Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Time When They Caught Up
The feeling of a warm hand clutching his own was one that Theo had missed more than a man in space missed oxygen.
The past was behind him, and so was the Goldfinch. Boris has taken care of that. And he had also taken care of Theo. So there they sat, back in Theo's hotel room, which was still trashed.
Light trickled through the vast windows and Theo looked intently down at where they're fingers intertwined. The umbrella was clasped between them.
He couldn't fathom how this could possibly be. The same hands— bigger, but the same— the ones that he had been sure would never meet again, were laying in a jumble of fingers on the bed between them.
"Potter."
That gruff voice. So, so different. But the same. Theo didn't want to cry, but the tears were already beginning to spill down his cheeks. The hands left his and brushed his face, attempting to dry it, but it was no use. His glasses were removed as the lenses began to fog up and his expression crumpled. He was sure he looked pathetic.
"Potter," Boris said again, and this time he sounded amused. "Is okay. No need to cry."
"It's not," Theo whimpered, pressing Boris's palms harder against his cheeks and trying to drown himself in the feeling, spiraling backwards, downwards, free-falling into the memory of hot, sticky California nights, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets for a while before they just threw them off with hushed laughter.
"Why not?" Boris pressed gently, and Theo realized that he was a lot closer now. He could smell the cigarettes on his breath, the same as it used to be, and he couldn't think, he was completely engulfed in this past, because he had never dared to believe that it would ever be his present again.
"Because I never thought—" He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, breath hitching as another inevitable sob trickled from his mouth. "I never thought I was going to see you again," he managed to choke out. "I've waited so long, Boris. And I've been so unhappy. Kitty, she— she's with someone else, even though we're married, and she's supposed to love me. I'm supposed to love her."
"But...?" Boris prompted, thumb sliding gently along Theo's cheekbone. Theo finally met his eyes. They were just as deep and endless as always. Dark, captivating, constantly hiding the emotion lurking behind them.
Theo's heart was racing. His palms were sweating. He couldn't look away.
"We are right."
It was hardly a whisper. He almost didn't hear himself. Boris's brow furrowed.
"Didn't hear you, Potter," he said. "Speak up."
"We are right," Theo said again, louder, and he felt like he was going to explode. "And I l— I lo—" He swallowed thickly, then his muscles tensed and he lurched forward, grabbing Boris's face in his hands.
The umbrella keeled over and rolled off of the bed.
"You love me," Boris whispered.
"I love you," Theo agreed.
Their lips crashed together, and Boris fell back against the pillows as Theo climbed over him, pushing his much more tame hair out of his face. He kissed him frantically, desperate to earn back all of the time they lost, and yet stuck in the past.
For a split second, they were kids again, and Boris was staring up at him with his hair just as long and wild as it had been in his youth. Freckles dotted his cheeks in all of the right places, and he was smiling, that big, dopey smile he always had. Red lips stretched thin, his smile was so wide.
Theo blinked, and it was over. He was staring down at Now-Boris with wonder, heavy breaths, and disbelief.
"You are married, Potter," Boris said carefully, searching his eyes and frowning slightly.
"So is she," Theo choked out. "But she never stopped seeing Tom Cable." Then he kissed his lost love again, scared to close his eyes, scared that it would all disappear once they opened again.
He had gone so long without being right that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.
