Hidden Tracks | ✓

10 | cursing your name

Remember that getting along thing between Soler and me?

Yeah, that didn't last long.

Today, like always, we got engaged in a screaming match, where he threw insults at me, I threatened to make him go off the grid, he threatened to shoot me, and Miranda threatened to have us both called off the mission.

A dream team, everyone.

"Honestly, Winter, why can't your pea sized brain just grasp the fact that you can never win an argument with me?"

I could really kill him at this freaking point.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Look in the mirror, Soler, you'll find delusion staring right back at you. Be sure to say hi from me."

His green eyes darkened. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

I rubbed my temple. "I've been dealing with you for ten years now, Matchstick Marco."

If looks could kill, I'd be six thousand feet under.

"Well two can play this game, Potatohead."

Now it was my turn to glare at him. But I can't deny I saw that one coming.

The year I first arrived at TIA, when I was 12 and he was 14, we'd started disliking each other right off the bat. And just a few weeks after I came, we had this training session where we were supposed to work with fire.

Now all the young trainees like Soler and I were supposed to light our matches to ignite the flame, but what I didn't know was that Soler was terrified of fire at that time. He was immensely scared to light a match. So when the time came for us to light it, he fled like a wimp.

That's right, he just made up a bullshit excuse of urgently needing to use the washroom and fled.

Of course I saw right through his lie and later gave him shit for it, laughing in his face everytime I saw him. And that was when I gave him that nickname. Matchstick Marco. Even though he'd long gotten over his fear, the nickname had stuck.

I called him Soler all the time so sometimes I tended to forget his first name was actually Marco. This nickname was a welcome reminder, but I only used it when I was especially pissed at him.

This was one of those times.

But of course, I couldn't forget the wonderful nickname he'd come up with for me.

When I was 14, we'd challenged each other to a rock climbing competition at TIA. There was a separate space in the TIA complex filled with huge rocks just to be used for training purposes, and Soler and I were out to prove that we were better than the other.

So after grabbing ropes and other equipment, we set out to climb those boulders. Of course, when I'd said Soler was better at combat than me, I'd meant it.

He scaled those rocks easily, whereas me, being the clumsy ass 14-year-old I was, lost my footing and fell headfirst onto the ground.

I was lucky I didn't get a concussion, and I was also lucky I lost a lot of that clumsiness over the years.

Anyway, when I hit the ground, instead of showing concern or helping me, Soler just laughed his ass off, totally reveling in the moment.

Later, he saw me sporting a huge bump on my forehead, and thus the nickname Potatohead was born. Again, he too usually used it only when I pushed him to his absolute limits.

I guess today was one of those times. I flipped him off and he smirked at me, clearly enjoying the fact that he got the last word.

But Miranda wasn't having it any longer. "Will you two stop? I signed up to be the leader of this mission, not your damn babysitter!"

We mumbled our apologies to her but I don't think either of us was very sincere. I mean, I was sorry for the fact that Miranda had to witness all our fights and faceoffs but did I regret anything I'd said to him?

Hell no. Bastard deserved every bit of it.

I glared at him one last time before starting my meal. We'd gathered in Miranda's room and requested for our dinner to be delivered to her room, so that we could work on our plans and eat at the same time.

But so far, all we'd accomplished was a huge fight between Soler and me. I'll admit a tiny bit of that was my fault.

I mentally cringed at how petty I was being. Usually I was calm and collected when it came to my missions, I was way more mature than this, but there was just something about Soler which brought out the bratty child in me. He just drove me mad. Not once, not twice, but every damn day.

I forced myself to shift my focus back to my roast chicken and Miranda, who had started talking about our plans.

"So," she began, "Since we've got no leads in Paris so far, what do you two suggest we should do? Stay here a little longer for further investigation, or check out Mehmet Dogan in Istanbul?"

"I think we should leave for Istanbul soon. Staying here isn't helping much, and the sooner we check out any leads we have the better. Mehmet Dogan might turn out to be completely unhelpful but we've got to try," I said.

"Soler? What do you think?"

He scowled, looking incredibly disgruntled, as if it physically pained him to say whatever he was going to say next. "I agree, we should go to Istanbul now."

I smirked at him, while he simply rolled his eyes, for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Yeah, roll your eyes one more time, you might actually find a brain back there," I gestured at his head.

"Do you specifically search for overused comebacks on Google before using them on me?" He retorted.

I snorted. "Please. Like I would waste that much of my time on you."

Miranda got up, her straight black hair (which I was so envious of) bouncing off her back. "That's it, I'm leaving. I'll finish the rest of my dinner at the restaurant, and I'm not coming back till you two sort out your issues."

Without another word, she strode out of the room, and this time, I genuinely felt guilty. I mean, we'd driven her out of her own room, acting like we were in fifth grade.

I sighed. Someone had to be the bigger person here, at least for now.

"Truce?"

Soler and I both said this at the same time, and then we proceeded to stare at each other in surprise. After three seconds--

"Yeah, okay."

Again, we both uttered this together. What the hell? What kind of weird telepathic shit was this?

Anyway, I was glad we could at least agree on this. A temporary truce was necessary if we wanted the mission to go smoothly, and Miranda to not lose her mind any longer.

Soler held out his hand. I stared at it for a moment, before shaking it firmly. It felt a bit strange doing it, because we'd never shaken hands on anything. But whatever, I could put the past behind us for some time, if he did too.

"Now let's try our best not to break our pact and be civil with each other as much as possible." I said.

He nodded, a strand of his dark hair falling over his eye. "Yeah, okay. Also we need to call back Miranda, and finish dinner. It's getting cold."

And that's what we found ourselves doing minutes later, bringing Miranda back to her room and eating the rest of the dinner with as much forced civility as we could muster.

a/n: a truce between kaia and marco...wonder how long that'll last hehe. also, what do you think mehmet dogan is involved in?