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The Time When They Talked About It
"Boris?"
The thought had been with Theo for the entire weekend, and it was late Sunday night. They would go to school tomorrow and it would be too late, because Boris always forgot everything that had happened last weekend once a new one was on the way— so Theo knew this was his last chance.
He was afraid. Two days had passed since The Incident, as he was secretly calling it in his own head. Boris hadn't said anything yet, and he wasn't acting any different. It was like he had no idea of the weight he had simultaneously lifted and dropped on Theo's shoulders.
Because what was this to him? Were kisses on the mouth a normal thing in any of the places he came from? Theo had no idea. Was it supposed to be a sort of confession? What was going on?
Theo had never worked himself up this much over anything they did behind closed doors. But he supposed that was because he didn't remember anything they did behind closed doors.
Until yesterday, at least.
Theo had known it was going to be a late night. He could see it in the way Boris was looking at him, like he was his next meal. And just— just out of curiosity, just out of a spur-of-the-moment decision, Theo waited until his friend was already high to get rid of his own fix.
Only he didn't get rid of it in the way Boris did. He put it back in the stash when the other boy wasn't looking.
You'd think it was easy to act high, but really, it wasn't, because Theo never remembered anything he did or said when he was. But Boris had been too far gone to notice anything. Especially once he had gotten his hands on Theo.
This had sealed the deal.
Theo needed to know why Boris had kissed him.
It was going to drive him crazy if he had to go back to being high whenever they fooled around after that— he couldn't pretend forever.
So there they were— and it was the middle of Sunday night, and Boris was contemplating the drugs that were under his mattress. And Theo turned the umbrella over in his hands, before opening it and turning so that he was facing his friend with his legs curled under him. That was when he spoke his name.
Boris looked up at him, saw the umbrella, and immediately sobered up— it was almost as though he knew this meant serious business. He gave Theo his full attention, hands in his lap. "What is it, Potter?"
Theo swallowed thickly and struggled to find the words. "I..."
God, this was harder than he thought it was going to be. But Boris was patient. He tilted his head, wild curls bouncing slightly with the motion, lips curved downwards into a soft frown— concerned.
"Remember when I was talking about what it means to be 'right'?" Theo blurted our. "How 'right' means all those great things... And how 'right' means loving each other?" He frowned. "And you said we must be right?"
"Yes," Boris answered, brow furrowing. Theo exhaled sharply, breath shaking.
"Well I was just thinking about—" He cut himself off and shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his free hand under his glasses. Boris shifted closer so that they were both under the umbrella, and their knees pressed together, and somehow that made it so much harder. But Theo presses on anyway.
"Is that why you kissed me?" He finally asked, and he hoped he didn't look as scared as he felt. Silence stretched out between them— he was too scared to look at Boris, to see his emotion at the question. Surely he was about to laugh— or maybe shout at him. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Boris didn't love him like that. They were best friends. They just messed around sometimes. It had probably just been a distraction in order to take the umbrella. He probably—
Warm hands cupped his face and there was a soft pressure against his mouth.
Theo's eyes flew open wide and he stared into the brown ones that were so close he could see every fleck if lighter brown, every worry and insecurity he had reflected back at him.
Boris didn't pull immediately way this time. He held Theo's cheeks and dragged it out, eyes wide open the entire time. When he pulled away, his lips were parted slightly, and Theo wanted nothing more than to memorize the feeling of them against his own.
Do it again, he wanted to say. Do it again, and maybe this time you can stay sober, too— and it won't be just fooling around. It will be an act done out of love.
"Okay," he squeaked.
"Okay?" Boris agreed. Theo nodded vigorously. The umbrella shook in his trembling grip. He wanted to ask— ask him if they could do it again. Screw the movie, screw the drugs, just for tonight let it be you and me.
Boris seemed to read his mind, because seconds later, that warm kiss was back, and this time, he reciprocated with just as much fervor as his partner.
