Chapter Text
I Can’t Remember-
But I Killed for Love.
“ Everybody's got a secret to hide.
Everyone is slipping backwards.
I drank the water and I felt alright.
I took a pill almost every night.
In my mind I was waiting for change
While the world just stayed the same
-
I can't remember if I like what I said.
I can't remember it went straight to my head.
I kept a bottle by the foot of the bed.
I put a pillow right on top of my head.
But I killed for love ” -
Kill for love by Chromatics
Every Valentine’s Day since leaving Vegas that I’d spent (mostly) single, was always filled with wallowing in self-pity and despair (even when I had a girlfriend). Once I started taking Conversational Russian, thoughtlessly, I had imagined, just to feel closer with Boris due to not having any close friends or even many relationships in general since him. Though, in doing so I stumbled into a strangely serendipitous revelation.
This year the day rolls around, and I hadn't paid much attention, until I went out for my Monday morning cup of coffee at my favorite spot. Something I always did to keep a small spark of joy to the otherwise depressing day marking the start of my depressing week to come.
Suddenly, though, I picked up on the couples walking around me displaying affection far more frequently than I had grown used to seeing in the city. It made me uncomfortable, like I was suddenly itchy under my skin.
Then it clicked into place when I overheard a pair brush past. They'd been discussing date night plans since they hadn't done anything last Valentines Day other than stay in bed together due to both catching the flu. I still felt a pang of jealousy at that and just in the nature of how they said it, so sweetly, dripping of their closeness.
As it hit me though, I was flooded with a chest tightening exposed feeling, causing my throat to catch in such a way that I couldn't swallow for a moment. I was barely able to take a full breath. Wanting to get back to the safety of my apartment as soon as possible, I made a beeline there. Hastily moving in a dizzying dash, I bumped into some people unintentionally.
Once inside I caught my breath with my back against the cold of the metal lined door. I sighed into the relief of my heart and throat loosening some from the anxiety I had felt jolting into me, like lightning, the second it had dawned on me in the openness of the street.
Pushing off the door I made way down the short hall. Tossing my coat and scarf onto the hook. Taking my shoes off, I thought, "Peace and quiet to study is nice. I'm actually happy I don't have some annoying girlfriend to try to please. Just me and my work. I can even finish everything early." Even seeming to chipper up at this, I sit at my desk to crack in.
Pulling the Russian Language studies books along with my notebook out, a somber tension pulsed through me. Choking me at once, as if the materials themselves had given me anaphylaxis.
My anxiety bloomed back up in a slightly different manner. Throat going dry and tense, heart aching once more. The same in these ways, but something made me feel on edge differently. My stomach flipped as I tried catching my breath. I push myself to just open it and do the work.
I was at a loss as to why studying at this point in time was proving to be so difficult, accompanied with all these bodily theatrics. Sipping my coffee, I tried to ground into the warm comfort of it. Eye's drifting back down to the materials.
Sighing, I started to read the beginning of the lesson. Only... I heard Boris speaking the words and so, I instantly stilled. Stopping as I felt an unnerving awakening of hypersensitivity down to my core. Likening it to how it felt when we had tripped and saw the world in black and white for a time. That sort of unsettling of reacquainting oneself with body and senses that had grown accustomed to the dullness, once back to reality. Only, life I suppose was what had felt black and white and muted for so long I hadn't noticed… not fully at least. Until, that is, hearing his voice as clear as day.
Looking to my hands that held the book, I noticed a tremor at the sound of Boris' voice coming alive in my head to read the material to me. I slammed the book down in swift thoughtless motion in an attempt to ignore it. "It's just the coffee." I thought aloud to myself, trying to calm down.
Clearing my throat, I adjusted in my seat. This time, attempting to speak it aloud. Boris only laughed at my attempts, causing me to eventually give way to him with a smile. But then, I looked down, off to the side in a guilty sort of shame that rose from how amazing just this made me feel.
Unconsciously, sighing, attempting again to disperse this energy in me. I turned my gaze and attention back to the book. Only one word in, it auto-piloted into Boris' voice again.
I stopped once more looking away, trying to will it all away. Everything that always rises up with him. That I knew so well by now because of how I avoided it for this very reason.
But I could feel it, for some reason today, it just wasn't going away. I knew, this time it wasn't going to work. Supposing that I had put off feeling, thinking, facing, all this for as long as I had… I wondered if maybe my subconscious felt it was time and thus, was forcing upon me a facing of what I'd tried so hard to outrun.
God, just my luck. As if I didn't already feel terrible about today, now this too?
My eyes scanned the wall, searching the space in front of me as I worried my lip. Taking a deep breath to try and prepare myself as best I could. I huffed a tired sigh out as my eyes sank close.
I knew I couldn't keep burying these feelings down. The thoughts that begged to come forth, to be made real through validation by simple observation and acceptance. That's all they"d asked of me but it was too hard a thing.
I felt ready to try, or as ready as I'd ever be given the state of my life. It was only me here, alone, after all, so.. what was the real harm in just... Entertaining this.
"I-... I miss you." I softened in thinking this out in response to Boris. Silky echoes into the dark space of my mind. Instantly feeling cold in the recesses that seemed ever expanding to try to contain all of Boris in them.
" Miss?.. But, why? I'm right here." Boris spoke back, as plainly as I remembered him.
"You know what I mean. No.. you're not . You’re not here... and... I miss you." I think back to him, already feeling on the verge of tears.
When the Boris of my mind came into the light as a vision of what I imagined he might look like now, I found myself smiling, breathlessly, unblinking as I took all of him in.
Boris only smirked with a quirk of an eyebrow, questioningly, in a statement of being pleased with my response. As if to say in his ever-cheeky fashion "like what you see, eh?"
"Wish I could–", I'd let the words escape me in a breathless sort of moment. Then swallowed down my smile along with my wanting to say what I really felt.. even here, like this, in my own mind I couldn't, didn't dare. I felt so small and stupid for it though.
Boris, as if hearing me, (because... well, he is a figment of your imagination after all, that would make sense) spoke back. "What .. What do you wish?.. Tell me Potter." Same sly smirk.
My body felt electric at him saying my old nickname like this, at that, right after that thought I’d had. It had been so long; I could feel my ears move to it as a chill coursed through me. All along my body the hairs stood up, prickling in an instant.
"God.. I–" I went bashful again, embarrassed of how quickly I was so easily spirited away by him, even still. I tucked that excessive thought back down, again. This was enough, to just engage with him and these feelings, it was pushing far harder than I ever had before.
I gulped against the ache and thought of what else to say. "I just-.. wish you were really here." Was all I could force myself forward to say.
Boris' features hardened, eyes narrowing, looking cruelly at me as he spat back.
"What so you could lie to me like you are now? So you could withhold your truth? Keep all your feelings and wishes locked up? Still... even after all this time." Giving a bitter scoff of disapproval as he shook his head, emphasizing the end of his accusatory line of rhetorical questioning.
I worried my lip, being drawn back with the sudden assault on this fantasy of him. Instead of how I would have normally met Boris, with a mirroring of his own bratty energy in the one-upping sort of way once so accustomed to, I found tears prickling at my eyes at how this felt. For one, I felt raw and open here in contrast to my everyday normal. It was so Boris that I couldn't even be mad with myself for keeping him so close to the character of him.
Had Boris known half of things, half of my feelings or thoughts I’d kept from him, he would be very much like this with me, I imagine.
I only swallowed down the tense anger at myself that arose at this. Looking him over as he only looked on at me, in such a way that challenged me to be bold enough to open up.
"I'm sorry." I said, looking down, not able to meet his eyes.
"It is start, keep going." Boris retorted, in that simple, mellow tone he would take with me sometimes when he felt I wasn't giving nearly enough to a topic. Knowing I could do better. Which of course he was right and only made me all the more reminiscent and emotionally distraught. Want all the more to please him.
"I- I'm.. a coward." I whispered, ashamed, "-and I know it. I always have been. But, can you blame me?" I was tearful as I met eyes with him. I couldn't help but to keep on with the emotions flowing.
"I.. didn't want to lose you, ever. I was so afraid that if I said anything that it’d… shatter what we had." The tears welling in my eyes made me feel like a new, open wound soaked in the sea. Standing there like this in front of him with the same sore throat of suppression I'd sported so well.
Boris only nodded his head solemnly at me. Resting a beat, he then looked snarkily to me, before choosing a blunt route with his words. “Sooo, was it.. the sex we had whenever we were fucked up that confused you on my feelings for you, orrr?...” He chuckled through the air of fake attitude he'd put on for this. “You were afraid of.. losing me? Where would I ever want to go without you?"
This was now getting to the point of wondering: had my brain given me the fantasy or had it reached an understanding of things I had yet to, consciously.
“Shut up, Potter." He snapped back at me, lost in thought to myself.
All fond smiles, no real bite. "I spent all this time with you. You were my world and all I ever wanted was us to always have the most fun we could. Wanted to take care of each other.. forever. Wanted an "us", forever. I could have happily spent rest of life with you. And I know you felt the same."
He tried to catch my evading eyes in a sharp swaying and craning neck motion as he kept on.
"It was not something that needed to be said. Why do you act like stupid person when you are not?"
Sighing in frustration with me. "You know all this.. but still you act so afraid of me.. Of what you feel for me. Afraid even to touch me, to just say that you wish you could. To admit how badly you want to hold me.-"
I nervously swallow at his direction of speech. "Why? You have."
I look up stunned, going red hot with embarrassment as he only smiles at me whispering it again for emphasis.
"You have. And I’ve held you too! I love holding you–miss holding you... I-I love you! You know all this though. You know, so why be so weird, it's just us here, Potter."
I feel my jaw go jagged, caught off guard by the flood of things. Trying to breathe through this in order to better hide the way it made me feel completely at the will of him. Lost to the fantasy at this point. As if we were really there, just talking like this. As if this were real.
I opened my mouth to talk, beginning to stammer in an accidental stumbling, stream of consciousness, flowing style. "I- I- I'm sorry it's- I.. just.. thought it wasn't a big deal, just some other kind of fun to you. That's why I never said anything. It's just-"
"Really, Potter? Really ? Are you serious?" He looked me over in genuine disbelief. "I mean... fuck. I guess I understand but, I’ve always been so affectionate with you. Always tried–tried to show–"
He sighed frustrated with me, trying to explain himself.
"I thought you knew"
"I just thought that's how you were. I didn't want to read too much into it and have you feel offended" I said calmly in my somewhat honest confusion.
"Is that it?.. Or, maybe you just didn't want to say something and have it stop"
"Yes! Jesus, fuck! That's- obviously... I'm literally admitting to that, right now. There's no reason to be so mean about it. I was petrified of losing the comfort of you. You.. just.. holding me through my nightmares and just… all the bad-"
A chill ran through me. "Riding out highs and silly drunken nights. Always trying to keep some bit of light for each other through even our darkest of nights. Through all of it I was just scared to lose any less than what you gave. I was afraid to go back a single step. That's why I hated Kotku-"
Boris was caught on that. Beaming at me, even giggling with his surprise. "You what?"
I slowed down, mirroring his infectious smile for a moment. "I-I hated your stupid girlfriend. There, I said it, I don't care. She was the worst and- she took you away from me. You left me with barely anything left of- of us, for a while." I was breathless again as my heart sped up with the lightness in the air being swallowed at my saying this.
My eyes went glassy and dazed. "What did I do? .. It- It was unbearable, to go from having almost all of you and then-" I looked away to catch myself from crying. "Nearly none. And you.. you didn't seem to notice much less care."
Humming with a fake pout, Boris smirks, sucking his teeth "Mm, poor Potter. Well, we can't change past. Maybe if you had told me how you felt, we could- I could have.. done things different. But.. is what it is." he shrugged.
Shifting his energy suddenly, he added with a look he'd designated for only the most messed up of nights for me. "Guess I'll have to try to make this up to you. Eh? What do you say?" Same old sly smirk slid into place as he laid his right hand on my shoulder. "Could you think of some ways that I might be able to do this?" He casted devilish bedroom eyes at me, a twinkle of light caught in the left with his tilted head, as he added. "Cause.. I know exactly what you've been thinking".
I go red hot again at this. Fully flustered, eyes bugging, fixing my glasses nervously. "Boris-" I whispered.
Silently wishing that despite my air of protest, he'd keep his hand there. His name, like some personal mantra of sorts, to give myself hope in my weakness, to have the strength to do anything other than just stand there. Hope to hold it, to bring it to my face, to hide behind it. To try to ignore how I wanted to just give up, to be swallowed by the floor, together .
"What?.. Am I wrong?" Boris asked, licking his lips, letting the right-side curve up a tad more, to show his sharp k-9.
At this, memories rushed me, of the secret history of us. Of memories only I held, of wondering what could have been at any given moment. It made my stomach lurch, remembering the falseness of this. That the real Boris was out there, somewhere and that he would never know how deep our bond ran for me. Everything I've thought and felt for him.
Being here now, like this, with this version of him so close to that of the old Boris I knew. The one person I'd known who could say anything without flinching. Sometimes doing so to my detriment, just because he could. Because he knew me that well. By just looking at me, not even, by just us being us.
The same old Boris who could convince me to do anything and be convinced to do anything. The one who, so obviously, enjoyed how easily and quickly he could make my stomach twist into knots with the way his words dripped from his tongue, always so smooth. Sickeningly sweet like silver honey, even in their most chaotic and vulgar of states. Something I only ever knew Boris to possess the powers to do, hold such duality, through and through. The only person to ever match my energy, yet still feel so... good. The only person who knew intrinsically how to bring balance to me and my life.
But this… this illusion, it was getting into weird territory for me. It was uncomfortable in a sense and yet, not, in plenty of others.
Truthfully, I want to let this play out, but I also want to slap myself out of the place I'd let myself drift far too far out to. It didn't feel right somehow, despite genuinely having such a wanting to let my mind keep wandering down this path. Especially so after it had been so long that I hadn't let myself deal with any bit of this.
I could feel somewhere, though, that there were bits and odd ends of some bigger thing inside my mind just starting to come into full form. Stepping out of the shadows and into the light. The unpredictable, misshapen pixelates of this reality gave an eerie feeling to the space as the pieces began to shift, morph and ghost together outside of my grasp of understanding. Only somewhat to my knowledge, the rest was indiscernible. And in being so, made me feel immensely on edge with the unease of the limitless possibilities.
The actual development of things as it were, here and now, felt as dirty as I had in my salacious deviancy, when first I found myself watching porn and had let myself indulge in that, pertaining to Boris, that is. When I found myself unintentionally drifting to thinking of him, too abruptly to have stopped, unlike times before, that had been of the more meticulously manicured nature or completely uncontrollable in an intoxicated state.
The very first time I actively engaged and allowed it. I'd soon after had the worst sinking, sickened feeling of my life. Still, I found it became more and more a normal occurrence after that. Despite my self-persecution on one end of things. I knew I couldn't help but allow it from time to time. Only ever in private. That was the only rule.
Perhaps that's why this felt unnervingly similar and yet so uncomfortably foreign. I guess, in a way, in all that time, I'd desensitized myself to just how badly I wanted him so completely.
Boris' eyes darted up to look intensely at me through his heavy lids at this. As if he could hear my line of thinking, he came stepping closer, invading my space entirely.
"Go ahead, then Potter."
He looked at my lips. "Tell me." Then back to my eyes.
"What-" I whispered, dismayed, needing to clear my throat from how long I'd gotten lost in thought. I added, flustered, "tell you what?"
I found I tried to force myself to look away but was unable. God, I'd forgotten how beautiful he was, to me at least. He only kept looking at me, a slight quirk of the mouth with that thought though.
"I wouldn't say you're wrong. I mean... You can hear my thoughts, can't you?.. so-" I flinched. Swallowing awkwardly from my forced attempts of cohesively formed speech only digging a deeper hole for myself. Looking down for a bit of peace at finally letting that fact being stated sink in.
"But, I didn't even mean that way." He played innocent and I was convinced of it, lost in my self-conviction. "I meant… tell me what it is I could do to make it up to you." He smirked, knowing exactly what he had done there.
I sighed. "Right, yeah-" trying to play off how lost to that damn smile (all of this, him ) I was, I ran a hand through my hair to focus on anything else. Still ensnared in the trap of those doe eyes of his so easily, I'd drifted off into the place of lightness he seemed to always carry with him, handing me a pass into whenever I needed saving. "Yeah... course- okay.. ugh-" I bit my lip looking off, trying to think of something to say.
"Don't waste too much time thinking of something.. You have something in mind, no?.. Go ahead. Say it." He cocked his head at me, holding back from breaking out in a full smile. "Just say what you've been thinking." Boris seemed to demand of me, despite the show of light energy, the pressure felt inescapable.
"I…" I licked my lips as my throat went dry. Not wanting to say my original thought I'd had. The needy statement of how badly I wished he were really there so I could touch him, hold him. "I'm not sure what you mean-" I started, in my unease. Boris dropped his expression, looking at me with something that would give the devil a shiver down his spine.
“Stop. Just, stop with that." The way he said it made me feel young again. Timid in his scolding as I tried to catch my breath while holding his gaze in an attempt to seem like I wasn't playing the part of a fool and really didn't know what he meant.
"I-" my eyes welled up as I clenched my fist at my side, letting my nails dig into my palm as hard as I could as I watched Boris with a stinging stare. Wanting to and not wanting to say everything else dancing in his head.
Then, instead, with furrowed brow, realizing my power here, I found myself running through my words "I can't, I can't do this. I'm sorry."
"Potter, don't! You can- don't- please don't do this-" He chased after me. But I was too fast in my escape.
"I'm really sorry- I… I shouldn't have- I just- I'm just gonna-" I finished, rushing through things, retreating before the tears came.
Boris reached for me, launching himself forward.
“POTTER PLE- ”
, scaring me further into my shaking fully out of the daydream. Leaving only the ringing behind from the saddening echo of his outstretching cry to me in my mind.
Eyes flickering open to the wall once more, I let the tears fall as they scanned the space, stinging and blurring my vision as I did so. My breath was unsteady as I pushed myself up from the desk, nearly knocking the chair over in the process of my abruptness. I felt misshapen, off balance, as if my equilibrium was thrown off-kilter. It had felt as if I'd been there much longer than I probably had been and yet… I could tell, it was an odd place. One suspended outside of time and space. Still my mind worked, as it did with all things, for comprehension of it.
Leaving my work there, I made a passing promise to myself to get the assignment done tomorrow as the open-faced book stared up at me, guiltily. I figured it'd be best to go back to it after treating myself to a good night's rest.
Though it was still early, I laid in bed for a while trying to calm myself down first. To no natural avail and worrying I would pass out with my anxious breathing pattern, I reasoned to reach in the bed side table and pop a xanax into my mouth, chugging down the previous night's stale glass of water with it, and laid back slowly, waiting for it to take effect.
Once not hyperventilating into my outbursts of uncontrollable anxious sobbing any longer, I could actually enjoy the act of lying there, staring at the ceiling. I wiped down my face in a broad stroke of my right palm to it, then twice more, one hand to each of my eyes making sure to dry the tears this time. Knowing I had put the walls safely back up and was numbed out once more, then and only then was I able to relinquish to the wave of calm that called my eyes to drift close.