Chapter Text
My love, to have you feast on my heart would be of my highest honour. I am but a man, a man without soul nor spark. Can this mere man ever be able to grace himself with your presence and skin, to indulge himself in you. I know you are starving, so please allow me to nurture your hunger. The ache, oh the ache you will assist this ache and nurse me, yes love? Please, I beg of you, help me, help my lack of soul my love.
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Misha's day started as normal, waking up in dark, damp basement to the sounds of his adopters screaming upstairs, surprisingly not about him, but still shouting. Whatever. The black walls of his basement blurred into focus as he started to make out horror movie posters and the clutter of clothes and trinkets spread about the small and dimly lit room, he yawned and stretched, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and playing absentmindedly with his curls as he started getting ready for the day. The two screaming crazy people upstairs made for nice background noise. Getting changed out of the plain tank top and sweat pants he was previously sleeping in, stripping them off and replacing them with his school's uniform, Misha then travelled upstairs, wary of his adopters and their newest argument. The noise of shouting morphed into something that sounded more physical as he heard a slap, a deafening silence followed after to which was then interrupted by a sudden wail and the sound of glass shattering.
He continued his way upstairs and braced himself before opening the door, running through the kitchen and living room while swiftly avoiding a stray glass being thrown from his female adopter and running out the house, at least he wasn't hit, last time he had to come up with some backward excuse as to why he had a bruise on his head and settled on playing dumb, acting like he didn't know English. Canadians are stupid in the fact that they all seem to look down on him, so it is best to follow their assumptions about him and go along with the whole 'angry Ukrainian, with scary voice and accent who seldom knows English'.
It was snowing this morning, white frost made a thin layer on top of Misha's car "Stupid Canada, stupid snow." He clambered into the car after removing some of the snow off from the window shield, starting up his car he sped off down the road, exchanging the hell of his household (if you can even call it a house hold) for the absolute monstrosity that is St Cassian school. The drive to there was quick and uneventful, cold as his cars heater had stopped working a while ago, but uneventful as he jumped and stuttered down wide roads, the only thing even remotely occupying his mind was a new rap song he had been thinking of for a while now and a certain boy with dark hair and even darker eyes. Eventually he recognised the schools ugly head rearing in the distance, so he did what he dd every morning and he parked a few roads from school to meet up with his friends.
You see Misha's friend group is one of two reasons he goes to school, four other boys in his year who ,at first. were slightly scared of Misha but then began to see him for the mad wicked awesome person he is, Misha met with them every morning and either smoked for a bit before heading to class or simply just walking talking and laughing with them as they head to class, or sometimes just ditching class entirely, taking the opportunity to go just a bit longer without hearing the grating voices of teachers. He spotted them and allowed a small smile to appear on his face as he approached them, the group had waited for him and greeted him with open arms as they began the final stretch of the walk to school and they drifted into easy conversation.
"Oh let me tell you guys about what happened between me and Gruber." Lucas, a boy with light blond hair and skin just as pale bellowed, his hair shoulder length and a smirk rested on his thin lips. Misha was more than familiar with Noel Gruber, he thought as his feet crunched in snow, in fact Noel was Misha's second reason for coming to school. Misha had excepted his feelings for the boy a long while ago, from the first class he spent with him Misha has always been smitten. Being with Noel in Choir was his favourite thing and even having the honour a to share some classes with him was a huge blessing. The best most prettiest, honest boy in Canada and Misha had the privilege of being around and near him. He protected the boy from bullies openly and roll his eyes to heaven and back when his friends call Noel a fag, he is very open about enjoying Noels company but no one knows anymore than that. Not how his hear burns and pains and yearns to be near the boy for any amount of time. Oh to be loved by Noel Gruber it is Misha's dream to be so close to the poet, the things Misha would do if Noel just let him-
"-he moans like a bitch"
What?
Laughs and chuckles circled around the group as Misha was pulled out from his thoughts and he thought back to the conversation he had been zoned out for. Oh, his friend slept with Noel Gruber and is now sprouting out jokes at his expense. Чорт.
"Lucas doesn't this literally make you a fag now, you fucking boned Noel Gruber and he's like, the king of fairies" Alex, a boy with chocolate brown hair and eyebrow piercing joked as he elbowed Lucas, to which the blond boy scoffed and explained that he was only 'experimenting' and 'playing' with Noel, he still and will always only like girls as he put it. Misha had yet to notice that his steps had slowed down until he was behind the group instead as where he started next to them, he only realised this when the boys stopped walking and turned to him giving him a 'hurry up' motion to which Misha reluctantly jogged up to them with clenched his hands balled up into fists and continued listening to the vulgar things said about the love of his life.
"Sorry Misha, I know your friends with that guy but c'mon! At least you know now that if you want to have a round with him that he feels good." Lucas continued to joke and laugh all the way into school ,the corridors busy with students and faculty members alike as the last few stragglers entered the building, even when he sensed Misha's slight anger at his words, the group still showed no signs at stopping. All he could do was clench his jaw. He let his rage simmer as the group loitered about the schools busy hallways, countless students walking by an either heading to class or hanging around empty classrooms or just staying in the hall. Misha had continued to let his rage simmer until the bell blasted out the speakers, indicating for the students to make their way to form. Misha sits next to Noel as they share the same form. Misha, for the very first time in his time at this rotten school, didn't want to sit next to Noel, because as he walked down to his form room, the anger that was building up morphed and shifted into jealousy.
He was jealous of his friend, having spent such a night with someone as beautiful and ethereal as Noel and just a few hours later talking about him in such a cruel way. Misha could never. He ran a calloused hand through his hair once he reached the open door of his classroom, some kids already in there and listening to his teacher (that he has yet to remember the name of) yelling for them to settle down so she could get form started. Misha, blending in with the rest of kids crashing inside, Misha settled into his seat, the space next to him empty as the chair was left vacant; inwardly the boy breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe Noel is not in today. Maybe he wouldn't have to face the poet knowing and imagining what he had done and not feel like some kind of pervert wishing it was him instead of Lucas. The thump of Noels burgundy bag hitting the table and the scrape of his chair against the floor threw that hope outside the window.
"Morning Mish' " Noel had said, rubbing his eyes and yawning, his hair slightly mused and untidy, he looked all the more adorable for it. All Misha could do in response was smile crookedly and give him a small "Morning Poet." in return. As Noel sat down Misha turned his head away from him and sighed.
"О боже…" Misha muttered under his breath.