charity project // mischa bachinski (ride the cyclone)

1 - not sorry !!

"Class, please welcome Mischa Bachinski to our Saint Cassian Chamber Choir!" Father Marcus clapped his hands. "Everyone, say hello to Mischa. Make him feel welcome within our walls here at Saint Cassian."

"Hello, Mischa," we all echoed, most of us halfheartedly, with the exception of Constance, who sounded overjoyed, and Ricky, who... well...

"Mischa, would you be so kind as to tell us where you're from or something about yourself?"

We all watched the new boy intently. Ocean seemed especially ready to make a snap judgment of the poor guy based off of his first sentence.

Mischa propped his feet up on the seat in front of him, which happened to be my chair. I shot him a look, and he quickly shot me one back before looking back up to Father Marcus.

"No."

Father Marcus frowned. "Pardon me, Mr. Bachinski?"

"Did you not understand what I said? Maybe it was my accent. No." He crossed his arms.

"Well, guys," Father Marcus' lips pressed into a thin line. "Mischa is from Ukraine. He just recently moved to Uranium City."

I heard Noel scoff behind me. "Unfortunate."

Ocean and I both snickered a bit. Father Marcus raised an eyebrow at us, and we shut up pretty quickly.

"Mischa? Could you please at least take your feet off of Y/n's seat?"

Mischa raised an eyebrow. "Y/n?"

"Yes. That is the name of the young lady who sits in the seat on which you so very rudely put your feet upon. Please remove them."

I turned back to look at him again. He gave me a slight smirk, shrugged, and then slowly took his feet off the back of my chair.

"That was an-" Father Marcus sucked in a breath. "-eventful introduction. Anyways, I'd like you all to get out Sanctus. Y/n, go help Mischa get the sheet music, and maybe he'll apologize for his unruly behavior."

"Of course."

I stood up and motioned for him to follow me. He resentfully stood up and trudged after me to the music folders.

"Your name is Y/n?"

"Yes. I believe that's been established." I flipped through the folders to find the music we were working on.

"Well, Y/n, I'm not sorry."

I repressed a laugh, but allowed a smile.

"Does that amuse you?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

I pulled out some music. "It does."

"What is so funny to you about that? I do not find it funny."

"The only one who cares if you're sorry or not is Father Marcus. I do appreciate your honesty, though." I handed him our sheet music. "Do you know how to sight read?"

"Well, I see a word and then I read it. I know well enough."

"I meant music. Are you familiar with sight reading music?"

He scowled. "Wouldn't you like to know."

I paused. "I think I would like to know."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"How about you two use your voices to sing instead of using class time to converse," Father Marcus offered.

Mischa leaned over to me. "I don't like him."

I patted his arm. "You will soon enough. It took me a bit of time."

"We don't have all day, lovebirds!" Noel hissed. "I want to get this class over with. It'll go faster if we sing rather than-"

"Can it, Taco Bell," I sat back down.

Noel raised his eyebrows, an impressed smile on his face. "Touche."

Noel and I have been friends since -I'm not exactly sure- kindergarten? We made fun of each other all the time. It was our way of showing we cared about each other. If people didn't know how close we were, they'd probably assume we hated each other. I was also decent friends with Ocean, which Noel didn't necessarily appreciate. She really isn't that bad once you get to know her.

We rehearsed until the bell had rung. It was the end of the day, and I was planning on going to Ocean's house to study and finish homework, and afterwards driving to Taco Bell to visit Noel, and then go to a small cafe for a late coffee.

I put my music into my backpack.

"Y/n."

I looked behind me at Mischa, repressing an eye roll. "Do you need something?"

"You have a beautiful singing voice."

I knit my brows. "Wh- thank you?"

Before he could respond with 'You're welcome!', He left the room.

I shook my head, still trying to make sense of what he just said. Or just trying to make sense of Mischa in general. What was his deal? The man literally went from 'I'm not sorry, Y/n!' to 'What a beautiful singing voice, Y/n!' within an hour.