Theodore decker x Boris pavlikovsky OneShots

🌈Boreo🌈badr al dine theodxcker

“what if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted?”

I shouldn't have even been awake. On long, nauseous nights like this, the cold of the desert is nearly as vicious as the heat. Empty, chilled to the bone, dead. Everything felt dead, except for the twinkling lights of the strip, so far they may as well rest on some unobtainable planet. I didn't even realize I was shaking, until I groped for the glass of water on my nightstand and nearly sent it rushing towards the ground. I tried to focus on something, anything- the burn of the distant lights, the coolness of the water dripping down my chin. Lifeless, all of it. Even the screaming glow of the city felt lifeless. If it wasn't New York, it meant nothing to me. Vegas, to me, was hopeless. It was the bleak, burning, screaming reality that I would likely never make it back to New York. I hated the desert, simply because it wasn't home. Yet, something kept me here. Something inside of me was content with allowing Vegas to be the pool I finally drowned in. My last mark on this Earth, unseen by almost everyone I had ever known. Shifting uncomfortably, I pushed myself off the bed as slowly as I could, careful not to wake Boris. Shuffling my feet along the floor, I made my way to my school bag, slumped against the window like a corpse. I used the weak glow of the streetlights shining through the window to find and retrieve a notebook from school, and a dulled down pencil. Though I was shivering, I didn't want to go back to bed, worried I'd wake Boris by weighing the mattress down. I instead brought my knees up, placing the notebook on my thighs. Turning past pages of failed math homework and unfinished forged notes "from" my dad ("family vacation next week, Theo's gonna be out a few days"), I finally landed on the first blank page. Though I typically wrote notes for my mother in better kept notebooks when it could be helped, this was something I'd rather have less accessible. Though I was still somewhat drunk, I tried to assume the consequences of this idea. I figured it unlikely Boris would go snooping through my old algebra homework when he had a higher chance of passing the class than I ever would. Sighing shakily, I put my hand to the paper, and the writing became almost automatic.

Mom,
I'm sorry in advance, but today's letter is a bit different than usual. For a quick rundown before I get to the point, this week was nothing special. Just the usual, I'm sure you've got an idea by now. I didn't come to tell you about going out for Chinese with dad, or almost getting caught stealing ice cream bars from 7-11 with Boris. Though I guess the second one is close enough. I don't know what to do. Since you've been gone, I've tried not to change much, I really have. You always told me that no matter what happened, I would always be your puppy, your heart, your son. Knowing you can't-

I faltered, the very idea of the next words still bringing a painful stiffness to my chest. Mustering up a shaky breath, I kept my hand moving.

-be here to see me, I want to at least be the son you remember, wherever you are now. But I'm scared. I feel like a part of me is surfacing... something you would have had no way of knowing. To embrace it means to bring something new to the equation, a son you never knew. A son that wasn't by your side as you took your last breath. I know you would always want me to be happy, no matter where I was or what I was doing. What if being happy means being someone you never got to meet? Someone that dad, if he knew, would squash with his shoe like he was nothing more than a bloodsucking mosquito. Someone who didn't have a crush on Susie in the third grade, who wasn't lying when he said she was nothing more than someone to take turns on the slide with, or swap lunch with when her mother filled her lunch bag with those baby carrots she hated so much. A son that was much more charmed by the flirtatious men on your late night soap operas than he ever would have been with the half naked women in the magazines dad left lying around before he left. I don't want to think about that part of me. Boris is the best thing that's happened to me since you died-