Chapter Text
v.
“It’s way too fucking hot.”
The Vegas sun was blazing down on us, Potter floating on his back in his pool, my long legs dangling in near him, both of us in only our boxers, not bothering to get changed into trunks. The ground was far too hot to stand on, the nearby sun chairs burning my skin from the touch, soaking in the glaring rays. Way too hot for the beginning of December -I had questioned Theo if America was always like this, him telling me it was probably just some global warming bullshit-.
We had spent the morning lying flat on his floor, heads throbbing from our hangovers, holding each others’ hair back as we vomited into the toilet, and eventually, having to slowly drag ourselves downstairs, shoving (what was most likely expired) cereal into our mouths as we shared a cigarette. Most weekends started like this, slow, sick, hungover. Actually, most days started like this, which I couldn’t really complain about. It was kind of nice, and since I’d been spending more time here, it also meant barely ever seeing my father.
I didn’t hate my father, I never could. Even if by American standards how he had treated me as I grew up was unacceptable, I knew he never really meant to do it. It was the beer, the bottles. He was a black out drunk, similar to how Potter was, and when he was like that, he wouldn’t even recognize me most times. He’d always come apologizing to me the next morning as well, sometimes leaving a good amount of money, and saying he was leaving, which I couldn’t complain about. After all, money is money, no matter if I only got it from him as an apology or not. It made sure I didn’t starve.
I listened as Potter went on and on about the heat, smiling a little bit. The freckles plastered all over his face shifted when he’d scrunch up his face, and I always found that a bit funny. Sometimes, at nights, when he’d have nightmares, I’d try to soothe him by dragging my fingers along them, counting them, making little shapes; and he’d almost always fall asleep after.
Snapping back out of my thoughts, I realized he’d been looking at me, now at the edge of the pool, right next to me with his arms crossed. Expecting an answer? Probably.
“Sorry, what?” I questioned, cupping a hand to my ear with a little grin. He’d always called me half deaf, -and perhaps, I think now, it may have actually been true,- annoyed by how I’d always miss what he’d say. I could play off most of my little thought bubble hazes with it, so at least it’d help me a bit.
“I asked if we can go inside yet. I’m melting out here.” I almost laughed at his exaggeration, nodding quickly. I was deprived of vitamin D for sure, it was true, and though Potter suggested at least spending a bit of time outside each day, and though I’d been in Australian summers, this was too much, even for me. Getting myself out of the pool, quickly scurrying to the shade to wait for him, grabbing the towels we’d set on the ground, I let my mind drift again.
Thanksgiving. I wondered if he’d remembered it. What we’d done together. What he’d shown me after. Probably not, I had to remind myself, I’d never seen him drunk as he was that night. Still, I wished he did. I wished we could talk about it; I wished I could just know if it was because of the alcohol; and above everything, I wished I could ask him why he’d tell me, of all people, about a priceless stolen painting, wrapped up and hidden behind his bed frame- but I wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t ask him. That was just how it was.
“Boris!” I looked to where the voice had come, behind me, “Are you okay? You keep fuckin’ spacing out.” His dog, Popper, who I’d taken to calling Popchyk recently, was bouncing by his dripping feet, looking up at me.
“Fine, Potter,” I wrapped the towel around me, walking inside with him, and giving a small fake smile, “was just too hot.”
vi.
The sharp ring of the bell startled me, pulling me from my desk, where I’d been drifting in and out of sleep. Only a bit longer of this shit, I’d have to remind myself, and then a few weeks of freedom. Time I could spend with Potter- drinking, smoking, doing stupid shit together, him not brushing me off for schoolwork. It’d be nice, yes?
I pushed out from my desk, going out to meet him by the bus stop. It was almost a normal routine for us- last class of the day was one of the only ones we didn’t share, so after the day ended, we’d pack up, haul our things outside, and meet up at the bus, before getting on and sitting near the front, where it was never very crowded. Away from everyone else. Allowed to be alone.
Today was a little… different, however. As I began to walk up, I saw Potter talking to a girl. She was pretty, I had to admit; straight dirty blonde hair, with almost a copperish tint to it, cut just below her ears; a wide smile that showed off her perfect, straight pearly white teeth; pinkish-pale skin; all of it contrasted by hazel eyes, a darker green ring around the pupil, flecks of brown throughout. I of course knew her, even though not recognizing her at first. Sarah, she was a year below us, Theo’s age. Her father worked at a restaurant near the strip- one I could distinctly remember Potter and I running out on without paying.
Seeing her talk to Potter, it at first filled me with a little bit of pride. He’d never really caught the attention of many girls, wearing my too-long pants and our shared ratty shirts, splashes of acne on the side of his face, his teeth yellowing from all of the liquor we’d drink. I always thought he looked handsome, but most women, evidently, didn’t agree with me. And that was fine, honestly. We didn’t need women, and as these thoughts crept inside me, I felt a small spark of almost… jealousy?
“Potter!” I faked a grin as I walked over, Sarah looking up to me, and scrunching her nose. Though most could consider me a rugged kind of handsome, a lot of people at our school strayed away from me, scared by my constant abuse of drugs and liquor. Perhaps that was where Theo and I clashed, then. One disliked for looks though liked for personality, one disliked for personality, but liked for looks. How strange we would come together, I’d think sometimes, with our contrasting selves. But I would never dwell on it too long. Why should I? There was no need to.
“Come on! Bus time, Potter!” I began to usher him away from Sarah, while he hastily spluttered that he’d ‘see her on Monday’, not resisting my urging. Though, when we sat down, he cocked an eyebrow as if to say, ‘The fuck was that all about?’. I simply shrugged, turning to look out the window, letting my hand fall near his, our knuckles brushing together, because in truth, I didn’t know. But it’d reveal itself in time, I told myself. It would. Even if I maybe didn’t want it to.
vii.
It was… peaceful. My mother, she was standing with me. She wanted me there. She wanted me. She had picked me up from the train, going everywhere and nowhere, all over the world, up into space, no destination, no stops. But yet, I had gotten out, and there she had been, my father next to her. They were happy. They were happy together . Perhaps that was the nicest part of all.
I had rarely seen either of my parents truly happy, and never while in the presence of one another. My mother, more than anything, was scared of my father, and he always seemed to find her similar to an annoying thorn in his side. I thought, perhaps, at one point, they possibly could have loved each other, even if it was hard to believe.
Here, though, in this endless maze of happiness, they were holding hands, and both smiling wide, my mother an arm outstretched when I ran to her. It was nice. It was peaceful.
But it was too good to last.
I knew this when the sharp pangs and gasps began dragging them away, my hands desperately trying to keep them close as they disappeared.
And with that I was back in the real world again, my senses dulled for a moment while I looked around, confused on why I was awake. It was obviously light- the moonlight seeping in from Potter’s window showed that,- and I at first heard nothing. However, the boy next to me tossing and turning, kicking me in the shin once, and letting out small whimpers drew my attention quickly.
Potter, his glasses still on, though splayed across his face, tossing and turning around the bed, writhing like he was dying, and making noises like someone was punching or kicking him. His face was contorted and scrunched, which worried me greatly. I’d woken to him crying about nightmares, and had to soothe him often, but it was usually not this severe- not that I’d seen, that is.
“Potter. Potter! ” My voice came out hoarse as I shook him, trying to wake him from his slumber, though he gave no verbal response, pushing against my arms, as if trying to escape. “Theo!”
He seemed to stir from this, thankfully, his arms going limp by his sides, and eventually, eyes cracking open. I noticed the small tears running down his face as he looked up at me, fear obvious in his eyes, though it seemed to be receding. “Boris..?” I let out a small sigh of relief, slowly lowering myself back down next to him, and pulling him in as he turned to me, beginning to apologize for waking me up.
“Shh… Potter, shh,” I murmured this softly, cutting him off, hesitating before running a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him, the other arm holding him close to me, “Is alright, no need to apologize. Will be alright, Theo. To tylko ja… wszystko w porządku.”
With time, he began to calm down, carding my fingers through his hair, murmuring in broken Polish. He’d be alright, I decided, once his eyelids fluttered shut once more, and his breathing steadied against my chest. He’d be okay.
viii.
I’d barely passed my midterm exams, which didn’t shock me all that much. Though I’d studied with Potter, it’d all been very rushed, the first day of studying being two days before our mathematics exam. Theo had listened to my rambling about how stupid America was, and eventually had given up trying to help me, flipping on the TV as background noise.
It hadn’t been all bad, though. Theo had, at least, scored with C’s or higher in everything, and my father just seemed please to know I wasn’t a total failure, and left me 400 in cash, saying he’d be gone for a month, then disappearing.
He wouldn’t be here for Christmas, which, if I’m being honest, wasn’t the worst thing. It meant I’d get to spend more time with Potter, and maybe actually do something half decent, considering we’d never celebrated the holiday in the first place, and my father scolded me whenever I’d even mention it.
And so, that was how I found myself dragging Theo out of bed on Christmas morning by his feet, laughing as he kicked and squirmed, shouting an array of curses at me until I dropped him by the stairs.
“Boris! What the motherfuck?”
His father and Xandra were unfortunately gone, Larry muttering some shit about taking her some place nice, which meant Theo and I wouldn’t have to see them anytime soon. Furthermore, it meant we could drink and get high and smoke Xandra’s cigarettes without any complaint from them.
“Merry Christmas Potter? Why such the down face?” I looked at him upsideown, quickly beginning to scramble away as he began to steady himself, and get to his feet.
“Get back here!”
“Нет!”
That was how we ended up chasing each other around his house, and, eventually, him shoving me into his freezing pool, me dragging him down into the water as I fell, surfacing together while laughter bubbled out of our throats.
“Bitch!” He pushed me between laughs, goose flesh covering the both of us from the cold, me dunking him under the water, him kicking me and grappling around my shoulders, forcing me down. It was all good fun, really, and it made me grin. This was nice. It was really nice.
We didn’t last much longer in the pool, wrapping in towels, and shivering as we walked inside, grabbing a bottle of vodka and a box of Chex, taking turns shoving food down our throats and taking swigs.
And obviously, that also meant it wasn’t long until we were drunk, and by one, trying to crush up pills we’d found in the cabinets, minds too hazy to check what it actually was, taking turns inhaling the shit, vision sparking as it set in.
It was all like a crazy daydream, singing stupid songs, pushing and punching each other, making a mess we definitely would not have fun cleaning up later. It was nice. Really nice. Best Christmas ever, so far, I had decided.
But it was all different later into the night, around 10 or 11, watching some kids show I didn’t recognize, downing beer bottles like a normal teenager would drink gatorade after working out.
“Booriss,” He’d murmured my name several times, trying to get my attention, but I had been drifting in and out of sleep, barely hearing him. “Boris!” He flicked the side of my head, sending me almost jolting me out of my seat.
His hands were leaning on my thigh, pressing just a little too hard, looking up at me with his brows furrowed. He looked different than normal, his eyes looked…
“Theo.” I recognized it after a bit, trying to snap myself out of my drunk haze, unsuccesfully.
“C’moon.” He’d gotten up, stumbling backward slightly, trying to grasp my hand.
“I don’t-” I cut myself off. I did. Did I? No. Yes? Maybe. A bit, in a deep part of me. We’d done it before. It was nothing, right? Right?
“C’monnnn Boris!” He was whining now, words slurring together, dragging me up the stairs. Was this responsible? No. Should I be doing this? No. He was intoxicated. But so was I, and everything was far too fuzzy to really think straight at all. It’d only be one more time, yes?
And that’s what I’d convinced myself of as he pressed a small kiss to the side of my face, slamming his bedroom door behind us.