𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒎･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒗.

iv

I knew exactly how he felt. How had I not thought about it much before? Boris had the painting too, technically longer than I did. We were both trudging about our lives with this object completely controlling us. Looming over our heads like a never ending thunderstorm. And if Boris had experienced any of the hardship I've felt— he didn't seem to show it. Or maybe he didn't want to.

We sat there looking at each other for what felt like forever, until he spoke up again. "Takes a toll on you. I could barely look at it. I was so ashamed, still so ashamed. figured that was it! This one thing, ruined everything that we—" he stopped abruptly, not finishing his sentence. The look in his eyes grew more serious and sad as he continued, "I saw how much you were attached to it, Potter. The night you showed me. I didn't want that for you— But I had no right to take it."

"Hey," I reached over companionably and put my hand on his shoulder. He smiled and looked down, grazing my forearm with his thumb.

"Well—" we sat like that for a couple moments.

"If you didn't take it, it would probably still be hiding away in my storage unit."

He laughed and playfully punched my shoulder "Exactly! I told you. Is fate!"

I shoved him into the other side of the couch in amusement, "Fate, sure."

"You don't believe in fate?"

"I didn't say—" I saw the serious expression on his face and burst out laughing.

"Oh fuck off." He rolled his eyes.

We kept talking and laughing for what seemed like hours, catching up and finishing the bottle of champagne Boris bought that day. We were loopy and drunk, everything was light and hilarious. Apparently Boris had developed some sort of eating disorder? Some time after I had left Vegas, "Ha! It was awful Potter! I was not used to being so full all the time. You remember— those days? It wasn't healthy at all, so quite literally fucked me up. My stomach at least. Couldn't keep anything down!"

"God that's terrible," I shook my head in shock.

He let out a strong laugh, "Though, I got over it quick. Now now, What's this?" pointing at the television, he scrunched up his face in confusion.

Home alone started playing on the screen, but my mind started drifting off to the fact that we had been talking nonstop about our lives between Vegas and now, yet Boris had not mentioned his perfect, yogurt commercial family and wife. I'd rather not bring up the topic, which I didn't need to anyway cause Boris seemed to be interested enough in the movie.

"Turn off the light, would you kochanie?"

~~~

"How the hell did this kid come up with this intricate plan so fast?" The champagne was starting to make me sleepy, but still I found everything to be way to funny, "And he's what? ten years old?"

"Eight actually," Boris yawned, "This is why I hate kids. They're always getting in your way."

"So your on the their side?"

"Of course not! How could I side with someone with the nickname— 'Wet bandits?' How is that child appropriate?" He waved his hands around as he spoke, appearing to be passionate about it, which made me chuckle.

I smiled and shoved his head to the side. "Shut up," He grinned and sank further into the couch.

"You tired?" Boris turned to me, I could see the reflection of the TV in his eyes, the blue light cast shadows around his face.

"Kinda," I replied. "Should I just sleep here?"

He seemed offended, "You want to sleep here? On this tiny thing?"

"I- I don't know. Where else is there?"

"I have king size. Cotton sheets too, it's very comfortable."

I shrugged hesitantly, agreeing to it and we continued watching the movie. My eyes were growing heavier and the light from the TV was growing brighter, blurrier.

I must've dozed off for the rest of it because when I opened my eyes, Boris was turning the TV off and putting away our dishes. "Come on Potter, let's get to bed," I stood up and almost fell directly on my face, and I might've if Boris wasn't standing right there. It had completely slipped my mind how sick I still was, and the amount of champagne I had drank. "God, You alright? Dizzy?"

"Yeah," I muttered, clutching to his shoulder. I felt like I was going to throw up. "I'm okay."

He smiled warmly and helped me up the stairs. When we made it to the little room, I slowly laid myself down of the bed, and clumsily placed my glasses on the table beside it.

"Comfortable?" Boris asked— and with nod, I fell right to sleep.

~~~