One small thing. (RIDE THE CYCLONE)

One small thing- Taco bell (1)

(Quick Note, I am Scottish and never had a Taco Bell, that's why the meals aren't mentioned and the decor may be off. Sorry. Also, idk if you can read this on the app, I copy and pasted it from my notes.)

(Constance's perspective)
Choirs just finished up for the day, the sessions are typically an hour long. Mischa did his usual today, storming out midway, screaming, shouting and throwing stuff. Today it was because I accidentally knocked over his bottle. I apologised over and over, to no avail. I feel like I always do something wrong, it's like he hates me. I've tried and tried to get him to tell me what Ive did wrong but it's like all my efforts make him angrier. It's as if I'm constantly doing something to upset him without doing anything at all! I feel terrible, maybe he would've stayed today if I didn't do that, maybe everyone would've had fun, maybe it wouldn't have been awkward. Maybe he wouldn't hate me.

I'm off to the mall to do a job that ocean can't manage right now, she's asked me to help her spread the word of the choir, to try get more people to join. She's had to head back to her house after choir to create more of the recruitment papers, we usually post them up on the walls together, decorating the mall with those badly drawn, sparkly gen pen written posters. But, I guess I'm alone today.

Before I start an agonising two hours off battering my fingers to get thumb stacks and posters sticking to walls, I decide to get something to eat, I browse around the limited options I have, before glancing in the window of a Taco Bell, I see Mischa, he's sitting there, that same sour look plastered onto his face. I decide to head in, not just to apologise endlessly again, but to see if Noel's there to give me a discount. I order my taco and sit down across from Mischa, he glares at me as if he's trying to blow me up using his mind or something, I can tell he doesn't want me there. He never does. He eats silently, practically ignoring my presence, the silence is long and painfully awkward.

After a while, I decide to break the ice, and shoot my shot at another apology. As we both sit, in silence, in this dirty, empty, cold Taco Bell, I look up at him. Hey, Mischa, I'm still so sorry for today, I didn't mean it, I promise." It didn't land well, he just stares down at the table as if I never spoke at all. I decide to chime in again, maybe he didn't hear me? "I just- it was an accident, I swear! I'm sorry." He ignores me, again, I begin to panic now. I can't have him hate me over something as petty as THIS.

"I said I'm sorry, Mischa. Do you hate me or something? It's like I'm always doing something wrong, I don't mean to, really." This time, he looks at me, he looks at me dead in the eyes. His eyes are filled with anger, I panic more, I just don't know what I'm doing wrong. "I don't hate you. Well.." He chokes out in between bites of his food. Before I can even open my mouth to begin again, he follows himself up.

"I hate choir, I hate this stupid, stupid country, I hate everything about this place, I hate the rules, I hate the weather, I hate the members, I hate singing hymns, I hate Taco Bell. Life was better in Ukraine, I hate this town, I hate uranium. I hate it, so much."

I feel that, obviously I've never moved away from my home country. Yet, I relate to his ramble, I hate this town too. I guess I should speak up, i look down at my taco, then I look him the eyes, for the first time, I see something other than anger, I see...sorrow? "Yeah, I guess this place does kinda suck, doesn't it? But, you don't need to be angry about it all the time, you just need to see the little joy there is in it." He doesn't respond, he stares down.

Time must've flown by, because before I know it, it's time they shut, and employ comes up to gather our bill. It's not Noel. I assume he thinks we ordered together. Mischa scrambled around in his pockets and pulls out change, he's short, by a lot, I can see the look on his face, and decide to pay off mine and his. It's the least I can do after spilling his bottle today anyway.

He gets up to leave, stops and stares. "Thank you, Constance, I guess." He says sheepishly and basically in a whisper, I'm glad he thanked me, even if it wasn't whole hearted. "You don't need to thank me, it's alright, it's the least I can do." I didn't really know what to say, I didn't know how he'd react.

"You didn't have to do that, you don't need to be so nice to me." This catches me off guard, I mean, normally, he'd be ranting about how silly everything is, but he's not.

"I mean, it's what I do, Mischa, I don't hate you, you deserve to eat." He pulls a face at this, not the face he usually pulls. Not the disgusted, agitated, bored mask he normally has, this time, he looks...vulnerable? He stares at me, with this saddened look. His eyes widen, he locks my eyes with his. His eyes are glossy, his lip is quivering. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I upset you, I really didn't mean to-" He cuts me off, by not even speaking, he just makes a noise. I awkwardly attempt to guide both of us out of the Taco Bell by shifting to the door, he follows.