Work Text:
When Aaron first realized he was locked in the bathroom, he thought it was a mistake.
“Andrew?” he called through the door, lightly rapping his knuckles against the rough wood. “Andrew, the lock’s jammed, I’m stuck in here. Can you grab a screwdriver or something?”
He waited a minute, listening for a flurry of footsteps.
All he heard was the faint sound of his brother’s steady breathing.
“...Andrew?” Aaron said tentatively.
Eventually, he said, “The lock isn’t jammed.”
Aaron frowned, sure he misheard him. “What– what do you mean it’s not jammed?”
“It’s. Not. Jammed,” Andrew repeated.
Aaron rattled the doorknob again. Like maybe it would open this time. Like maybe Andrew was playing a sick joke.
“This isn’t funny,” Aaron called through the door.
“Do I sound like I’m laughing?” Andrew asked in response.
No.
He didn’t.
Aaron cast a frustrated glance around the miniscule bathroom, hoping to find anything that could be used to pry the door open.
Instead, he came to the unpleasant realization that the window was locked and the medicine cabinet had been emptied.
“Andrew, what the hell?” Aaron demanded, getting more and more frantic with each new discovery. He rammed his shoulder into the doorframe once, twice, thrice. “Let me out!”
The next time he tried to hit the door, it shuddered in place. Almost as if there was suddenly a barrier on the other side.
“Andrew!” Aaron yelled again, incensed.
Andrew didn’t say anything.
Aaron kicked the door, then winced at the dull sting of pain that shot through his foot. “Fuck!” Then, he had an abrupt realization. “Nicky’s out shopping right now, isn’t he? You better let me out before he gets home. He’s not going to let you just– just lock me in here.”
“He won’t be a problem,” Andrew said, with startling conviction.
Well, fuck. Aaron didn’t even want to know what Andrew was going to do to Nicky.
Aaron groaned and slid down to the floor. He had no idea why Andrew had trapped him in their shitty bathroom and no idea how long Andrew expected to keep him locked up.
“You’re an asshole,” Aaron told the door, and tried not to be bothered by the absolute lack of response.
He settled in to wait for Andrew to get bored of whatever twisted game this was.
The worst part of being trapped in a bathroom was that it was just so boring .
Until it wasn’t.
Aaron had been begrudgingly counting the shower tiles, desperate to have something to do, when his hands began to twitch. He inwardly cursed, and grabbed at his wrists like that would stop their shaking.
The tremors had set in quicker than he thought they would.
Had he really been in there that long?
“Andrew?” he called shakily. “Andrew, let me out.”
“Aaron,” he said warningly.
“Andrew, pl– I need to get out of here,” Aaron said, careful not to use the word that Andrew hated so much.
“Why?” Andrew challenged.
After a beat of hesitation, Aaron lied, “I was supposed to meet up with Sean and some of the others.”
“Liar.”
“How do you–” Aaron started, only to shake his head. “Nevermind. I just– Andrew, I need to go .”
“No,” Andrew replied.
Aaron recoiled at the sharp denial. “But–”
“You’re not coming out until you’re sober.”
“Andrew– what?” Aaron asked, too caught-off guard to even try and deny it.
Andrew didn’t respond.
“You can’t just– just keep me locked in here!” Aaron protested.
“Everything you need is in there,” Andrew told him. “It’s under the sink.”
Abruptly seized by panic, Aaron threw open the cabinets he’d barely glanced in earlier.
They were filled with clothes.
Water bottles.
Food.
“Andrew,” Aaron said weakly. “Andrew, I can’t–”
“Until you’re sober,” Andrew repeated unflinchingly.
“Andrew, I can’t do this,” Aaron said, louder.
“You will,” Andrew told him.
“Fuck that,” Aaron said. His anger reignited, he tried again and again to break the door down. He kicked it, rammed his shoulder into it, threw water bottles at it.
Andrew didn’t say a word.
Finally, exhausted, Aaron allowed himself to slump onto the floor once more.
He stared up at the ceiling and called, “Andrew?”
For a moment, Andrew didn’t respond.
For a moment, Aaron thought that Andrew had lost interest and walked away.
Then his brother’s voice cut through the deafening silence. “What.”
Aaron hesitated, unable to force any of his swirling, impulsive thoughts into a coherent sentence.
“What, Aaron?” Andrew said again, this time more question than demand.
“I– nothing,” he said, at last.
Aaron already knew the truth, after all:
Andrew was deadly serious about getting him sober, and no argument that Aaron made would be good enough to convince Andrew otherwise.