little strings | boreo

Ch. 3

     He laid across the mattress, still drunk and only partly awake. The morning was just starting to peek over the horizon and he could see the mist through the window. a sliver of light traced his skin, making it look pale and ever so slightly translucent. Boris laid next to him, facing the opposite direction. 

     The moment reminded Theo of years ago, the late nights they had spent drinking and throwing away their hesitance for touch. 

     The other man was silent and had been for a while after the excitement of the night, but Theo could sense he was awake. Sometimes he just knew things about Boris. 

     He guessed that it was because of the little strings. whatever tied them together enough to pull them back to each other after all these years. or pull Boris to him on that cold sidewalk in October. whatever invisible force caused Boris to find him lying there on the pavement, watching the sky. Whatever force made him decide to lift Theo off the ground and take him back to his apartment. whatever force made them lay in bed together in silence and just be. 

     Suddenly, Boris turned over and faced theo, their noses centimeters apart. 

     "I think... " he started. then he went quiet again

     "Think what? " Theo pressed gently, not wanting to ruin anything. He thought of Boris like a bird at this moment. something flighty and fearful. something that could fly away to never be seen again at the slightest of movement. 

     "Too much," he whispered. "I think too much. and I..." he took his time, looking down and grabbing theos hand before laying it in his own and tracing circles across his palm. 

     "I think we are all scattered. little pieces of ourselves given away, or maybe just left behind. I gave so many pieces of myself to you over the years theo." he smiled weakly and paused

     "when I kissed you the night you left." 

     "oh" Theo thought. He was sure it had been a dream. 

     "and when I told you my stories so many nights over." Boris tightened his grip on his hand "when I told you I loved you again and again, but you always forgot in the morning. and now when you forget this tomorrow. back then I almost thought you were selfish. I thought it was unfair I gave and gave all these pieces of myself, and I never got any return. I think now though, that you just didn't realize. I think that if you had you would have said something. you would have told me 'stop that. stop giving me you, because I do not want it, because I can not give you any of me back.' I knew that back then though. that you couldn't give any pieces of you. they were all taken up. They belonged to a little bird, a pretty redhead, and your mother. all your bits, scattered in their palms. there wasn't any left for me. I'm okay with it now though. I don't need to hold a piece of you anymore to be okay. just seeing you. the whole you, in front of me is enough."

     "you're okay..?" he mumbled. 

     "Okay is different from happiness though Potter. one day, I think I'd like to hold the whole you, too. but if not. and there's nothing left to spare. then I am okay, because you are still here. even if just to look at. you are like a painting, Theo. like the little bird. you know better than anyone some paintings are not meant for being held." and with that, Boris let go of his hand, flipped back over, and went to sleep.