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Sunlight leaks through sheer curtains, shining onto golden antiques. Outside the windows, birds chirp with the morning, and the street below them busies about in the early hours of the day. Boris wants to soak in the moment, the newfound warmth, and revel in the fact that Theodore Decker lays on top of him underneath a dense pile of blankets.
He blinks once, twice, then yawns rather obnoxiously. Theo responds with a grunt, a way of telling Boris to shut up without having to fully wake up himself. And if Boris was capable of sitting still, he would have, but he grows irradiated and stiff. So, with some struggle, he unwillingly pulls himself from Theo’s death grip.
Bare feet pad against cool, wooden floors. For a moment, it's the only noise keeping the apartment awake. Boris creeps towards the kitchen, trying to keep the stillness of the house, well, still. He knows it's meaningless in the end because Theo is going to wake up in mere minutes, as he always does. He’ll get up, drag himself to the bathroom, then come waltzing in as if he were a prince. Which, even in his droopy sweaters and plaid pajama pants, he did look rather dreamy.
So Boris puts on a pot of coffee, then a separate pot of tea for good measure. This has become a habit. For a while now, Theo has been staying with Boris in one of his backup studios. It's not that he cares, though. When he purchased it, he had Theo in mind. The interior design and worn furniture gave him some sort of nostalgia. Boris remembers exactly how Theo had described Hobie’s antique shop and home. He spoke of it with a great sense of admiration, with stars in his eyes. Boris would do anything to replicate those stars.
Just as Boris said he would, Theo lazily makes his way into the kitchen. He mumbles a good morning before sniffing the two mugs Boris had set out on the counter, “Which is tea?” His voice is scratchy, rough, and somehow extremely endearing.
They stare at each other, one is amused, and the other is grumpily confused. “Can't you tell?” Theo looks away from him, silently picking up the cup of tea. Perhaps he only wanted to make conversation?
If there's anything Boris has learned since his childhood friend “moved in” with him, it's that he is not very talkative in the mornings. He communicates through hums and grunts, speaking very few words. It's been this way since they were young, and somehow, it's relieving to know some things never change. It makes Boris feel like he truly knows Theo.
After another stretched moment of quiet, Theo walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. The apartment isn't too immense, just large enough to fit a few people comfortably. Even in its age, it seemed to have a touch of modernism. Boris only follows after Theo whenever he hears the clicking and clacking of the record player. He watches Theo fumble with many types of vinyl. He observes the way Theo fits in amongst the olden furniture and the glow of the sunshine, the way he so easily suits Boris.
The needle scratches against the vinyl for a few seconds, and then the music begins. It’s classical music, of course. Boris had expected no less from Theodore, the classy and charming young man, with an eye for antiques. He gets up from his spot on the floor and takes a seat, sinking into the couch cushions.
The elegant music fills the air, creating a comfortable atmosphere around them. Boris decides to join him in the living room and sits across from him. “Potter?”
He looks up from his steaming cup, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm?” His hair is still a mess and for a moment, all Boris wants to do is run his fingers through it.
“Let's dance.” He is not suggesting it but demanding it. Boris watches as Theo’s eyes widen, as he wakes up fully and sputters to tell him-
“No! Boris, no. You know I don't dance.” He looks oddly defensive as he says this. Boris lets his face fall, disappointment obvious, as an attempt to make Theo feel bad. It doesn't work, it hardly ever works.
Then, he has an idea, which is surprising because Boris doesn't have a lot of good ideas. “Maybe it's just that you can't dance, not that you don’t.” He gets up from his seat swiftly and offers a hand to the man sitting in front of him. Theo, of course, does not take it. He does scoff with a smile, though. There are two whole seconds of stillness before Boris is stealing Theo’s hand, his tea, and hopefully his heart.
And maybe Boris asking Theo to dance wasn't the best of choices, because Theo seems better at it than he is. They waltz around the room lazily, despite Boris’ efforts to swing Theo about. Eventually, after numerous near-disaster slip-ups, Boris gets him to break character. His serious demeanor cracks, and he laughs whenever Boris stumbles into his chest. Boris watches him snicker, yet can't find it in himself to be embarrassed or annoyed. “You're beautiful.”
Then the moment is frozen, in a terrifying but breathtaking way.
It's been one day since he said it. Since Boris so foolishly admitted to thinking Theo was beautiful. In reality, It was an understatement to say that he was just beautiful. In Boris’ mind, Theo was so much more than what he could put into words. He wishes he was the smart one, able to use such vibrant vocabulary. Nothing changed, not really. Theo still slept on top of Boris, still clung to him with every toss and turn. The morning passed by with quiet music and hushed exchanges. That is until Theo offered to show him around Hobie’s workshop.
He agreed hastily, then regretted it because it made him seem desperate. Theo didn’t seem to mind, though. “Get ready, then. I don’t want you acting like a lunatic in front of Hobie. Be on your best behavior.” Boris mocks him when he turns away.
It, unsurprisingly, takes Theo longer to get ready. You see, Boris had never really cared for looking put together. He liked dark colors and that's all that mattered to him. Theo, on the other hand, took an extensive amount of time fixing his tie and his hair. As they're walking out the door, Boris teases him, “Took you long enough, Potter.”
Theo laughs flatly and waits for Boris to finish locking the door. Theo tells him it’s not a long walk, that it’ll just be a few minutes, but after walking 15 minutes Boris stops and forces him to get a bus. “Jesus, you can’t walk everywhere.”
Begrudgingly, Theo sits on the public bus, “Yeah, yeah. You’re just out of shape.” Boris pretends to be offended and shoves a middle finger in his face.
“I am not. I believe it’s just New Yorkers who like to walk everywhere, even if it is out of their way.” He purposely makes his accent more prominent while saying this. Theo rolls his eyes, feigning the serious facade once more.
The bus isn’t crowded, it’s rather desolate. It’s not sunny today, but cloudy and overcast. That’s the way Boris likes it, as long as the weather doesn’t get too hot or too cold. Boris doesn’t know what weather Theo prefers, and he has the very sudden urge to ask, to know every little detail about… the weather. “Potter.” Theo does not look up at him, nor does he acknowledge him, “You are ignoring me, no?”
“Not at all.” That is all Theo says. The rest of the bus ride is relatively calm, and out of all things they could have discussed, they talk about the weather.
When they arrive, Boris pulls Theo towards the door of the shop, rather than the one that leads to Hobie’s home. Theo takes hold of his hand when they enter, shuffling to show him all his favorite antiques. “Welcome in!” A man shouts from somewhere further down, then footsteps come rushing up a flight of stairs. “Oh, Theo. You should have said you’d be in today.” The man, who Boris assumes is Hobie, notices him, “Hello…?”
“Boris.” They shake hands firmly, and Boris can see why Theo had taken such a liking to this older man. “Boris Pavlikovsky.”
Theo looks between the two of them, then speaks, “Anyway Hobie, I’m not here to work. I was showing Boris around.” He grins a little bit too wide, and Hobie raises a brow at his excitement.
“Alright, you boys be careful. It’s nice meeting you, Boris.” His smile is welcoming and beaming with fondness. The entire building is filled with a sort of soothing tranquility. They venture around, eventually making their way down and into the workshop, where Hobie had resumed his work. “Theo?”
His head whips around and he answers immediately, “Yes, Hobie?”
There's a moment of silence as the older man struggles to pull the leg of a dresser out of its slot. “Pippa is here. You should go see her.” Hobie does not turn around when he says this.
Boris watches as Theo’s eyes light up, as his mouth twitches in a smile, and he can’t help but feel a bit jealous. No, he doesn’t know Pippa, but if there’s anybody Theo should look at like that, then it’s him. Boris is pulled around the corner, and into a room that they hadn’t explored earlier. “Pippa!” In the bedroom, which looks rather childish, is a girl sitting on the bed. Her hair shines a fiery orange, and Boris’ eye is easily captured.
“Theo! You scared me.” She rises from the bed and swiftly pulls Theo in for a hug, “I wasn’t expecting you. Hobie said you had the day off.” An uncomfortable feeling rises in Boris’ chest, it burns violently until they separate and Theo is standing next to him again.
Pippa decides to acknowledge him just as Theo brushes their hands together. “You must be Boris. I heard a lot about you when we were younger.” She tries to shake his hand, but Boris has already decided he was holding Theo’s. She glances down, then again just to be sure.
Boris wears a smug smile, “Yes, as have I. A pleasure to meet you, Pippa.” She looks a tad bit confused, but recovers smoothly and smiles back at them.
With a hand raised to cover her giddiness, she says, “You didn’t tell me you and Boris were in a relationship, Theo.”
It’s dead silent. If this were a tv show, Boris swears there’d be crickets chirping. Their hands stay slotted together for a moment, then Theo slowly pulls them apart. “We’re not dating-“
Pippa interrupts him before he can fight it, “That’s okay, Theo! I’m so happy you found someone. I kind of assumed you liked Boris from all those letters you sent. They were all about him.” Boris looks up at Theo, who is facing the floor with a blush rising to his ears. She takes hold of Theo’s arm and drags them into the living area. “So, tell me everything. When did you start dating?”
And maybe Boris is evil, but he feels the need to please this girl and her assumptions. “Just recently.” Theo turns his head so fast Boris swears he could’ve snapped it. “Theo and I live together.” Hobie has also returned to the lounge. He’s preparing what seems to be alcohol but has a vase of water prepared.
“You live together? Theo told me he had a place to stay, but I didn’t know it was with you.” Hobie takes a sip of his drink, “Must be why he’s so happy recently.”
Theo doesn’t speak up, only takes a glass of the unknown alcohol and downs it in one go. “Yeah, very happy.” He does not look happy. “Anyway, how long are you staying?”
They all find their seats, and Boris takes a moment to breathe in all the decorations in the house. The conversation fades into the background. First of all, the lighting is warm and the walls are shining in yellow and brown light. Everything about it screams Safe Space. Boris could describe it as home, but Theo wasn’t currently living there and he was Boris’ definition of home.
“Boris?” Someone calls for him, and he has to physically pull his eyes away from the walls.
Three pairs of eyes are directly on him. He suddenly feels very uncomfortable. “Ah, yes? What is the question?” Boris peeks over at Theo, who suspiciously looks like he just swallowed a rat and is choking.
“Are you planning on asking for Theo’s hand in marriage?” He can’t help but choke. Boris now understands why Theo’s face is burning red. They’re still looking at him, still expecting an answer.
Boris shakily finds himself responding, “Oh, uh. Yes, eventually.”
Thankfully, Theo’s family members take notice of his nervousness. “Don’t rush. Just give me a heads up when you need someone to plan your wedding.” She winks as she says this, and Boris feels some sort of embarrassment.
Theo stands up suddenly, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He brushes off his clothes as if they’ve collected dust, “We’ll be on our way, then. I have an errand to run.”
The coldness in his voice is obvious as he tells the others goodbye. Pippa hugs Theo at the door and tells him, “I’ve got a book for you, so make sure to stop by again soon.” It sounds like code for something.
“I work here, Pippa. I have to come back.” She laughs and gives him a final pat on the back before shutting the door. It is only Boris and Theo now.
And now that they’re alone, “What the hell, Boris?” Theo grabs his arm harshly and leads him up the steps, “When?”
“What?”
His arms move around when he’s angry, and Boris can’t tell if he loves it or hates it, “Don’t act stupid. You said eventually, so when?” He pauses, catching his breath, “They think we’re getting married.”
“Well, you didn’t try very hard to convince them otherwise.” Boris crosses his arms, feeling snarky.
“Would you do it?” Theo folds in on himself and his voice quiets. He looks so utterly vulnerable, it makes Boris feel multiple emotions at once.
He finds himself asking, “Would I do what?” He knows what, he would, but there's some sort of blockage preventing him from telling Theo that.
“Would you marry me?” Boris stares at him while he keeps his eyes on the ground. It’s as if their surroundings were frozen in time. Boris doesn’t answer, but his throat makes a sort of croaking noise. He knows that he’s messed up the moment Theo sniffles.
“Am I really so difficult to love?” Their eyes meet, just for a moment, and then Theo is leaving him. He’s leaving Boris just like he did that night, and once again, Boris can’t do anything about it.
“Th-“ Boris starts to call out, “Theo, wait!” But he doesn’t wait, he slides out of Boris’ loose hold and leaves. It’s like a repeat of the past, but neither of them are promising to see the other again.
Boris feels something pelt against his face. At first, he thinks it’s but a tear slipping out, but more come and he realizes it’s raining.
Theo had always hated the rain.
If anything, Theo feels stupid. He feels ridiculous and embarrassed, frustrated. To think Boris would blatantly lie in front of his father figure and dearest friend? And Theo had stupidly gone along with it, not thinking of the consequences this “little” lie could have. Hobie doesn’t take his kids dating lightly, much less marriage.
The rain is coming down heavier than it was earlier and Theo feels a twinge of anxiety creep into his chest. He checks his surroundings, once, twice. There is nothing but him and the puddles that reflect the streetlights. He whispers under his breath, “God damnit.”
He can’t just go back to Hobie’s, not after telling them he’d be married eventually. They’d be too curious, and way too suspicious of him staying there without much of his things from Boris’ place.
Speaking of which, he couldn’t face the embarrassment of showing up at their apartment after his outburst in front of Hobart & Blackwell. And really, he wants to be angry at Boris, but when he thinks about him, there’s only a muted pain. If he’s being honest, he feels angry at himself for being so humiliating all the time. He replays his own words in his head, and as they spin and swirl he starts to walk at a faster pace.
There’s a loud splash behind him and he halts. He turns, staring into the darkness of the flooding alleyway. Without much thought, he dumbly says, “Boris?” Footsteps sound throughout the empty street and Theo feels the sudden need to run away.
He starts, barely twisting his body around before he’s colliding with somebody. He stumbles back, despite him being taller than the male in front of him. “Don’t move.” Theo goes to speak but is cut off by the sound of a knife slicking open. The man holds it close, “There’s another here, in the alleyway with a gun. I suggest you keep quiet and walk with me.”
Maybe he should be panicking. Maybe he is panicking. Before he can try to protest in any way, there's a black cloth being placed over his eyes. If there was anybody in the street, would they think he was being directed to a surprise party? The man gives him a nudge and he complies. So, they need him for something. They wouldn’t kill him until they got that something, right?
After about thirty minutes of listening to wet shoes squeaking, they come to a stop. If Theo were any smarter, he would’ve memorized the turns they’d taken to get to their destination, but after his fight with Boris, everything is kind of messy in his head.
The loud clinking of metal rings throughout his ears, then a rattly door is pulled up and Theo is pushed in. The men don’t try to be fragile, plus their way of mugging (if you can call it that) wasn’t so efficient. Theo still has his phone, his keys, and his wallet. He has everything, and then he realizes that isn’t such a relief as he thought it was. What if these people hurt Hobie, Pippa, or any of his family? The last thing he’d want is for them to find Boris. But in a weird confidence, Theo is pretty sure Boris could handle them.
Boris is always saving him, after all.
The walk home is both mentally and physically exhausting. Boris would have taken another bus if the street wasn’t completely bare. So now he’s standing in front of his door, reluctantly unlocking and pushing it open. He stands just outside, not even on the threshold. It’s dark and empty, and obviously, Theo is not here. Which, Boris wasn’t exactly expecting him to come home. Not yet, at least. He sighs one last time and enters his apartment.
He stands rather awkwardly, lingering here and there. There are still mugs on the side tables, and Theo’s favorite types of vinyl are still laying separately from the rest. The entire place is covered in evidence, evidence that Theo lives with Boris, and that they do have a life together.
Boris tears his eyes from Theo’s spot on the couch, unable to look at it anymore. It’s not like he meant to upset Theo. He was caught off guard by the question at hand and answered what he felt was true. The reason he couldn’t respond to Theo in the heat of the moment was that he wasn’t ready to ask. He kind of assumed they had something going on, but never went further than forehead presses and kisses on the cheek. It felt so pure, and Boris felt content.
Avoiding the records on the floor, he finds a nice bottle of wine, one he had been planning to save for a special night. He doubts that night will come now. He doesn’t remember drinking, laying down, or falling asleep, but he did and he’s dreaming of those quiet nights in Vegas.
When he wakes, it’s with a headache. There’s a moment of confusion, where he pats the spot beside him and hums at the absence of Theo’s weight on his chest. “Oh.”
In a very sluggish way, Boris gets himself up and ready. He’s not why, because he has no plans today. Throughout his morning routine, he feels strangely empty and anxious in a way. He checks his phone multiple times, hoping for Theo. He gets nothing.
He moves from spot to spot, room to room, waiting on a call from Theo. Even a text would do. Boris knows that he fucked up, and he wants to fix it. He also knows that Theo needs time, time to calm down and to think. It’s just, he normally doesn’t take this long. So, after 3 excruciating long hours, Boris decides to call him first. He calls once, twice, thrice. There is no answer.
The fact the calls are going straight to voicemail is even more distressing. Theo never does that, he is a businessman who always answers the phone just in case. After texting a couple more times, Boris takes the initiative to look for Theo himself. The first stop is Hobart & Blackwell.
Without any time to spare, he takes the bus all the way there. When he arrives, it takes him a minute to decide which door to go through. He settles on the glass doors up front and pulls them open. Heads whip around to stare at him, as he had jingled the doorbell a bit too loudly. But that’s what he does best, be loud. “Theo! Is Theo here?”
Hobie comes rushing into the room, hovering a single finger over Boris’ lips. “No, he’s not here. Why are you yelling?”
Boris ignores his second question, “Theo did not come back here yesterday?” Hobie looks him up and down, focusing on the bags under his eyes.
“No?” He leads Boris further into the shop, “Was he supposed to?”
Boris shakes his head, “Um, maybe. Is there anywhere else he would go?”
There’s a sigh from the man in front of him, “Not that I know of. You gotta tell me what’s going on here. Theodore is still my kid.”
“Ugh, fine. Theo and I got into fight yesterday and he ran off. When I go home, he wasn’t there so I assumed he’d come here. I was not worried! But here I am, and he is not here. Or anywhere, or picking up the phone, so I am very worried.” The faster Boris speaks the worse his accent becomes.
“Okay, okay. Have you tried checking his location?”
Once again, Boris shakes his head and sighs. “You are a genius. Thank you.”
Theo does not know how long he’s been tied up, but his ass is numb and his body is cold. Throughout the night, the two men had taken turns asking him questions, threatening him, and occasionally hitting him. And yes, Theo is aware he should be terrified right now, but he truly believes these guys are idiots.
“After Vegas, what happened to the painting?” Turns out, trying to sell a fake antique to some rich guy who knows about The Painting could be dangerous. Who knew? He hadn’t expected anyone to come after him, though. That was all so long ago, or it felt like it. So Theo answers their questions, even though The Painting is back in its rightful place.
“I thought I had it, but I didn’t.” He tries to be vague, very purposely leaving Boris’ name out of his story. “My deceased dad took it and sold it without me knowing. I smuggled a civics book around for years, never opening it.”
The lie is better than the truth. In reality, Boris took the painting and did whatever he did with it. Theo would rather believe in his lie than have to remember the look on Boris’s face when he said: “I have to tell you something.”
He winces at the memory. “And you have nothing to do with it returning to the world?” Theo nods slowly, only to get slapped across the face. The man shouts at him disgustingly, “Liar!” He almost snorts at how childish it sounds.
Both cheeks are stinging and Theo knows that they’re bruising. It takes him back to his time with his father when he’d get so frustrated and spit in Theo’s face. He smiles numbly, “Really?” Knife Guy makes a sort of grunting noise and makes a move to hit him again. Before his fist collides with Theo’s mouth, the garage door shakes.
“The door is locked, right?” The man pushes off Theo’s chair, rocking it slightly.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Theo can tell, even with the cloth covering his eyes, that the two men are standing very still and staring at one another. “I’ll go check.”
Gun Guy, the name Theo had given him, sneaks over to the metal door. He checks the locks, the chains, then the rest of the warehouse they’d been staying at. The one thing neither of the men had thought to check, or lock, was the window. For it to be so high up? It was inaccessible, so why should it matter?
A loud thump comes from the roof, and everyone stays silent. Moments later, there’s another pounding noise and a crash. Around him, there’s shattering glass, rattling metal, and a lot of other noises Theo couldn’t place at the moment. Then, like an angel in hell, he hears, “Potter!”
“Boris? What the fuck?” There’s still lots of commotion behind him, but Boris is there and untying him. Theo hears different languages, ones he hardly recognizes and just barely audible Russian. “How did you even find me?”
“A very wise man told me to track your phone.” Then Boris is pulling off the blindfold, ever so gently. The first thing he sees is Boris, with his pinched eyebrows and worried frown.
The light from the broken window beams down on the man in front of him, and all Theo can think to say is, “You’re beautiful.” Boris blinks back in shock, then grins all too mischievously. He doesn’t respond, just like Theo didn’t respond. Next thing he knows, he’s being pulled through the chaos.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get married now.”