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This was a shitty night.
Theo thought, staring absentmindedly at the sky. Boris had run back to his house to get the “good stuff,” as he called it. He’d refused to let Theo come. Refused! Told him to “wait here, ‘cause he’d be back soon.”
He knew he probably should have gone with— he’d tried to convince the other to let him, but Boris had repeatedly said no, insisting that his dad wouldn’t be home and that it would be a quick visit— “in n’ out before ya can miss me, Potter!”— but he still had the sinking feeling in his gut, like he’d swallowed a rock.
Maybe he had. Half of the night had become a blur, fading by in a hurried huff. The stars spun above him, twirling around like a cyclone in the sky.
He sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the sky from spinning, waiting patiently for Boris to come back. It wasn’t long before Theo heard footsteps, loud heaves of breath that could only belong to one person.
“Took ya long enough.” He grinned, sitting up, looking up at Boris, who was bleeding.
Bleeding?!
Theo squinted, pushing his glasses back up his nose, and yep— Boris was bleeding. Blood dripped from his nose, and his lip, and his mouth—
“Boris,” he exhaled, eyes widening. He stood up so fast it made his vision blur, scrambling over to where Boris was limping- limping?- towards him.
“Potter, don’t,” Boris mumbled, but Theo was already reaching out, taking his hands and examining him for any more injuries. He held them tight, but not too tight, not tight enough to make it hurt more.
Boris’s wrists and hands were covered in red marks— “that’s gonna bruise,” he murmured, more to himself than Boris— and faint traces of blood.
“What the fuck?” He whispered, looking up at Boris— his lips were bleeding, and blood still dripped from his nose and his mouth— staring at him, waiting for him to speak.
Boris coughed, turning his head to the side and spitting— he was spitting out blood— into the grass before turning back to Theo.
“Dad came home,” he grumbled, raising a hand to wipe some of the blood away from his lip. “Wasn’t ‘xpecting it.”
Theo’s heart sank— of course. Of course it was his dad. He wasn’t sure what to say, but lucky for him, the drugs were still in control of his brain.
“That bastard.”
Maybe he shouldn’t let the drugs control his brain.
Boris coughed out a laugh, a bit of blood dribbling down his chin, and Theo felt a sliver of relief flood his veins— only to be replaced with another flood of concern as he saw that Boris’s tooth was crooked, soaked with blood.
“Yes,” Boris muttered, “that's one way to put it.” He looked down, swallowing. “Didn’t get drugs,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
That’s what he’s worried about now?! Theo scoffed. “Don’t,” he said firmly, extending a hand. “Are you okay?”
He wanted to kick himself, but Boris didn’t seem to notice his slip, or even that he’d spoken at all. His eyes had clouded over with a familiar expression of disassociation— he was anywhere but there right now.
“Boris,” he said, firmly but not unkindly. “Let’s go home.”
Boris briefly glanced up, eyes bright with emotions that Theo couldn’t even begin to name. “Home?”
Internally, he smacked himself. Wow, he was horrible at this tonight. “My house?”
Boris nodded, looking back down, around, anywhere but at Theo.
“..kay,” he finally conceded, taking Theo’s extended hand. A small, grim smile graced his lips for just a moment as they started walking.
Theo looked over at Boris, and despite himself, he smiled back.
——
“Ow!” Boris exclaimed, pushing Theo back with a bandaged hand. He landed on the floor with a thud, rolling his eyes and pushing his specs back onto his nose.
“Fuck was that, Potter?!”
“It’s alcohol,” he explained for what was probably the seventh time. “I’m cleaning the wounds.”
“Doesn’t need to be cleaned,” Boris started, but was cut off by Theo pressing another alcohol soaked cotton ball to his lip. A sharp hiss of pain escaped him. Popchyk barked. Theo winced.
“Sorry.”
“Fuck you,” Boris grumbled, picking up the bottle that Theo had left on the counter. Please don’t drink it, he found himself thinking. I know I said it was alcohol, but it’s not—
“Hydrogen Peroxide?” Boris scoffed, absentmindedly spinning the bottle, spilling its contents onto the tile of the bathroom floor (and partially onto Theo’s leg). “Fuck’s this?”
Theo shrugged. “Dunno. It’s s’posed to help disinfect the wounds n’ shit.”
“Hm.” Boris gave a grunt of acknowledgement, setting the bottle down. “When’d you pick this up? Xandra wouldn’t get it for you.”
“Stole it,” he said simply. “Now hold look left, would ya?”
Boris raised a curious eyebrow, but turned his head to the left. “Stole it,” he repeated, as though he couldn’t believe it. “Why..would you do that?”
Theo snorted. “So you have an issue with stealing, now? That’s rich.”
“No, is not that.” Boris frowned, brows furrowing. “Why would you steal something so…boring?”
He scoffed. “Boring? How about useful?! Look at us— we’re two of the most injury prone people there is.”
Boris nodded, giving a small hum of agreement.
Theo sighed. “I figured it’d be a safe bet to keep it around…” he trailed off, then figured that Boris wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “…for you,” he finished quietly.
Boris’s other eyebrow joined the first. “You stole Hydrogen Peroxide…for me.”
Theo huffed out an exhale, but nodded anyway.
“Ha!” Boris chuckled, reaching out a hand and clapping Theo on the shoulder. “So you have a heart!”
Theo’s mouth opened to respond, but he couldn’t— Boris was already continuing.
“Careful now, Potter!” Boris grinned at him, exposing his crooked tooth. It wasn’t stained with blood anymore— (Theo had made him drink some water to rinse)— but he couldn’t look away from it. “Ya just might make me fall in love.”
Theo felt his cheeks heat up, but then he was laughing too. Only Boris could make him laugh right now, when it felt like everything was going to shit. Popchyk barked again, wanting to be included.
“Hold still,” Theo commanded, even though he was still laughing. “Let me finish.”
Boris gave a heaving, dramatic sigh, slumping back against the toilet. Theo reached out, holding another cotton ball to his lip, but Boris caught him by the wrist.
“Can we just lay down?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
He shrugged. “Tired.”
Yeah, that makes sense. Theo pulled his hand back, dropping the cotton ball in the trash.
“Let me throw this away.” He shoved the cotton balls into the trash— most of which were soaked with blood— and dropped a washcloth over them. “Better if Xandra doesn’t see.”
Boris scoffed. “Not like she’d care ‘f she did.” He stood, stretching out with a pop! and looking at Theo expectantly.
Lead the way, his expression said, and so Theo did, though his eyes lingered on the counter. The Hydrogen Peroxide was left abandoned on the counter— he could only hope Popper didn’t find a way to spill it. Worse, that Xandra saw.
Worse than that, if his dad saw.
He snuck back in, dropping the entire thing in the trashcan. There wasn’t much left— they’d used the whole thing. (Partially because Theo kept over pouring and partially because He’d have to steal some more , he decided. It seemed to come in handy.
“Potter!” Boris cried from around the corner. “Coming or what?”
He rolled his eyes, but smiled.
“Coming!” he called, and he turned the lights off.
——
“…!”
Theo blinked a few times, opening his eyes to see the ceiling above him. Instinctively, he turned to face Boris, and was startled to see that he was facing away, completely curled in on himself in a trembling ball.
His gaze softened a little, and he reached out a hand.
“Boris, hey—“
“Stop,” he practically growled, the words coming out rough and hoarse. He curled in on himself further, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his knees as close to his chin as he could.
“Hey,” he repeated softly, carefully scooting closer to where he lay trembling. “It’s just me—“
“Stop!” He repeated, louder this time— more panicked. His breaths came in short bursts- quick and erratic.
A nightmare, he realized. Probably his dad.
“Stop!” Boris cried again. His hands flew to his face, ripped nubs of nails digging into the skin.
“Boris!” He cried, taking him by the wrists as gently as he could and pulling his hands way. and he placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder.
Boris jolted, pulling his hands back and sitting up with a gasp. His eyes darted around, wild and frantic, like a wild animal. They stopped when they landed on Theo, gaze latching onto his.
“Theo.” The word came out choked and wobbly, like he was fighting back tears. (Given the way his eyes were shining, that was definitely a possibility.)
“Boris,” he repeated again, keeping his voice slow and soft. “It’s…” it’s what? Fine? It’s not fine— it wasn’t fine, and he really didn’t want to lie to Boris right now.
The mattress squeaked— Boris was scooting closer, reaching out as though he wanted to take Theo’s hand. Theo met him halfway, lacing their fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze.
“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, for what was probably the third time that evening. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t have any other sentences on hand. He wasn’t sure why he asked that as though he were expecting the answer to be anything but “no.”
Boris shook his head.
“I want to die.”
Theo blinked once, eyebrows creeping up his forehead. He couldn’t have heard that right— he couldn’t have. Boris would never think that, and if he did, he’d never admit it.
“What?” he asked, though he’d heard him fine. (He couldn’t have. Boris wouldn’t say something like that.)
The other looked down at where their hands were entwined. “I want to die.”
The words were uttered in such a deadpan tone that he almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity. But he didn’t. He went completely still, breath hitching in his throat, eyes widening.
“Why?” he finally forced out, hating how choked his voice sounded. Why would you want to leave me? he wanted to say. Why would you leave me when I’ve lost so much already?
Boris shook his head again. Once. Twice. Three times. “I don’t want to— I can’t—“ he couldn’t get the sentence out. Boris, ever unflappable Boris, was stuttering, stumbling over his words like a schoolgirl.
It made Theo want to cry, but he was close enough to tears already. They blurred his vision until Boris looked like a wobbly mosaic, a bunch of colors blurred together to make a human shaped blob.
“Boris, no,” he whispered, realizing with a start that he was woefully unprepared for this. He hadn’t the slightest clue of how to talk someone down, much less his best friend. His Boris. What could he even say?
“I-Is it because of your dad?” He finally managed, and then cringed as he saw Boris wince.
“Yea? No? I—“ he sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling it within the next second.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Take your time.” I’m not going anywhere.
Boris looked up again with wet eyes. Tears spilled down his cheeks when he tried to blink them away.
“It sucks, Theo,” he mumbled, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. “It really sucks.”
“What does?” he asked, swallowing back tears of his own.
Boris chuckled, the noise humorless and watery, tinged with a bitterness that Theo didn’t know what to do with. “Everything,” he murmured, looking down at their hands again. His thumb moved along it absentmindedly, tracing circles on his knuckles. “Everything…‘cept you.”
Theo’s heart swelled, and he had to fight to keep himself from breaking into sobs. He didn’t need to overwhelm Boris any more than he already was.
Boris sniffled. “Sometimes.. just feels like my life is waste, y’know?”
Theo nodded. He did. More than Boris would think.
“Well, with our luck, nobody’ll remember us anyway.” He sighed. That was supposed to sound reassuring. “I mean, maybe a couple generations, but after that…”
The corners of Boris’s lips turned up, even through the tears that were still falling. “..guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “Just..feels like a lot.”
“Yeah.” He looked up at Boris, then decided you know, fuck it, and reached up to wipe the tears off his cheeks. Boris stiffened for a moment, but relaxed, closing his eyes and letting a small sigh escape.
“You know,” Theo mumbled, “we’re all going to die one day. It’s inevitable. Why would you die now, when you could just do it in eighty years.”
Boris tilted his head, knitting his brows together as though he were considering it.
Theo’s heart leapt into his throat. Was he considering it? Was this working?
“A-and who knows,” he continued, the words spilling out like the pills that they’d dropped on the ground, “maybe you’ll die before then. You could drown, or choke, o—or burn— I almost died! I almost blew up, and I’m what, fourteen? Fifteen? It—it could happen any day now, so it would really be pointless to do it now—“
“Potter.” Boris raised his free hand to Theo’s mouth, placing it over his lips. He smiled a little. “I get it.”
He blinked once, tears filling his eyes once more. One solitary drop tracked down his cheek, dripping down his chin.
“I..just don’t want to lose you yet,” he finally whispered, voice muffled by Boris’s hand. “I know I will eventually, but I just can’t lose you now. I can’t.”
There, he said it. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the storm; waiting for Boris to call him out on how selfish he sounded, how stupid he was being—
Boris leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on Theo’s forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Theo’s.
Theo’s eyes widened. Who is this and what has he done with Boris?
“D..don’t thank me. It’s just the truth.” He tried to shrug, but his arms felt like lead. “We’re all going to die eventually. Whether it’s cancer…” he frowned, trying to think of another way to die that he hadn’t listed already, “…murder…”
Boris pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “Or suicide?”
Theo shuddered at the word, though he did his best to hide it. “Or suicide,” he agreed, trying not to sound as reluctant as he felt. “But one day we’re going to die.”
Boris nodded. Shrugged. Did both at the same time.
“I know,” he mumbled.
“So why kill yourself now?” Theo tilted his head, trying not to sound like he was begging. (Even though he was definitely begging.) “Why not just wait it out? See what happens? And hey.” He looked up, forcing a small smile. “Maybe you’ll die from liver failure in five years.”
Boris tossed his head back and laughed, the short burst ringing like music to Theo’s ears (who knew he’d become so cliche?).
“You have a point, Potter.” He smiled a little. “I won’t kill myself—“ oh, how Theo had needed to hear him say that— “One condition.”
“What?” he asked, a little too eagerly. Anything.
Boris lifted a finger and poked Theo in the chest.
“You stay with me.”
“Deal,” Theo agreed, and nothing had come easier. A yawn bubbled up in his throat— he was practically dizzy with relief, why did he have to feel tired now?
Boris sighed, flopping back in bed. Theo followed suit, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer.
“..you’re spoonin’ me, Potter?” He laughed, but it morphed into a yawn. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he mumbled, resting his forehead on Boris’s shoulder. “..’s that okay?”
Boris exhaled. Popchyk snored.
“..is okay,” he murmured, already sounding half asleep. “..thank you.”
Theo was half out himself, the stupor of drugs pulling him back into his exhaustion.
“..love you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes, allowing the rest of the tears to fall where Boris couldn’t see them. He couldn’t bring himself to regret the words, not now.
Especially not when Boris was saying them back.
“Love you too, Potter.” Another breath. Good, Boris was still breathing. “Let’s live for a while longer, yeah?”
Theo smiled against Boris’s shoulder. Their legs found each other under the blankets, tangling into a knot of limbs that neither wanted to pull away from.
“Yeah,” he exhaled, shoulders finally relaxing.
“Let’s live.”
His eyes closed, a final word escaping before sleep dragged him into the darkness.
“Together.”