Work Text:
The Cabin
They’ve known each other for a few years now, and Kris had been in love for just as many. He sat aside and watched as Bojan fell in love, and once it didn’t work out, he was there to pick up the pieces.
He made sure he always had a girl around, but not too close. He knew nothing romantic would ever come to pass between him and the handsome boy everyone wanted, but he still couldn’t bear the thought of having another body and soul that close to him, taking up the time he wanted to spend with Bojan, explaining why his entire mood depended on him.
It was for the best, this way.
If they survived Bojan’s little solo project, then Kris will survive his neverending crush, too, he thought.
And then the pandemic came, and he began going insane.
Not being able to see Bojan for weeks on end felt like a capital punishment, like the tenth circle of hell. He found he’d rather be stuck under ice with his biggest enemy, than stuck at home all alone, looking at him through a camera, his nails digging into his thighs, wanting to touch, to hug, to hold, frozen behind a useless screen.
When they agreed to spend two entire weeks in the cabin, his heart began beating so loud he thought he was going to pass out, and that was before he saw Bojan getting out of his car days later.
That… it felt like breathing for the first time after being stuck underwater for hours.
Days.
Weeks.
He didn’t think, didn’t calculate what he would do or say or how the other might take it. All he knew was he felt like a 3000 piece puzzle missing that final one to be completed.
So he ran out of the cabin and threw his arms around Bojan, nearly wrestling them both to the ground, forgetting the boy was already some 15 centimetres shorter than him.
“Bojč, I’m so happy to see you!”, he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to make the confession any louder.
He felt arms holding him close stilling before they hugged him tighter, held him closer.
“Me, too, Krisko. I really missed you.”
Later that evening, when they were a few beers in, with playing cards in their hands, Bojan scooted closer to him.
“You never…” he cleared his throat, as if he was about to tell him a big secret.
“You never used that name for me before”, he concluded, offering little additional information.
Kris frowned, not sure what he meant.
“What name?”, he asked, genuinely unsure what Bojan was talking about. He didn’t recall saying anything weird or new in any way.
Bojan held his gaze for a long while, burning into his eyes, as if checking for signs he was avoiding the truth.
Eventually, he just shook his head.
“Nevermind. Just… I’m glad you’re here.”
And that was something Kris could wholeheartedly agree with.
The Panic Attack
The first time Kris witnessed one of Bojan’s panic attacks, he wagered he was closer to dying than when he ended up at a hospital at three years old, hooked up to all sorts of machines treating a severe case of asthma.
He watched Bojan move around on stage, and it looked the same as always; he pranced about, sang perfectly, talked to their fans, but something… Something was just off, something Kris couldn’t quite put his finger on.
A couple of times, he shot Bojan a reassuring look and a silent question.
I’m fine, his eyes said, followed by a reassuring wink.
Kris didn’t buy it. He kept close watch over him, and as soon as they were backstage, Bojan dropped to his knees, hyperventilating.
“Bojč, Bojči, what’s happening? Talk to me, please ”, he begged, dropping next to him, holding his face in his hands, and the look in Bojan’s eyes made his heart still inside his chest.
“Kris, I can’t breathe”, he said, wheezing, his breaths short, his voice barely there.
Kris knew Bojan’s panic attacks began a while ago; he made sure to read up on how to act if one ever happened while he was there.
“Bojči, I need you to count backwards for me, okay? Start from ten. Look at me and let’s count together. Ten… nine…”
“Eight… Seven…” Bojan picked up, his lungs wheezing, his eyes on the verge of crying.
“Good, that’s good. Just keep going, Bojči. You’re not going to die and you’re not going crazy. You’re having a panic attack, okay?” Kris explained, trying so, so hard to still his own breathing, to be the voice of reason, the calming agent.
“You need to breathe, you know you can, it’s just your brain telling you you can’t”, he kept talking, softly, stroking Bojan’s hair, instructing him when to breathe in, when to breathe out, what to focus on.
Eventually, after what seemed like years had passed, Bojan’s breathing stabilised. Kris couldn’t hear the scary noise coming from his chest anymore, and he had stopped shaking. His eyes, too, looked less like those of a cornered animal.
Kris wasn’t ready for the force of the hug Bojan imposed on him, letting his tears go, whispering again and again:
“Thank you, Kris. Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”
The Success
There wasn’t a single word to describe the cornucopia of feelings engulfing them all. They’ve just done their biggest, most successful show that would soon turn into the biggest live recording of their lives, and they couldn’t stop bouncing around, hugging, laughing, drinking, and toasting to it all.
Kris had just managed to calm himself enough to take a seat when Bojan plopped on his lap, throwing his arms around him. Kris could feel him shaking against him, practically jumping out of his skin.
“We did it.” Bojan whispered against his hair, his hand finding its place in its locks.
“Kris, we fucking did it.”
Kris could feel a shiver running through him at the closeness, the heat they shared after the concert, at Bojan’s soft words in his ear.
He swallowed, battling to speak clearly.
“We did, Bojči. We fucking did it. Biggest concert of our lives”, he said, realising how bittersweet the words made him feel.
What if it’s the last time they pull something like this?
But even so, what a success for a band as young as theirs. What an insane journey, an insane year, insane-
“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know that, right?”
Bojan’s face was no longer in his hair, but staring directly at him, centimetres away. His hand was still in Kris’ hair, and he opened his mouth as if to say something else when the guys from the opening act burst through the door, calling for him, congratulating him, and the moment — if even there was one — was gone.
He still managed to whisper, before Bojan got up to entertain them:
“I know, Bojči. And god knows where I would be if it weren’t for you.”
Bojan’s eyes suddenly went wide, surprised, and sad, but it was too late — he already belonged to someone else, his attention now split, and they simply left it at that.
The Missing
Bojči
“Are you still awake?”
Kris
“Barely. It’s like 1am and I’ve had way too much to drink”
Bojči
“Oh, living your best life without me? I’m devastated”
Kris
“I’m living my best life because of you, you know that. And I wouldn’t be drinking half as much if you were here to keep me entertained”
Bojči
“Oh? So I’m your entertainment then?”
Kris
“Well, you are fun to be around and nice to look at like, you know, entertainment should be”
Bojči
“Nice to look at you say. Well, right back atcha, very much so. Very nice to look at”
Bojči
“I guess you fell asleep, which, you should. I really miss you, you know. I know I’m joking and playing fake offended, and I’m really enjoying decompressing with my family and all but
I miss you. I wish I was decompressing with you instead”
Kris
“I’m not asleep, I just wasn’t sure what to say to… that. I never know what to say to your compliments really
Because you kind of. Just give them away for free
Which is great! You’re great, you’re a kind and amazing person
But it also feels like they don’t mean that much coming my way because they could be targeted at anyone
Sorry, I’m babbling, I had too much to drink and I need to go lie down
I miss you, too, though. Wish you were here to give me those useless compliments in person”
Bojči
“Wait, don’t go just yet, please
You really feel that way? Like I’m just throwing these around and they don’t mean anything?
Kris for fuck’s sake
You gotta know you’re not the same like everyone else, not to me
As much as I love them it’s just… different with you, somehow
All of it
And I think everyone’s pretty and slaying it but it’s only you I could watch day and night
And I didn’t go around messaging everyone else separately to tell them I miss them
I mean, I do miss them, but I miss you differently
I don’t even know how to explain it”
Kris
“Oh. I didn’t know you felt that way
I do, too, for the record
I just thought for me it was pretty obvious
With others, it’s like… I don’t mind their touch and affection
With you, I… crave it
I think
Bojči please don’t think this is weird and leave me on read
I’ll play the drunkenness card if you do and I can just drop the whole thing”
Bojči
“And that, too. It’s only you who calls me Bojči. And I think I melt a little bit every time you do
Weird? Why would it be weird?
Tell you what’s weird
That you’re still paying rent on that apartment when mine has more than enough space for the both of us
That’s weird”
Kris
“Bojči, are you proposing I move in with you?”
Bojči
“I very much am. You wake up first anyway so I’ll always have my coffee waiting for me in the morning”
Kris
“I knew you just wanted to use me”
Bojči
“Oh, I do
But it’s not just that
I can’t miss you if we live together, right? So, problem solved”
Kris
“I’m coming straight to your apartment when I’m back”
Bojči
“Really??
Our* apartment”
Kris
“Our apartment <3”
The Belonging
“Boki, can you pass me the salt?”
“Sure, just a sec”, Bojan replies, then stops in his tracks, turning around almost comically slowly.
Shit, I knew it’d be too much.
“Wait, where… where did that come from?” he asks, but his voice isn’t accusatory. It’s soft, and sweet, and quiet and kind.
Kris shrugs, hoping the anxiety he’s feeling isn’t that easy to read on his face and in the way his fingers are tapping the dining table nervously.
“I just… It just felt right, somehow. I know only your family calls you by that nickname these days. I’m sorry if I overstepped or assumed too much”, he said, ready to accept that his place isn’t quite that high among people in Bojan’s life.
It would be fair, despite the fact they have lived together for a while now.
“I didn’t say I mind it… I don’t, at all. I just wondered… why now? You knew about that nickname for like a decade now, so why… now?”, he kept asking, now sitting right by Kris, salt forgotten somewhere at the other end of the table.
Kris takes a deep breath before admitting.
“It’s stupid.”
Bojan puts his hand over Kris’, unaware of the shivers it sends down his arm, his spine, over his entire body.
It does, however, stop his fingers from dancing around nervously.
“I’m sure it’s not.” is all Bojan says, looking into his eyes intently, waiting for Kris to gather his thoughts, his courage.
“Umm. Since we’ve lived together, it… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like we’re roommates. It feels more like we’re…”
“Family?” Bojan adds, and yes, that’s precisely it, but Kris knows how easily Bojan throws the word “brother” around and as wholesome as it would be to be considered one, that’s not what he wants.
“In a way, but not like… it doesn’t feel like it felt with Maks living with me. Not that kind of a family, if that makes sense. I know we’ve always been close, you and I, but in the last couple of weeks, I’ve kind of felt like I was able to, was allowed to be vulnerable and open about all sorts of things that I just… never was before, despite all the time we’ve spent together.”
He feels he’s making less and less sense the more he keeps talking, and at this point he starts hoping Bojan would just drop it.
He, in a very Bojan way to be, doesn’t.
“Well, if we’re family now, but not blood family, and we’re more than the friends we’ve been for a decade, and we’re not exactly only roommates, does that make us, I don’t know… boyfriends?”
Kris feels his fingers twitching under the weight of Bojan’s hand, begging to escape the hell that was Bojan joking about Kris’ feelings and potentially realising it wasn’t a joke.
He watches as if trapped behind a screen from which he can’t control his own face or mouth as Bojan’s eyes widen in surprise, begging his tongue to start talking for fuck’s sake, but it just won’t listen, so Bojan is the one who speaks again.
“Oh? Boyfriends it is, then? Should I then… make room for you in my own room? I doubt Martin would appreciate us doing what boyfriends do in his.”
Kris, speak, for fuck’s sake, say something, say anything
“I wouldn’t mind that”
Fuck, not that you fucking idiot
He’s half expecting Bojan’s hand to move away, for him to say the joke has gone too far and to finally fetch the fucking salt, but instead, the hand moves from Kris’ own to cup his face, gently, sheepishly.
“Well, I can't exactly say “buy me dinner first”, you have been spoiling me for a while now, but… Maybe at least I can get a kiss first? I don’t want you to think I’m that easy to get into bed.”
Kris feels himself blinking like a broken doll. Eventually, his mouth catches up with his brain catching up with Bojan’s words, so he nods in awe and disbelief, moving in with the speed of a feverish turtle, still afraid this might be just Bojan teasing him.
When Bojan’s lips rush in to meet his, he realises it wasn’t.
It’s soft and warm and somehow the best kiss he’s ever had, despite it being more shy than even his first one.
But that’s okay, he thinks, his lips curling into a smile — he breathes out a sigh of relief knowing they will have all the time in the world to work on that in their own home, in their own bed.