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loving boris is easy to theo. the easiest thing in the world, actually. it’s the most natural thing in the world. even more natural than breathing. he expects himself to love boris because what else makes sense? who else would he love other than the boy who held him on good nights and pulled him closer on bad ones? who else would he love other than the boy who kissed his forehead and the side of his neck to calm him down? who else would he love other than the boy who he shared his clothes with like they were one?
he knows he shouldn’t. he knows it’s wrong. he knows if someone from before he met boris knew this about him they would look at him in disgust and claim to never know him. he knows mrs. barbour wouldn’t extend her kindness out to him anymore if she knew why theo would do anything for this random boy he met on a dry day in the nevada desert. pippa would ask him overbearing questions and pretend to be kind.
but he didn’t care that much. he would endure the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop and that he shouldn’t be doing this, that he’s not like that if it meant getting to love boris.
because of course he loves boris. what else is he supposed to do in a neighborhood with 3 people living in it and sand that fills up the pools of no one’s house? the only thing you can really do out in this parking lot for houses is to stare longingly at your friend and yearn to be free with him in any form. but theo will never get to let boris know. theo knows he’ll be stuck with boris in his head for years to come. maybe if they were in any other time, had met any other way, and were any other boys they would have a happy ending. but even if he wants to hope, theo knows that won’t happen. not now, at least.
he knows he should just let boris go. accept that their nights were just phases, that they were just confused and looking for any type of love. he knows he’s not supposed to love him that way. he knows all his feelings for boris should be platonic.
yet he can’t stop thinking about boris’s familiar soft lips pressed against his as one last sweet and sour goodbye. his rough hands placed on his cheeks, various leather bracelets from his journeys pressing against his hot cheeks. he thinks about it all night long on the bus. he thinks about their nights together, closer than two boys should be. he thought about the mid day when they were sitting outside next to theo’s pool, knees pressed against each other with the smell of chlorine easy in the air.
he wondered if boris knew. he wondered if boris loved him as much as he did. he wondered if boris looked at the same moon he did on these late nights traveling to where he thought was home. but boris would always be home for theo. that’s why he remembered boris’s soft words in his ear late at night about the moon being the same everywhere.
theo used to think home was his small apartment in new york city with the apparent smell of his mother that would never return. theo knew now his home was strangely enough his room in that empty house on 6219 desert end road, even if it felt empty that first day. because truly, it was empty. even with theo’s clothes in the closet and his painting his behind the bed frame, it was empty. but after boris, it became full of color, full of life. it was full of the lingering smell of tobacco and beer. full of half completed homework, boris’s name not matching theo’s very obvious handwriting. full of dirty graphic tees with bands neither of them liked strewn across the light beige carpet. because boris made him feel alive. boris made him feel like days were happening, even if most days spent with boris blurred together with the smell of vodka in the air. home is where the heart is and theo’s heart would stay with boris even after they separated.
he hoped hobie didn’t think he was being distant on purpose. he swore he was trying. but losing someone that isn’t even lost is a fate worse than death in theo’s opinion. because you can get them back, you can. but you’re not and you just have to live with that.
he desperately wished hobie knew why he looked so distant. or why his shirts were way too big for him. or why he knew various things about random countries with no correlation.
but there was a correlation. a correlation that hurt too much to admit. a correlation that involved two boys with dead mothers and abusive fathers that seeked comfort in each other because they knew no one else would. a correlation that involved something more terrible than any other trauma those young boys endured.
love.
because theodore audrey decker was in love. with boris volodymyrovych pavlikovsky, of all people. and it would never end well for these two boys. theo had lived long enough to know that the good things in life will never last. they never have, especially not for him.
but he hoped. he hoped one day boris would ring that green bell and show up at his front door. he hoped they could live together in new york with hobie and popchyk in this small little home. he hoped they could sit watch customers go in and out of hobie’s store after school and sit pressed against each other and whisper about the customers and giggle to themselves. he hoped they could explore shops around town and smoke on the sidewalk before walking home.
he wished. he wished everyday that when hobie called him down it was because boris was behind that door.
and today it would be true.
“potter?” boris’s voice spoke to him.
loving boris was the best decision theo ever made.