That Is, Of Course, I Love You (Boreo The Goldfinch Oneshots)

Would You Rather

This one will probably be significantly shorter than the first one, just so you know.                           Theo POV

I sat behind my bed, tracing the wrapped painting. Boris and I had pushed my headboard away from the wall so I could show the thing to him. He stared, and I couldn't see any emotions at all on his face.

"Well, are you going to open it?" This was before I wrapped it up in all that ridiculous newspaper.

"Yeah," I breathed, hands shaking. This would be the first time I looked at it since I stole the thing. I carefully removed the first cotton pillowcase, gently unwrapped the next, and gingerly demasked the final one.

The painting shone in the early evening light, radiating warmly, better than the harsh museum lights could ever be.

After an adequate amount of staring in wonder, I turned to Boris to see his reaction: his face glowed more brilliantly than the painting. I smiled at him, asked him what he thought.

"Is amazing. Spectacular," he said enthusiastically. Tearing himself away to look at me, he grew somber. "You're lucky to still have it." He leaned forward as he said it, as if to solidify his statement. "But let's play a game!" Boris was eager once more.

"What kind of game?" I asked dryly, annoyed by his sudden detachment.

"Would you rather. Would you rather never see a photo of the painting or the painting itself but know that it still existed in the hands of someone else, or you would you rather it be destroyed but photos widely available?"

"Oh," I say, surprised. When Boris suggests to play a game, it usually involves something physical, like wrestling or running or fighting. "The first one. Definitely the first one." The thought of losing the painting was like losing my mother all over again. "Should I ask now?"

Boris nodded. "Okay, would you rather live in New Guinea or Russia?"

"Easy, Potter, easy. New Guinea, any day." We asked questions like this for a while, increasingly difficult, until one of us suggestion we get a drink, I don't remember who. So we paused for vodka, drank a serving or two (or three, or four...) and continued, laying down on our backs next to each other.

"Would you rather not kiss someone ever again or never see your dad again?" Boris asked, slurring his words ever so slightly.

"The hell kind of question is that? Never kiss someone," I replied instantly. For all the strife he'd caused me, I didn't think I could handle being an orphan.

Suddenly Boris stopped looking at the ceiling and angled himself towards me. "Theo, have you ever even kissed anyone?" I froze. (yes, he kissed Pippa in the beginning, but we're just going to pretend that never happened, okay?) Boris giggled lightly. "I'll take that as a no."

"Um..." I almost started to lie and say I had, but then thought, what's the point of that? "No, you're right, I haven't."

"You're, what, fourteen?" I flushed slightly and nodded; nothing to be ashamed of, I knew, but embarrassing nonetheless. "See, I doubt there's anyone around here you're gonna want to snog, yes?" I smiled at his weird Australian slang. "And you don't want to be twenty, meeting a beautiful girl, and not knowing what to do, no?" I looked him in the eyes, wondering where he was going with this. I knew, of course, what he was going to say next though, and yet still it surprises me (a good surprise, mind you) every time I think of it. "So we should practice."

I laughed nervously, a short bark. "Boris..." I couldn't say what I thought, which was that I wanted to; I wanted to so much. Instead I just said: "Okay."

"Okay? Okay!" He seemed excited, a little too excited, looking back.

"Um, so, I'm not really sure what..." I trailed off, hoping he got the message.

"No, no, Potter, don't worry. Just... do what I do. Follow my lead, as they say." We sat up, as we'd been laying on our sides previously. I wasn't nervous, not at all, with Boris I knew he wouldn't judge me. At least not any more than I judged him.

Boris angled forward, his head tilted to me. As we got closer, I was able to smell his shampoo, coconuts and something unidentifiable, maybe not from his hair. It only lasted five seconds at the most, but the limbo before we touched seemed to stretch on, impossibly excruciating and infinite.

And then it happened.

For me, it was more than a practice kiss; I wasn't sure then, but I am now. I know Boris felt the same way, but I don't know what it means to him nowadays. I do know I sure liked it a lot!!!! 😼😼 I felt his lips on mine and when he pulled me closer, I just melted into him.

(Edit: Okay fucking EVERYONE is commenting about the emojis:.. I wrote this like 2 years ago, but I was just feeling really awkward writing that I guess😭 They're a joke not genuine)

Sounds like a weird thing to do, but what I mean is:

-Boris and I leaned forward

-His lips touched mine; I felt him smile

-Boris put a hand on my face, pulling me closer to him. I, of course, let him and leaned with him

-His lips parted and soon we were just, like, making out. No capitals in 3, 2, 1... it got really intense, really fast.

-boris pushed me by the shoulders to the wall, almost pinning me, but in a gentle way. i had the feeling we both needed to breathe, but we kept kissing.

that is, until one of us (who was it? i can't quite remember) realised how, er, passionate we'd both gotten. boris pulled back, removed his hands from my face and shoulder, and just stared at me. i felt my eyebrows raise and a smile forming.

"so... how was it?" i felt energised and confident, enough so to ask this question.

now it was boris's turn to grin. "pretty good, Potter. pretty damn good."