-CHAPTER SIX-
"Lock the door." he said, sat down on my bed, still sipping on the vodka. "And turn of the light." He said and I turned around. "Why?" I asked. He shrugged. "Okay." I gave him a little smile, before I turned of the light and locked the door. "Here." Boris crawled up his black bag from yesterday under my bed and placed it on my bed, as he crawled under my cover. I laughed lightly, as I crawled under the cover and sat straight in front of him.
"I want to show you something." He smiled. He opened his bag, and pulled up a flashlight and turned it on, before he bullet up something else. I couldn't see what it was before he opened it, flashing the white light on it. It was a picture, or more specifically a painting.
"Beautiful." I mumbled, lean in to study the small detalis on the picture. Boris hummed. "I know, right?" he said. "My mother paint it when I was a child. Before she left." He said, looked up at me with bright eyes. It almost screamed happiness and sadness at the same time, like he wanted to tell me something. "Left?" I mumbled and he nodded, looked down on the picture again.
When I looked at the painting I felt the same convergence on a single point: a glancing sunstruck instance the existed now and forever. Only occasionally did I notice the chain on the finch's ankle, or think what a cruel life for a little living creature - fluttering briefly, forced always lad in the same topless place.
"She did not want anything with me and my father to do after I turned five. He never wanted to told me why, though." Boris said, smiled and I sigh low. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, it was a long time ago and I'm not even thinking about it that often. Except when I'm seeing this picture." He mumbled, looked up at me again. Our eyes created a deep eye contact.
"A picture can say more the thousand words." he mumbled. I nodded. " You can look at a picture for an hour and never think about it again, and you can also look at a picture for a second and think about your whole life." He added and I nodded once again. When sid he suddenly became so deep?
"Yeah, I now. Mrs. Barbour told me about it when I commented on a picture in their loving room." I said and Boris immediately furrow his eyebrows, confused. "Who's Mrs. Barbour?" he asked. I sight, looked at him and smiled soft.
"I loved at Mr and Mrs. Barbour place in three months after my mother died, before I could move on to Vegas." I told him and he nodded. He studied my face, immediately smiling when he looked at my hair.
"Your hair is crazy, potter." He laughed lightly and I rolled my eyes, ran my hands through it. "Yours too!" I laughed, pushed him over the chest so he fell down on my bed, laughing lightly. "Look at these curls!" I laughed. Boris giggled, took a grip around my arm with his plane skinned fingers and drag be me closer, made me lose my balance. I fell down all over him, my chest pressed against his and just a few centimetres between out faces. We both stopped laugh, just looked into each other's eyes. It felt like the whole word disappeared, and honestly I think he felt the same.
"You know what more that can say more than thousand words?" I mumbled, licking his soft lips. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Eyes?" I asked, and he nodded short, rolling in his lips to a thinly line.
"Yes... but also -" he stopped, placed a hand on my neck and let my body come closer to him. "A kiss." he whispered, before he let out lips crash together. I gasp surprised, but kissed back quickly. His lips was soft, tasting like vodka and cigarettes. A taste I actually really liked. We let go from each other's lips slowly, opening out eyes and created another eye contact.
"I'm sorr-" I cut him off by placing my lips against his again. Boris kissed back very soon, let his hand on my neck go down on my back and press my body closer to him. I felt his lip lick my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth quickly, let our tongues clash together. It felt really good, better than I've thought it would be to kiss someone. I hummed low, searched for the flashlight with my hand. Eventually I grabbed it and turned of the light, left us kissing in the dark, under my cover.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled, let go from the kiss and lick my lips as I sat up. He followed me, shaking his head. "Once again, no need to be sorry, potter." He mumbled. I threw of the cover of our heads and laid down his things on the floor, not wanting to hurt it.
"Do it again." He mumbled. I sat down straight in front of him and furrowed my eyebrows confused. "What?" I asked, Boris biting his bottom lip. I couldn't escape the fact that I found it attractive.
"Kiss me." He mumbled, looked up at me. I swallowed hard, before I slowly lean in and placed my small lips against his, in another kiss. A soft kiss without tongue, while I still felt the alcohol and smoke running through my blood. Somewhere knowing that I'll regret it when I'm out of drugs.
••••
Their first kiss 😍👌
