I hadn't been lying when I'd said my eyes were heavy. As soon as I was sure Boris was actually asleep and not lying to me again, I curled up on my side and fell fast asleep. My room was warm and quiet, and I always slept better when Boris was near. Since he had returned home the previous night my sleep had been restless and interrupted, thankfully not from nightmares but rather aching loneliness in my heart that wouldn't dull until I saw him again the next morning. Boris and I had slept together many times before, and he usually was dead-still, which I had found a little odd at first as awake he was a bursting bubble of explosive energy, and often wouldn't stop moving, however in the odd between stages of consciousness and sleep I could feel him shifting next to me, subdued enough to still be asleep, but strange compared to his usual behaviors.
I was exhausted, both from the lack of sleep and my obsessive worrying over Boris' recent odd behavior, but it felt like mere seconds before I was awakening again. There was movement coming next to me, and the sheets seemed almost damp. My head snapped up fast enough to hurt as a scream pierced the air laden with terror and loss and pure agony. My eyes were wide and my heartbeat thundering in my chest as my gaze almost immediately fell upon Boris. His eyes were moving rapidly back and forth under his eyelids, his shirt wet with sweat as he thrashed around violently, his breaths harsh and panicked.
"Boris!" I called, sitting up quickly, leaning over him and shaking his shoulder. He jerked away from my touch, screaming.
"нет!" his voice was cracking, filled with pain and terror. I didn't know what else to do but continue to try and shake him awake.
"Boris," I repeated, my voice louder now, "Boris wake up," I leaned over him, shaking both of his shoulders when he didn't respond to me. For a split second, I saw his eyes open but I had no time to read his emotions because he screamed again and suddenly my chest hurt and I was launched from the bed. I hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of me, and for a second lay there confused. My chest hurt badly and I gathered that he must have shoved or punched or kicked me off the bed in his fear. I stood quickly and was shocked at the sight before me. The blankets were half dragged on the floor which must have been a result of Boris' attempt to escape the bed. Boris himself was in the furthest corner of the room, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms covering his head protectively. He was sobbing, the sounds loud and harsh as he mumbled broken pleas in Russian, all of which I knew. He was rocking back and forth, and I could hear him choking on his own breaths.
"Нет, пожалуйста, не надо! Пожалуйста, мне так жаль! мне жаль!" No, please don't! Please, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I moved slowly towards him, kneeling down by his side as he continued to plead.
"Пожалуйста, пожалуйста, прекратите, я не хочу этого, пожалуйста, извините! Я сделаю все, только перестань, пожалуйста, это больно" Please! Please stop! I don't want it! Please I'm sorry! I'll do anything just stop, please it hurts! He begged between choked breaths. He was wheezing, not enough air getting in and I was terrified, his broken pleas in Russian giving me a stomach ache. I could only imagine what he was seeing. I didn't know what to do, but I doubted Boris did either when he calmed me from my nightmares, so I tried to do what he did with me. I reached out and gently touched his arms protecting his head, biting my lip when he flinched violently as though I had hit him. "Пожалуйста..." he whimpered.
"Shhh, Boris everything is okay." I murmured, leaning close to him so he could feel my breaths on his neck in a way I hoped was grounding. "You're safe, you're safe now, I've got you, just breathe Boris, everything is alright now, I promise." He'd stopped screaming which I took as a good sign. He was shaking more visibly now, his breathing less forced but his tears still loud and heartbreaking.
"Theo?" he suddenly called, panic in his voice. His head raised as he called my name again his eyes wide and frantic as his hands grabbed at nothing. I took his hands into my own, pressing our foreheads together and I stared into his eyes and whispered, "I'm here, I'm here Boris." He whimpered, sinking into my embrace as I had done many times before with him.
"Theo, please, they're gonna-they're gonna make me do it again!" he cried into my chest. I wanted to know who he was talking about, but now was not the time for explanations. "It's just us Boris, no one else is here I promise. You're safe."
"I don't want to do it, please Theo it hurt don't let them make me do it!" he begged, panic rising in his voice again. I shook my head, one hand supporting his back while the other ran through his hair gently, just like he did with me. "No one's gonna make you do anything, I promise," I said. He held on to me tighter, though his tears and panicked breaths were slowly quieting. I began to hum a tune my mother had sang to me when I was little. I don't remember the words nor what it was called, but as an anxious child it had always soothed me and seemed to have a similar effect on Boris. I continued to hum to him even after he had quieted, his breaths evening out and his cries reduced to only small sniffles here and there. I was angry I hadn't noticed his fears before. I knew so little about his personal life, only the things he had voluntarily told me, and he was the kind of person who didn't like to reveal his problems with others for fear of being abandoned as a burden. This I had deduced in the early stages of our friendship through many of his mannerisms and behaviors. He would have no qualms with caring for others, even seemed happy to, but when it came to himself he bottled up his troubles, and it seemed that was causing him much more harm than good. I was starting to realize now why his eyes were so shaded.