Maddie greets us at the door as we stumble through it, fairly drunk and unsteady on our feet.
"You boys! What would your parents say?" She taps me lightly on the head as the room spins behind her. "Come in quickly and take your shoes off."
Christian plonks himself down on the carpet in an attempt to make his shoe removal easier; he's wearing knee-high, fully laced and buckled Goth boots - for lack of a better description - and I laugh at the determination in his face as he struggles to unknot the ribbon laces.
"You're such a..."
"Such a what?" he slurs, not taking his unfocused eyes off his feet.
"A dumbass." I pull my tennis shoes off with ease. I never tie the laces properly out of laziness and now that the walls seem to be rotating I'm very grateful. Well done, Past Yan. Good job.
A waft of cooking meat smell greets my nostrils. "Maddie's making steak!" I cry out, suddenly feeling very hungry.
As I run to the kitchen, I can hear Christian calling out behind me, something to do with his shoes. I slide on the tiles a little, and Maddie turns to me. "Yan, be careful or you'll break something." She's trying to sound stern but I can hear a hint of amusement in her voice. "Get some coffee or something. If your parents found out I allowed to you behave like this..."
"They would never find out, Mad, it's fine..." I park myself at the breakfast bar counter, hiccuping every few words.
Maddie is one of my favourite people in the world. She's been working for our family since I was a baby. Originally, she was only meant to be here until I started school, but my parents continued their holiday lifestyle, spending weeks away at a time, and I would barely see them. I never really knew much of where they would go, or where they go now, but Maddie is always here, and that makes me happy.
Christian falls in the archway to the kitchen. "Steak!" He cries out. "I do like a bit of meat in--"
"No!" I chastise him, pulling him onto a stool next to me. "Not in front of Mad." I can't help but laugh, though. Because when you're this drunk, everything is funny.
"You boys..." Maddie is trying to hide her laughter too. She knows fine well what Chris is like, but the idea of him cracking dirty jokes in front of her makes me very uncomfortable. "Dinner's ready anyway, so hurry up and eat it. Then you're both going to bed!"
As she sets the dishes in front of us, and the food disappears very quickly down our throats. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't a very good idea.
*
"Yaaaan..." Chris says from the other side of the bed, cradling an empty bottle of Rioja. "Am I... undesirable?"
"What? Don't ask me that."
"It's true, isn't it?"
I say nothing. Christian is my best friend, and I would never think of him in any other way. But when he gets drunk, he gets amorous... and although I'm sobering up now, he is not, and I don't want to encourage him. The real truth is, he's actually very attractive; too attractive to be associating with assholes like Oliv. Chris is pretty like a girl in a way that's both charming and endearing, but also kind of sexy if you're into that kind of thing.
He turns away from me, wrapping the covers around him more. "That's why he broke up with me, isn't it?"
"Chris... he broke up with you because he's an idiot. It's his problem, don't make it yours."
I hear a sniff and I realise that Chris is crying. I immediately feel incredibly sad for him. I haven't seen him cry since we were children, and I feel a stab of regret for not being there for him sooner. Edging closer to him, I wrap my arms around him and cuddle him, making him the little spoon.
"It's okay..." I don't really know what else to say, so I just repeat this over and over while I stroke his arm and he cries silently.
A while passes, minutes, hours, I don't know. He's fallen asleep, but I don't move away. Instead, knowing he's peaceful now, I drift out of consciousness.
I'm in a big white room. There's an old desk in front of me, like the one from the Shed.
There's a window, looking out onto a snow covered landscape. Where am I?
"Yan... why are you here?"
I turn. Winter, wearing tight jeans and a half-open white shirt. His hair is flowing messily around his shoulders.
I don't know. It's so cold.
"Come here and I'll warm you up."
No... keep away from me. I have a boyfriend.
"You have two boyfriends, why does it matter? They're not here and you want me."
No, I don't. I hate you.
"Then why were you jealous of Andrei?"
I wasn't jealous. I just would rather not see that. A lie.
"Why?"
Stop asking so many questions!
He moves towards me, his sneakers tapping on the floor that is made from some kind of material I can't decide on. He places his hands on my shoulders and I notice I'm shirtless. His is so warm and I melt at his touch.
Why are you doing this to me...?
"I'm not doing anything you don't want." His hands move down to my waist, pulling me closer to him. "You're doing this to me. You're making me do this." His hands are under my jeans now, stroking me.
Winter... S..stop... but I don't want him to. Winter...
I jolt awake. Chris is pushing me. "Yan!"
"What? What?"
"You have a... you..." He points down towards the covers. Then I realise. "If you're going to cuddle me, keep your thoughts clean, okay?!"
I can feel my face flush. "Uh, I was asleep!"
"Yeah, I guessed by all the moaning!"
I hide under the covers, Chris turning away angrily, trying to fight the inward cringe that's attacking me. Oh my god...worst time to have a sex dream ever...
I try and fail to fall back to sleep. All I can think about is Winter, and his warm hands touching my body...
Chris is snoring gently. He's definitely asleep, and I know how heavy a sleeper he is...
I'm starting to feel hot, particularly in my lower region. My hand travels under the covers, slowly down my bare chest and stomach. My fingers tuck under the waistband of my boxers, but Chris' near motionless body is stopping me going further. The pulse in my pants is unbearable but if he wakes up and catches me, he'll never let me live it down.
But that dream... so vivid, I can almost feel Winter's hands on my body... in my jeans...
My hand is moving, almost out of my control, but it's no longer my hand. It's Winter's. It pulls up and down slowly at first, then faster, and I'm biting my lip, or his neck, to stop myself making a noise. He's touching my chest with his other hand, his tongue at my ear, now I can't even try to stop myself.
I feel the final burst of heat, and just about stop myself crying out into the darkness. My breathing is heavy as my lungs try to regulate again. I'm alone again, the vision of Winter now redundant. I feel disgusting as I hear Chris' steady and quiet snoring. He slept through it.
And now all that's left for me to do is clean myself up and wallow in the shame of what I've just done.
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