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Theo knew what it was like to see Boris hurt and bleeding after an encounter with his father, and in those times he wanted nothing more than to erase all that had been done to his friend. It was so incredibly jarring to see Boris when he was like that: bloody and beaten and utterly defeated.
There was a certain awkwardness that came with helping Boris after his father had come home, one that came from Theo’s lack of understanding; he’d never been hurt by his father like that. In fact, he’d never been hurt by anybody like that.
They wouldn’t talk as Theo wiped the blood away from Boris’ cuts and bruises to reveal dark blue and purple welts on pale skin. Boris always looked so far away in those times that Theo doubted he would hear him if he spoke. Clean, white bandages over damaged skin; they always ended the ritual the same way: with a bottle of vodka.
This time it was different. Instead, they started with the vodka first, and Boris wasn’t the one who was injured.
Boris, with his long, thin fingers, wrapped bandages around Theo’s forearms, which almost looked tanned in comparison to Boris, and although the Las Vegas sun had done a lot for Theo over the years, he was still anything but.
Theo winced as Boris tightened the bandages around his arm, the redness already beginning to seep through the white fabric. “Shit, sorry Potter.” Boris said, glancing up at him with an apologetic look in his eyes.
“It’s fine.” Theo shrugged.
His eyes were red. He looked like he’d been crying for a long time, although Boris had yet to see any tears from his friend’s eyes. The redness around his eyes was loud against his complexion, and even more predominant without his glasses on. Theo’s glasses had been set aside somewhere in the other room, and Boris remembered how odd Theo looked when he first arrived at the house and saw him without them on. At the time he wanted to make a joke about Harry Potter not having his glasses, but the thought had quickly left him when he caught sight of Theo’s arms.
“No, is not fine. None of this is fine.” He said, securing the bandage down. Theo didn’t respond, he only stared past Boris’ head, eyes unfocused, heavy, shaky breaths rattling in his ribcage.
“Hey, Potter. Potter?” Theo turned his head to look at Boris with his eyebrows furrowed and tears now close to falling.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” He tapped Theo’s temple with his finger. “Think too much. Is not good for you.” Theo stayed silent.
The two of them sat in silence on Theo’s bathroom floor, medical kit sprawled out next to them, the only sound filling the space Boris’ soft breaths and Theo’s heavy ones. They both relaxed into the agreeable quiet. Well, Boris did, but he wasn’t entirely sure that Theo even still knew where they were with how far off into his thoughts he was.
Gently, cradling Theo’s arm in front of him, Boris lifted it slightly, meeting it halfway with his head as he began placing soft kisses on top of the bandages. Each kiss more gentle than the last, leaving Theo’s skin tingling under Boris’ lips, making the pink and faded scars that littered his arm itch.
“Boris? What are you doing?” Theo’s vision snapped back to reality.
“Kissing it better. What else?” Boris gave him a small smile, not like his usual mischievous wide grins or teasing smiles though. A real, reassuring, gentle smile.
“That’s something that moms do for, like— little kids when they fall over and shit.”
Theo said, staring at where Boris had kissed him.
“Can I tell you something, Potter?” Boris didn’t wait for him to reply.
“One of few and earliest memories I have of my mother is from when I was very little,” he gave a short laugh, more like a huff of air that had escaped from his lips, “before she started drinking all of the time,” he added on at the end.
“It was first time my dad had ever hit me. He came home from work one night, angry, drunk, and tired. I tried to get to other room, but he stopped me before I could. He slapped me across the face when I tried to speak to him, left small bruise.” Boris paused with a far off look in his eyes. Theo continued to stare at his own arms.
“My mother,” he started up again, “she gave small kisses to make me feel better,” he pointed to his cheek as he said ‘kisses’, “said it would make it heal faster.” There was a bit of humor at the end, a twinge of sarcasm added to ‘heal faster’.
Boris met Theo’s eyes once again, looking at him with a questioning gaze, as if he was asking for permission. Theo only gave a small, hesitant nod and that was all the confirmation Boris needed to continue pressing the sickeningly gentle kisses into his skin.
Theo blinked rapidly in an attempt to stop his tears from overflowing his eyes, but it was no use. Tears slipped from his eyes and rolled over the point of his nose, dripping into his lap. Boris’ head shot up when a tear landed on the bandages.
“Potter—” Theo ragged breaths cut through the silence as the tears flowed harder and faster. Boris pulled him close, bring their foreheads together so that their noses brushed each other softly. “Shh, is okay. I’m here. You’re alright.” Theo nodded, pulling his head away from and burying it into Boris’ shoulder. They stayed like that for some time, Boris whispering soft nonsense in Ukrainian and Polish into Theo’s ear while he tried to grasp onto each next breath.
“ Theo —” Boris said with so much pain in his voice that Theo turned to look up at him. “Please, I do not want you to hurt.” Boris’ thumb gently glided over the veins of Theo’s hand, tracing small circles into his skin. “Next time, you will tell me?”
Theo nodded. He brought his forehead back to Boris’, longing to be close to him. He could feel Boris’ hot breath on his face, the smell of cigarettes lingering in his nose as his breaths grew slower.
He swore that that night while the two were lying in bed, before his eyelids weighed down heavy and his consciousness succumbed to sleep, he felt a pair of chapped lips press a kiss into his forehead.