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The Time Theo Thought Might Be The Last
It was dark out and Theo was panicking a little bit.
He was leaving, and he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to convince Boris to come with him. The boy loved adventures— and he often made very wild decisions— but even this was crazy for him.
Theo had already secured the painting. He put it in his bag and called a cab. Boris was following him around, watching with a calm expression— too calm. Theo hated how silent he was. He hated how relaxed he seemed. He hated that he still felt a little bit high, because he was terrified that if he wasn't thinking straight, he wouldn't know what to say in order to ensure that Boris would come with him.
"Boris," Theo said, stopping in the front doorway and turning around. The boy raised his eyebrows, that pleasant smile still just barely gracing his face. Theo felt his heart rate speed up. His cheeks were hot, he could hardly breathe. "Boris," he said again, and his voice had raised an octave. "Boris, I—"
"Shh, Potter," the boy said, pressing a finger to his lips. "Is okay," Boris whispered.
"Why can't you just come with me?" Theo asked tearfully.
"Is complicated," Boris rumbled, pulling back just enough to look at him more clearly. "Why must you go?"
"I have to go," Theo insisted, stumbling backwards down the steps as his taxi pulled up to the curb. "I keep telling you! Now... are you coming, or not?" Boris trailed after him, and he finally looked just a little bit sad.
Scratch that— he looked very sad. Boris didn't often show the more negative emotions— but he stood in front of Theo now with their umbrella in his hands and tears in his eyes.
"You go on ahead," he said. "I'll follow. One or two days."
"You have to come!" Theo insisted. "Promise me!" He begged, warm wetness finally beginning to spill over his cheeks, and slender fingers brushed them away. The umbrella made the familiar fwap sound as it opened and the stars were blocked out from the sky above. Now Theo was really crying— and as he looked up at the umbrella he wondered if he would ever see it opened again.
"We'll go to Brighton Beach!" He continued to press— desperate, now. "That's where all the Russians hang out. And we can go to school together! And—"
"Potter," Boris interrupted. Theo fell silent, mouth hanging slightly open. Boris ducked down and pressed their lips together, eyes open as they always were when he kissed him. And Theo looked deep into them, searching for any sort of reassurance, any notion that he need not worry.
"Good luck," Boris whispered against his mouth, before pulling back. He picked up Popper, kissed him on the nose, and closed the umbrella, handing both to Theo. The shorter boy felt numb— shocked. He got into the taxi and hardly saw his partner waving him off as the car pulled away from the sidewalk.
It wasn't until he was too far to have second thoughts, much too far to turn back, that he realized with a horrible thrill that he had seen none of the reassuring glint that he had been searching for in those dark, beautiful eyes.
All he had seen were the eyes of a boy who he knew was his 'right'—
The eyes of a boy that he had never worked up the courage to tell exactly what that meant.
