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Boris Pavikovsky has a lot of sweaters. All sorts. Most of them are too big on him, tattered around the wrists and hot to the touch. They smell like him too: a mix of sweat, equal parts alluring and disgusting, with cigarette smoke and very faint cheap cologne.
Theo can close his eyes in the middle of the night and picture them, maroon and Boris' favorite--a deep red one. And sometimes, when it's chilly, Boris is wearing his sweaters to bed. Usually he doesn't though. Between the two of them, even that much heat is unbearable. The days are so hot. It seems like the sun itself is personally against Boris and Theo. And the nights are cold, at least a little more than the daytime. The moon is the only light besides the highway outside their window.
But Boris not wearing his sweaters would be weird too, Theo thinks to himself one day. It's just part of who he is. Sweaters and ratty t-shirts, bruised black eyes; a rats nest of curls for hair. It's a familiar sight. Almost comforting. Boris is a constant in Theo's life. One of his only ones at this point.
Boris brings him back to the present, like he usually does, by draping an arm around his shoulders. "Potter!" The nickname, sounding nothing like his actual last name, is a long story. He pretends to be annoyed but of course he isn't. "Is Christmas soon, yes? We need to prepare!"
Christmas has been the last thing on Theo's mind. He still misses his mom. But maybe something like this would be nice. And Boris is looking at him, eyes bright and smelling like booze--and it's not like anyone else is going to do something for either of them now.
He finds himself agreeing even if he isn't quite sure.
It doesn't take Theo long to find the perfect gifts for Boris. He grins when he sees it, and pays immediately (you don't steal Christmas presents, after all), getting it wrapped up nicely too. Even if it's all the money he has it'll be worth it.
"Open mine first!"
Empty vodka bottles; bare feet, long nails; a lit cigarette burning in sweaty fingers. Theo's eyelids are heavy. He has pills in his system. At his side, Popper sleeps peacefully.
Boris is thrusting a box wrapped in brown paper. And Theo wants to refuse whatever this is supposed to be, because Boris could probably afford this even less than he could. Their dinner is made up of McDonald's, after all. But he's excited and Theo is too, a little, so he opens it.
The sweater is fucking hideous. It's supposed to be. There's a tinsel wreath made on it, and inside the wreath is a picture of Pop. Boris beams. And Theo? He takes off his shirt then and there and puts on the ode to the dog still at his side.
"You fucker," Theo says, and he's grinning. "Open mine now."
Boris rips through the package and Theo's blushing because it's a dumb gift, just as dumb as Boris' to him though. This sweater has a snowman on it, but upside down, so the felt carrot nose is...um, down by his crotch. Boris looks so excited and he too takes off his shirt, to put this monstrosity on.
"I love it," he says, and from the look on his face Theo knows he means it.
This was why they were best friends.