why did it have to be me? - boreo

the love i felt...

     "Potter? Potter, wake up!"

     I recognized the voice and almost cried. I didn't know if it was because I was so happy he finally cared, or because I was so sad I failed again. I opened my eyes, shutting them as soon as I did. The air burned. It was hot and sticky, but also cold and prickly at the same time.

     "You are awake! Thank God," he said, holding my limp body close to his. He was so warm, or maybe I was really cold. "I cannot lose you, Potter."
     "Liar." Was all I managed to get out, opening my eyes enough to see him look like I just shot him. I guess, in a sense, I did.
     I must have blacked out again, because this time I woke up in an extremely thick sweater and almost completely surrounded by Boris. Everything still hurt so bad, my lungs especially.
     "Boris, I—," I began to say, quickly getting quieted by a short kiss.
     "Sh, Potter. Sleep, please. Don't leave." he mumbled, his voice sounding hoarse and broken.
     "..I won't."
     "Am never letting you out of my sight again. Never, I cannot lose you, Potter. Not ever."
     "I can do things by myself, I'm not a baby."
     "I never said that. I can't," he paused, and I thought I heard him sniffle a little bit. "I can't trust you not to do anything to yourself, Potter."
     "Are you crying?"
     "A little bit. Why?"
     "I didn't think this would make you cry. I didn't even think you would care, to be honest." I said, laughing a little at the end, but I guess he didn't find it funny because he flicked the back of my head.
     "Of course I care, I love you."
     "No, you don't. You love her."
     "I do not, actually."
     "Then why is she your priority, always? All you ever do is talk about her, you act like she's the most amazing person in the world. She's not! She's not even decent!"
     "Potter! I do not like her!"
     "Could have fooled me."
     "Just sleep, okay? Don't even think about leaving, either, please. Just stay here, with me."
     I nodded, not saying anything else. I didn't stay up too much longer, just a bit, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Those ten and fifteen minutes were the second longest of my life, between Boris' muffled cries and the pain in my body, I just wished more than anything that I was gone so it wasn't like this anymore.

Boris woke me up, with another dose of medicine ready. I refused to take it, like I always have and will.
"Potter, take it, please." he said in a soft voice.
I sighed. I took it without giving him a fight this time. "Did you only get liquids?" I asked, the distaste for the flavors he picked visible on my face. He said he had pill medicine, but it didn't seem like he did.
"Yes, they don't rattle," he explained. "Much easier to borrow."
I laughed a little bit. Did I really have to be sick for him to care? That was kind of stupid, if that's it. "Isn't there a party tonight?" I asked. "At your girlfriends'?"
"Yes. Am not going." he shrugged, feeling my head.
"Why not? She's your.. she's your girlfriend." I mumbled.
"Told you. You are not leaving my side. You will get lost at a party."
"I'll survive."
"No, Potter. We will stay here, and you will get better soon, and I still will never leave your side."
He was lying. I knew he was. I just shook my head. "You can go to the party. I'll stay here."
"I don't trust you alone, Potter. I can barely even trust you when I'm asleep."
"Oh." I muttered, guilt almost swallowing me whole. "Sorry."
"No apologies, Potter. You cannot help your feelings." he said. He placed a hand on my face and studied me.
"Yeah, but still."
"How about we drink a little today? Maybe not beer for you yet, but you can have something other than water today. Get some sugar in your system." he said, ruffling my hair.
"I can drink beer!" I protested, punching him lightly. "I'm not sick!"
"Potter, please. Just listen to me, I don't want anything bad happening to you." he said softly, and I don't know what it was, but the way he said it seemed to make my heart flutter, like the wings of a hummingbird.
"Fine," I said. "Am I allowed to walk this time? Or are you still gonna carry me?" I joked, making a jab at his motheresque ways of getting me around the house.
"Am not going to carry you now because of that." he said as he rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face. I just laughed a little to myself, climbing out of the bed and walking downstairs. He stayed close to me, barely an inch between us. He pulled me towards the direction of the fridge, separating us about a half a foot, grabbing a single beer for himself.
     "I think you can grab two beers, asshat." I complained.
     "You are not drinking. Apple juice okay for you?" he asked, grabbing the juice box.
     "I can drink beer!" I protested, but he just laughed and messed up my hair. He handed me the juice box, which I snatched with a frown and a glare.
     "Oh, don't be mad, Potter," he teased, inching closer to me, the newfound distance quickly vanishing. "Am just helping."
     "Fuck off," I grumbled, sauntering towards the couch. I couldn't get the straw off the juice box, which wasn't anything new. I handed it to him. "Can you take the straw off, please?"
He tilted his head. "You cannot take it off?" he asked, clearly choking back laughter.
"What do you think, you jerk?" I asked, glaring at him again.
He shook his head with a small smile and took it off for me. He handed it to me and sat down on the couch, patting the space next to him. I sat down, sipping on my juice box as he did the same with his beer. I rested my head on his shoulder, and despite the way it seemed, I was pretty hyper. My leg was bouncing up and down as I tried to sneak glances at Boris' face and study it.
"Can I help you?" he asked, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I looked down at my lap and shook my head, and he just laughed.

"It's too quiet," I mumbled after what felt like and eternity, although it was only a couple minutes. "Talk."
"What do you want me to talk about, Potter?" he asked, looking down at me. I still had my head on his shoulder, no room between us. I liked it that way.
I shrugged. "I don't know. Can you do what you used to?" I asked after some contemplation.
"And what was that?" he inquired.
"You used to read to me in Russian until I fell asleep," I said. "Is that okay?"
"Of course, go grab a book," he said. "Actually, I'll go with you."
"You're really sticking to that promise of 'I'm never leaving your side.'," I pointed out. "Ten bucks that tomorrow you'll forget."
"No bets, just hush, hm? I won't forget," he told me, pulling me closer to him as we neared the room. "What book do you want me to read to you, Potter?"
"I'm in between 'War and Peace' by Leo Tolstoy, or 'A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius' by Dave Eggers," I mused, looking at him. "Which one do you want to read?"
"Your books always seem so sad and old," he said. I rolled my eyes. "How long will it take you to fall asleep?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "That would be cool if I could know, though! Can you imagine that?"
He laughed and shook his head at the same time. "No, Potter. I can't. How about this one?" he asked, bending down next to me and holding up A Heartbreaking Work of Genius. I nodded. He tossed the book on the bed, helping me stand up. He sat down on the bed, patting his lap. I smiled and sat there, like I used to.
"Сквозь маленькое высокое окно ванной декабрьский двор серый и колючий, деревья каллиграфические. Выхлоп из сушилки неуклюже вырывается из дома вверх, разбиваясь на части, кувыркаясь в белое небо.
Дом - фабрика.
Я снова надеваю штаны и возвращаюсь к маме. Я иду по коридору, мимо прачечной и в общую комнату. Я закрываю за собой дверь, приглушая грохот маленькой обуви в сушилке, Тоф..."

I fell asleep not long after, not even letting him finish the first page. I missed these nights, the soft ones, the ones where even though he smelled of beer, he was gentle and kind, nurturing in a sense. The ones where his delicately spoken words lured me into the deepest sleep I've ever had. The ones where he would run his fingers through my hair, realizing I was asleep and smiling. When he would take my glasses off for me, and my jeans, if I was sick. If I got too cold, he'd put a sweater on me sometimes, but mostly he'd just hold me close. The nights that I was safe. The nights where he was my home, my comfort, my rock, my light. The only downside to these nights is that they ended, but everything has to end, eventually.

Although, the love I felt for him wasn't ending anytime soon at all.

wc: 1602
a/n: i tried to make this as happy as i could, and idk i thought it wasn't that bad!! i'm sorry i took a while to update, i was debating on whether or not to upload the part before this since it was rlly dark and i had to start writing something for an early application to highschool, but that's all done so i'll probably update this a lot more often !! have a good day/night :)