Kaleidoscope

iii

I opened one eye as I felt Boris' black curls tickle the back of my neck, Boris putting his face on the back of my neck as he spooned me. My body felt sore and I had a horrible headache. Hangover, I guessed. My other eye opened wearily, and I felt Boris' grip on my waist loosen. "Good morning, Potter..."

His voice was raspy and low, probably to avoid scaring me shitless. If I was honest, his voice was more attractive this way, not that his voice wasn't attractive always. I pinched my leg at the thought, not queer, my thought summed up to, repeating those two words over and over in order to convince me that I wasn't. I could see that the bandage on his finger wasn't there anymore, and, looking over, I could see it was on the bedside table. Boris probably took it off because it was irritating him, though, due to him removing it, it would take longer to recover. I turned slowly, groaning as I laid my head on Boris' chest sleepily. I wasn't trying to act gay, that would be weird, my body just felt achy and like shit. This action took Boris by surprise though, after a moment, I felt his hand run through my hair gently, slowly as to not disturb me. It felt peaceful, as if the playground's atmosphere had entered the room when Boris did yesterday. "Morning..." I managed to say in between a yawn. "Body feels like shit."

Boris looked away awkwardly for a moment, "Hangovers are shit."

So, it was just a hangover, that confirmed it. It was normal, even so, why hadn't Boris confirmed this earlier? I shrugged the thoughts off, "Mind if we skip today?"

"Is fine, you should know that," Boris let out a hearty chuckle, his hand still running through my hair.

Popchik who laid, curled up, at our feet began to stir at the sound of Boris' laugh. His tail, wrapped delicately around his body, flicked to the side as he rose his head, nose twitching. Finally he spotted us, and on his way over to us he bent downwards while walking, stretching, before rising again. Our faces were showered with small licks of greeting from the small white dog when he made his way over.

"Morning, Popchik!" Boris exclaimed, his voice a normal volume as it was during the day.

Popchik opened his mouth, his small pink tongue slipped out as he started to pant. Quickly, with a distasteful expression, Boris pushed his face away, "niet."

The word was said simply, and it flowed out of Boris' mouth perfectly. Niet meant no, and it was something Boris said a lot. "Bad breath?"

Boris nodded, causing us both to break down into laughter. The peaceful atmosphere only growing. "For prom, what will you wear?"

Boris looked over, "Nothing special. Normal clothes."

"To prom? Boris, you'll stick out so easily." I snorted.

"What? Want me to wear tuxedo? Is stupid, takes to much effort all for one night." Boris replied, shrugging.

I opened my mouth to say something quick-witted, but I stopped, only after a minute I opened it again, "What, don't think you'll look good in a tux?"

"Do you think I'll look good in a tux?" Boris' voice was softer than usual.

I tensed. He would look great, amazing even, but saying so would make me look gay. Yet, if I said no, Boris could pass it off as a joke or it could get awkward. Both would end awkwardly, wouldn't they? I gulped, "Yeah." And before he could say anything, I added, "At least, girls will think that."

Boris nodded, though he looked skeptical and as if he knew something was up with me. I felt as if my stomach rolled over and over again, nauseating me. "Yes, will get lots of girls." Boris smiled, "lots of girls."

I raised one eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. To this, Boris responded with a half-hearted shrug. "C'mon Potter,"

I snorted as he rose out of the bed, holding one hand out. "What?"

"Good idea I want to show you!" Boris exclaimed, exaggerating the eye roll given to me. "Now, take my hand."

I did so reluctantly, though it was nice to feel Boris' soft scrawny hand under mine. It reminded me of our night the stars, whispering to each other about cigarettes as the moon appeared, the stars dancing around the ball of light like a parade. The memory sent a shudder down my spine, making me snap out of the state. Boris was rummaging through my things until he found a familiar song, Africa by Toto.

"Boris, wait." I stared at him, "Dancing?"

"Said good idea, yes?" Boris smiled at me, "Must dance Potter, no backing out now!"

I sighed, "Boris. I can't dance." It was hard to admit since Boris seemed to know what he was doing.

"We'll see about that, let your feet guide you, is simple!"