Chapter Text
Yours
pronoun ; US-UK
belonging to or connected with a person or people, someone speaking about what belongs to you.
Boris Pavlikovsky didn’t have huge interesting aspirations, not even after he learnt what the word aspiration meant. His foundation-elementary school years wherever he was born and lived in Australia were just understanding how he wasn’t never to be loved, how he should’ve never existed, an accident. And moving almost every year due to his father’s nasty work of mining that fucks up the planet wasn’t also something that gave him the best of the social skills, adding that the bastard only come home when high or drunk to beat the shit out of him to disappear again, and again.
His childhood and early teenage years feel funny. Back then, the least of his problems was his father’s behavior or his mother’s absence, himself was an awkward asocial kid condemned to be isolated from other children because their parents didn’t want someone as problematic as him near them, and since he was on his own, he had to learnt how to care of himself (and for his father when he’s at home). But, as a small kid, he tried to improve at least, really trying to get along with the kids until he had enough trying, he became the problem of every school who held him, his father fucked up and they move somewhere new, starting again.
But even if he tried to run away once living in Ukraine, he always ended up coming back, incapable of being completely on his own somewhere new.
The first time he wanted to feel more than the world burning around him and inside him, was when he met that lonely rude four eye boy on the school bus living in Las Vegas. When he met Theo Decker, when he let him go inside his house and wanted to befriend him. Someone just as broken as him, a small lost boy trying to reach heaven, just to him to pull him deep into hell. Whom he’d fall with on the concrete turf, trying to reach the distant stars, getting high enough to forget themselves, arguing without sense, screwing things, mending them, touching rough, being rough kids with scraped knees and with only each other to scream at. But it was love, he always reminds, it was their love at the end.
Theo always talked about getting far away from the nasty cluster in Las Vegas, the horrible people in their life, leaving their pain, their sadness, packing clothes, taking Popchik and a bus to somewhere only they’ll know and never to see the world burning around them again until they died. Of course he agreed to it all back then, as if there wasn’t any doubt, and if someone for some reason knew and wondered why, he would’ve to say that he wanted to get over his crappy father. But he did because he just wanted to follow Theo wherever he went, hypnotized by that child martyr angel with a broken halo.
He hung onto the idea of a better life, the last restart, waking every morning knowing he was saved now, with someone who truly loved him and was never leaving.
The first time Boris prayed for someone else, yearning to be with someone, wasn’t loud nor enough to be heard by God. Theo moved so fast to even stop him, and a million thoughts passed through his mind that night, thoughts he didn’t truly get out but understood. He was more afraid of leaving his known life than brave to follow him into the unknown, even if he loved Theo Decker more than he feared to be alone.
Panicked, he kissed him at the door, wanting to follow but too afraid to do so, like a small little goldfinch tied by the tarsus. Even if he promised to follow him, he couldn’t, so Theodore Decker disappeared for a while.
The second time he knew he wanted to reach to be something more than a problem child was when Xandra gifted him his Triumph Bonneville motorcycle and told him to drive as far as he could.
And he could only think of one single thing, he wanted to see Theo again. What else could he think?
❝I heard you saw Pippa❞. A sweet mocky voice talked, he turned at his left on the couch to see the ginger drummer pretending to view a gossip magazine while continuing, ❝and she was asking you to visit them❞.
❝And what if she did? She just wants to know if I’m alright❞, replied.
Both knew that was a bullshity answer, he took a deep breath.
❝What I’m trying to say i–❞
❝I’m sure we both know what you try to say❞, she interrupts, leaving the magazine on his lap, brushing a few cumbersome locks of his sight, ❝what I’m trying to say is if you’ll be fine with it❞.
He doesn’t know. He’s still poorly pretending he didn’t fight with Theo the last month of summer break. It wasn't a fight, he tried to believe. But the past haunted them whenever it wanted to haunt them with the things they never said, the things they said too late, too low to be heard and the things that shouldn’t have to be said. Things that he didn’t know how to take, but took him badly.
iBut it stills being love, tries to lie to himself.
❝I’m always fine, we just need to see each other a forget some shit. Stumbling is necessary, isn’t it?❞, he honeyed answers, patting her head and messing a bit with her curly locks, which she went annoyed by, ❝but I’ll bring Will with me as my support pet!❞
❝That’s… that’s the other thing I want to talk about. Boris, are you crushing on Will?❞, Bev asks nicely.
He had to stop to think in his next words.
❝I do like him❞, his girl friend rolls her eyes, ❝in a not friendly way, very, really very much. But it doesn’t matter, he surely doesn’t like me that way a– what’s with that look?❞
❝Oh my fu– it doesn’t matter!? You’ve just told me, the ice bitchy boy, you like someone! Of course it matters cossack!❞, she high-pitched screams, hitting him with one of the cushions of The Cabin’s old red coach, making him fall from his spot, ❝Why you didn’t tell the others!? Maybe only Mari! You can win Will’s heart, I saw how sometimes he looks at you and believe me, it’s not in a friendly way only❞.
Boris laughs dryly, coughing shortly after to clear his throat and to not choke with his saliva. The redhead looked into him, he had clear she didn’t have plenty of bad luck in his life.
❝It doesn’t Bevvie, I’m not telling him about it, too cliché❞, speaks smoothly, giving a gaze to the ceiling before gaze back to her, ❝it doesn’t matter, I’m never lucky with matters of love❞.
❝But you are lucky to have William Byers on your pitied martyred life❞. He avoids her eyes, those beating him with a nailed bat in her mind, because she was half right, he was lucky to have William, ❝so get a damn grip and do yourself a favor❞.
He can’t say out loud how much he’s grateful to meet that ginger smalltown girl alone at a party and decided to talk to her as he saw her boring without losing his bitchin’ facade, but he’s glad he did, overly grateful. She retakes the magazine that was lying on the floor after he was punched, no more looks, just a small smile on her red lips.
✦ ––––—–––—–––––––—––– ✦
The third time he had a glimpse of what he wanted and how he could feel real, to have more than junk and disdain, was when he crossed his path with Marina Berryfield’s.
A young soon to be college girl, whose eyes are painted and shine as the emeralds does, who held him as if he really mattered.
Their meeting wasn’t a nice one, it was a freezing night in New York, he had a few days there, no place to stay more than under the public lamps, enough money to eat and the same clothes who he occasionally washed in the laundries. That night he had a delivering drugs’ job, usual work for him, he was ending the deal when he saw those emerald green eyes calling for help surrounded by desperate to fuck animals. It reminded them of Kotku, a damsel in distress. He decided to be kind and stood for her, fighting those animals, almost dying in the process.
Sometimes he wishes he had died that night so nothing of his life wouldn’t be happening and haunting him. But he didn’t. He woke up in the hospital with that same girl scared and relieved for him to be alive, and she decided she wanted to owe him with hers, putting above him a roof, food and even a family he used to call his own.
And he thought life was again giving him a chance to aspire to something.
❝You have been pretty quiet❞. Started the conversation Mari as Evan’s sitting on the counter’s chairs while he’s making them a decent meal with whatever wasn’t expired on his fridge, ❝it scares me❞.
❝Maybe he’s thinking about if he wants to end on a bathtub or on his room❞, macabre jokes Perkins, changing on the channels on his TV before hearing the Netflix’s sound.
Before Mari could scold him, he replies:
❝A bathtub sounds nice, thanks for the idea❞.
The dark-coffee-brown haired girl turned to him with a worrier sight than other days when Evander and him joke about planning his own death. He scolds himself internally for it. Although he didn’t want to scare her, he couldn’t lie about how tentative the lovely idea of a cheap Ophelia’s death sounded. For her fortune (and his misfortune) he only has a rusty shower.
❝You two are gonna be the death of me. I’m not joking here and since you haven’t and aren’t talking again to mom, I’m in charge of secure you’re still alive, Borya❞, she explains, pointing at him.
❝Come on, Cherry, I’m fine. Just wondering shit❞, answers to her, he has decided they are having eggs with bacon and boxed orange juice, ❝don’t worry too much❞.
❝You think?❞
❝So funny, Jerk-ins❞.
He finishes the cooking, serving it in the not broken dishes, Evan talks about bands’ event on the 57 Rooftop Park, a place where the two of them lovely doves used to go to occasionally skip classes (he knew about it, Mari would come back those days smiling so much he feared that she was actually on molly). And she would tell him how much she enjoyed that time, and he would pretend to not care at all, but he’ll happily listen to her happy rumble.
The park is organizing a small event full of sweets, street food and live music, inviting bands to play at their gathering. The blond thinks it’ll be great for them.
❝Rogan said we must be more known, it’s perfect for us❞. The only girl in the place smiles and nods, ❝I assume we are in, right Pavlikovsky?❞, he nods too, ❝great❞.
❝We need to tell Bevvie and Will about it❞, Mari remembered, ❝I’ll tell Bev, Borya tells Will, can you?❞
❝Pff! Of course I can, but also you can since Will’s now Vanvan’s bestie❞.
❝Jealous?❞
❝Cut it off, guys❞, asked before continuing, ❝well, just, since you two are spending even more time than us with Will, I think maybe you can, don’t look at me as if we’re stupid, we know you spent more time in his place than in yours❞, she pointed out, taking a sip of juice before the next part: ❝And you two really get along, we all see you really like him❞.
He said nothing, turning all into an uncomfortable silence, a type of silence he knows, the one where the head becomes noisy, and inquiry noise, as his head wonders how many people know what he’s been trying to hide for the sake of his bad stitched heart. And Evander holding the same expression he held on Lambrini’s house just makes him feel nauseous. He guesses it’s never enough to hide something, it’ll linger on him.
❝You– You really like him, don’t you?❞, he hears the question again. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer.
❝I– Stop it. Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it right now. I’m not in the mood for 21 questions❞, grumbles, he doesn’t want to understand.
Marina looks aside, Evander stares at him, does everybody need to know? The blond knew it even before he could know it by himself, Cherry mocked about it and sure Beverly and Trash-Trash have to know two or more things about it too. It passed down like a folk song, and even Kotku heard it. The untold secret that everyone has to know, which fights inside him and wants to burn his decadent world.
❝Russian, I said it w–❞
❝Don’t❞, begs, ❝don’t say it. It isn’t– even if it is, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t and you… You know, you know too, maybe everyone knows, maybe William knows and it’s fine but I’m not. I don’t care about it, I don’t need to care, I’m sick of care❞.
❝Borya❞.
❝I know, I know, it’s my bad, it’s my bad, I never thought I’d fall for this tricky shit again, but I made myself so comfortable in his place and I took it all like a selfish bastard, I must seen this coming from me again, I did it before, I’m doing it always, and know we have feelings we… feelings we can’t and I won’t share, it doesn’t matter, I’m sick of searching for love and it to leave me alone. I need to– you two stop it before I kick you❞.
It may not look like it, though many believe he’s a cold hearted man, he’s a fucking small kid terrified about his feelings and life. It turns out confusion to realize how much Will began to mean for him, how he made a room inside his soul, how he could take the weight of his shoulders and quietly tell him he’s alright, and how it is worth living another day, the same way Theo used to make him feel alive.
He wondered how two people could make him feel loved and alone at the same time in different ways.
They could’ve loved him until it hurted somehow. Those memories of their flirts haunt him, drown him. They hurt, and yet he’s willing and aching to love him until the love ends with him, until it destroys his soul and self. All those sunsets, all those nights, all those shared secrets hold just a little more, scraping his heart, making it bleed, hard to be stitched again.
But Will appeared in his life, stood for himself, against him, a held his hand in his own, loving them with his sweet voice in every song, every laugh, in every drunk whisper, and even when he’s realizing it, he isn’t afraid of still holding his hand and feelings and gave them to him.
And everytime William Byers looked at him, he had a glimpse of what he had with Theodore Decker years ago. But yet, Will makes him want to me more again, to have more, to reach for more than what he has, to get out of his burning world or burn with him aside.
He wants to be more than Boris Pavlikovsky, an aussie with ukrainian-polish roots, a wanderer in life, stumbling over the same stones, a boy who bleed by his arms and scraped knees while everyone seems to do fine, living the same way and his soul dying inside the back of his mind. He needs to get over wanting parental love, past desires, Las Vegas’ starry nights, burning touches, all the late talks and sense of belonging.
But then he wonders: how can he?
❝Borichka❞. Marina, the girl that has all the older sister’s vibes, his self-adopted sister cups his cheeks, looking at his eyes in a way he forgot she could’ve, as if she wanted to put all his pain and insecurities on her to stop him from feeling them. ❝You don’t have to figure it out all alone, not yet, both of you are young, reckless, you have the time on your side. Just… just be selfish this time, be selfish, search for your own happiness and don’t be afraid to love again❞.
He nods, holding back his light tears. He doesn’t know where he would be if he didn’t stand for that before-soon-to-be college lady that took his hand and gave him for a while a loving family he lost by screwing up himself. And yet, after losing the Berryfield trust, after telling her many cruel things and hurting her, she stills there as the family he always needed.
✦ ––––—–––—–––––––—––– ✦
He still remembers the first time he was at the cafeteria, when it was smaller, when its name was only “The Goldfinch” in siena brown letters in the awning, with wooden tables and chairs, without the dessert display case and all the walls painted in a light gray.
He would take the table nearest the counter, asked for a plain latte and a dried muffin, just waiting to or talking with Theo and Pippa if they’re already there, jokingly complaining about their food choice or their coffee variety before being shut by Potter’s annoyed voice asking him when he’s leaving, although they knew he didn’t want that, so he didn’t.
He looked at that place change, painted its walls, placed their frames, placed new things on the menu, even helped to bake when he had time. He remembers it all too well.
The Goldfinch was the newest of his memories about Potter, the least that hurt, the one that gives Theo the smell of coffee beans on his head. But now, two of his worlds are colliding, this ringing love for William, amused by the beauty of the place, and the place itself that saves his love for someone who might not care at all again.
❝God, Boris?❞. He knows that employee’s voice, Jade Miller, who has been working since the opening. They don’t know he has company until he drags him close and asks them to be the nicest they can with Will, ❝Oh… well, of course, I’ll bring you the menus!❞
They sat down in the same place he’s been sitting since then. He sees how there’s a display case where it wasn’t, new paintings on the side walls, some others changed, a new dessert that must be made of pineapple, a small ad of a new strawberry frappe. It made him feel familiar and odd at the same time.
❝Order whatever you want, it’s on me❞, he points, pretending to read the menu he already memorized, ❝I’ll like a Clubhouse sandwich and maybe an americano❞.
He’s glad that the brown haired boy likes the cafe, looking at how he would lose track of things viewing all the colorful details, the paintings, the pictures framed, the display of the sweets and other bullshit he doesn’t really understand. As long as his partner is happy, he can be happy by seeing him.
❝…Maybe we could share a dessert, I always share them with my siblings since I don’t end up eating all the thing❞.
❝You have siblings?❞
He’s genuinely surprised by the fact someone like William has siblings, he always had more the aura of an overprotected only child which his parents wouldn’t let him go to parties after 10 o’clock or something. He connects some dots about Will’s will to care for others as the answer of an overprotective loving family, who really care for him as much as he does for them.
❝So, how is it? Apart from broken noses, to have siblings❞.
❝Well, some people say is a torture, and it is, kind of, most of the time it’s nice…❞
Of course Byers would be thankful for having them. He used to wonder how it should’ve been if his mother was still alive and, for missing the birth control pills, got him a younger brother or sister. Maybe he would have settled down much earlier for their safety, maybe he would have learnt a better way to love, he’d have a better sense of belonging and a sense of care. Or maybe they would be two screwed up human beings living the same shit as him.
The door entrance bell rang. The whole world freezed as the well-known silhouette from Las Vegas’ starry night in the light blue eyes of someone who has grown taller than him entered. Long sleeve shirt under a long brown sweater that may hide all the sunsets on the swings, no clue of the helpless guy he used to get high with, a new young boy who has figured out the things he yearned for back then. Someone Boris knows and doesn’t.
❝Boris?❞
And he softly calls his name, disassembling him, sighing inside at the thought of for how many years he wanted him to call him out with that honey sweetness in his voice like he used to do in Las Vegas, how he wanted to be taken back to those days of moons, sleepless nights, chanting spells for their loneliness and tearing themselves as someone would tear a piece of porcelain.
Boris calls his nickname, Potter, by the way his glasses make him look nerdy and desperate. He teases him, old things don't need to change, and they talk as if nothing happened. He has the urge to hold onto his arms, to stay, he wants to take back the things he said that departing night, to say what he never got to say, to chase him all the way until he could hug him with the safety that his light-brown-haired boy isn’t going somewhere without him.
❝What’s with that look, William?❞, he dares to ask.
But Will doesn’t look at his eyes, they just hold hands under the table.
He knows that sad hopeless love look William was giving to him, he gave it to Theo a long time ago, he falls on the fact that he’s being a total jerk knowing why he has that look on his face, but even if he says something to reassure him and stop his heart from hurting more, it would be a damn lie. He wanted Potter back as much as he was trying to like William without falling deeper onto him.
He wanted the world to burn him with love.
❝Theo’s nice❞, he answers after a long.
❝I know. A bit nerdy and sometimes an asshole, but he’s nice❞.
❝I can tell you missed him❞.
And he knows he does, he misses his Theo.
feeling
unable to be the one they love and never being enough.