The Art of Trying (Part 15)
Brendan awoke the next morning feeling stiff and achy… aware as soon as he clicked into consciousness that Stephen’s breath was against his neck… Stephen’s arms were slumped across his shoulders, and Stephen’s legs tangled up in his own.
He’d wasn’t used to sleeping like this; with another body draped over his. He’d done it with Stephen before, in hotel rooms a couple of times and once at his place, but this time felt different. Not unlikable necessarily, of course not, but it would take some getting used to if this really was to become a regular thing. He wasn’t the cuddly-sleeper type. The first thing he noticed about it was that the idea of moving was completely out of the question. He couldn’t move for fear of moving Stephen himself, who was wrapped in such a blissful-looking sleep it would be impossibly cold-hearted to stir him. The second thing he noticed was how Stephen had slumped the entirety of his body weight across Brendan’s own, and how much pressure that was. His body was fragile, Stephen. He was this surreal combination of northern toughness mixed with youthful delicacy… and even more so with his bones just recently-healed, his skin violently bruised and his mind mixed-up and damaged.
“Morning love.” Cheryl whispered as she crept down the stairs. She had a mischievous smirk on her face and her eyebrows raised cheekily as if she’d just caught Brendan in the act or something. It was infuriating.
“Yeah.” Brendan just mumbled half-heartedly in return.
“Breakfast?”
“No - can ye just pass me…” Brendan reached for the glass of water that was on the coffee table, but his hand couldn’t stretch far enough without shifting his body - currently impossible. “Can ye pass me that please?”
Cheryl watched him struggle, her grin growing even more patronisingly smug.
“Chez, jus’ do it.” Brendan grumbled.
“You don’t wanna disrupt the love-in, eh?!” She teased knowingly. “Brendan Brady, aren’t you just the cutest little love-muffin I’ve ever se..”
Before she could even finish her sentence, Brendan had practically thrown Stephen off his body, jumping to his feet in an instant and seizing the glass of water himself. His dignity weighed higher in his priorities than giving Stephen a lay-in, that was for sure. Brendan brushed himself down, looking anywhere but at Cheryl’s now-shocked expression and Stephen’s sleepy disorientated one.
Cheryl turned to Stephen apologetically, “Morning love.”
“Hmm…” Stephen mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Not the nicest wake-up call one could imagine.
“Breakfast?”
“Yes please.”
“I’ll do a fry-up, eh?” Cheryl chimed, and bounced off into the kitchen. A morning person, was Cheryl. Not like Brendan. And evidently not like Stephen either, whose eyes were now batting lazily open and closed as he adjusted to consciousness.
“Sorry.” Brendan muttered quietly.
“S’alright.”
“D’ye sleep okay?”
“Mm.” Stephen nodded, a tender smile playing behind his tired eyes. “Yeah. Sorry… you know, bout last night.”
“No, it’s alright.”
“Probably shouldn’t have… you know, with all the music and people an’ that.”
“Yeah, well that’s Cheryl’s fault, not yours.”
Ste licked his lips nervously for a moment, his eyes fading as he recalled the previous evenings breakdown. “Do you think everyone saw?”
Brendan frowned. “Who cares?”
“Well it’s… just embarrassin’.”
“Fuck ‘em, they’re a bunch of wasters, don’t worry about it.”
“So they did see then?”
“Stephen. I said don’t worry about it. You had a panic attack. It happens. And you’ve got a pretty legitimate excuse, wouldn’t ye say?!”
“I know, I was jus’ sayin’, that’s all…”
“Well you’re gonna have to get used to people knowin’, aren’t ye?!” Brendan snapped.
“Why are you snappin’ at me…?!”
“I’m not!!”
“Well sounds like it to me!” Stephen growled, and hastily started bundling the blanket together that was on the sofa. But with his hands it was clumsy and awkward, and that blanket was doing nothing but being tossed around aimlessly.
“Here, let me…” Brendan sighed.
“NO I can DO it.” Stephen lunged angrily after the blanket, but not fast enough; Brendan scooped it up first. Stephen faced him, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shining with genuine sharp fury.
“Jesus Christ, did you get out the wrong side of the bed or what?!”
“Give it here!”
“Stephen, give it a rest, will ye?! You’ve been awake five minutes and you’re already doin’ my head in!”
And with that Brendan spun on his heel, marching up stairs with the blanket bundled under his arm, mutters of exasperation falling from his lips.
Ste just stood there… aimless.
He turned to Cheryl in the kitchen, but she had determinedly turned her back on their whole impromptu tiff and was continuing her oblivious-act even now. Ste wished she’d just smile at him or something. It was pathetic, he knew… but he felt so isolated. Like he couldn’t communicate properly, or help properly… and that fact pawed away at his insides, making him irritable and defensive. He felt like he was an outsider… just getting in the way, even now. Five minutes he’d been here and Brendan was already frustrated with him, and no wonder.
His brain didn’t work right. He wasn’t who he was before. He was lost like this, and he hated it.
Twenty minutes later, Ste slumped down quietly at the dining room table as Cheryl called for breakfast. Her and Lynsey were joking about something or other, and their loud hysterical cackles were ringing round the kitchen, but Ste couldn’t make head-or-tail of what they were saying. He didn’t follow. He didn’t understand the joke. And they’d look at him expectantly, waiting for him to laugh, and he’d just stare vacantly back at them. He knew he looked stupid, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was stupid.
And now he looked down at his fry-up, and Cheryl had cut his sausages into baby-sized bits, manageable to scoop up with the fork, so he didn’t have to grip the knife. But even the fork alone was hard enough to wrap his fingers around. He fumbled about, trying to be conspicuous about it and not raise attention as he focused all his energy on manoeuvring his fingers around the fine metal, and lifting. Somewhere deep in his chest he felt the sting of humiliated tears, although he wouldn’t let them rise further than there.
Worse still, he knew Brendan was watching him… which only served for further humiliation and he wished he’d just back off for Christs sake.
Brendan let him persevere for all of ten seconds before he became impatient it seemed. He lifted Ste’s fork himself and guided Ste’s fingers around it…
“Here, let me help…”
“No!” Ste hissed through gritted teeth, “Brendan, I can do it.”
“Oh fuck sake, you’re food’s gonna go cold at this rate…”
“Just GET OFF.”
“Right, FINE.” Brendan slammed the fork down angrily, “Fine, whatever you say. Jus’ tryin’ to help, but FINE.”
The kitchen hung in frosty silence. Both Lynsey and Cheryl looked anxiously back and forth from Ste to Brendan, both unsure of what to do now. Brendan just stared down at the table, his shoulders rising and falling under the pressure of his irritation. And Ste just stared down at the fork, which was still rattling slightly from the impact that Brendan had slammed it.
All eyes were on Ste now, and he knew he couldn’t lose the dignity of trying to pick the fucking thing up again. His chest shook under the pressure of the shame. The tears felt warm in his throat. Why couldn’t Brendan have just left it?! Why did he have to make everyone stare?!
Before he knew it, Ste felt the tears strangling his voice-box. He rose to his feet and with the back of his hand he shoved the cutlery furiously from the table.
“You know what Brendan?” He choked through grit teeth, “Why don’t you jus’ SHOVE it up your arse, yeah?!”
After that there was just the harsh sound of his chair scraped backwards, and Ste was marching up the stairs, just as Brendan had done twenty minutes earlier.
XOXOXOXO
The house seemed stiff and quiet once Cheryl and Lynsey left for work. Brendan sat alone in the living room fidgeting absent-mindedly with the takeaway menu, as he had been doing for the last half an hour. Stephen was still upstairs, and after their argument earlier, Brendan didn’t know how he’d even begin to strike up a conversation with him. It wasn’t even like they fought over anything in particular… they just fought. It was their thing, it seemed.
Maybe it was a bad idea for Stephen to live here after all. It’s just when he’d been in hospital Brendan couldn’t imagine for a second allowing Stephen to walk back out there; his naïve and trusting self and risk the same thing happen again. Even now, with the lingering feeling of anger in the air, Brendan didn’t want to let Stephen out of his sight. It was a surreal and almost sickening notion… but he couldn’t bear to do it.
It was something that had consumed Brendan for almost a year now… the constant underlying sickness inside him that kept Stephen lingering in his mind every hour of every day. No matter what else was going on or what he did to distract himself, every trail of thought lost would just flash instinctively back to that familiar face. And then Brendan’s insides would boil and ache with the overwhelming need and protectiveness.
It was frightening - caring so much. Frightening to know how it could all be taken away from him… and almost was. He couldn’t lose Stephen again. Wouldn’t. He’d take every fight, argument and anguished tantrum Stephen threw at him so long as it meant keeping him here and keeping him safe. And maybe it wasn’t so bad that Stephen was struggling right now. That kept him inside. Kept him shy and away from other people, and if anything that just made Brendan’s job easier. That made everything easier, while they were protected inside these walls.
XOXOXOX
It was two and a half hours since Ste had left the breakfast table before he heard the knock on the bedroom door.
“Stephen? Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” Ste mumbled.
He was sat on the bed in the spare bedroom, a bunch of Cheryl’s shitty celebrity-gossip magazines laid out in front of him just to keep him occupied, although he didn’t know most of the names in there. His stomach had been grumbling for a couple of hours but he’d ignored it; determined not to go back down there and have Brendan make something for him. He just wanted to do it himself. And as stubborn and childish as it sounded, he’d rather starve right now than lose the dignity of not being able to.
Again, Brendan seemed to read his mind.
“Stephen, you gotta let us help you, otherwise what’s the point of you bein’ here?!”
“I know.” Ste muttered weakly, finding it hard to meet Brendan’s eye. He knew he’d over-reacted earlier, and that was now just ANOTHER thing to be embarrassed about. And he didn’t know why he felt like this. He’d accepted weeks ago that he’d have to allow people to support him, but he couldn’t shake away the sensation of loneliness and paranoia. It consumed him. It put him on edge.
“It’s just hard.” He added quietly.
Brendan drew a heavy sigh and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, far apart from where Ste was. Then he lifted his left hand, and held out the blueberry muffin he’d just gone out and gotten from the newsagent. It wasn’t much, but at least Stephen could eat it without a fork.
A small appreciative smile wavered on Stephen’s lips, as he slowly manoeuvred his fingers around to grasp hold of the snack. This time Brendan was patient and waited until Stephen had a definite hold on it before letting go.
They sat in there in silence for a while after that; Stephen eating and Brendan looking round at the plain white walls… the unfurnished surroundings. He didn’t want Stephen sleeping in this room; he wanted Stephen in with him, as suggested yesterday. He’d even take the sofa, rather than this. Before he had a chance to make the proposal though, Stephen struck him with the one question he didn’t want to hear.
“Brendan…” Ste spoke quietly, “What about your Dad?”
Brendan felt his breath hitch slightly. He knew the question would come at some point, but he’d kind of expected Stephen to avoid it for a little while longer. The room must still STINK of bastard, and that’s why he’d thought of it.
“Wh… what do you mean?” Brendan asked, biding his time.
“You know what I mean. What happened to ‘im? Where is he?”
“Ye don’t need to worry about that.”
“Well, I do actually…”
“He’s not gonna bother you Stephen.”
“Why not?” Ste demanded. His voice wasn’t angry or accusational… it actually held the soft composure of somebody willing to understand… to connect. But Ste wouldn’t understand this, and Brendan couldn’t make him.
“Please.” He whispered, “Can’t ye just trust me? He’s not gonna bother ye. Never again. I swear.”
Ste swallowed, carefully placing the muffin onto the mattress with shaking fingers. “You would tell me… if you did somethin’ bad. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You promise?”
Brendan swallowed thickly. Stephen was staring fiercely into his eyes like it was a matter of life and death, and even though that gaze had been easy to lie to in the past, it just felt cruel now knowing that the stakes were so high in regards to Stephen’s feeling of safety.
Brendan chose his words carefully. “You’ll know, Stephen. You will.”
An intense silence filled the room as those words weighed down in each of their minds, and their eyes continued to lock heavily on one another as if their lives depended on that gaze being maintained. It was as if the longer they stared, the more trust they felt… the more words and emotions were passed between each other without even having to use words.
And Brendan felt himself shuffling over, and Stephen too, subconsciously drawing closer to each other until they were in the middle of the mattress, and Brendan’s hands were cupping Stephen’s face and neck as their lips hovered inches apart. And the whole time, the intenseness of their gaze never faltered.
Brendan ran his fingers softly down the bruising on Stephen’s neck; just enough for him to feel it but not enough for it to hurt much. Slowly, his fingers trailed down, down to the small of his back, the bottom of his shirt.
Stephen was the one to break first; he pushed their lips together, sighing to himself as once again he tasted Brendan’s mouth, and the intensity of their locked lips grew tougher and more passionate. Ste felt his lips trapped between Brendans, and then Brendan’s teeth, and then his tongue pushing inside. He felt his own legs wrapping themselves over Brendans lap, straddling him, pushing them closer and closer together; as close as possible.
It has been far too long since they’d shared this. And he wanted it so badly. It had been nearly 7 months since he’d slept with Brendan… since he’d slept with anybody… that day when Brendan told him those three simple words.
“I love you.” Ste whispered.
Suddenly Brendan pulled away, and Ste’s lips felt cold and mouth empty for a moment. He opened his eyes, startled.
But Brendan wasn’t angry - not like Ste had for a millisecond feared. Instead Brendan’s eyes shone with surprise. With genuine and emotional surprise. Almost as if he didn’t know… almost as if Ste hadn’t told him before, even though he had.
“What?” Ste muttered, confused. “You know I do…”
“I er…” Brendan swallowed. Suddenly his mouth felt very dry. His chest felt heavy and his stomach knotted. He never ever thought he’d hear Stephen say such words again. He’d resigned to that fact, and almost gotten used to it. “I thought you’d… you know… stopped.”
“No.” Ste shook his head gently. His eyes glistened with intense seriousness, but there was a fraction of a smile playing across his swollen lips. But he was frustrated. And Brendan raised an amused eyebrow as Stephen’s hands fumbled awkwardly at the zip of Brendan’s jeans, unable to grip it, but absolutely desperate to.
“Brendan, c’mon!” Stephen whined.
Brendan grinned, wrapping his arms around Stephen’s back and pushing him backwards, so now Brendan was lying above him. He felt Stephens chest bouncing up and down as he breathed, arching himself eagerly against Brendan’s body; horny little fucker.
Brendan pulled Stephen’s t-shirt off in one smooth motion, discarding it to the side of the room. He sucked tightly onto Stephen’s mouth, moved down to kiss his chin, to lick his neck, his collar-bone; the whole time feeling Stephen squirm and pant in anticipation… Stephen’s arms wrapped frightfully tight around Brendan’s neck.
Brendan released himself from Stephens hold to allow himself to sink lower, pressing kisses to Stephen’s chest, his stomach…
It was only when Brendan opened his eyes that things slowed down. The first real time that Brendan fully saw what he was dealing with:
Stephen’s skin was still caressed with sick black bruising. His chest still shone with a fresh-looking gash, his rib cage had the red outline of a bruise… a bruise recognisably shaped like a boot.
“Brendan.” Stephen hissed impatiently. He didn’t want Brendan to observe him the way he was doing now; with sympathy and care. He wanted Brendan to take him; rough and mindless, the way they did in the old days at Chez Chez when Brendan had held himself off long enough; and they were both at the brink of their patience. “Brendan, c’mon.”
But Brendan wasn’t listening. He seemed stunned into silence… haunted and preoccupied as he took in the bruises and damage that had been inflicted onto Stephen’s body. The body that belonged to Brendan, and Brendan alone.
And then slowly his lips pressed down onto the bruise on Stephen’s hip bone - the most painful one of all of them - and held there firmly, leaving behind a red mark as he moved onto the next bruise, and did the same thing.
Ste fell still, letting his head fall back against the bed and allowing his body to relax as Brendan continued… his lips stroking each and every bruise and cut that lined Stephen’s skin. Ste closed his eyes, and allowed his body to be wrapped and cared for in Brendan’s embrace; like the slow repair of every wound that the hospital couldn’t fix.
Finally, Brendan’s lips rested on the swelling at the bottom of Stephen’s neck, and his kissed just where his moustache tickled the most… evoking a quiet snigger from Stephen as his body squirmed impulsively. His laughter was interrupted abruptly though… for the next thing he knew, Brendan was speaking -
“I love you too, Stephen.”
And then Ste’s mind was lost in a haze of emotion and sensation as Brendan rid him of his jeans, enwrapped him in the familiar arms and eventually moved inside him, their bodies synching together again as they grasped and clung and moaned into one another, climaxed together, and eventually fell asleep once more, tangled in one anothers naked embraces.