Chapter Text
The beginning means leaving
The cab ride out was stiffening. His disheveled and hastily adorned jacket clung to his body like the fear of what was coming next clung to his mind. He had a long way to go, and the night was sadly still young, although his life was already upside down.
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“Hooooly shit.” He had been stoned out of his mind for this. The news of his father’s death hardly registered at first, the fog of his high clinging to every inch or edge of awareness. Xandra did have a way, however, of turning him inside out when she wanted to. So now it was about 12:46 and it was hitting him like a freight train that yeah, his dad was DEAD and he legally was saddled up with someone who somehow cared even less about his wellbeing than he had. This morning, after that horrible stunt he’d pulled on him, Theo had subconsciously hoped he’d just disappear, that he would get what was coming to him. There was an instinct towards a slight edge of satisfaction at what had happened to that drunkard he so despised. He hadn’t even thought about the repercussions of the potentiality, the fact that he genuinely did depend on the sliver of fatherly affection (or rather, financial dependence in actuality) from the man to maintain his freedom and the shell of detachment from the world and any real consequences.
Yeah, now consequences were coming fast. And as always happens when they do, Theo ran. He ran into his room, Boris still at his heels, and furiously seized every last thing that meant anything essential to him: which in the end wasn’t actually very much. He grabbed some spare clothes, some legal documents he had had the good premonition to keep out of his father’s grasp, and his cell phone that Mrs. Barbour had given him to keep in touch as he went around the city, and later for when he went out to Nevada. It was busted now after messing around too much with Boris, which was ironic given that he never really used it unless to text Boris when it was safe to come to his house and vice versa. There wasn’t really anyone he was bothered with calling anymore. Well, not until now. Luckily his cellular plan was covered for a few years under the intense insistence of Mrs. Barbour: if she couldn’t have Theo as her own, she could only bear it knowing he could call if anything happened. It wasn’t her he’d be calling now; it was too embarrassing. Hobie, he knew, would always take him in, or at the very least would have to since he was coming whether the man liked it or not.
Nevermind whatever Boris was trying to stutter out about what on earth he was doing, how would he get to New York? A taxi would have to get him out of unpopulated bumfuck nowhere, didn’t they have those trans-continental bus lines for migrants and stuff? He’d seen it on TV as he’d tried to get the stolen disk to Iron Man II in as Boris yapped about how the drug crackdowns were just another way Obama was trying to persecute immigrants or something. Honestly he had been too stoned at the time to remember many specifics. That kept happening. Anyway, he told his erratic mind, that could get him to New York, probably, but he needed money first for that.. how much? Wait, he thought suddenly I don’t have any money do I? That threw an immediate wrench in his hastily and haphazardly made plans.
Boris didn’t really know what to do with himself, but the frantic energy from his friend made his body need to do something, so he rushed downstairs to check on Xandra and short of talking her out of whatever state she was in, keep her away from Theo as he wrecked through the upstairs like a burning cannonball of nerves.
Theo looked for money in all the usual places. His dad’s normal stashes, his dad’s stashes from when he tried to get off alcohol but mostly forgot about it before resorting back to drinking, and even the inside of his sock drawer. All clean, and recently disorganized; like a hyena had shook the place like a bleeding slab of meat, the sense of lingering violence in the dusty, perpetually sandy rooms. Of course the bastard had taken every shred of cash with him when he left for what the idiot had thought would be forever (well, he was right about 1 thing). Theo felt no remorse about dumping out and pilfering through Xandra’s things until he realized that stupidly fucked minds must think alike since his dear old dad had gone and polished out the cash from all her things too. You really are exactly like your father, his mind supplied, which Theo pushed back down, still stinging from Xandra’s tirade. Eventually Theo worked his way to her dressing cabinet (what a gentleman), still quick as a flash, as Boris rushed in and helpfully supplied: “They’ve gone, and she’s out cold”.
Boris really was concerned. He’d never seen Theo like this, and it was surprising in a way that didn’t mix well with his still stoned brain. Somehow, the scene felt suspiciously like the edges of his world were getting gently lifted up. He was concerned.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for money.”
Theo didn’t really have time for this. The words Foster Care and Child Protective Services were rushing through his mind, stinging his senses everywhere. Boris could tell he was anxious in a way he’d never seen before. But Theo knew he needed to do something, fast. And he was grasping at straws at this point.
“I’m leaving before people start showing up.”
So there it was. That was it. It hit Boris like a punch through his entire body. What could be done?
“Come with me.”
Boris was so scared now.
“Where?”
“New York.”
You probably could have said you were going to Mars and elicited the same reaction. Boris vaguely knew that Theo was from New York, but that was a different planet from Boris’s perspective. Boris couldn’t deal with this. Not now. But Theo’s mind was made.
“I can’t stay here with her.”
“Because of what she said? She’s a mess, Potter. I feel sorry for her.”
Boris had to say something, anything that would get Theo to stay. Just for a bit.
No, no, no, Theo thought, he doesn’t understand at all. Theo couldn't give less of a damn if Xandra called him anything at this point. There was just the cold truth of the matter, staring at his face as clearly as if he were sober. There was no time to listen.
Theo’s hands worked automatically, feeling for anything of value in the plasticky, threadbare mess of the top drawer. Then they felt something. Something hard. Something smooth. Something familiar. He pulled them out, and realized instantly exactly what they were. He could almost see his mother, his dear mother, in them. The emerald earrings she treasured most of all her jewelry. Like a part of her. Theo always felt this way about objects, and the idea of his beloved mother’s most prized possession being swiped and locked away for the petty bidding of some backwater stranger his miserable father had pulled into their life shortly after leaving her high and dry to die made his stomach revolt. He could never respect Xandra again.
He looked to Boris and said, "Don't,".
These were his now. It was only proper that his mother come back with him. He could never leave her stranded here in the middle of Arizona. Who cared about the pawn money, Xandra would never have these again.
Boris reluctantly went downstairs to fish out some money from Xandra’s purse, his blood pumping through parts of his head he didn’t know existed, yet somehow feeling so very cold. There was cash alright, plenty of tips and bills and some little inconspicuous tins of drugs that Boris couldn’t really help himself from pocketing. He returned with the money to Theo quickly, hoping that the endorphins from seeing Theo pleased with him would counteract the crushing fear of Theo’s announcement that tightened around his ribs in the midst of the chemical cocktail that was his brain right now. Theo didn’t react much, fear pulling his face into one that reminded Boris of others in his past in ways that didn’t sit right with him.
Theo started to shove his stuff in the duffle bag and Boris started to pace, forcing his sluggish brain to think up some sly way of getting Theo to stay with him.
“We should plan this. Crazy to go tonight.” He was right, of course.
“I can’t stay here! She’ll put me in a home, you understand that?” Boris didn’t really, but he had a good enough idea to know that Theo had a right to be upset. Was there really nothing he could say?
Theo needed to lay this on straight for his friend.
“Look, I’m a minor. I’ve got no family, no friends out here.”
You don’t have me? You must have me? Boris felt a cold punch to his whole body.
“We have to go. Now.” Theo was having none of this.
One last thing. He needed the painting. The painting was a ghost to him, the one last thing on this earth that was really his, like it held his whole heart there. He didn’t really know who he was anymore without it. Would he be someone anymore without it?
He went to get it, feeling slightly suspicious of Boris seeing his movements but not really caring if the boy saw what he saw. He’d be out of there anyway. And Boris did see. The punch of the memory of the painting hit Boris even harder. Oh G-d, what was he doing? Why had he taken it? Morbid curiosity. Greed. Nothing now. He needed to get it back for Theo, to make this right. How could he go now, and let Theo live without it? How could he go on having let Theo down like that?
Okay brain, something…
He thought of how fond he felt for Theo and - wait, the dog! Theo needed the dog!
“Wait, what about Popchyk?”
Just a few minutes more, please!
Boris hoped the creature would run away, so that his friend wouldn’t have to. The dog was happily still comfortable on the bed, so no luck there with the pleasant little animal. Theo scooped him up, and carried him along with all his things.
Theo was going to be gone from here. The taxi was quickly dialed. Theo would make sure that when he was out, not a ghost of himself would be left in this forsaken town. He walked down the stairs and out the door.
Boris’s brains, for all their trying, were jam now. Theo had nothing left. Theo was on the edge. He still had his father, his life, his whole reality here. He’d never agreed to this! How could he just pack up and go to the moon right now? This was just all too fast!
Too fast for Boris? Yes, too fast for Boris. Boris, who had never backed down from drugs or fathers or melancholy, had never really done anything actively himself. He had always just taken what life threw at him, and basked in it, whatever it was. He couldn’t go on, couldn’t leave the confines of his reality no matter how many pills he popped or bottoms of bottles he found. And that’s the worst part, huh? Not being able to move, never having moved. He was just a kid, wasn’t he? Just a sad little kid in a little sweater with his dumb hair and grown-up substances and another kid he really really cared about but couldn’t really go after. He didn’t know anything about being independent of what life had given him, just dependent on the slivers of love it did. And this rather large sliver was leaving him fast.
“We’ll stop at yours, grab your things, and then go to the bus station.”
Boris’s insides felt like they were going to melt.
“I can’t leave now. Give me more time.”
“What?! I don’t have time! They’ll come for me-”
Was there anything Boris could do? He was high. Too high for this. He just needed to come down and everything would be easier, right? All he needed was his friend there with him and everything would be ok.
It had to be ok.
“Just one day.”
“Why?”
Why? How does one say that they already miss someone so badly it hurts and that they were probably the only good thing in their life and if they leave now they’ll be nothing but a sad, miserable, loathsome creature. How do you tell someone you probably deserve it? When you love them so bad but could never tell them because that sort of bond was something fragile, cut easily with the dull, horrible scissors of society. How do you live with that?
“Because, I-”
“Because what?!”
But gosh, he had to do it. He had to.
“Because there’s something important I have to tell you.”
Somehow he couldn’t get the words out now. The air was so cold.
“Boris, what do you have to tell me?!”
“You shouldn’t go, it’s a mistake.”
Why couldn’t he understand?
“I have to go. Now, are you coming or not?!”
Oh, he had to. But his body couldn’t. His mind couldn’t. It was the only thing Theo needed right now besides safety and Boris just couldn’t do it now. What could he say?
“You go ahead, I’ll follow. One or two days.”
“You have to come. Promise me.”
Boris really wished he could. Theo started babbling about Brighton Beach and New York and School, but it was all because he really couldn’t deal with the idea of Boris not coming.
And Boris couldn’t deal with the idea of leaving.
“Potter.”
This was enough now. There was nothing he could say. So he went right up to him and gave him a kiss. A proper one, too. One of those that can end wars and movies and that make you feel like you’re half of the only two people really in the world. It was all he could do now.
The unthinkable.
Theo’s mind went numb. All the screws of his skull popped out and went whizzing, his head stinging and his body electric and hot in the cold air. Boris was so close now. Closer than ever before really. Maybe in his heart, a new part specifically for him.
Was it a tactic to get Theo to stay? Maybe. Boris really did want to do that, and he wanted Theo to stay, and all those feelings mushed together into kiss him and what else could he do?
It was like Theo’s whole life was leading up to right here. Just this scene, in his mind and soul forever.
“Good luck. Look after Popchyk.”
Boris had to punctuate it somehow. Something in Boris told him to leave, to pick up quickly, that his body physically couldn’t stand being here with Theo anymore that night. So he ran off. Back home, somehow. His feet light, like the Earth was miles below him. Far from him, but with the boy still in his heart, and on his mind.
Theo was completely flabbergasted. He couldn’t move, his body singular and cold in the desert night. Eventually the taxi driver’s presence coaxed him back into the cab, Popchyk sitting there, absolutely unaware of the massive nuclear bomb that had just fallen onto Theo’s life. This really couldn’t be goodbye could it? He got into the cab. He tried to act normal. This was going to be a long night.
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Theo directed the cab to the bus station. Luckily he was in the middle of, again, bumfuck nowhere, so buses made a stop in the middle of the night since, well, they weren’t going to pick up many passengers anyhow, were they? The car ride was long. Theo felt slightly like crying. His body wouldn’t let him.
It was really dark at the bus station. Luckily Theo was timely enough for the horribly scheduled 1:45 stop and made it on the bus. The driver was half asleep and zoned out anyway, so even if he had seen Theo’s young features he wouldn’t really have cared. Money is money, right?
Theo was SO close to passing out on the bus when something heavy caught his attention. His cell phone. He looked at the upholstery of the saddling old bus, at the loneliness of his condition now, and felt something pulling him to talk to Boris. What on earth was going on in that head of his? Why did Theo feel so drawn to him? His heart already knew the answer to the latter question. The twinkling of the red lights, the dusty desert town. It all felt so bad to leave his friend. The bus was already moving when he called.
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Boris was fucked, wasn’t he? When he got home to his abandoned-looking, empty house, his heart felt empty too. His mind was plagued by all the feelings he’d tried so hard to avoid. Holy shit, why did he want to be with him so bad now? Suddenly his brain didn’t feel so drowsy anymore. He looked out onto the desert; all he knew his future to be from here on out. It was all his fault this time. Then it occurred to him: if he could choose to leave a future with Theo to stay in a present he knew, why couldn’t he leave his present? He felt the gentlest of wings on his mind as he thought this. The freedom of the world was not beautiful and pleasant, like they describe it in art. It was necessary. The only pleasant thought to creep up on his mind recently. A light gasp of life for his heart. Why couldn’t he just go? Go now? This life, with his father and his miserable existence following him around as he hurt the world and the world hurt his son right back? Why couldn’t Boris help himself for once? This wasn’t a sly plan. This wasn’t another way out. It was the path of freedom that lit up Boris’s heart as he stared ahead towards it.
The truth was that life as he had lived it was no life to be living. It was the life he knew, yes, but he had no way out as it was. To leave was something he did for himself, a promise to himself that he could have a better life. That maybe one day he would know that he deserved it. To please Theo, of course, would be a feeling second to none. Theo really was the best thing that had happened to him so far, in a roundabout way.
There was also the matter of the painting. As much curiosity and petty covetousness as Boris felt for it, he knew that the crushing guilt of having stolen it from Theo and keeping it from him wasn’t worth it. He had to give it back as soon as possible or his heart would wilt.
So that was it. The second brave thing he would do tonight. Theo was miles away now, but not for long. But he needed Theo to know. He could call him? Boris frantically snatched out his cell phone from his bedside. He went to the first number on the list. He clicked call and felt his whole life drift up to a future.
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Theo answered nearly immediately. He was not really surprised to see Boris calling, but that anyone was calling at all. Boris seemed out of breath.
“I’m coming.”
Of course he was. Theo didn’t have it in him to react much. He just loved that Boris was calling.
“Ok fool, I’ll meet you in Denver.” Just like that, his entire world fit back into place.
“Okay, so that will give me a day to get there.”
A feeling of protectiveness and hope seized up his chest.
“I know. Make sure to call me when you set out.”
Boris was practically smiling through the phone. True, his face was weak, but for Theo this was everything he could give him and he hoped to soon give him more.
After a few minutes of speechless silence, Boris realized he really needed to go to sleep if he wanted to have any chance of making the 8:35 bus the next morning (seriously, what was it with these buses and their horrible hours?). They were both so tired beyond words, but this here, this was enough for now.
Tomorrow, Boris would be free like never before.