Chapter Text
They first meet in October of 2019 when having an iPhone is no longer the sign of wealth it once was and having an Android just means one thinks they are smarter than the average iPhone user. At least, that’s what Kitsey’s friend wrote in her article for Buzzfeed.
Theo, an iPhone user since 2015, when iPhones were a sign of wealth only while in the hands of an eight year old, read and resented the article. Once again, Emily had made an attempt at subverting her wealth by proving the importance she placed on money. She had an iPhone since 2008 at the tender age of nine—not that it mattered all that much to Theo who had an iPod at that age, a gift from his mother for his thirteenth birthday.
What did matter to Theo was the black haired man who read the article over his shoulder off of Theo’s iPhone when the man clearly had his own.
Turning over his shoulder, Theo asked him, “Do you want a link or something?” a scowl present on his face.
“No,” he replied unbothered, “Am good here.”
That was… well, it sure was a reply. It made Theo wish he had simply said ‘fuck off’ at the beginning rather than offer him a link, but at the same time, instead of saying anything else, Theo barked out a laugh. His accent sounded vaguely Australian, but like an Australian vampire, Theo thought, and that was enough for him. Maybe he was just drunk, but if he was, then he was a happy drunk tonight because he turned the screen to help the man read it better. He scrolled slowly until the man said he read faster than that, and in turn, Theo scrolled down faster than he himself could read just to fuck with him.
Still, the man didn’t complain, just waited until the end and then sat down at the stool next to Theo rather than at least one barstool away like a normal stranger would. Guess the man figured that after reading together—his chin practically on Theo’s shoulder—then they were close enough to sit together. That, or he had no thought for manners at all, the latter seeming more likely.
Theo laughs again, his words slurring slightly. “So, what do you think of the article? Bad right.”
“Oh,” he groans, “Terrible.”
“Yeah?” Theo prompts.
“Android users are not smarter than iPhone users. Is stupid to think that.”
Theo laughed again. What was with him today. “I think that was kind of the point.” It was! Not that it was a good point or even worth writing about, but reading comprehension was important.
“Yes, but no one actually believes that android users are smarter.” Before Theo has a chance to butt in, the vampire says, “Would not tell him this, but man who works for me has Android, Samsung specifically, is very dense man. Do not get me wrong, is good at what he does, yes?”
Theo doesn’t know what to reply, not knowing the man’s subordinate himself, but he doesn’t need to.
“The other day, he turns to me, says ‘Borya’... hmm, I do not know if story is appropriate.”
On the edge of his seat, and slightly wobbling on it at that, Theo is finally given the room to speak, and he says, “Tell it anyway.”
The man, Borya apparently, likes what Theo has to say, spurred on and biting his lip as not to smile, “Fine, fine, but only for you.”
“Oh, how kind. Thank you.”
“You are right. Is very kind. Now, let me say it,” Borya says as if Theo had even been given the chance to interrupt. “My driver, he says to me, ‘Borya, did you hear? Canada is no longer a state. They seceded.’ Must admit, I did not know how to respond. Cannot laugh, that would be to mean. I do love him like a brother.”
Theo kept laughing as if that was all he could do. “Your brother! You’re shit talking him.”
Borya’s face turned bitter. “You have no siblings.”
Theo thought about that. It wasn’t quite true. He had the Barbour's who he borderline grew up with on the days when his Dad didn’t want to watch him or when he disappeared for days at a time and someone needed to pick him up from school. He then thinks of all the times he’s called Andy’s voice annoying, not that he would let someone else do it in his presence.
“Okay, yeah, you have a point.”
Maybe Theo would let someone shit talk Platt, he thinks. Just a little bit.
“I do have people like brothers to me,” Theo starts, aware of how big Borya’s eyes go at the new topic.
And so Theo let rip some of the stupidest things he’d heard in the last three weeks. Then in the last year. Then in the last 24 years that he’s been alive. Of course this is when the article came up in association with Kitsey.
By this point the buzz was wearing off and Theo was almost feeling bad, he had dissed basically everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Barbour by this point, even calling Toddy snotty, literally. He caught mono last week.
Did Borya call him a slut? Maybe. Did that spur on Theo? Another maybe. Not that Theo had any room to talk, having had mono three times now. Of course, it’s not as though Borya had any room to talk, now chastising Theo for shaming a man over his sexuality.
At some point, Borya noticed the waining buzz and dragged Theo by his wrist out into the night outside, a lit up sky fresh with neon all over. It must have been around ten.
“Come on, will love this. Found much better bar on West 42nd, has food, too. I will call my driver”
Theo shook his head, trying to sober up slightly more in the cold air. “Dragging me off into a random car? That’s kidnapping.”
“Fine, fine. You do not want to meet man who thought Canada was a seceded state. Is okay by me.”
Okay, okay. If Boris wanted to meet Platt that would be okay by him. Still, he needed to be smart about some things. Just anything at all. “Okay, okay, Borya,” He said
“Borya?” he asked with a smile, rye and self satisfied.
“What? Is that not your name?” Theo asked, now having to yell over the cars.
“Is if you want it to be.” A cab passed by them and hit yesterday's rain where it sat in the street splashing Borya and Borya alone. He let out a stream of what Theo assumed was expletives but in some other language, the vampire one Theo assumed. Australia had the same swear words, right? Either way, it had to be the best part of Theo’s night so far.
“Okay, big man, what is your name then. Must at least give me a name as you laugh at my plight.”
Theo reaches out a hand as Borya ruffles with his pants trying to get the wetness to stop sticking to him. It doesn’t work and eventually he looks up to see Theo’s hand, reaching out to shake it himself.
“Theo.”
“No, no,” Borya says, hand still holding his, “You call me nickname, I get to call you nickname.”
“Fine, then tell me your real name, not-Borya.”
“No, no is too late for that,” he says, pulling off Theo’s glasses that he now realizes are splashed with the same dirty water covering Borya. “Ha—” Borya looks at the glass— “Round like Harry Potter.”
“Fuck you.”
Instead of handing the glasses back, Borya slips them onto Theo’s face. Harry Potter’s face now, if “Borya” has anything to say about it.
“Ah! Forgot to call my driver,” Borya says, making to slap himself on the forehead.
Theo, still smart enough to know that his mom taught him not to get into strange men’s cars—and Borya sure was strange—told him, “Have him meet us there,” before stepping into the road to hail a taxi. Fuck did Theo want to see what else the driver would say about Canada’s secession.
The bar on We st 42nd was a Polish bar, somehow, despite being on West 42nd instead of somewhere like Brighton Beach. Still, it was warm compared to the chill outside and with a rack for their jackets that seemed to overflow. It was nice.
It was also loud and filled with a language Theo didn’t quite understand, and his hand was being pulled to some back room where Borya brought out a little baggie, and well, There was a reason Theo liked him so much to start with.
Borya got him another drink, sitting him down on a velvet couch as he did so. “Is German,” he said.
That made more sense, at least Theo thought it did. No, not in a Polish bar. “The language?” he asked.
“No,” replied Borya, “the beer.”
That… made more sense.
There was something very 1980’s about the bar, other than Theo having snorted coke off the toilet tank of a public bathroom. Maybe it was the velvet—so much velvet—and maybe it was the hammer and sickle flags in three out of four corners of the room. A girl who came to sit on Borya’s lap had the plucked and drawn on eyebrows of the early 90’s, so maybe that was a change. Either way, a blast from the past.
“So,” the girl in Borya’s lap said, “How do you know Boris?”
“Boris? Boris!” Theo was smiling. “You’re telling me his name is Boris!”
He turned her face to him, “Shhh!” and whispered “Back me up here,” so softly that Theo wouldn’t hear it if he weren't borderline sitting on Borya—Boris, himself.
“No, no. She got my name wrong. Must tell you, met her last week, do not even know her name myself. Isn’t that right, Mary?”
“It’s Myriam,” she said, getting off his lap, her voice with the same snakelike quality that could take over Boris’ if not for the Australian in it.
Maybe Theo should’ve spent less time analyzing her voice, as he almost missed her hand making a huge smack as she slapped him in the face, her hand almost hitting his on the wind back. It was amazing. Starting with what Theo thought was a casual snicker, he went into a full body laugh at the look on Boris’ face, the 5 star smack leaving a print on his cheek.
She turned to Theo, “What are you laughing at?” a curious hiss.
“Him!” Theo laughed out.
“Good. Deserves it,” she said as she walked away.
Turning about, everyone in the club was staring, but Boris just turned his body and looked at Theo. If either of them moved a little, they would be in the other's lap, the two of them acting as if the loveseat was small enough to warrant that.
Lifting up his hand, Theo pressed a finger to Boris’ cheek. Purposefully, it had to be on purpose, he didn’t flinch. The skin was still warm. “Your name is Boris.”
Still not turning away—if anything leaning into the touch—Boris said, “Ah, no, you heard. She got my name wrong. Unfortunately got hers wrong, too” Boris took Theo’s hand from his cheek. “Must admit, it is great incentive not to do it again. Shit hurts.” He still hasn’t let go of Theo’s hand.
“I heard you, though. You told her to go along with it!”
“Not true.”
Smiling now, Theo said, “Yes it is, you liar.”
Boris frowned in a way, a way that seemed fake, though Theo didn’t know him quite enough to say for certain. Fuck it, he’s spent maybe four hours with the guy. It was a fake holding back a smile. “You think I would have encouraged her to hit me? On my fragile, beautiful face.”
“You don’t seem all that fragile.” Theo reached up to touch his face again, wanting to examine it to see just how fragile his sharp cheekbones could be. Boris stopped him, still holding Theo’s hand in his. The man must have been just as drunk as Theo. “I can’t blame her for wanting to slap you, either.”
“Myriam has no reason to slap me.” Boris looked betrayed. “What have I done to her but cherish her.”
“Ha,” said Theo, pointing at Boris, “You said you met her last week! That you didn’t even remember her name!”
“How could I not remember the name of a woman who slaps like that! Amazing woman. You ever see a woman that slaps like that?”
Theo has, once during a pregnancy scare and once for him having a sour mouth, but to answer Boris’ question: “No, not in a million years have I seen something like that.” It’s a much nicer memory to see it happen to another person instead. Even better to see it in real life and not on a TV show.
Theo kept looking at him, still his hand in his, still almost on his lap, still not realizing any of this. Blame it on the cocaine.
“So,” Theo asks, “Are you going to find her, this ‘amazing woman’?”
“How can I?” Boris answers, “Am with you now.”
Theo’s cheeks burned, something from the flush of alcohol he assumed before taking another sip of the something German Boris had handed him earlier.
Boris took the bottle out of his hand and placed it in his own. Theo could do nothing but watch and wait for his turn to take it back. Watching Boris savor his sip made his lips dry, unbearable for him not to be drinking the same as Boris in that moment. Yeah, now he wanted a cigarette. Still, it wouldn’t be fair for Theo to have to pull out a cigarette and have his possession stolen again.
“So,” he said, “Mr. With Me, where are we going next if not after Myriam.”
“Hmm…” Theo could feel it as he hummed. “Do not want to go anywhere. Unless you do. You want to leave, no?”
Unable to decide, Theo went for the most neutral option. “I wanna go out for a smoke.”