charity project // mischa bachinski (ride the cyclone)

30 - tell her

After rehearsals, I was heading upstairs to my room. I stopped when I heard Mischa speaking behind a door. His speech was rapid, and the tone acrimonious. Not shouting, exactly, but clearly bitter. I couldn't tell what he was saying, and that was because it was all in Ukrainian. I pressed my ear to the door. He was on the phone with what sounded like a girl. Given past events, I assumed it was Talia. I lightly knocked on the door. Mischa stopped talking and cautiously opened the door.

He saw me, and sighed a breath of relief. "Tell her, кохана, tell her I love you. She doesn't believe me."

"What?" I was a bit confused.

"Talia thinks I'm trying to prove something by saying I don't like her. She thinks that I'm lying about you to avoid her, the manipulative bitch."

"She's on the phone! She can hear you!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "She doesn't know what I'm saying. She doesn't speak English. I can say anything I want about her and she won't know."

"What if she does, though?"

"I don't care whether she does or not. She hurt my friend, and she tried to hurt me, both for her own personal gain."

I caught my first glimpse of Talia. She was pretty, it was true. It was no wonder he liked her before.

Her voice crackled through the speaker. With an accent heavier than even Mischa's, in very broken English, she finally said something. "Your friend is right. I do know a bit. I feel bad for what I did. But you do understand?"

He glared at his phone. "No. I would not do that. I would not play with how people feel to get what I want. This is also not my friend, Talia. She's who you wish you were."

This began a quick argument in Ukrainian. After Mischa said something, Talia went silent. She spoke again in English. "Before I hang up, I would like to say something to your friend."

His jaw clenched and he handed over his phone. "Don't you dare say anything mean to her."

Once Talia saw me, she smiled sweetly. "Ah. He was right, you are very pretty. I am sure you are a great person, too. It is such a shame that you have chosen to be with such an undeserving boy. Don't waste your time."

I didn't react. It wasn't the first time someone had told me that. She hung up and I was left staring at my reflection in the black screen. I looked over to Mischa, who was practically fuming.

"Do you need a moment?" I asked, almost in a whisper.

"No. I just need to let it go, you know? Continuing to talk to her solves nothing. She just makes me more angry. I do not like feeling angry."

"Good idea. Do you want to go and watch a movie?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes. That would be very nice, thank you.

Down the hall, everyone was already watching a movie. I sat down with Mischa, who draped an arm around me.

"You guys are disgustingly adorable. I am going to be sick," Noel grimaced.

"I don't think it's disgusting," Constance offered. "I think it's really sweet."

Mischa beamed. "Thank you, Constance! Someone appreciates me."

"I, for one, stand with Noel. You are disgustingly adorable. Just drop the adorable part. This is aimed at Mischa. Not Y/n," Ocean said.

Mischa looked incredulous. "What? I did nothing to you!"

"I can make a list! One: you refuse to call me Ocean and only refer to me as 'red hair'. Two: I have seen things I wish I could unsee, which is mostly your fault. Three: you made a mess of the kitchen this morning trying to make pancakes. You're a lousy cook."

Constance jumped to Mischa's defense. "Just because he burnt a few- sorry- all of the pancakes doesn't mean he's a bad person! It's the thought that counts! I think what he was doing was very thoughtful!"

"I didn't ask you, Constance," Ocean glared at her.

"Sorry."

I was agape. "That's so mean, Ocean!"

"It's not my fault that I didn't ask her," She brushed it off.

Ricky tapped her on the shoulder and signed something. I don't know very much sign language, so I couldn't tell what he was saying. Ocean, however, had studied it and knew what it meant. She gasped. "Ricky! I can't believe that you would say that! I am not a terrible friend!"

The silence after that was incredible.

Noel broke that silence. "You talk to Constance in a very disrespectful manner. You're very passive-aggressive towards Y/n. You treat Ricky like some sort of accessory."

Ricky gave him a thumbs up.

Ocean looked too shocked to speak.

"Well... You're all... you're all..." She struggled to find words. "Wrong!"

She stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Was that a little bit harsh?" Constance winced.

Noel shook his head. "No. Not at all. Nothing I said was untrue."

"He is right. It was well-deserved at best," Mischa chimed in.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned against Mischa. We watched a bit more of the movie, and Constance and Ricky had gone to their rooms. Noel was passed out on the other side of the couch. Mischa was awake, and I was half-asleep. I looked up at him, and he was absorbed in the movie.

"You're so pretty," I said.

He looked down. "Pretty?"

"Yeah. Pretty."

"I am not pretty," He protested.

"No," I frowned. "You're definitely a pretty boy."

"Pretty boy? No. I am a hot man."

"You're very hot," I agreed, nodding.

He squinted at me. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. I'm alright."

"You act like you are drunk," His eyes widened. "My wine."

"What are you talking about? I'm acting like I normally do," I paused. "That's a fun word. Normally."

"No. Your words sound funny. You are saying weird stuff. Are you tired?"

"No," I lied.

"Yes. You definitely are. You are drunk with the tired."

"No, I'm not! I'm perfectly fine, you beautiful, beautiful man. I'll watch the rest of the movie with you."

Mischa pursed his lips. "You saying that tells me everything I need to know. Go to bed, please."

"I promise you that I am not tired. Pinky promise," I held out my pinky.

He pushed my hand down. "No. You are lying that you are not tired."

"I'm just tired a little bit," I admitted.

"You can sleep, you know."

I thought about this. "Maybe. Do you think-"

He put a finger to my lips. "Shh."

Mischa pulled me closer to his chest. He began to stroke my hair and started to hum a song that I didn't know.

"What are you-"

"Shh. It is song my mother sang to me when I was very little. I always wanted to stay up very late, even when I was very tired. She always got me to sleep by singing it."

I closed my eyes and listened. I could feel the sound resonating in his chest, and that only lulled me to sleep faster.

a/n: oops kinda forgor that  charity project existed. oops. anyways im back and happy homo month i love gay people (me)