The following morning, I awake in Pete's arms and look up. Pete is gazing down at me with his beautiful brown eyes and a satisfied smile on his face.
"Hey," he says, with his oh-so-attractive morning voice.
"Hi," I reply, not sounding anywhere near as attractive.
"Did you sleep well?" asks Pete.
I think back to getting up in the middle of the night for a drink of water, and seeing Andrew leave the apartment with a bag full of strange-looking packets. "I did, thanks."
Pete's sleepy smile broadens as I get out of bed and outstretch my arms.
"I'm going to get breakfast," I say.
"You go on, I just need to...do something," Pete replies.
I almost forgot about the way he locks himself away in his room, "doing something". I wonder what he does...but his business is his business, and not mine.
I leave his room, closing the door behind me, and start to search through the refrigerator for something to eat for breakfast. Andrew joins me in the kitchen, looking stiff.
"You didn't see anything last night, kid," he says coldly, not even looking at me. "You hear me? You saw nothing."
I stare into his eyes. He's making me feel very intimidated...I can't say no to him, can I? He looks like he could kill someone any second.
I nod in fear and Andrew turns away.
Suddenly I hear the loud sound of a slamming door from elsewhere in the apartment. Pete comes charging into the kitchen, fuming. He heads straight for Andrew, clenching his fists, and asks very quietly: "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" Andrew asks bluntly.
"You know what," Pete growls, gritting his teeth.
"Do I?" Andrew doesn't seem phased at all.
"Yes. You know I still need it."
Need what?
"Oh, it must've slipped my mind."
Andrew sounds very sarcastic. What's going on?
Pete glares at his brother for a moment, before erupting into a fit of anger.
"YOU ASSHOLE!" he yells. "YOU FUCKIN' ASSHOLE! NOW I'M FUCKING SCREWED!"
This sudden outburst of rage frightens me; I've never seen him like this before. Where did it come from?
What on earth is going on here?
"I had to!" Andrew cries, looking distressed. "I'm sorry..."
Pete scowls at him. "No you're not!"
Andrew bows his head. Pete paces round in a little circle, running his fingers through his black hair.
"Oh, this is not good..." he cries. "Not good, not good, not good..."
I need answers. "Pete," I say timidly. "What's going on?"
Pete freezes when I say his name. After a moment he turns to me with glistening eyes, as if he's about to cry.
"I'm sorry Patrick," he whispers, looking utterly ashamed of himself.
"Why?" I frown. "What's wrong?"
Pete sits on the floor and buries his head in his hands. Hopelessly I turn to Andrew.
"Pete, I've gotta tell him," Andrew says to his brother.
No response. I'm starting to get very worried.
Andrew looks at me. "What you saw me leaving the apartment with last night," he sighs, "were drugs. And they belong to Pete."