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"Is this really necessary?"
"Apparently so."
To Boris, domestic science being a required class seemed utterly insane. Standing in a tiny, half-working kitchen surrounded by childish hormonal teenagers didn't seem that appealing to Boris. He knew that he wasn't supposed to judge them too hard with him being the most irritable of the bunch, he thought about him being unreasonable before pushing it to the side. He sighed loudly, shutting his eyes tight before covering them with his palms and spinning around amid his path to properly showcase how insatiably annoyed he was.
Theo laughed, grabbing Boris' forearm to prevent with from face-planting on the concrete. Boris laughed with him, letting his hands fall to his sides and his eyes open wide to look at Theo. His eyes were squinted, and his smile seemed to smear against his face like butter. Boris felt the corners of his lips rise. Maybe it was the blunt they shared a few minutes ago in the bathroom or the headache that tortured him this morning, but he could have sworn he saw some form of spark in the whites of Theo's eyes. It was probably just the sun reflecting beams into his golden eyes, but somehow, it didn't feel like something nature could create.
"We're at least making muffins, so I guess that mellows the whole situation a bit."
Boris nods, feeling the sun melt off his black sweatshirt as he looks away from Theos' eyelashes. He looked to the side, hiding that he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from chuckling at his thoughts; since when did he become poetic? Boris didn't want an answer. He didn't need one either way.
"Boris Pavlikovsky and Theodore Decker!" Mrs. Piper scolded, butchering Boris' last name with her posh British accent.
They were hysterically laughing, Theo covered in flour and Boris' apron drenched with milk. The professor's constant yells didn't stop Boris from continuing to throw powdered sugar at Theo's face. Their cupcakes were in the oven probably burning as they chased each other around with batter-covered utensils.
"Boris Pavlikovsky!"
"Отвали, пизда!" Boris interrupted, continuing to run through all of the kitchens.
Sure, Mrs. Piper may not know Russian, but did that stop her from assuming the worst? Of course not; and now he was stuck waiting out in the corridor. He was sitting on the floor beside the door into the classroom, legs spread wide and arms at his sides like he was a thrown-away doll. He was looking at the ceiling, taking notice of the few patches where you could see bundles of pipes and cords.
To no one's surprise, the school's aprons aren't waterproof, so Boris' shirt was drenched with milk. It's only a matter of time before he starts to smell like cat piss.
Maybe it had only been around 10 minutes since Mrs. Piper had thrown him out but to Boris, it felt like an eternity. Maybe it was the fact that the corridor walls were a little too white to bring comfort or perhaps it was the longing to lick the sugary batter of the utensils they had used; Boris wasn't sure. He sighed deeply, waiting with all the patience he had left in his body, knowing he barely had any left.
Theo burst out of the classroom, a plastic bag filled with cupcakes in his right hand and flour-covered glasses clinging onto the edge of his nose.
"C'mon," he said, reaching out his hand to Boris. Boris grimaced weirdly, knowing there was more than an hour left of their class. "Hurry!"
Boris grabbed his hand, Theo hurrying him to his feet before bolting through the corridor; dragging Boris alongside him. Mrs. Piper rushed out of the classroom, yelling something incoherent behind them. Theo laughed, nearly breaking through the door to get out.
"Jesus, Potter," Boris panted. "I didn't know you run, eh?"
"I don't," he laughed. "Only when necessary."
Boris chuckled. "Skipping cooking science or whatever was 'necessary'?"
Theo laughed at himself, walking towards the rusty school bus with his eyes glued to the sky. "Well, yeah? It wasn't fun without you."
He mumbled the last part, wiping the flour off of his glasses. Boris chuckled to himself, looking down at the bag of cupcakes Theo was carrying. As expected, they were burnt. It looked like the edges had been dipped in charcoal. To be fair, Boris had only ever cooked a couple of times before, those times ending in absolute disaster that led to him being banned from the kitchen of every house he's in. Probably the same goes for Theo, but he did make a killer steak with that piece of meat they stole from the supermarket.
Boris only ever noticed that they were still holding hands when Theo let go of his fingers to walk onto the bus, he smiled softly.
Boris grits his teeth harder with every turn the bus takes. Theo had his whole body turned to the girl sitting behind them, talking cheerfully about their English teacher. The air seemed thicker, as if it was even warmer than usual, with how red Boris expected his blood to be, maybe it was hotter after all.
Boris silently sneered as the girl laughed two octaves higher than her voice. Theo seemed to be smiling too brightly, like he thought that this who-girl was an angel bestowed in front of him. It sounded like they were teasing each other, touching the other's shoulder, looking at their lips. Boris grimaced, feeling like a third wheel beside the two of them. It made him angry, as if this girl would be the end of him, the end of him and Theo. Boris shifted in his seat, knowing he was being way too personal for his liking.
Her fingers laid on Theo's shoulder, her nail polish nearly gracing his neck. It may have been a simple act of physical contact, as you express when you have "feelings for another person" or whatever but Boris had to shut his eyes shut tight to prevent himself from puking at the sight of them nearly ripping their clothes off.
"Шлюха," he mumbled beneath a cough, turning his head away from them to avoid the girl's desperate eyes.
Theo nudged Boris' arm, making his head turn back. Theo glared at him. Apparently, with all of the time Theo and Boris have spent together, Theo has learned to adapt to Boris' name-calling, knowing that he mostly only swears in Russian to prevent consequences.
Boris nearly felt hurt by Theo's simple action of glaring daggers into his eyes. It was as if he was actually stabbing him.
Their walk home together was silent. Sure, the girl wasn't walking with them since she lived another 2 miles away, but for the first time, the silence between Theo and Boris felt awkward. It felt as if the whole world had gone quiet, no one brave enough to break the silent symphony of nothingness soaring through the air. The bag of burned cupcakes was softly swinging between Theo's fingers, the plastic squeaking now and then. Boris' shirt was somewhat drier but still stuck uncomfortable against his skin like latex.
Through the unbearingly silent 10-minute walk, they had made it to Theo's house. They were supposed to hang out today, but Boris worried that Theo's planning on canceling because of his little "stunt" back on the bus. They stand there awkwardly for what feels like yet another 10 minutes. Theo scoffs, his brows angling to his nose bridge.
"So?" he asked.
"So what?"
Theo scoffs again. "What do you mean 'so what'? What the fuck was your problem?"
"My problem?" Boris exclaims.
Theo scoffs yet another time, making Boris start to believe he has caught some sort of cold.
"Uh, yeah? What the fuck's your problem with Layla?"
So the who-girl has a name after all.
"Are you serious? She was so touchy!"
"And what's wrong with that, huh?"
Boris nearly winced at his words. There was nothing wrong with that, Boris was the one being the jerk, he knew that. Why was he even mad? Because Theo was falling in love and Boris wasn't? Theo's the normal one here.
"She was just-," Boris didn't feel like finishing his sentence, he had to force himself to bring up whatever feelings his brain had its mind on. "She had lovey-dovey eyes, it was disgusting! Only that stuff happens in porn."
"Being in love only happens in porn?"
Boris nearly laughs at his own words, he's not making any sense.
"I just-," he paused, looking a bit too deeply into Theo's eyes. They were a dark golden brown that synced up perfectly with his light golden hair. His chunky glasses lay lazily on his nose bridge, looking as if they were about to fall off; Boris had to refrain from stepping forward to push them up. Theo was pretty, at least to Boris. And Layla. The thought echoed through his mind. He hated even the idea of someone thinking the same thoughts he did, of dreaming the same dreams he did, of wanting to do the same things he did. His sight twitched to Theo's lips. They looked soft, their soft pink hue was the same pink that spread across his face when he blushed, the same pink Boris wanted plastered against his mouth and neck.
"What if I was Layla. Would that... be weird?"
Boris didn't just see how Theo's eyes widened, but he could feel the vibrations of his eyelashes shake the ground beneath them. Theo's eyebrows softened, same did his grip on the plastic bag wrapped around his fingers, letting it fall to the ground. The same pink that wrapped Boris' brain like wallpaper spread from Theo's neck up to his soft cheeks. Boris took that as a good enough answer, taking a step forward and connecting their lips. His lips were soft, softer than anything he had experienced before. Boris' hands found themselves at the back of Theo's neck, both of his thumbs laying firmly behind Theo's ears. Being cautious of Theo's tensed shoulder, he didn't move his lips, he simply let them rest there, soothing in the warmth of the other's lips. Boris eventually pulled away, not sensing any difference in Theo's rock-solid posture. He seemed uncomfortable, Boris felt tears building up at the thought.
"S-Sorry, I just-," he didn't want to say anything else, so he didn't.
Boris wasn't the type of person to get emotional. He didn't apologize or stand against the consequences, he brushed past conflict like he avoided school assignments; he never truly showed how he felt. He knew this side of him was something he had earned from his father's behavior; his cruel, sharp edges had always had an impact on Boris, something he hated to acknowledge. He let his emotions boil and simmer in the air-tight container of his heart, only ever letting his true self come out in punches, screams, and ignorant pleas and cries. His pillows were flat and uncushioned with how many times he had thrown punches and kicks to release his anger and hurt after another beating by his father, leaving him bloody-nosed and with a stomach full of bruises.
But Theo was somehow different as if his golden eyes and pink tones changed Boris' whole perspective on everything. Boris' entire thought process shifted and molted into something with sense when Theo was with him. With others, he wasn't allowed to think out loud or talk with a hint of reaction, but the only thing he could do with Theo was to think; to dive into his pools and oceans of feelings and actions to pick out just the right one for the moment. These waters of ideas and dreams felt like bliss and freedom, all within the cores and groves in Boris' palms. But right now, those lakes were emptied, drained, and pulped to dry mounds, and Boris wasn't brave enough to jump into the dark void of his dried oceans.
He wiped his lips with his knuckles, tears reaching the corners of his eyes as he watched Theo stand frozen in place. What had he done? Did he just ruin everything in between them for a simple second of bliss, for a silent moment of relief? Boris didn't get to finish his thoughts before Theo grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him down to his lips. It was awkward and clumsy, but it didn't matter, not for a single second.
Theo's eyebrows were furrowed, his lips were awfully pursed, his grip on Boris' collar was misplaced; the kiss wasn't a picture, but it was perfect. It was as if Theo's abrupt actions had finally broken the awkward silence that once filled the distance between the two; the atmosphere finally felt comfortable again. His then dry and deserted lakes were filled and brimmed, water pooling out from the top and leaking into the rest of his body. His fingers twitched, and his mind brightened; he could now dive and swim in his oceans of new-found opportunities.
Boris put his hands on Theo's hands, the grip on his collar loosening as Boris held tightly onto Theo, pushing their conjoined finger close to his heart. Boris smiled against his lips, moving his own carefully against the other's. One of his hands held onto Theo's hands as the other made its way to Theo's cheek. His skin was soft, so soft he nearly let his tears fall.
They stood there for nearly 5 minutes, letting the comfortable silence talk for them as their kisses grew heavier. Theo's hands were on Boris' hips, Boris had a tight grip on Theo's hair. They panted against each other's lips, sucking in air between the minuscule gaps between the two. They were nearly stumbling on the concrete, desperately trying to keep their balance in the midst of what felt like an intimate conversation. A soft crackle erupted under Boris' shoe, making him break the kiss to look at whatever he had just done. Under his black knock-off Converse laid the bag of burned cupcakes. Big chunks of charcoal batter shone through the dimmed bag.
Theo erupted in laughter, his face flushed red and his hands glued to Boris' sides. Boris joined in, their laughter echoing through the empty street.
"Is it good?"
Boris swallowed hesitantly, grimacing.
"Taste like sweet coal."
"They can't be that bad."
"No," Boris interrupted. "They're that bad."
Theo chuckled, grabbing a chunk of the crumbled cupcakes and biting into it. His face crunched together like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. Boris laughed loudly in the specific way he always did, Theo would've teased him for sounding like a girl unless he wasn't undergoing an existential crisis as we speak handing him the half-full bottle of vodka sitting between them. Theo swallowed the piece of charcoal with two heavy swigs of vodka straight from the bottle before coughing profusely; all while Boris was dying of laughter, snorting and squeezing his eyes shut.
"Ты такой глупый, Поттер," he cries, Theo elbowing Boris' side as he walks to the kitchen sink.
With how many times Boris had said 'глупый' before, he wasn't shocked to find out that Theo had figured out what it meant.
"Fuck you, asshole," Theo muttered beneath the faucet water pouring into his mouth, making his sentence come out as: 'Fak yo, ashjol'.
Boris' laughter died down to silent wheezes as Theo made himself back to the table, wiping the water from his chin. He sat down on the high stool with a thump, still grimacing from the bitter taste. Boris found himself smiling at the look on Theo's face, brows furrowed, teeth showing through small gaps in his cringed expression, the look of utter horror that traced his eyes as he looked down at the burned clumps. He's still just as pretty as he was on the porch a few minutes ago, his eyes just as bright as they were at school. Has he always looked like this? Boris asked himself, tilting his head without a sound as his sight concentrated on the blonde boy.
He grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a heavy chug as he let the fluid burn his throat. Is vodka usually this easy to swallow? Boris' mind must be playing tricks on him.
"Boris."
His sight cleared, snapping out of his trance.
"You okay?"
Had he really been spaced out for that long? Boris nods his head frantically.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine, no worries."
"You sure?"
Theo seemed to be more worried than usual. Ever since he witnessed what happened to Boris in the hands of his father he had always been one to ensure that he was feeling okay, but right now it felt quite excessive; why wouldn't Boris be okay in a moment like this? He reaches over to take hold of Theo's hand, letting his thumb rest over his knuckles. Theo's were a lot softer compared to Boris', not to mention the fact that they were a lot smaller too. Boris has always loved how petit Theo is, it made him very protective of the younger boy.
"I'm sure," he answered, fidgeting with the other's fingers.
"Look at me."
He obliged, looking into the blonde's eyes. They were a light brown, nearly golden, the same shade of the amulet his mother always used to bear. Theo reached over the table, clumsily landing a kiss on Boris' lips. It was haste and nothing special, but it made his fingers tingle. Theo planted himself back on his seat, glasses wobbly on the edge of his nose and a pink flush decorating his cheekbones. Boris grinned, his crooked teeth displayed wide as he made it out of his seat. He nearly jumped Theo as he planted his mouth against his, Theo's voice hitching as their teeth clashed.
With Boris' hands tangled in his hair and Theo's arms wrapped around his waist to bring them as close as possible, they stood there, content and filled to the brim with warmth. The charcoal taste of burnt, starchy batter traced Theo's tongue and the pungent sting of vodka still clung to Boris' lips. Neither could bring themselves to stop; it didn't matter that Boris' hair was tangled beyond repair and that Theo's glasses were pushed so far up his nose bridge that it stung to furrow his eyebrows because neither of them cared, the warmth of each other was too much of a pleasant satisfaction to pause.
Much to both of their disapproval, Theo pulled away after some time of Boris' hands clinging their way to his thighs; desperate to bring them closer.
"No, no Potter, c'mere."
Theo chuckled through the condensation formed between them. "Boris, wait."
Boris whined gravely, laying his forehead against Theo's shoulder to promptly show how much he disapproved of the disappearance of Theo's lips. With his head so close to Theo's pulse and his head cleared of fog, he could hear Theo's pants and desperate attempts to get his breathing back to normal. He chuckled to himself, nearly proud that he managed to get him this disheveled.
Theo's hands made their way to Boris' shirt collar, slowly crawling down to his clothed chest. Boris quietly cringed to himself as he was reminded of the fact that he was still drenched.
"Jesus Christ, Boris," Theo laughed. "You need to take a shower."
"Сука," Boris mumbled with a chuckle, Theo playfully hitting his shoulder to push Boris off of himself in response.
The air weighed heavy on the both of them, the condensation clinging to their skin as desperately as Boris' hands clung to the back of Theo's neck. The earlier put-out cigarette still smoked up the room from the cheap ashtray that laid beside Theo's glasses on the nightstand. Boris' hair is newly washed and his t-shirt clung tightly against his skin as he had taken it from Theo. The music blasting from the radio had laid itself across the floor like an ocean, Theo's bed being the only thing afloat. Guitar strung through the walls, drums shook the floor.
Boris was aggressive and quick in his step, guiding Theo with his lips at a fast pace: a pace he could barely keep up with himself. His brows were at a deep angle, nearly digging into the crease of his nose bridge, and his lips were moving in quick yet deep motions against Theo's. His tongue was occupied with Theo's, eagerly tasting nearly tangling itself with the golden-eyed boy. Theo's hands held onto Boris' sides, determined to make sure that the freckled boy didn't vanish into thin air, a thought that simmered silently in the back of his mind.
With Boris' legs straddling Theo and his fingers digging into his golden strands, Boris found himself content. The flowing music rushing through his eardrums and the soft whines and groans Theo would make that sprung through his blood like ecstasy reminded him that he was alive; that the cluttered deserted towns and empty houses they lived within didn't mirror his self-being. He smiled against Theo's glossy, red-stained lips, letting the feeling flood his brain.
"You're great Potter," he sighed against the wetness of their connection.
He felt how Theo's temperature shot through the roof.
"I-," he whined, his fingers curling into Boris' waist. "I've never kissed anyone before."
Boris couldn't resist the urge to laugh, not even considering how his words could have been perceived. His laughter turned hysterical, his breath shortening, and his eyes watering; he had to lean his forehead against Theo's shoulder to support himself. Was it really that funny? Didn't matter.
"What?" Theo whinced with a forced chuckle.
"No, no Potter," Boris wheezed, finally calming down from his outburst and looking up to meet Theo's worried gaze. "It was not meant to sound like that."
"Then what was it supposed to sound like?" he questioned, eyes still glossy.
Boris couldn't help but smile, Theo was the absolute cutest. He leaned down, planting a peck on his lips.
"What I meant was-," His lips made their way to Theo's cheek, planting a kiss. "you make me feel good-," His mouth made its way to Theo's jaw. "not just with kisses-," Theo inhaled sharply as Boris planted a kiss on his pulse. "but with your company also."
Theo closed his eyes as Boris began working his neck, kissing where his nerves connect into pipelines. He couldn't help but let a stammered moan leave his grasp as Boris sucked his paper-thin skin. Boris grinned devilishly as Theo let his hands tighten around Boris.
As the time ticked by, Theo's neck became cluttered with red and purple stains and his eyes seemed to get used to being at the back of his head; Boris' hands had left imprints on the back of the golden-eyed boy, and his hair was dry and tangled once again. They had melted into each other, feeling as if it was utterly impossible to get closer than this; Theo's face buried in Boris' chest, Boris' arms tightly wrapped around Theo trapping him in his cold embrace and their legs tangled together the same wait Boris' hair was unbrushable.
No nightmares or shitty dads could haunt them right now; the thought soothed the foggy, smoke-filled air into a silent hum.