Chapter Text
It was a nice, quiet day in Uranium. Like most days were. The only thing of any significance that was happening was the annual reunion of the St. Cassian High School. This happened every five years, and was meant to bring all of the now-adult graduates back together every once in a while.
Constance was bored. Her glass was long empty, and she couldn’t see any of her friends. Ocean was at college, Noel too, somewhere in Europe, Ricky’s family left to get him experimental treatment and “a better life” somewhere in Ottawa, she hadn’t seen or heard from Mischa in a long time, only knowing he was trying to get to go with Noel.
The only one left was Penny, but she was working all day. There’s at least something good about working for your parents: you get to have days off on things that are important to you. Or them. So now Constance was stuck at a reunion where even if she recognized someone, she wouldn’t come over to them, because why would she? That would be hella awkward.
So she was sitting there alone, being bored in her “fancy” dress, contemplating an empty glass. There was this little drop of wine left there, just enough to see, but not enough to taste if she tries to taste it. Maybe that’s what her whole life was, what she was. Visible, but not significant, taking space, but not giving any taste.
She was about to stand up and turn away, when she felt a hand land on her shoulder. Seconds later, a familiar voice, familiar heavy accent, and even a familiar faint smell of alcohol hit her like a train.
“Constance!” Mischa exclaimed, “I was already thinking I wont meet anyone worthwhile here!”
She turned to him and smiled. He was beaming, his hair a little longer than she remembered, his voice a little lower and his whole demeanor a little more… friendly. Not that he wasn’t her friend before, he just had this aura around him, something that made her almost afraid to be near him.
But he looked way more relaxed and happy. He sat down in front of her, assuming he was invited. He was, but Constance was still a little annoyed.
“Hey, Mischa,” she said, smiling back at him, “How’s Noel?”
“I…” his gaze drifted away from her face into what Constance could only assume was the void, “I don’t know. We broke up a year ago, and I went back.”
“Wait, what?” Constance was genuinely shocked, “You were here for a year, and I didn’t know about it?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, the way he used to sigh about Talia, and when that thing tragically ended with Talia finding someone else, closer to her, and Mischa and Noel started seeing each other, about Noel’s decision to go to France. He sighed like this when he was conflicted, “I was… how do I say this… not sure you want to see me?”
“Are you kidding me? I would have loved to see you!” Constance didn’t know if she was so fired up because of the wine, or because she was genuinely offended, “You are always welcome at Blackwood cafe, you know?”
Mischa smiled again, but this time less wide, more like he was finally relieved. She thought about it. Where has he been, what was he doing? Was he even alright? Should she be worried?
Does he need a job? Her family was just looking for a new server, someone they could trust. And despite everything, for some unexplained reason, Constance trusted Mischa. Plus, he was one of those people who never lied, but would never hurt you just to go and say they were “just being honest”.
“About you being welcome there,” she decided to actually ask him, “do you need a job? There's a server spot open, and it’s not the best in the world, but the pay is actually good, and so are the tips. And we get to work together, if that matters to you.”
Mischa chuckled, and brushed his hair off his face with the palm of his hand.
“I would love that, actually. Gotta pay rent, and just got fired. But I may not be best for… customer service. I’m still one of the rudest people ever, you know?”
“You were never rude to me,” she shrugged, “but if things go south, just tell them you’ll call the manager, and find me or my parents. You don’t have to deal with assholes, not by yourself at least”
For a second, she saw something in his eyes, how the playfulness changed into something else. But then it didn’t. Like cold summer wind, going by so fast you’re not sure it wasn’t just your own mind playing make believe.
“Well, boss, when do I start?” he chuckled again, his hair falling back onto his face.
“You can come in any day next week, we will have to teach you some things, and get you uniform and stuff-”
She felt his hand on her hand and looked at it, and then back at him.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
And she couldn’t help but smile.