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Theo rolled over, unable to fall asleep. He felt Boris against his back, their warm skin pressed against one another. He’d been laying in bed next to Boris for several hours, drifting in and out of consciousness.
He sighed and sat up shakily, hand groping the bedside table for his glasses. His head hurt like a bitch and so did his ass. Theo glanced behind him, careful not to wake the other boy up. He picked up a half empty beer bottle and chugged a decent amount of it before finally standing up. He’d prefer to snort crack, or something, but that didn’t sound very appealing either. Theo slipped on Boris’ oversized (for him anyway) shirt that was discarded on the ground and stumbled out of his bedroom.
He opened his back door and walked over to the pool. He sat down on the edge, feet dipping into the cold water, and took another sloppy swig from the bottle. It tasted like shit, but he kept drinking anyway. Theo’s face scrunched up from the taste. Why the fuck did he even drink this in the first place? It tasted like piss more than anything truly desirable. A lovely thing, addiction.
His mind wandered back to the person sleeping in his bed as bits and pieces of the night they had shared returned. Stinging heat spread through his skin, covering his face and neck.
Theo stared down at his feet, vision going blurry but not from shitty eyesight. He enjoyed the nights they spent together and he knew Boris did too, to a degree. But that’s all they were, nights. Not days. Not a lasting thing, much less one that should happen. Neither of them talked about it afterwards, no matter how much Theo wanted to. He was too much of a pussy to bring it up. Every time the moment presented itself he’d clam up and his throat would go dry. He knew it was just a quick way to relieve themselves from the purgatory that is teenage boy hormones they experience daily. Because who else would fuck them?
He felt ashamed yet within that shame was want.
In the improbable, nearly impossible, situation that his feelings were reciprocated Theo still wouldn’t bring it up. He didn’t want to scare Boris away. Boris doesn’t get scared and the last thing Theo wanted to do was give him a thing to be scared of. A skewed train of thought on a rickety set of tracks but he stuck to it, gripping its railing. Theo continued staring, the bottle forgotten in white-knuckled hands.
He barely noticed the sound of the glass door sliding open. Theo looked up and saw none other than Boris walking closer, slender arms clutched over his pale stomach to keep warm.
“Everything okay?” He sat down beside him. Boris’ face was barely visible, the only source of light being from the kitchen inside. His muted, milky skin and sharp cheekbones still found a way to make Theo’s own face go warm even in the darkness.
Tight, black jeans and a chest covered with bites and scratches made it harder to look away.
Theo responded with a quiet noise, unable to muster up enough energy to speak words. He handed the bottle to Boris which was graciously accepted.
Boris smiled before grossly chugging the rest of it. “You don’t mind, yes?” They both knew Theo didn’t mind and even if he did he would never object. It was offered, after all, and already in his hand anyway.
He didn’t feel like talking. He was still just drunk enough to the point where he wasn’t sure he could fully control what would leave his mouth. Theo didn’t trust his brain sober much less inebriated to keep his thoughts to himself. He’s barely able to keep his hands to himself, let alone whatever feelings he’s harboring. It wouldn’t end well and that thought was a nice gut punch of sobriety. A sour flavor swirled on his tastebuds and he couldn’t tell if it was anxiety, booze, or cum. It’s not like they ever bothered to clean themselves up.
The other boy’s smile only widened, of course he had no idea what was happening in Theo’s mind. “Is cold. Why are you out so late?”
Theo shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” Even if it was a lie Boris wouldn’t push it.
Except this time.
“Why?” Concern flickered in Boris’ eyes, a rare occurrence, smile faltering for a moment before he recovered.
Goddamn it.
Another shrug. He isn’t very good with words or expressing himself at the best times and this was absolutely not one of his best times. “I just- I guess…” That sentence was going nowhere and Theo knew it the moment he started speaking. He didn’t try again, giving up quickly.
Boris set the practically empty bottle down and firmly placed a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Speak Potter. Tell me what is the matter?” Boris’ thick accent didn’t really help his trying to sound sweet and inviting.
Goddamn it.
Theo shuddered, knowing exactly how that fucking hand felt on every part of his body. Exactly how it would caress and squeeze him. Every touch they shared during those moments felt like too much. Not in the overwhelming sense but like it was on purpose. Like there was meaning. There had to be. But there wasn’t. And that sent Theo down a worse and worse spiral every time he thought about it. He always found himself looking too far into things and hoping he wasn’t.
His posture slumped and he seemed to shrink. How do you even start something like this? The feelings he felt were so looped around and melted together that he didn’t know where to begin. Like yanking a loose string on a sweater everything would fall apart and spool on the ground in seconds. That spooled yarn of emotions on the ground was tangled in its own way and he felt like unraveling neither of them.
“What are we?” Was too sappy, trope-y. They weren’t in a teen romcom starring a plump twenty-six year old blonde woman who tries to pass as seventeen.
It would almost be easier to just slide into the pool and hold his breath until the world stopped spinning mentally and began spinning physically.
“Theo?” He asked, softness starting to break through. That was maybe the second time Boris had used his actual name. His hand rubbed at Theo’s back and shoulder gently. It slid down to wrap around his waist and pulled the boy close, sides meshing together.
The wind picked up, cooling and prompting him to lean closer. His glasses smushed into the side of his face painfully but it was worth it. It wasn’t often they had moments like this. Moments without the heat of a blanket smothering them.
Tender fingers kneaded the skin beneath Theo’s shirt. Boris didn’t speak again, waiting instead. Of course, if he took too long he’d have a hand at pinching it out of him. He pressed his nose into Theo’s hair, lips gracing the top of his head.
Theo felt his heartbeat pounding just behind his eyes, twitching; bouncing against his ribs. “Is all we are…” he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to refer to them as a ‘we’ but he was already taking a risk, might as well go all out. “Boris?” He asked, the singular word jittering audibly on his tongue.
“Mmmh?” Boris hummed, muffled, against Theo’s hair.
He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or reminiscence but he swore he felt Boris slide his shirt up and press cold fingers to his skin. If the endeavor was one of reassurance it did not fucking work.
“I don’t think I want this.”
Boris pulled away, thinking it was an issue of consent rather than pure emotional turmoil. “Eh? Sorry.” It went right over his head. “Should have asked first.” He said with a smile and, almost bro-like in manner, patted Theo on the shoulder. The vibe of his touch shifted entirely and it made Theo sick.
He felt himself more or less panic. Alcohol, stress, exhaustion, and everything else at play did not settle well on the stomach or mind. He wasn’t good with relaying his emotions through words. Fucking them away was easier but that simply wasn’t an option right now. “No- no, Boris. I don’t want just this.” Yeah, because that will clear it up. Get a fucking grip.
Boris scrunched his face up with confusion and only it exacerbated Theo’s growing mind-nausea. He would’ve bet money that it was a little on purpose. “What is ‘just this’? What else it is you want?” It felt like he genuinely wanted to understand but there wasn’t much else Theo could say.
Theo cycled through several sentences he could say, lips moving to begin a few of them. They all ended in stuttered gibberish. This was a lot harder than he ever could have fathomed. He went silent and Boris let him, allowing him the time to collect his thoughts properly.
They sat, not really together, for a long time, wind swishing and mussing their hair and chilling them. Theo refused to warm himself with Boris’ body.
“You.”
“Ey?” Boris turned his head, startled by the suddenness of noise beside crickets and whooshing winds. “You have me. I am right here.”
“Your body,” Theo corrected. “I have your…body. I don’t want that.”
Once again Boris’ face scrunched, eyebrows pulling together in an expression close to offense. “You don’t?” He glanced down at himself, checking for anything that could deem him un-wantable in the eyes of someone with shit taste like Theo Decker.
Theo exhaled gently. It wasn’t getting any easier. “I want you. Not your dick.” He paused. Not once had he taken his eyes off his disproportionate legs swirling just under the surface of the water. “More than just this . Fucking and then never talking about it. Have you noticed that? We never talk about it. It’s bullshit.” His words became more angry and somehow more mumbled as he went on.
His expression turned back to confusion. “I don’t get it. What is there to talk about?” Boris had never been hesitant to touch Theo but now he was. He reached out and touched his cheek.
That ticked him off a bit but he didn’t move away. He wasn’t supposed to revel in his touch especially not right now but he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know! I just don’t like that we don’t.” He wasn’t making much sense and Boris never asked for clarification.
It had to be deciphered alone, he understood that much. Forcing him to try and articulate any further would be futile. “Okay,” he said simply. “Why?”
Theo tensed. It wasn’t anger that was filling his thoughts, desperation maybe. Embarrassment too, a little. “I don’t know, Boris.” He had to take a breath, a break, to keep his voice from wobbling. “It’s not something you want, is it?” The words were forced into the shape of a question but it was a statement at heart.
The last thing Boris expected was to be confronted about his own feelings. A small amount of warmth slid over his fingers and he ignored it. “I don’t know.” He whispered, the softest he’s spoken probably ever. That was all either of them seemed to say anymore. This wasn’t something Boris thought about often, or liked thinking about. He wasn’t going to start now.
“Okay,” Theo replied. He grabbed Boris’ wrist and pushed it down.
That was all they said to each other for the rest of the night.
Eventually, Boris didn’t want to deal with the cold anymore and got up to go inside.
Theo stayed, too busy drowning in thoughts and wishing he was drowning in the pool instead. If it wasn’t for the awful texture of laying down outside he probably would have stayed until morning. By the time his head started hurting from lack of sleep he stood, staring at the dripping water dampening the ground beneath his feet.
Things continued the way they were. Days passed and then bled into weeks and then months. That living nightmare of a “confession”, if it could be called that, didn’t happen.
Boris wasn’t going to bring it up unless Theo did first and Theo did not plan on mentioning it. It stayed buried down in the deepest parts of their conscious that they refused to acknowledge.
The best way to deal with it was to not.
And so it wasn’t spoken about ever again. They would continue getting drunk and high off their minds, sleeping together, and everything else like nothing happened. Because nothing happened.
It was fine. There were worse alternatives. Theo could deal with it. So he did.