Chapter Nine

"This is our fun day out?" Jessica's eyebrows raised. "A zoo?"

Isaac chuckled, slinging his arm around his little sister. "Come on, Jess. Siobhan and Sinead are only eleven. I doubt they're much into trailing the mall yet."

Jessica sighed. "Ike, we have zoos in the States."

"Not London Zoo."

"Yeah, and not Edinburgh Zoo either, or Sydney Zoo, or Paris Zoo, or Buenos Aires Zoo, or Greenland Zoo," retorted Jessica. "But a zoo is a zoo. And they're cruel."

Isaac nodded knowingly. "Ah. I'd forgotten you'd turned into an Eco-warrior."

Jessica punched him on the shoulder. "I have not. I just think zoos are really cruel. Animals should be free."

"And is popcorn biodegradable?" Isaac raised his eyebrows.

Giggling, Jessica nudged him. "Hush, you're not funny."

"So why are you laughing, Squirt?" Isaac playfully ruffled her hair.

"Isaac. Please. I am hardly a squirt." Jessica gestured to her body with her hands.

Isaac stared at her, his eyes becoming sad. "No, you're right, Jess. You're definitely not a squirt any more." He sighed. "Anything but a squirt."

"Am I making you feel old?" teased Jessica.

Shrugging, Isaac pulled her towards him, squeezing her shoulders. "Kinda. It's just… I dunno. You're so grown up."

Jessica grinned. "I'll be retiring before you know it."

"No, no, seriously, Jess, I look at you, and you're becoming this beautiful, gorgeous, sophisticated young woman, and I guess it's scary."

A small smile playing on her lips, Jessica put her arms around Isaac and hugged him. "I'm not that old yet," she murmured.

Isaac rubbed her back. "Yeah, I know. But you're not filling diapers and blowing spit bubbles anymore, either."

"Hallelujah for that," chuckled Jessica. She pulled back, linking her arm through his as they began to walk again, hoping to catch up with Rhia, Niamh, Siobhan and Sinead, who were a little bit in front of them. "So, Ike, are you gonna do this mourning thing with all of us when we get older?"

"Definitely. It's my job."

"Were you like this with Zac?"

Isaac scratched his head. "I dunno. It's kinda different with you, because you're a girl."

"You really knew your Biology at school, huh, Ike?" Jessica laughed. "Mom's Sex Ed lessons." She adopted a voiceover tone, cocking her head jerkily to first one side, then the other. "Boys and girls are different."

Laughing, Isaac shoved her gently. "Now you hush, cause you're not funny either. I mean, with Zac, I dunno. It was different. He kinda never grew up until a few months ago, and now he's shutting himself off completely. But yeah, there were times when I kinda thought, oh man, that's my little brother, look at him, listen to him. But not so much as with you. I'll probably be the same with Avie though. I mean, I sort of am already. Just when she says something and you're like, wow, she's not six, and-"

"Ike?" Jessica interrupted. "You're rambling."

Isaac closed his mouth, making a face at his younger sister. "Well, you asked."

"What about Tay?"

"What about him?"

"Do you get it with him?"

Isaac pursed his lips. "A little, I guess. Not so much, because I can't really remember all that much about him being a baby, since I was only two when he was born. The only thing I really remember," he reminisced, "is when Zac was a baby. He would've been maybe, oh, eight months or something? And Tay really wanted to help Mom. He'd seen her changing the diapers, and he wanted to do it. So Mom had left Zac lying on the floor, and Tay found the bottle of talcum powder, and he poured the entire thing over Zac."

Jessica's eyes widened. "You're kidding!"

Isaac laughed. "No, no. And I was in the kitchen with Mom, and I just remember him coming through, covered in baby powder himself, and going, 'Ikey, Mommy, baby white!' And he looked really scared."

"Was Zac okay?"

"Maybe it explains some of his strangeness," joked Ike. "There has to be a reason for it."

"Did Zac ever do anything dumb?"

"Uhhh… Lots of things."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "I mean as a baby."

Isaac frowned. "I remember once, Mom was trying to iron the curtains, on the carpet. And Zac was in this thing. You know, those seats with a tray and wheels that you can stick the baby in? And every time she'd get it right, he'd zoom over them in that thing and crease them again."

Jessica giggled. "I can imagine it."

"Ah, yeah." Isaac rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing again. Suddenly, he turned to his sister. "You know, we've missed you, Jess."

"I missed you guys, too. It's why I'm here."

"And I'm so glad you are."

Jessica leaned her head briefly against his shoulder, smiling up at him. "Me too."

In front of them, the rest of the group had stopped, waiting for them to catch up.

"Oh, here they are, the slow coaches," laughed Niamh.

"Yeah, about time, Isaac, you snail," chimed in Rhia, tossing her baseball cap at him.

Isaac caught it. "Excuse me, but we were having some sibling bonding." He grinned, putting it on his head. "And we meant to be that slow."

"Niamh, can we go to see the monkeys," begged Siobhan. "Please?"

"Yeah, can we?" added her twin, joining her sister's side.

They both stood there, short, chubby, identical, their light blue eyes pleading and their soft, red curls framing their faces.

It was impossible to resist. "Yes, of course you can," grinned Niamh. "Jessica, are you coming?"

Jessica looked at Isaac doubtfully, biting on her lower lip.

"Go on, Jess," he urged. "You like monkeys."

"Yeah, okay." She moved over and joined the O'Shaughnessys.

"Hey, Ike, Rhia, why don't you guys stay here, have a rest? I've got it covered," offered Niamh.

Isaac and Rhia exchanged looks. Some alone time would be good.

"Niamh, that would be brilliant!" enthused Isaac. "You're awesome!"

"No problem," she smiled. "Come on, girls!"

Isaac and Rhia sat on the grass, under a tree, watching as the three, short, red-haired, Irish girls, and the tall, blond, American one eventually disappeared from view.

Rhia sighed, lying down and folding her arms behind her head. "What were you guys talking about?" she murmured, closing her eyes.

Isaac smiled to himself. "Just stuff. She's growing up so fast, Rhia, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Rhia opened one eye and grinned crookedly up at him. "Yet another Hanson sibling drifting away from the oldest brother's protection."

Isaac swatted her. "Oh, be quiet. You don't know how it feels. You don't have any younger people."

"I know what it's like to lose one, though," Rhia reminded him quietly.

Cursing himself, Isaac lay down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his head on her chest. "Sorry, baby," he murmured. "I didn't mean it like that."

Rhia dropped a kiss on his forehead. "It's okay," she assured him. "I know you didn't." She levered herself up against the tree, positioning herself directly behind Isaac and beginning to massage his shoulders. "Wow, honey, you're tense."

Isaac moaned gratefully, closing his eyes and leaning back against his girlfriend. "What do you expect?" he asked, when he finally managed to speak around the bliss he was feeling. "It's stressful stuff, this is."

"I know, I know." Rhia stopped kneading his back and rested her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "But you're doing okay, right?" She kissed him on the cheek. "You're always doing okay, Ike."

He smiled, taking her hands in his and beginning to knead the back of them with his thumbs. "Yeah, we're okay, Ree. We're absolutely, positively okay." He guided her hands back to his shoulders. "Come on, slave girl. Do your stuff."

Rhia giggled, slapping him playfully over the head. "I'll slave girl you," she kidded, pummeling his shoulders extra hard.

"Ow!" yelped Isaac, leaping away from her. "What are you, Robo-Girl? Miss Knuckles Of Steel?"

Laughing, Rhia pulled him gently back towards her and began her massage again, more softly this time, easing the knots and tension out of her boyfriend's shoulders.

Sighing happily, Isaac relaxed again, letting Rhia work her magic. "We don't spend enough time together," he murmured.

"I know," agreed Rhia. "I hardly see you these days. You're always so busy, with the band, or with other stuff."

Isaac rolled over, facing her squarely. "Tell you what," he proposed. "How about I cook you dinner, say, one night next week?"

"Oh, yes, how romantic," scoffed Rhia. "Us, your two brothers, your father, your sister, a whole band and their manager, the manager's fiancé, a set of eleven year old twins and an odd job guy!"

Isaac chuckled. "No. We go to the cottage. Just the two of us. I cook you a nice meal, we get candles, and we spend the entire night by ourselves. What do you say?"

Rhia smiled broadly, leaning forward and kissing him. "I say," she mumbled, stealing another, deeper kiss. "I say that one night next week might just be the most romantic night of our lives…"

***

"Oh, God, you brought me here again?"

Rachelle shook her head. "Zac, it's nice!" she insisted, giving him a playful shove.

"Nuh-uh," argued Zac. "A sunset is nice. A kid flying a kite is nice. Puppies and kittens are nice. A dilapidated heap of moss-covered bricks, a rotten wooden roof, a missing bucket and rancid, stagnant water that smells like my socks after a high-powered soccer match is not nice."

Rachelle laughed, running her hands back through her hick, black hair. "Where's the romantic in you, Zachary Walker Hanson?" she questioned through her giggles.

"He's gone AWOL. Missing, presumed dead," replied Zac with a straight face. "I know!" he exclaimed exaggeratedly, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Maybe he fell down that disgusting old wishing well! It is a safety hazard, after all. I don't know why you think it's so great!" He crossed his arms, his thick eyebrows knitting together in a frown, as Rachelle shook her head, apparently disgusted at his lack of appreciation for the beauty of the well.

Walking slowly around the wishing well, tracing her finger round its mossy circumference, she sighed. "I'll tell you why I think it's so great. To me, it seems really magical. I dunno. There's something about this place…" She gestured all around her. "I mean, it's hidden away, among all these trees, so no one can find it..."

"There's a reason for that," interjected Zac, dryly.

Rachelle silenced him with a sharp look. "And we were lucky enough to find it, and it's just really romantic, and enchanting, almost. It makes me feel like I'm in a fairytale. Like I'm the long haired princess, and you're the knight in shining armor, riding up on his white horse to carry me away."

Zac snorted. "Are you wearing one of those weird cone hats with the streamers coming out the top?"

"Yeah," breathed Rachelle dreamily. "And one of those floaty dresses. You know, tight, tight bodice, long, long skirts…"

"So tight that you fall out the top?" Zac's eyes sparkled as he teased his girlfriend. "That, I can live with."

Rolling her eyes, Rachelle swatted him. "Why?" she moaned, dramatically, trying not to laugh. "Why do you have to ruin all my fantasies?!"

"It's my job." Zac frowned, realizing that his response didn't really fit in with the context of the question. He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't have you down as a fairytale kinda gal either. You know, the chick dresses in black almost everyday, worships KoRn, and Metallica, and Slipknot and all those other bands, has a hard-ass attitude, sees me as a 'challenge'…" He trailed off, rolling his eyes to the sky. "And whaddaya know? She has a secret ambition to be Cinderella."

Rachelle started to laugh. "Not Cinderella. Sleeping Beauty."

"Fine, whatever. They're all the same!"

"No, no, Snow White!"

"Why Snow White?"

"Because…" Rachelle giggled, then started to sing, her voice quavering as she tried to suppress her laughter. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Shaking his head, Zac groaned, "Oh, man."

"Come on, do your bit!" she urged him.

Muttering to himself, Zac flatly intoned, "Wah-wah-wah."

"Do you promise not to tell?"

"Blah-blah-blah," he added in a monotone.

"We are standing by a wishing well…"

"Aren't-you-smart?" he continued, singing in the same dull tune.

Laughing Rachelle shoved him gently. "Anyway, why does it surprise you so much that I want to be a princess? It's every little girl's dream. And besides, just cause I like KoRn doesn't mean that I can't be someone else. There are lots of complex personas that combine to create my soul, you know," she told him in a fake English accent.

Zac nodded seriously, beginning to tick off on his fingers. "Right. We've got dominating, evil Goth chick, we've got sweet, sensitive and funny girlfriend, we've got the Jamie-taming diplomat, and we’ve got fairytale princess. How many more of you do I have to meet?"

She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closely to her. "That's a secret that I'm not gonna tell you."

"But I promise not to tell," whispered Zac, leaning his mouth closer to hers, so close that she could feel his breath tickling her lips.

"Wah…" She moved closer. "Wah…" Closer still. "Wah," she finally murmured, pushing her lips against his.

As he felt her pressing against him, her lips aggressively moving with his, her tongue slowly worming its way into his warm, wet mouth, Zac suddenly forgot about everything else and lost himself in the kiss. Teasing with his tongue, exploring all over the other person's mouth, pressing their body as close as was humanly possible against him, Zac realized how much he loved this person. How much he loved Ollie.

"Oh, Zac," she groaned, kissing him harder.

Zac's eyes flew open, his lips and tongue still automatically intermingling with hers. He wasn't kissing Ollie. He was kissing Rachelle. And thinking of Ollie. He froze, cursing himself.

"Zac? Zac, baby, what's wrong?" Obviously not in the mood to stop kissing, Rachelle continued her assault on him, licking his face gently, pressing her lips all over the exposed skin on his face, neck and hands.

Zac shook his head, determined to push Ollie out of his mind. It wasn't fair to Rachelle. He almost laughed bitterly at himself. Thinking of Ollie while kissing Rachelle wasn't fair. And all the other stuff he'd been doing with Ollie while supposedly dating Rachelle was? Hating himself more than ever, Zac began to kiss her again, his mind reeling all the time. He was a horrible, nasty person. He was scum, and he knew it. He knew, deep down, that he wanted to be with Ollie. He connected with Ollie far more on an emotional and physical level than with Rachelle. So why couldn't he do the decent thing and break it off with her? But he knew the answer to that as well. Rachelle was the safe option. Ike and Tay knew that he was dating Rachelle, and they hadn't batted an eyelid. Well, not at that particular aspect of his life, anyway. But he could hardly imagine them responding the same way if he were to stroll into the kitchen and announce that he was in love with Ollie. Taylor seemed to have an immense dislike of Ollie as it was, without this fueling the fire. And breaking up with Rachelle to be with Ollie meant admitting to himself that he was gay. When he had a girlfriend, he could tell himself that it was impossible that he was gay. But if he lost her, then it would be like surrendering to himself, and to his heart.

Scared by that thought, Zac held her even tighter, rubbing her back and deepening the kiss even more. Besides, it wasn't that he didn't feel something for Rachelle. She was a great kisser, an amazing person, a wonderful friend and he loved her. He truly did. He loved her, a lot. But he wasn't in love with her. He knew it wasn't fair to her, or to Ollie to keep doing this, but Zac had to be selfish on this one. He couldn't tell her yet. He wasn't ready to admit it to himself yet.

So, as he relaxed into yet another wonderful kiss, Zac decided, a little fuzzily, that, for now, anyway, the double life he was leading would have to keep being lived.

***

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," muttered Taylor to himself, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the woman sitting next to him on the bus. "Please, Ike, pick up…"

"Hello?"

"You're not Ike."

Laughter. "Um, no, I'm not. Sorry, were you expecting him?"

"Well, it is his cellphone."

"Taylor, this is the house phone. I think you must have dialed the wrong number."

"Shit," muttered Taylor, leaning his head against the steamy window, feeling the condensation trickle down from his temple. "Is he there?"

"No, he's at the park, with Jessica and Niamh and the twins."

"Damn."

"Taylor, can I help you?"

"Oh, I doubt very much that you can help me, Gabriella," replied Taylor, coldly.

He heard a loud sigh from the other end of the phone. "Taylor…"

"Look, I got the deal, okay? Robertson says he'll be happy to add the string parts."

"Oh, that's great." Gabbie sighed again. "Now that I've got you, can we talk?"

"About what? I've got nothing to say to you."

"Taylor…"

"That's my name."

"Don't do this…"

"Don't do what?" snapped Taylor, raking his hand agitatedly through his hair. "Don't do fucking what, Gabbie? Don't bring in my girlfriend to the house and have her make out with me in front of you constantly? Don't make her treat you like complete shit and totally humiliate you? Don't totally ignore you for a week while she stays? Don't do what?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Taylor turned to face the window, hiding his face from the confused and angry looks on the faces of the other passengers. He hadn't realized how loudly he'd been talking.

"Taylor, I'm sorry," Gabbie suddenly blurted out. "But I don't think you realize how hard this is for me!"

"How hard this is for you?!" repeated Taylor incredulously. "How hard it is for you?! Jesus Christ, Gabbie, the strain of the passionate kisses, the strain of shooting me the evil eye, the strain of blanking me totally! God, I'm really just so sorry," he spat out bitterly, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Of course this is painful for you. So, so much more so than it is for me to watch the one and only girl I've ever loved treat me like dirt and parade her trophy case boyfriend around my own house, giving me these smug glances, and him insulting me all day long! How could I be so self-obsessed?!" Leaning forward, he pressed his hot, pounding forehead against the cool, condensation-steamed glass, wishing for all the world that he was in Tulsa, on his front porch, eating ice cream, than here, in rainy England, on a hot and stuffy bus, having a public argument with Gabbie and sounding like a complete idiot.

Gabbie swallowed, sounding like she might cry. "Taylor, I didn't mean it."

"So you just forgot to talk to me?"

"Taylor!"

"Well!"

"Look, let me explain."

"I'm listening."

"I just… I can't talk to you. Mike doesn't like it."

"He doesn't seem to care when you talk to Ike or Zac," Taylor pointed out, pushing his hair off his forehead.

She sighed. "He knows there's…history between you and me."

"What's that got to do with anything?" demanded Taylor petulantly.

"He doesn't trust me."

"Well, that's his problem. Stupid jerk."

"And I don't trust myself," she added quietly.

"What?!"

"Umm, look, I gotta go," she spoke up hastily, her voice sounding rushed.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, you don't!" Taylor shook his head, trying to get his brain round this. Gabbie didn't trust herself with him? Did that mean that she maybe still felt something for him? "You don't just drop a bombshell like that then hang up. What do you mean, you don't trust yourself?"

There was a silence at the other end of the phone.

"Gabbie…" Taylor's voice sounded dangerously exasperated.

"I mean exactly what I say. I don't trust my feelings for you, Taylor. I'm scared that if we're alone together, something else will happen between us, and it can't. It just can't."

"You mean you still love me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you meant, isn't it? Gabbie, you still love me!"

"You've lost it!" Gabbie sounded dangerously close to tears. "I don't love you, Taylor, " she cried. "I don't love you! But there's still some sexual chemistry between us. There's always gonna be sexual chemistry between us."

"Gabbie, I still love you too!" he told her excitedly. "Just leave Mike."

"Taylor, you're not listening to me. I don't want you back. We're over."

Taylor frowned and closed his eyes, feeling like his heart was ripping in two. "But you can't tell me that, Gabbie. You can't say there's still chemistry between us. Not when you know I still love you. What the fuck are you trying to do to me? Destroy me completely?"

"No," she sobbed. "Of course not."

"Stop messing with me then. You can deny it all you want, Gabbie. But I know that if you're getting so upset over this, you still love me." Getting to his feet, Taylor wobbled unsteadily down the gangway of the bus, nodding to the driver and hopping off onto the sidewalk, continuing the conversation as he began to walk up the lane leading to the long driveway of the house.

"I don't!"

He sighed, wondering how much more confusing this situation, not to mention this very conversation, could get. He turned into the driveway, brushing past all the newly-forming leaves on the spring branches as he stormed angrily up to the house. "Whatever, Gabbie. I'm tired of this. You still love me. I still love you. There's just an idiot called Mike in the way." With that, he ended the call on his cell, snapping down the aerial.

He walked the final five hundred or so meters up to the front steps of the house, pushing open the door and stepping into the warm hallway, removing his thick jacket. He could hear the water of the shower pounding upstairs, so he guessed that's where Gabbie was. Good. No confrontation.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Taylor spun round, coat still in hand, finding himself face to face with an irate looking Mike. "Well, I didn't know you knew words like that," murmured Taylor mildly, pulling open the closet to hang his jacket up.

Suddenly, he found his head making hard contact with the concrete wall. His hand automatically flew to his forehead, feeling hot, thick blood seeping out of a graze. He whirled around, his blue eyes icy and glaring. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, staring incredulously at older man.

"I could ask you the same question," growled Mike, fists clenched and eyes flashing angrily.

"What?!" demanded Taylor dazedly, stumbling backwards, disorientated after his merging with the wall. "I dunno what the hell you're talking about, Mike."

"You little shit," Mike sneered, pulling his hand backwards and ramming it, full force, against Taylor's nose.

Taylor groaned softly as the blood began to pour from his swollen nose. "I didn't do anything," he protested weakly.

"Like fuck!" retorted Mike, punching him hard in the gut. "Gabbie." Punch. "Is." Punch. "My." Punch. "Girlfriend!" Punch, punch, punch.

Clutching his stomach, determined not to be beaten, Taylor raised a bloody eyebrow. "I know that, you moron," he retorted, only to find himself being thrown backwards against the wall and deciding that maybe retaliating wasn't really an option here, when his opponent was obviously some kind of trained fighter. Or at least a good one.

"Listen to me, you asshole!" yelled Mike.

Taylor didn't say anything, just stared at him blankly, wondering what he was going to say.

"Answer me, you jerk!" the irate man screamed, delivering a kick to Taylor's hip that could quite possibly have been taught by Mr Miyagi himself.

"But you didn't ask a question," muttered Taylor, quickly adding, "I'm listening," when he saw Mike's eyes beginning to flash yet again.

"Gabbie doesn't love you! She loves me!"

"I know," replied Taylor slowly, wondering what had suddenly caused the territorial behavior.

"If you know," mimicked Mike in a high pitched voice, "then what the fuck are you doing calling her up and telling her she still loves her, and that you guys are meant to be together, and that there's just some idiot called Mike in the way?!"

A light of recognition dawned on Taylor. Mike knew about the phone call. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"There's such a thing as an extension, you know. I picked up at the same time."

"And do you often listen in on other people's private calls?"

"Just as well I did this time, huh?" Mike swung yet another punch at Taylor's stomach. "You stay the fuck away from Gabbie, you jumped up little jerk! We're getting married! She doesn't want you!"

"Yeah, obviously, that's why we had sex less than a month ago, in a parking lot!" gasped out Taylor, regretting it the minute the words were out of his mouth.

Mike didn't answer. Fists clenched, he turned away, and Taylor thought, for a split second, that he was safe. Then the older, bigger man charged at him like a crazed bull, pummeling him, pulling his hair, kicking him, bashing him against the wall.

Taylor saw his life flashing before his eyes. Each jolt he felt prompted another snapshot to enter his head. He saw himself, Ike and a baby Zac with their parents in Ecuador; he saw them all when they returned home to Tulsa for the first time; he saw the crowd at their first school performance and the crowd at Paramus, New Jersey, when they'd first realized they were famous; he saw the picture of his entire family at some reunion; he saw himself, Ike and Zac outside on the porch swing just after Corey had died; he saw Gabbie, drunk at that nightclub. He saw that, and a whole lot more, as Mike hit him again and again. He didn't even try to fight back. There was no point anyway. Mike was bigger; Mike was stronger; Mike wasn't jammed against a wall. He just let himself be used as a punch bag, his only protests being soft groans of pain.

Suddenly, a shriek roused him out of his daze.

"Mike, Mike, STOP!" Gabbie flew downstairs, wearing only her blue toweling robe and a towel wrapped, turban style, around her long, curly hair. "Mike, what are you doing?! Get off him! Mike! Mike!" She began to cry, slapping at her boyfriend, trying, in vain, to pull him off Taylor. "MIKE!" she screamed. "GET OFF HIM!"

"Stay out of this!" Mike glared at her, eyes red, and shoved her, hard, against the stairs, where she collapsed onto the bottom one, crying and trembling.

"Don't…hit…her!" moaned Taylor, finally mustering up the strength to speak.

"Shut the fuck up!" In his fury, Mike landed a punch square on Taylor's mouth.

Taylor felt the blood inside his mouth, felt it pounding inside his head, felt the dizzy haze washing over him. He slumped down, feeling Mike's punches subside a little and giving in to the insisting voice inside his head telling him to sleep.

He could only have been asleep a few seconds when he heard Niamh scream. "Oh, my Lord! Isaac! Ike, hurry!!"

Taylor forced open his swollen eyes, seeing Mike still standing over him, fist still raised. Maybe he hadn't been asleep at all; he wasn't sure about anything now, he was so dazed and disorientated.

"What the hell?!"

Isaac. It's Isaac. It's Ike! Ike'll save me! Gratefully, Taylor closed his eyes, still desperate to give in to the impending peaceful sleep hanging over him.

"No, Tay, no!" Isaac pleading, sounding desperate. "Stay with me, Tay. Stay with me. Don't sleep." Suddenly, his tone of voice changed. "Get away from him, NOW!" he growled, turning to Mike.

"This little fuck wants my girlfriend!"

"Get away from him NOW!" screamed Isaac, louder, harder this time.

"He can't have her!"

"Mike, get the fuck out of my house, RIGHT NOW!" he yelled, so hard, his face took on a blue tinge.

Muttering to himself, Mike took his hands off Taylor's bloody shirt and stalked out of the house, claiming that he'd be back and justice would reign.

Isaac turned to Gabbie. "Are you okay?"

"Taylor…" she breathed, pointing to him, lying dazed on the floor, his face bloody and swollen.

Isaac nodded curtly. "Niamh, take her and the kids upstairs."

"I wanna stay!" sobbed Jessica. "He's my brother too!"

Isaac bit his lip. Jessica was upset enough. He didn't know the extent of Taylor's injuries. "Jess, honey, I swear, he'll be okay. But I think you should go upstairs. Please?"

Something in his tone of voice seemed to connect with her, he could see it in her eyes. "Okay," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Thanks, sweetie." Isaac kissed her tear away, waiting until the five girls had disappeared upstairs to turn to his brother. "Tay?"

Taylor groaned in response, finding it impossible to move his mouth.

"Don't try to talk, buddy, I'm here, I'm here."

Isaac smoothed back Taylor's sticky hair, examining his brother's face. Both eyes were turning purple and were swollen, his nose was bleeding, his forehead had a large graze on it, there was a deeper cut just below his hairline, his jaw was already bruising and his mouth was bleeding. Luckily, he still seemed to have all his teeth. "Where else does it hurt?" he asked gently.

Taylor waved his hand a few inches above his stomach.

Gingerly, Isaac lifted up his brother's shirt, gasping when he saw what lay underneath. His normally pale skin was colored a vast array of deep purples and reds, blood gathered underneath the skin. The bruising reminded Isaac of a bad apple or one of those inkblot tests. "Oh, God, Tay. Oh, God."

"Is it bad?" Taylor managed to ask.

"Umm, it's not so bad," lied Isaac. "It's just… Well, no wonder it hurts. Listen, I think we're gonna have to get you to the ER. Can you walk?"

"I can try."

Isaac gently put his arm around his little brother helping him to his feet. Together, with Taylor clutching tightly onto his support, they slowly made their way out to the car, Isaac talking to Taylor all the way to the hospital, trying to keep him awake. If he let him fall asleep, who knew if he'd wake up again?

***

"I'm just so glad he's okay," murmured Isaac, leaning his head on Rhia's shoulder.

"What did the doctor say?" Rhia slowly stroked his hair, feeling her boyfriend relax against her.

"Just that it could have been a lot worse. They thought there was internal bleeding, but there isn't, so that's a relief. He got seven stitches to his head, though. He can't walk very well, what with the bruising to his stomch. And he's a little concussed, but, God, was he lucky…"

"I still can't believe Mike did that," mused Rhia, rubbing her cheek against his hair.

Isaac shook his head, almost unable to speak. "He's such a bastard," he growled finally, his voice chock-full of animosity. "I hate him. I just really hate him, Ree. How the hell could he do that? Just how?" he demanded emotionally, his voice beginning to crack.

Rhia squeezed him tighter, kissing the top of his head. "It's okay, Ike. He's okay."

"I know… But the fact that that guy is still living in my house!" raged Isaac.

Still stroking his hair soothingly, Rhia sighed. "But you couldn't turf him out on the streets, could you? You did the right thing."

"But Tay's so scared…"

"Taylor is fine," Rhia assured him. "He's asleep already. And everyone else is in the house. We're all alone out here. Just forget everything…"

"Mmm," murmured Isaac, deciding she was right and banishing all thoughts from his head but those of Rhia, the cottage and the wonderful Italian meal he'd cooked for them both that they'd just finished.

"How come this dank, dismal wreck of a house suddenly looks so beautiful tonight?" asked Rhia softly.

"It was the hallucinogenics I put in the spaghetti," deadpanned Isaac.

"That'll explain why you suddenly don't look so ugly too, then," retorted Rhia, sticking out her tongue.

"I could say the same thing," kidded Isaac, shifting so that he was lying next to her on the couch, arms and legs entwined.

"I'll go huffy," threatened Rhia, pouting to prove that she would.

Isaac chuckled. "Rhia, you know you're gorgeous. You know that I think there's no one on the planet who's more beautiful than you are. Well, except maybe Tinky-Winky the Teletubbie," he added. "Of course."

"Tinky-Winky's a guy," she giggled.

"But he carries a red handbag…"

"Hey, it's a Pre-School gay icon. Ike, this is the twenty-first century, you know."

"I know," he murmured, smoothing down her hair with his hand. "What's the world coming to?"

She giggled. "Why are we having this conversation? We sound like we're fifty."

"I really don't know," replied Isaac, laughing as he moved in closer to her, engulfing her mouth softly with his, applying gentle pressure as he felt Rhia kissing him back, felt her hands moving slowly against his back, tickling and stroking him through his dark green shirt. He kissed her harder, pulling her by the arms closer to him, then wrapping his arms around her again, holding her as tightly as possible, never wanting to let her go. He slowly, gently pushed his tongue forwards, brushing it off her upper lip and feeling hers coming to meet it and circling it languidly, eventually pulling it away and concentrating on Rhia's full, soft lips. After a few more seconds, he pulled back, kissing her softly one last time, then just pulling her closely to him, squeezing her tightly and stroking her hair.

He looked down at her, laying contentedly on top of him, eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face. He kissed her hair, watching as her eyelids flickered open and she gazed up at him with her big, emerald eyes. He kissed her again, this time on her forehead, murmuring, "I love you."

She smiled at him, returning the kiss, aiming it at his chin. "I love you, too, Ike."

He ran his fingers through her hair, prompting her into shifting slightly and propping herself up on her elbows, suddenly seeming much more awake and alert. He leaned forward, kissing her again, and they lost themselves for another few minutes, isolated from the rest of the world in their deep, passionate kiss.

Until Isaac became aware of Rhia kissing somewhere other than his lips.

She gradually worked away from his mouth, kissing in a line down his chin, his neck, and nuzzling into his collarbone, deepening the kiss there.

Isaac groaned, amazed at how sensual the kiss felt, arousing his nerve-endings to tingling fireworks inside his body. He clenched his fists, squeezing Rhia tightly again.

She smiled up at him, then unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt, kissing in the hollow between his subtly defined pectoral muscles, then unbuttoned further and kissed her way down to his stomach, and the small, fine line of dark hair that led to his navel.

Looking down at his girlfriend, dumbfounded, Isaac gradually remembered that he had to play a part in this, too. He reached out his hands and slowly unbuttoned her lilac shirt, revealing her blue and white gingham, daisy patterned bra. "Now, that's cute," he chuckled.

Rhia looked up at him, green eyes twinkling. "Isn't it?" she agreed.

"Do your panties match?"

Rhia blushed, suddenly freezing in her position.

Instantly, Isaac was aware in the change of her state of mind. "Ree? Are you okay?" He groaned. "You don't want this to happen, do you? I thought-"

Suddenly, he was silenced by Rhia pushing her mouth against his again. Breathlessly, she pulled back. "I want to," she whispered. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled at him. "I'm not pretending I'm not scared. But yes, I want to. And yes, I'm sure."

Isaac felt himself melting, then began to kiss her again, hard and forcefully, undoing the button on her white trousers, tugging them down over her rounded hips. "So they do match," he grinned, gesturing to the pretty checked underwear.

"But of course," she giggled, kicking off her tight trousers. "Would you expect anything less?"

He smiled affectionately down at her. "No, Rhia. I really wouldn't."

Returning his grin, she dove down and undid his pants, slipping them off easily. Grimacing, she stopped. Now what? Did she just whip off his boxers? Let him do it himself? This sex stuff was so confusing.

Luckily, Isaac saved her, pulling her up close to him and kissing her, all her worries and insecurities flying out of the window. The underwear came of naturally, almost lyrically, it was so beautiful. She felt him pressing against her thigh, and she knew it was time.

"Ike, you've got a thingy, right?"

Isaac looked down. "I'd say that was obvious."

She laughed nervously, redness rising in her cheeks. "Not that kind of thingy. I mean a rubber kind of thingy."

He reached down onto the floor, sliding his hand into his pants' pocket and pulling out the wrapped Durex. "My motto in life is be prepared," he told her solemnly, unwrapping it.

"I think the Boy Scouts have copyright on that one," she murmured, helping him roll it down.

"Hey, come on, we wrote all our own songs. Can't expect us…to do…everything…originally…" he trailed off, losing himself again in her kiss. Slowly, he guided himself into her, feeling her shudder as he entered her properly.

Feeling the tears welling up in his eyes, he wiped them away, holding Rhia closely. It was just so good to know that no matter what went wrong with everyone else, he could always find his girlfriend and feel like he'd died and gone to Heaven.

***

"Did you tell her yet?"

"Hmm?"

"Rachelle. Did you tell her?" Ollie repeated the question slowly, his face darkening as he realized that he knew exactly what Zac's response would be.

Zac sighed. "Not yet."

"Why not?" whined Ollie, pushing his longish brown hair out of his eyes. "Zac, we've been…you know…for ages now, and you still haven't told her! It's not fair to her. Or to me," he added quietly, glancing shyly over at his boyfriend.

Slowly, Zac walked across the room to him, wrapping his arms tightly around Ollie's thin waist. When he didn’t feel the pressure of the embrace being returned, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Ol. I'm really sorry. But…I mean…how do you tell someone something like that? I can't just mosey up to her and go, 'Hey, babe, it's over. I'm getting it on with the English dude', can I?"

Ollie snorted in reluctant amusement. "I guess not," he agreed.

Zac kissed him gently on the cheek, squeezing him tightly. "You know I'm gonna, right?"

Shrugging, Ollie hesitated. "Well…"

"Aww, Ol, come on! I wouldn't lie to you!"

"I know you wouldn't. But you said you'd tell her like two months ago, and still, nothing's happened." He pushed Zac away and hopped on to the washing machine, perching glumly with his chin stuck in his hands.

"Jesus Christ, Ollie, it's hard! You get the easy bit in this whole pantomime!"

"Is this what this is to you?" demanded Ollie. "A pantomime? A bloody pantomime?! How the hell do you even know what a pantomime is?! You're a bloody Yank, ain't you?"

"Better than being a bloody wank!" retorted Zac.

Ollie recoiled as if he'd been slapped, hurt and confusion clear as day on his shocked face.

"Oh, shit, Ollie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean, that, really, I didn't!" Zac flew over to his boyfriend, taking both his hands in his own. "I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean that. It just came out, my temper, you know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

A little bewildered by Zac's effusive apology, Ollie nodded slowly, realizing the comment had just been a heat of the moment thing, and really hadn't been meant. "And I didn't mean to call you a Yank…even though you are, it's kinda derogatory." He grinned. "And too many other insults rhyme with it."

Zac returned the smile. "But I meant what I said. It's not a pantomime, sure, there are no guys in skirts-"

"Yet," interjected Ollie, wiggling his eyebrows wickedly.

Chuckling, Zac continued, giving him a quizzical look. "But you do have the easy part. I mean, I have to tell Rachelle, and she has to get hurt. You really don't get anything negative out of this."

Ollie sighed. "Nothing negative? How do you think I feel, Zac? I can't even tell anyone how I feel about you in case Rachelle hears. I can't be with you unless we're in this stupid, freezing cellar. And I have to watch you be all kissy-kissy with her. Don't you think that kills me?"

Zac pursed his lips. "I never thought of that, I guess," he mused. "I'm sorry. I guess it's hard on all of us."

Nodding, Ollie squeezed Zac's hands. "It's just that…" He took a deep breath. "It's just…I dunno…I have all these really strong feelings for you, and it's like I can't acknowledge them. I can't count the number of times I've had to physically hold myself back, restraining myself from kissing you in the kitchen, or creeping up behind you and sliding my arms around your waist."

"I've done the same," confessed Zac. "I almost jumped in the shower with you once."

"Now that would have been fun," grinned Ollie. Then, he got serious again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love everything about you. I love your eyes so much that I want to just drown in them; I love your squishy little nose; I love your mouth; I love your body." He stopped, running his hands over each part of Zac that he'd mentioned, gently tickling his eyelids, then rubbing his nose, tracing his lip-line and smoothing his hands down over his boyfriend's slightly protruding stomach.

"You can't love my body," murmured Zac. "Not when yours is perfect." He eyes Ollie's perfectly flat, honed midriff enviously.

Ollie shook his head. "I can so. Cause yours is perfect, whereas I'm a stick insect. You're nice and big - and I don't mean fat, I mean built. You got muscle, Zac!"

"Where?"

"It's there," Ollie assured him. "It's not defined much, but it's there, and I can feel it and I love it. And you have these amazing big shoulders that I love. But you know what I love most of all?"

"What?" breathed Zac, almost inaudibly.

"Your personality. I love everything about it. You got this amazing sense of humor, this sweet humility about you, you're kind, you're caring, you're just brilliant."

"Taylor would disagree with you there."

"Shh." Ollie placed his finger over Zac's lips, silencing him. "I guess…what I'm trying to say is that… That…"

"What?" whispered Zac.

"I'mfallinginlovewithyou," Ollie rushed out, all in one breath.

But Zac understood. He put his arms around him, pulling him off the washing machine and hugging him as hard as he possibly could. "I think I'm falling in love with you, too," he murmured.

Slowly, he tilted Ollie's chin and guided his lips to his own, feeling his heart swelling as they began to kiss. He was certain now. He was in love with Ollie. But how, exactly, could he tell Rachelle? As Ollie deepened the kiss, Zac held him even tighter, running his hands up and down his back. His mind began to race again. How would she take it? Would she kill him? Ollie? Both of them? Could be kinda like a Shakespearean tragedy. Romeo and…well…Romeo, dying for their love, only allowed to be together in death. Star-cross'd lovers… But he was being silly. Rachelle wasn't a homicidal maniac. As far as he knew, anyway. She was a sweet, loving, amazing person. So she would understand, right? Wrong. He didn't think anyone with the patience and tolerance of a saint could understand this. Why couldn't everything be simple? Why was it all so complicated? And why the hell could he never enjoy a kiss without philosophizing erratically?

Pushing all thoughts of Rachelle, saints and Shakespeare from his mind, Zac concentrated on the kiss, thinking of nothing but Ollie, Ollie, Ollie. As the shirt came off, he thought of Ollie, as bare skin pressed against more of the same, he thought of Ollie, as they lay on the floor, wrapped in a tight embrace, he thought of Ollie. He was thinking of Ollie so hard, so consciously, that he didn't even hear the thump.

"What the…"

Both boys sprang apart, leaping to their feet, clad only in boxers.

"Holy fuck!"

Zac and Ollie stared at the slim shadow in the doorway, unable to speak.

"Holy shit! Mary, mother of Jesus! What the…"

"Oh, God," groaned Zac.

"Yes, Zachary, oh, God is right. What the fuck is going on here? No, wait, I know perfectly well what's going on here. Oh, my God! What the hell is wrong with you?! I just… I… Oh, my GOD!!!"

"Tay, wait!"

Taylor stared at them, the reality of what he had just witnessed sinking in. He stood, like a deer caught in headlights, shock frozen on his face. Starting to tremble he turned and limped away, clutching his stomach.

"Taylor, WAIT!!!!" screamed Zac.

But the door slammed shut, plunging Zac and Ollie into darkness once again.

Chapter Ten
"Keep It As Snow" Index
Other Stories