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It was a late and chilly night, probably around mid to late November. But as of late, time seemed to become less and less of a real thing; just a pattern of hangovers, school, and drugs or alcohol. A void that recently Theo had been falling into.
Boris was off with Kotku somewhere, leaving Theo at home to get stoned or drunk alone again. He had already downed two beers and a half bottle of vodka when he got an idea of how to escape the void, a way that would also rid him of the crushing guilt left by his mother’s death.
It would be so easy. There was still about ten vicodin left and maybe fifteen tylenol, plus all of the alcohol that was already in his system, it was sure to do the trick. He stumbled over to the kitchen and searched in the drawers and cupboards until he found it. A small baggie with some white pills marked with a V and the container of oxycodone which was luckily still half full. He made his way onto the couch, tripping over his own feet as he went, and poured the oxycodone and vicodin out into his hands. He stared at the jumbled pills sitting heavy in his hands for a minute before suddenly taking the handful in his mouth and swallowing them.
A few seconds went by, then a minute, then ten and Theo hadn’t moved. It was only when he heard the sound of the front door opening and a loud voice saying something about someone being a whore that his eyes refocused and saw Boris standing in front of him ranting about his relationship with Kotku again.
“Have you listened to anything I just said, Potter?” Boris, whose face was blurring more and more with each tick of the clock, asked him.
“No Boris. I don’t care.” Theo’s words were slurring and his tongue felt heavy as he spoke.
“What is matter with you Potter? Why you-” Boris was cut off by Theo slumping over off of the couch and onto the floor.
For the first time since arriving there that night, Boris took a look around the room. Empty bottles were littered everywhere, but what concerned him was that the little bag with a V marked on it was lying empty on the table next to an empty container of oxycodone.
“Fuck Theo. What did you do?” Boris said, rolling Theo onto his side, then running to the medicine cabinet. He rummaged through it, knocking bottles out onto the floor until he found the little rectangular package he had bought and stored there after the first time Theo had gotten black out drunk and Boris had to drag him out of the middle of the road.
He sprinted back over to Theo and, without a moment of hesitation, stabbed the cartridge into the side of the unconscious boy. After what felt like an hour, but was really at most three minutes, of sitting on the floor with fingers pressed against skin, confirming a pulse, Theo groggily opened his eyes.
He hoisted Theo up from the ground. With one arm wrapped around his waist and the other arm holding Theo’s around the back of his neck, Boris carried him into the bathroom.
He leaned Theo over the toilet and proceeded to shove two fingers into Theo’s mouth and down his throat. Theo jumped back, trying to push Boris away with what little strength he had.
“Theo let me help you” Boris urged.
“No, I killed her! I killed her, Boris! It’s my fault! Please just leave me.” He cried out.
Boris grabbed Theo’s face, cupping his hands on either side of his face. “Theo stop it! You didn’t do anything. Now please, I have to do this.”
Theo gave a reluctant nod and Boris wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding him steady, and stuck two fingers back down his throat until Theo could see the water in front of him sloshing with partially digested pills.
“There Potter. Now come on.” Boris walked back up the stairs with him, taking most of Theo’s weight, and depositing him on the bed they often shared. He crawled into bed after him and tenderly wrapped his arms around Theo, pulling him close into his chest.
“I love you, Boris.” Theo mumbled. His voice groggy and slightly rasped.
“Да. Теперь спи Potter.” He responded, pressing his lips into the brown hair of the boy lying in his arms.