The Moon Is The Same Wherever You Go: Boreo Oneshots

You Were Different Then

Glittersilver THANKS FOR HELPING ME!

This isn't sad, but it's not entirely happy. I PROMISE YOU THE NEXT IS HAPPY FLUFF!

I don't speak any other language but English so sorry if the translations are wrong

Dreaming. It was scary for the both of them. Theo, because of that damned museum and his mom. Boris, because of the cold streets of Ukraine and his father.

But, when they were together, the nightmares seemed to subside. At least for a little while. Good dreams usually happened around each other.

Theo could remember one very vivid dream he had. It was one of the first nightmares he had ever had about Boris.

Except nightmare wasn't the right word. He didn't even know what to call it. It was almost like going back in time.

Theo had a dream he met little Boris.

He remembered it so clearly.

He was in front of a small shed looking place. It was really tiny, about the size of his childhood bedroom. Outside, there was a grill on the dead grass, a smoky smell coming from it. It was a small grill that stood on three legs.

There was a door, and it was open. For some odd reason he knew he was dreaming, but he went in anyway.

When he entered, it looked like a jail cell. There was a little hole in the ground that smelled terrible, a bucket of water next to it. There was a cot on the floor, a dirty white sheet thrown over it carelessly. Then, in the corner, a rusted crib. It was silver, the crib part down. There was rust climbing up the bars like vines. A black furnace was next to the crib. There was a boy sitting there, wrapped up in an adult's shirt, clearly. He was sitting right in front of the furnace, his hands out, the sleeves of the red shirt covering up his hands.

He had a mess of black curly hair, and that's when Theo knew it was Boris. He was still as sickly pale and skinny as he was to this day. He had bruises littering his collarbones and a black eye. At first, he didn't notice the door open. He was too focused on the heat to care.

Theo's first thought was that the crib looked way too small for the six year old that sat before him.

" Boris?"

The little boy snapped his head to the sound of his name. He looked terrified, eyes wide and full of fear. Boris's eyes didn't soften like they usually did when he looked at Theo, but only grew wider.

Theo moved closer to him, too stunned to be able to process what was happening. Boris moved back from the furnace. Theo felt the semi-hot air that came out of the furnace blowing on him as he inched closer to the boy.

That was a habit that only seemed to happen when they were drunk.

Boris would crawl up with Popper by the vent, and fall asleep across from it. It was a habit Theo never understood.

But now he did.

" No, it's okay. This is your heat. Stay here," he told him. Oh god, this was the boy he loved in the future.

This was the boy he loved as he was being broken. Slowly, the scar was dragged into his heart with the knife that was his father. He was taught from a young age that nobody loved him. This little boy was going to grow up to be Theo's first love.

He had to protect this boy. Even if it was for a little bit. He had to hold him close, give him love, hope that he wouldn't be too messed up. This was Boris before the drugs, before the drinking.