Chapter three: Let the confusion commence!
About five hours later, the two of them had almost finished the whole supply of alcohol. Well, Warren had had more to do with the finishing process that Andrew. But they were both quite drunk by now.
"So," said Warren, slurring noticeably.
"Yeah. So," answered Andrew, almost equally slurring. "That last bottle of whiskey was most positively..."
"... bad," Warren finished. "Yeah, I think so too. Maybe we should give the drinking a rest for a bit. I know just how to pass the time. What do you say to another round of Monopoly?"
"Nah," said Andrew. "You always win, it's no fun."
"Is too." He frowned. "Ah, screw it then. You have a better suggestion?"
Andrew smiled. "Why don't we stage a fight? You know, like, kung-fu style? Aw, come on. It could be fun!"
"I guess." Warren sighed. He tried to get up, but fell; his left leg was a bit paralysed after he'd been sitting on it for some hours, moving very little or not at all. On his third attempt, he got up on his feet – Andrew was already up, awaiting him. He had to hurry to his friend's aid, though; Warren was quite unstable, and he staggered when he tried to walk straight.
"Think I've had enough for tonight," said Warren, his voice unclear. "Or at least for a couple of hours."
"Me too," said Andrew, always eager to agree. He supported Warren so he wouldn't fall, which wasn't much of a problem, considering he didn't weigh all that much. He'd grabbed hold of Warren's wrists, and although he was swaying considerably, he managed to get him to stay upright.
As they stood there, Andrew's hands around Warren's wrists, their eyes made direct contact. Abashed, Andrew looked away, but Warren's eyes were locked on him.
"Hey, Andy? You know what?" He was still slurring, even more now than before, but Andrew could hear him perfectly. "Your eyes are amazing."
"My eyes?" Confused, Andrew looked up again, and met Warren's gaze. It sent electrical shots through his body, but this time, he didn't look away. "Are you serious?"
"'Course I am. There's something..." He paused, seemingly inspecting every inch of Andrew's face, interestedly. "There's something about you. Andrew."
Andrew was utterly bewildered. What was this? Why was he behaving like this? Was he just teasing... had he found out about what his friend felt – or thought he felt – about him? Or was this an honest attempt to...
Well, to what, exactly?
Smiling slightly, in his crooked, sly manner, Warren let his hands caress Andrew's upper arms and shoulders, just to let them wander down, further down, until they locked a tight grip around his waist.
"You're trembling," he said, his voice soft as silk. Andrew had never heard him speak like that before. His words were usually embedded in sarcasm and a bantering sort of irony, or possibly loathing. That was what he knew, what seemed right and normal. This felt almost like a dream – a good one, but still... he expected to wake up every second.
"Tilt your head back," said Warren softly. He knew he had Andrew on tip-toes prepared to do whatever he asked for. The feeling was empowering, strengthening.
"S-sorry, I don't... I don't know..." He found himself quite unable to speak properly, and it seemed like the mere words hesitated before coming out of his mouth.
"I know," answered Warren, still in that remarkably soft voice, half-whispering. "I know, Andy. No, sssch, just... shut up."
And Andrew obeyed in an instant. Slowly, almost in a daze, he tilted his head back. Warren let his fingers follow his jaw's smooth line, slowly. Andrew felt the most wonderful, tingling feeling in his stomach.
"Noble," mumbled Warren. "Noble, you're the noble one, Andy. I don't appreciate you enough."
After he'd done that, Warren put his fingers carefully over Andrew's mouth, as to silence him. Andrew instantly knew why. Even thought he wasn't at all experienced in this territory, he knew that intimate moments like this were best enjoyed in perfect silence. He'd never really understood why, but now... now he realised that he wouldn't have wanted this any other way. Silence was good. Silence marked the non-necessity of words, and the growing necessity of touch between the two of them. The exchange of human warmth.
Andrew shook inside, as he slowly lifted his own hand and removed Warren's fingers, placing his hand down around his waist again. Because it felt like that was where it belonged.
Warren leaned forward, his eyes wide-open, a curious look on his face, and the closer he got, Andrew's trembling subsided as he became one with the moment. He stood absolutely still. This was it; Warren was in total control of the situation, and that was how he wanted it... that was how they both wanted it.
The crooked smile began to fade, but Warren seemed to be enjoying himself in any case. Andrew closed his eyes, breathing heavily, waiting for the expected feeling of soft lips pressed against his own, and the anticipation almost drove him out of his mind.
But the kiss never came. Instead, Andrew felt Warren's cheek brush against his, softly, lightly as a summer breeze. He went along with it, of course. Any contact was good contact.
"I'm so... tired," mumbled Warren indistinctly, and Andrew could feel his breath against his neck. It gave him goosebumps, making all the little hairs on his body stand up.
"Y-you want to... lie down?" he asked, his voice almost as indistinct as Warren's.
Warren shook his head twice, his head making even closer contact with Andrew's. "No, not... not yet. Can't we just... stay here for a second?"
Suddenly, and without warning, Warren was no longer in control at all. He was dozing off; Andrew could feel it, his body becoming more and more heavy under the weight of blessed sleep. All that alcohol was beginning to gain on him. Andrew, on the other hand, felt absolutely clear in the head. Then again, he hadn't had as much to drink as Warren, and his clarity of mind could also have something to do with his whole body, and all his senses, being in suspense.
They just stood there, arms around each other, as close as a pair of humans can be, swaying slightly; Andrew fully aware of every last movement, imprinting this memory in his mind for later remembrance, Warren barely aware of anything at all anymore. Silence was complete. It was overwhelming, even. Andrew half-expected Jonathan to come barging in any second, interrupting this... whatever the two of them were sharing right now.
Andrew couldn't really tell, seeing as he wasn't exactly Don Juan. What was this? Nothing indecent, that was for sure, and yet he had the strangest feeling that if Jonathan had seen this, he'd have thought funny thoughts. He'd have assumed... well, things. He'd have assumed things.
"Damn it, Andy... I just wanted to... I didn't mean to... kill her."
Warren's mumbling interrupted Andrew's unpleasant thoughts, and he was sucked back into the here and now.
Was that a sob he heard? A quiet, tearless sob, right next to his ear? It couldn't be. It couldn't! Warren, sobbing? No, that couldn't be right. Warren was always the strong one, the ruthless, merciless one. The one among them who took the command, who always had the bloodiest ideas for ruling and taking over.
Was this the same person who had talked about tying girls to whipping-posts and torturing them for the fun of it, mere weeks ago?
It must be the alcohol, Andrew decided. It's making him say things, or maybe it's just connecting with feelings he's suppressed.
He frowned. Well, that was deep. There came Dr Phil again. He hadn't expected that answer from his mind. Such complexities never came to him... normally. But then again, this wasn't a normal situation. Not at all.
"I understand," he whispered. "I understand you."
The sobbing tuned out, leaving only the silence and the both of them behind.
This was everything that was important. Everything else seemed horribly insignificant at the moment. It was just the two of them, together, alone down in the basement. For all they knew, there could've been a nuclear war outside, and they wouldn't even have noticed. They had different reasons for not noticing, though. But even so, they wouldn't have.
---
Approximately half an hour later, when Andrew's feet had begun to hurt from being still for too long, and Warren hadn't spoken any more at all, Andrew ruled it was time to go lie down and rest. After all, if he weren't mistaken, they would need all the sleep they could get to deal with the hangover probably awaiting them in the morning.
Thus, he removed himself from Warren's grip, stroking his hair – very discretely, just so he wouldn't recoil. He still wasn't sure what this had meant, and he didn't want to ruin everything by being overly friendly all of a sudden.
"Time to sleep," he said, leading Warren to the right bed and helping him to lie down without falling. Warren looked up at him, gazing tiredly.
"Suppose so." Yawning, he reached out for Andrew's hand, and grabbed it firmly. Andrew didn't draw it back. And why should he? "See you... in the morning, Andy."
"Yeah, see you." He tried to walk off, but Warren held him there, his eyes aflame with an intensity that almost scared Andrew. "Don't... don't tell Jonathan about..." His eyes wandered; he was obviously struggling to keep them open.
"'Course not." Andrew understood. Things could get seriously out of hand if Warren admitted to even the least bit of weakness in front of Jonathan. He had to remain strong. The slip-up about Katrina had never happened, as far as he was concerned. "'Course not, Warren."
But Warren didn't hear. He was already asleep. Andrew sighed, and after covering his friend with a blanket, he walked away to his own bunk.
That night, he dreamt the most wonderful dreams, of which he never spoke to anyone.
And he was more confused about his feelings than before.