Work Text:
mischa >>> noel
mischa: hey poet
mischa: you are home?
noel: mmhm
mischa: coming over for the night
noel: woahh whats up
mischa: will tell you when there
~
the doorbell rang twice.
"get that, will you, noel?" his mother called through.
"yes." he stood and walked through, "it's my friend, i think. he said he's coming over,"
"just get the door,"
noel unlatched and opened the door. he'd never seen mischa in such a state. he looks horribly disheveled.
"hey, you.." he waved softly, "come in,"
mischa shrugged and stepped in beside noel, watching him close and lock the door again, "poet,"
he walked mischa through the house, past his now passed-out mother, to his bedroom. quickly, he locked that door too.
"now you're gonna tell me what's wrong," noel said, arms crossed, "sit down, that's it, tell me,"
mischa looked up at him from where he was sat on the bed, and said words in ukrainian. soft, softer than usual.
"in english, hon,"
"talia," mischa just about managed.
"what happened with talia?"
another soft few ukrainian phases.
"mischa.."
and he was set off, sobbing, clinging to noel's waist. noel's brow creased, placing one careful hand in mischa's hair.
"what did she say to you?" he said, soft too, "tell me,"
"i trusted her," mischa replied. god, he sounded hurt, "the love of my life, poet,"
"i know,"
"being bisexual is too much. she said,"
"no, nononono, misch.. honey.."
mischa was crying hard. noel sat down and let mischa grip him hard. noel carefully ran his hands through mischa's hair.
"i know, i know," he whispered, "yeah, misch, get it all out,"
"noel," mischa whispered, head resting on his chest, "speak french, tell me anything,"
noel hesitated. he then began to recite his favourite film monologue, vulgar, of course. but it wasn't like mischa could understand. he'd stopped sobbing by the end of the monologue.
"was that okay?" noel asked carefully.
"good. beautiful," mischa paused, "ти симпатичний,"
"hhm..?"
"ти симпатичний, маленький поет,"
"what does that mean?"
"i won't tell you,"
"really?" he pouted, "won't even tell me?"
mischa laughed softly. he leant in close, awfully close, "it means.. why you are smiling like that?"
"no reason.. it means..?" noel prompted, eyes glistening.
"..you're cute, little poet," mischa finished.
"hey.. i'm not little," he pouted again, "wait, what?"
"nothing. and you are very little. look," mischa rolled off the bed and stood, then pulled noel up too, "see? look. baby,"
noel stared up at him. yes, he was smaller, to be fair but that doesn't mean he was little, or a baby to be fair. i mean, so what if he liked it when mischa called him that?
"oh, you're such a bastard," noel whined, "you, you, stupidly sexy bastard,"
out of nowhere, noel stood up on his tiptoes and kissed mischa. he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, conflicted until he felt mischa's hands on his waist.
carefully, he pulled back, "you're the first boy i've ever kissed.. you're the first person i've kissed,"
mischa suddenly looked solemn again, "i have never thought it would be you, poet. my first kiss,"
"misch.."
"i know," he gazed off, "i was reasoning, with her, you know,"
"i bet you did," he took one of his hands, "didn't you post a song about her?"
"once. it is not too good," he shrugged a little.
"your music is.." noel paused, "well, not my favourite, but it's typically good,"
"what do you listen to?" mischa asked, looking over at the vintage looking record player, "classical? that, ah, french sad female singer?"
"édith piaf, you mean,"
"her. what is your music like?"
"things exactly like that.."
"you never surprise me, little poet,"
"still not little,"
"little poet?"
"stop that. what do you need?"
"turn some music on,"
noel nodded, humming and moving over to his record player. he flicked it on, not changing whatever vinyl was on already. he carefully placed the needle down and headed back over.
mischa grabbed noel again by the waist, spinning him in a shitty waltz.
"you know.." mischa started, "this would be more good with alcohol,"
"mischie,"
"what the fuck did you call me?"
"mischie. i'm trying new things,"
"stop that,"
"is something wrong, misch?"
"that is acceptable,"
"good to know, mimi,"
"noel."
noel began to laugh, pleased with himself. mischa frowned, looking down with disdain at his.. friend. friend?
"hey, poet," mischa asked, "what are you?"
"what. what do you mean?" noel tilted his head, "i'm.. a person. what are you on about?"
"no. what are you to me?"
"your fr... i don't know,"
"maybe i am your friend who you kiss sometimes,"
noel flustered slightly, looking off mischa's gaze, "i mean.."
"sounds like lovers,"
"mischa.. look," noel stepped back, "you didn't just come here to ask me to be your rebound, did you?"
mischa frowned, "no. no, poet, jesus christ," he closed his eyes, "i came to you because of your words. your poetry cheers me up,"
"i'm not even a good poet.."
"for fuck's sake, noel. your words make me not physically cry,"
noel hesitantly stepped back. he didn't know how to respond. mischa stepped forward and seized his hand, kissing him again. noel melted right into it. warm.
mischa pulled slightly away, "i am heartbroken, i am. but if a woman i poured entire heart of mine into does not respect me.."
noel gazed up at him, "so you.. came to someone who would respect you..?"
"i came to the one i should have spent energy on,"
noel rested his head onto mischa's chest, sighing shakily, "do you still want to move back to ukraine?"
mischa shrugged a bit, "maybe. would you come with me?"
"i don't know if i could,"
"because of your saving to go to france?"
"mmhm.." noel sighed, "would you ever.."
"would i?"
"ever get back with her? if she apologised?"
"i do not know. she left me for how i am,"
"who you are is beautiful,"
mischa began to sway with noel in his arms. noel squeaked and just went along with it.
"you are.. not heavy," mischa lifted noel slightly off the floor, "you eat, little poet?"
"i eat, and stop calling me that, mimi,"
"i will not," mischa paused, then grinned, "i will call you whatever you want, shawty,"
"what the fuck-" noel stared at him, "put me down... amour,"
mischa laughed and, instead, moved noel to a comfier hold position, "no. now, i will call you my little poet or will have to call you shawty,"
"do not do eithe- your?"
"my,"
"oh, come on-" he blushed hard.
mischa laughed again. he tossed noel onto the bed, then led next to him. noel reached up and closed the curtain. it was dark anyway. mischa moved over.
"you. shawty. poet,"
"mimi,"
"i want you to come here and sleep on my chest like little kitty,"
noel flustered a bit and moved over. mischa grabbed him and placed him on his chest. mischa flicked the table lamp off from beside him.
"noel," he said quietly, "you have made me happy man today, thank you,"
"no, thanks to you, misch,"
"what? what have i done?"
noel lifted his head up, looking at mischa, gazing into his deep brown eyes.
"you've given this poet his words back,"
mischa smiled softly, "aw. what a cute little poet,"
"oh my god, mischa,"
"is there something wrong, shawty?"
"mischa,"
"you are saying my name repeatedly. tell me why, baby,"
"mi-" noel blinked, "wait, what did you just call me?"
"nothing, poet," mischa grinned, smug, "little, ah, kitty,"
"no, call me that again,"
"kitty? poet,"
"no, the other thing,"
"shawty,"
"no, nonono," he shook his head, "you called me baby,"
"when did i do that?"
"misch, you are tormenting me,"
mischa laughed softly, running a hand along noel's back, "ah, poet. i can torment you in other ways-"
"oh my g- maybe later,"
"i do not know why you looked disgusted," he shrugged, "you have called yourself.. what was it.."
"what, the greatest whore on this side of the globe?"
"yes,"
"that's not about me, it's about monique,"
"i thought you were monique,"
noel shook his head softly, "she's a different person, a character,"
"well, good. i like noel more,"
he smiled slightly at mischa and laid his head back down onto mischa's chest. warm, comfy. kinda like a pillow. mischa played with his hair a little, talking to himself in what noel presumed was ukrainian.
"bonne nuit, amour," noel sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing.
"mmhm, night,"
~
mischa >>> noel
mischa: little poet
mischa: thank you
mischa: for last night
noel: its okay :) im always here if you need me
mischa: i will bring the vodka next time
noel: haha funny one
mischa: is not joke
mischa: i will see you again soon poet
noel: mmhm
noel: see you soon amour