.
And although Brendan is always the cause of it, he still hates to see Stephen cry like that.
“Go.” He barks. He shoves Stephen’s body, perhaps too roughly, but the need to get Stephen away is becoming fiercer, like holding in sick and panicking with the sudden need, before it’s too late…. Brendan’s chest is becoming tighter with suppressed emotions, his teeth grit sharply inside his mouth. “GO!” he barks again, when Stephen refuses to move. A harder push.
And then, despite himself, he finds himself looking at Stephen’s face. He hadn’t meant to. But as Stephen is shoved off towards the edge of the bed, his face is a picture of pure hurt, pure confusion…devastation. This isn’t what Brendan wanted; he doesn’t want to hurt the boy, not anymore. That’s why he’s doing this! Why doesn’t he fucking understand?!
“Jesus Christ Stephen, what’s the matter with you?!!” he yells. And before he can even distinguish himself why his voice breaks so weakly… there are tears on his own cheeks. And his insides are lurching in fury, frustration, anger… wanting to wipe that pathetic look of Stephen’s face, but also wanting to kiss him. Wanting to hide his own revealing tears, but also unable to control himself any longer. And his body shakes, and his hands quiver, his words tremble as he shouts; “What is it you want from me?! What the HELL do you want me to do?!!”
“Please stay with me.” Stephen cries.
He begs and pleads without guilt or embarrassment. He opens himself so easily to Brendan; not clever enough to hide his weaknesses… or perhaps he just doesn’t have the capacity for coldness the way Brendan does. The nonchalance Brendan has spent his WHOLE LIFE perfecting, and yet Stephen cracks him without even trying to.
And Brendan has no more words. Only the surreal mixture of emotions that so often have transferred themselves to fists…… but today he is just too exhausted. They’re both too exhausted from all this.
Brendan can only shake his head, can only let tears fall the same as Stephen’s do and face the fact he’s been caught. When Stephen is climbing back into Brendan’s arms, Brendan can do no more to fight him off. Stephen nestles his head back onto Brendan’s shoulder without even an OUNCE of fear or hesitation… so brave… so sure of himself.
And now even, Stephen’s fingers trace gently over Brendan’s cheekbones; transferring Brendan’s tears to his fingertips… wiping them away without even pausing to check whether it’s safe to.
“I love you.” He whispers. His voice is wracked with exhaustion and emotion… but he speaks with purpose and calamity. “I don’t care. I want to be with you, please Brendan.”
Never before has Brendan had his tears wiped. Never before has he allowed the indignity of it. But Stephen isn’t patronising him… he isn’t judging or mocking. With such genuine simplicity does Stephen speak and act… it’s what has always charmed Brendan most. There’s no hidden intent behind what Stephen does. That’s why Stephen finds it so hard to stomach Brendan’s ulterior motives… not Stephen’s naivety, but his honesty, makes him this way.
“Come here.” Brendan croaks.
He can’t push him anymore. If Stephen won’t leave, then Brendan has no more will-power to force him. He fucking loves Stephen - more than he ever thought he could love another person. He would give Stephen everything he wanted if he could… if he had the guts.
Right now all he can whisper is, “I love you too.” and pray those words are enough to satisfy the lad, even if it seems ridiculous to imagine so.
All else he can do is cherish this moment and hope it lasts as long as possible.