“Is he staying here too?” Mike asks when he spots Boris’s backpack and belongings in the spare bedroom.
“For tonight, yeah,” Will answers, grabbing the bag. “But you can have the room. Boris can stay with me.”
He moves around, stuffing shirts and books into the pockets, ignoring Mike’s quizzical stare.
“Does he stay here a lot?”
Will shrugs.
“Sometimes. His dad’s job keeps him away from home sometimes. And, you know, it’s just the two of them, so…” he trails off.
“Oh…”
“Yeah. It’s fine though. He likes it here.”
This is the first time Will’s been alone with Mike since he’s arrived in Lenora, and it feels weird. Stilted somehow, as though they don’t know what to talk about. As though they’re not even friends anymore. It stings, because they used to be so comfortable with each other and used to be able to talk about everything. He can’t believe this is the same boy who sat with him in his basement and promised they were crazy together. It feels like a lie that was told a lifetime ago.
“William,” Boris peeks his head around the doorframe. “Your mother says there is a…a…” he pauses, makes a gesture with his hands while muttering something. “What is another word for bed roll?” he asks.
“Sleeping bag?” Will offers.
Boris snaps his fingers excitedly.
“Sleeping bag, yes! Could not think of it. Your mother says there is a sleeping bag I can use.”
Will can’t help but grin, a slight, affectionate thing.
“It’s in the back closet, but I’ll help you get it.”
Boris gives his thanks in what Will is learning might be Ukrainian before flitting off down the hall, like they’re in a race and he knows Will is going to follow.
“He…calls you William?” Mike questions after a beat.
Will almost wants to laugh.
“He does.”
“That’s weird.”
He gives Mike a shrug, making sure all the pockets of the backpack are zipped up properly.
“I dunno, I like it.”
“So, do you like, go by William now?”
He does laugh then, a quick burst of a thing that takes him by surprise.
“No, no, no, gross. Only Boris gets to call me William. Like…it suits him. But nobody else!”
The look on Mike’s face is odd and highly contemplative, and Will’s not entirely sure why.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard about it, Mike. It’s okay, it’s just my name. I’ve gotta go help Boris now, but you should unpack.”
He slings the strap to the bag over his shoulder and walks out of the room, feeling Mike’s eyes on him like a weight the whole way.
The sleeping bag is Jonathan’s because Boris is too tall for Will’s old one. And even though things are marginally better between them, it still feels slightly wrong to be alone together in his room, and he hates it. Boris is too quiet, and Will misses his idle chatter like a part of himself. He unrolls the bag next to his bed, fiddling with it for far too long, making sure it’s straight and fluffing up the pillow more times than necessary.
“Is this…okay?” he finally asks, looking at the other boy. Boris lifts a shoulder, as if he’s not giving it much thought. Then, he plops down on Will’s bed.
