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None of them really know how long they’ve been in the afterlife, stuck in the warehouse alone with a now-defunct fortune telling machine. They couldn’t even tell how days passed.
But somehow it’s been long enough that it was now Noel’s birthday.
Ocean announced it. Apparently she’s been counting the days…months…since they’d been stuck here. For some reason.
So they pulled out the birthday hats and the cape and sang The New Birthday Song again.
Ocean placed the hat on Noel’s head and tied the cape, and Ricky had led in the singing, grabbing the dusty accordion off a crate to accompany.
One two three…one two three…one two three four
This is the new song we sing for birthdays
Bouncy and merry and not quite as scary
The new birthday song
One two three one two three one two three four
This is the new song we sing for birthdays
Bouncy and merry and not quite as scary
The new birthday song
Constance and Ricky had been the first to hug him and congratulate him, and Noel forced a smile and hugged them back.
He didn’t exactly know if his birthday should be celebrated as a happy thing. He’s dead, after all…he’s not exactly going to age or anything. Though he doesn’t dwell on that too long. It’s his birthday and his friends are celebrating it.
And Mischa is apparently celebrating another birthday with vodka. Which Noel only notices after he hears Ocean yell at Mischa about how and why he has it.
He simply answers “It’s birthday” – ‘birthday’ sounding more like ‘borthday’ due to his accent – extending his free hand out to Noel as he walks up to him.
Noel takes it, being pulled up from where he was sat, pulling the cape more around his shoulders afterward.
“Drink?” Mischa gestures with the bottle, still holding Noel’s hand.
“Where’d you get that?”
Noel looks between Mischa’s face and the bottle of vodka in his hand as mischa responds. “This sounds awful familiar, поет..”
“Maybe because it is…it’s just my birthday this time.”
Mischa smiles, letting go of Noel’s hand but still standing close, maybe too close, but it isn’t a bother. “So…uh…drink?”
Noel nods, and Mischa hands him the bottle, sitting on some crates a bit farther from the rest of the choir. Noel instantly takes a sip, passing the bottle back to Mischa after.
“Is giving…” Mischa pauses, trying to think of the right word. “What is word for feeling like something already happened?”
“Déjà vu?”
Mischa nods, taking a swig of the vodka. “Yes, that. Déjà vu…feels very much like it.”
“I think it’s the fact you somehow found another bottle of vodka down here on a birthday. I swear you just made this appear out of nowhere.”
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, we will never know.” Mischa takes another swig before passing the bottle back to Noel.
“It’s oddly comforting how familiar this feels,” Noel mutters, playing with the fabric of the cape, lying his head on Mischa’s shoulder after taking a swig of the drink. “It feels like Jane-...Penny’s birthday…like our little celebration for her…rather than my birthday. I didn’t even know it
was
my birthday.”
“Time is weird here…only knew it was birthday because Starfire shook me awake to tell me.”
“Sounds like Oce…and uh,…yeah, time is really fucking weird down here. It feels like the whole competition thing was just yesterday, but it also feels like it was an eternity ago…”
Mischa hums, leaning back a little, wrapping an arm around Noel. “Time is weird. Feels like it does not pass…probably doesn’t- But anyway, is birthday, we should celebrate.”
“We are celebrating, Misch,” Noel holds up the vodka bottle, shaking it just slightly to show it off, taking another drink.
“We are…but more proper celebration? I know gifts are not really…possible…but…-”
“I think this is a good way to celebrate what would be my eighteenth birthday…drinking vodka with you in the afterlife.”
“What…would? Poet you are eighteen, is not ‘what would be’, it is . Is your birthday.”
“Well, we’re dead, aging isn’t really…y’know, a thing anymore. Which is why I said ‘what would be’...”
“It is still your birthday, коханий. We should celebrate like we would if we were still living, yes?”
Noel shrugs, tapping something with his nails against the glass bottle. “I guess so…Drink?” Noel offers the bottle to Mischa, who takes it.
“How do you want to celebrate, любий?”
“Like this. Drinking a big-ass bottle of vodka with you.”
“Then like this we shall celebrate,” Mischa smiled, taking a drink, the hand around Noel’s waist fiddling with the cape over Noel’s shoulders.
Noel picks at his nail polish, his head still resting on Mischa’s shoulder. The two of them are quiet for a few minutes, the whole moment echoing their earlier one when Jane Doe was still in the warehouse.
“Make wish, поет.”
Noel looks up at Mischa, confused. “Wh-?”
“Make wish. Is birthday, you get birthday wish. We do not have candles to blow out, but you can still wish for something.”
“If I tell you what I wish for will it no longer happen?”
Mischa shrugs. “Dunno. Do not think so. What is it?”
Noel looks away from Mischa, picking at his nail polish again. “I want to go home…I stupidly miss Uranium…and uh…if it actually is my birthday…my mom-...uh-...fuck-”
Mischa barely misses hearing Noel sniff. The vodka bottle is set on the floor and Noel is pulled into a hug.
“Is not stupid. Completely understandable you miss Uranium. Sadly I cannot make your wish true…though I would if I could…” Mischa kisses the top of Noel’s head, keeping him in the hug as Noel hugs back. “Your мама is celebrating you today, am sure of it. Is your day. Am sorry that I cannot make wish true…but hopefully I can help make day better.”
“You’ve already made this day better, Misch. Thank you.”
“Anytime, мій поет.”
Noel tucked his head in the crook of Mischa’s neck after pulling the party hat off, just sitting there relishing in the comfort of Mischa Bachinski.
“As much as I want to go back…” Noel says after a few minutes, mumbling into Mischa’s neck. “I think I’ll still be okay here. Not that I really have a choice….but I have you…and the rest of the choir. I’ll be okay…we all will.”
“We will all be okay, we’ll support each other. We have each other, like you said.”
Noel hums in agreement. “We have each other, yeah. And uh…honestly, this isn’t too bad of a way to spend a birthday. I like it so far, despite missing my mom.”
“Am glad you like day so far…and I wish you could see your мама…”
“Me too…but uh…not possible…but hey, at least I’m not alone. And I hope my mom isn’t either.”
“I hope same. Let us be optimistic, yes? Let us say your мама is happy and celebrating life you had today.”
“Let's say that, yeah…” Noel muttered. “God this conversation got depressing, sorry.”
“No need to apologize, I understand why it did. Should we uplift mood?”
Noel nods.
“Happy birthday, poet.”
“Thank you, Misch.”
Noel shifts off Mischa after a few seconds, grabbing the vodka bottle from the floor and taking a swig, racking his brain for something to talk about. “Drink?”
Mischa takes the bottle from Noel, taking a drink before passing it back.
That happens for a while, the two of them most quiet, passing the vodka bottle back and forth. Neither of them really got drunk – they learned it took a hell of a lot of alcohol to get even slightly drunk in the afterlife, so the one vodka bottle shared between them would get them slightly tipsy at most.
Nice way to spend a birthday, at least in Noel’s opinion.
Noel soon ends up with his head in Mischa’s lap, looking up at him like he hung all the stars in the sky.
And he could see entire galaxies on the warehouse ceiling but he couldn’t look away from Mischa.
And Mischa doesn’t notice at first, but when he does he just tilts his head to one side, kind of like a puppy, asking Noel what he’s looking at.
And he gives the most cliché answer: “You.”
Okay maybe he is actually a little tipsy.
Or he just finds Mischa that pretty.
Probably both.
“Me?”
Noel nods, not looking away from Mischa.
“Why?”
Noel shrugs. “You look nice.”
“I am in shitty school uniform drinking even shittier vodka, I do not look nice.”
“You do. Even if the uniform is shit and even if the vodka’s shittier.”
“Do not believe you but okay,” Mischa said lightheartedly, a smile tugging at his lips as he takes another sip of the vodka. “You are pretty one between us, after all.”
Noel immediately denies that, but is instantly met with a “Yes you are, poet. Very pretty and handsome, do not say that you are not.”
“You’re wrong but okay, if you insist.”
“I insist. And you are handsome, I do not lie, poet.”
“Why do you always call me ‘poet’?” Noel asks, changing the topic.
“Because you are poet, are you not?”
“I mean…not exactly…but uh…yeah, I am.”
“See? You are poet, so I call you poet. Do you…not like me calling you that?”
“No, I like it, Misch. It’s really sweet.”
“I’m glad you like it. I like calling you ‘poet’, poet.” Mischa smiles, taking a swig of the vodka before offering the bottle to Noel. “Drink?”
Noel takes the bottle, sitting up and leaning against Mischa, taking a swig himself. “Cheers, I guess.”
“на здоровье,” Mischa replies, Noel handing him the vodka bottle again.
As the bottle is passed to Noel once more, he finds himself asking “Am I still as tragic as I was during the game?” – mostly as a reference to the last time they did this, the feeling of déjà vu as present as ever.
“You make me weep just looking at you. So, so tragic,” Mischa replies, quoting the exact words he had said previously.
“Good,” Noel replies, drinking again. “That’s still the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Mischa smiles, seeing a smile on Noel’s face – and blush as well, something he nearly misses – as he takes another sip from the vodka bottle.
The bottle is then placed in Mischa’s hand. Mischa takes a sip and then hands it back. It soon becomes a second moment of mostly-silence, the two just passing the bottle between them for a few minutes, until Mischa says “З днем народження, поет.”
“Hm?”
“Happy birthday, poet,” Mischa translates.
Noel mumbles an “Oh” before smiling a bit brighter at Mischa, the blush ever-prominent on his face. “Thank you, Misch.”
“Anytime. Hope birthday isn’t too bad…given, uh…everything.”
“It’s been a pretty good birthday so far. Though I am tempted to see if there’s any cake lying around here. Doubt it, but wouldn’t hurt to look, right?”
Mischa looks away from Noel and around the warehouse, just looking for the choir, seeing only Ricky, who’s messing with some gadget and sitting in a crate. “Think Constance and Ocean went to look for one, maybe.”
Noel shrugs, passing the bottle to Mischa before resting his head in his lap. “Maybe they’ll find something.”
“Maybe. Would it be bad if they did not…though?”
Noel shook his head, looking up at Mischa. “Wouldn’t be bad if they didn’t…I’m not exactly expecting there to be anything in this place- Hell, there isn’t even food down here…well, at least not much food. We got that stale pack of menthol cools and that’s it.”
Mischa leans back against the stack of crates behind him, taking another drink. “Luckily we don’t really need to eat, or we’d be double-dead.”
Noel hums in agreement. “Luckily.”
“If possible I would make whole birthday cake from scratch for you.”
“You would?”
Mischa nods. “Mhm, of course I would! Why would I not?”
“Because it’s a massive hassle to bake something from scratch, for one…”
“Is not big deal. Baking is fun, and it is for you! You deserve best birthday and I am certain homemade cake would make it so.”
“As honored as I am, Misch, we sadly don’t have the ability to do that here…though, uh…thank you.”
“Well, hypothetical then...since we cannot do that in warehouse, yeah…Though if we were alive, I would have made you biggest homemade cake and gotten you best gift. You only turn eighteen once, after all, poet.”
“True, though the only real thing that changes when you turn eighteen is that you can legally drink…and vote and shit too I guess.”
“Is still important, you are adult now.”
“A dead adult now.” Noel replies, taking the vodka bottle and taking a swig.
“Still adult, poet.”
“Fair point,” Noel mutters, lying back with his head in Mischa’s lap, just looking up at him. They fall quiet again, Noel looking up at both Mischa and the warehouse ceiling.
“Mischa have you ever noticed the ceiling looks like a galaxy?” Noel finds himself saying after a few seconds.
Mischa then looks up at what looks like the entire Milky Way galaxy and stars that surround it. The stars look like they’re floating up on the ceiling, falling even.
“Is it odd I never noticed before?”
“Not really…It’s nice though, right?”
Mischa nods. “Look like stars are going to fall down from ceiling.”
“They do. I wonder what would happen if one did.”
“I wonder too…do not think anything bad would happen…after all nothing worse can really happen to us here…but ceiling is very pretty. Wish it was easier to see constellations though.”
And almost instantly the ceiling changes, zooming in on constellations, looking just like what the night sky would look like in Uranium.
“I thought all the magic and shit was gone after Karnak…-” Noel trailed off, looking from the ceiling to Karnak’s box to see the fortune-telling machine still out of use, Karnak totally unresponsive, no lights coming from his box.
“Well, I guess assumption was wrong…” Mischa mumbled as he looked back up at the ceiling. “Looks like Uranium, kind of…”
“How can you tell?”
Mischa just shrugs. “Do not know…just reminds me of stargazing in Uranium. Is cloudy like Uranium too…but you can still see so many constellations…”
“Never took you for a stargazer, Bachinski.”
“Have always liked stars, ever since back in Ukraine. Ricky and I bonded over that when I first arrive in Uranium, even. Used to stargaze with him sometimes, memorized constellations and such.”
“So you can tell me the constellations that are on the ceiling right now?”
Mischa nods, pointing to constellations as he names them. “You can see Andromeda constellation…and Cassiopeia and Perseus…and if you look bit more to right, you can see Draco and Ursa Minor. There are more, of course…just wanted to point few out.”
Noel looks between the constellations on the warehouse ceiling and Mischa, in awe that he knows all this. He opens his mouth to say something when one of the constellations on the warehouse ceiling lights up, practically sparkles .
“Pisces.” Mischa said, barely audible, looking at the sparkling constellation.
“The sign of passion…” Noel adds, half-doing an impression of Karnak, something that ends up making Mischa laugh.
“Sign of passion, yes. Your sign.”
“Wonder why it’s sparkling.”
“Is your birthday, is probably why.”
“Oh…well uh, probably.”
“It looks pretty, does it not?”
“It does…” Noel says, smiling as he looks up at the ceiling.
He nearly misses what Mischa says next. “Is almost as pretty as you, poet.”
“Huh?”
“Oh- uh…nothing, poet.”
Noel nods, staying quiet for about a minute as he looks at the star-covered ceiling with Mischa. “You called me pretty again.”
Mischa hums. “I did…”
“Why did you deny it?”
Mischa shrugs, drinking more of the vodka. He swears the bottle is magic considering it isn’t even half-empty yet. “Dunno why.”
“You’re pretty too.” Noel says after a few seconds. He knows he sounds cliché – right-out-of-a-romance-movie cliché.
Yet oddly enough, he doesn’t mind it.
“You are prettier, poet. Far prettier…you are as pretty now as you were before fair.”
“You thought I-...?”
“Yes I thought you were pretty before fair, still think you are pretty.” Mischa smiles, laughing just a little at something he was thinking as Noel looked at him, also smiling. “You know, before I knew names, I always called you хлопчик-янгол…”
Noel tries to pronounce the nickname but fails, stuttering a bit before apologizing and saying “What does that mean?”
“Means ‘angel boy’. You are pretty like angel and have voice like angel, so angel boy.”
Mischa’s certain he sees the blush on Noel’s face get darker as he smiles even brighter.
“That-...I don’t even have the words…ho-ly fuck …”
“Hm?”
“It’s positive, I swear…I’m just…speechless, no words.” Turns out that was half a lie, he did have words, just not exactly the ones he needed. Noel didn’t expect Mischa to hear what he said next. “God, I could kiss you right now.”
Again, total cliché .
“Kiss me,” is all Mischa says after, leaving Noel actually speechless. “You say you want to kiss me, so, uh, kiss me.”
“I mean technically that’s a figure of speech,” Noel starts, mumbling under his breath, “But I do want to kiss you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Good point…” Noel cups Mischa’s face with one hand and kisses him, his other hand grabbing a fistful of the red sweater-vest Mischa was wearing.
It was different from the last kiss they shared – it was about equally as uncoordinated and a lot less heated.
A good different. Though both kisses were equally as amazing in each of their eyes.
Mischa’s hands fell to Noel’s waist as Noel’s other hand cups his face, and Mischa decides that this is the best kiss of his life. Er, afterlife .
After all, he’s kissing Noel Gruber. Definitely the best kiss of his afterlife.
The kiss breaks and Mischa is met with Noel’s smiling face, blush all over his face as well. Cute .
“Can I…kiss you again?” Noel asks after a second, barely audible, eyes focused on his nails though there’s still a bright smile on his face.
“Так.”
Noel’s kissing him again within the second, one hand cupping his cheek and the other tangled in his curls. At this point Noel was sitting on Mischa’s lap, extremely close, and frankly, neither of them would have it any other way in this moment.
After this kiss breaks, Noel rests his forehead against Mischa’s, another cliché, he notices – really this whole day if full of clichés – being met with Mischa smiling and kissing him again.
Noel could definitely kiss Mischa forever. As cliché as it is.
“You are cute when you blush, хлопчик-янгол,” Mischa says after a second, poking one of Noel’s cheeks. “Very cute.”
“Says the cute one,” Noel replies, moving his forehead away from Mischa’s but not moving from his lap, grabbing the vodka bottle from the floor to see the warehouse ceiling sparkling. Just like the Pisces constellation was earlier. “The stars are sparkling…”
“They are.”
“They’re very pretty.”
Mischa hums, nodding before kissing Noel’s cheek. “Almost as pretty as you.”
“You’re such a romantic, Bachinski. I thought I was supposed to be the most romantic boy in town.”
“You still are. Just cannot help to be romantic when I have so much love to give to such amazing person.”
“You are taking my superlative from me how dare,” Noel says while trying not to laugh, a smile stuck on his face as Mischa quickly kisses him.
“There can be two.”
Noel pretends to think. “Nope, the council spoke already, can only be one.” As he speaks, he gestures to Karnak’s box, to the now-defunct ominous novelty machine.
“If the council says, my love.”
“You’re seriously going to take my superlative, Misch.”
“Cannot help but be romantic, poet!”
“And cliché.”
“ And cliché, but do not blame me, poet.”
“Only because you’re cute and you made what would have been a shitty birthday the exact opposite of shitty.”
“Am glad I did. Happy birthday, ангел.”
Noel kisses Mischa, smiling. “Thank you, love.”
Mischa was about to respond, his face nearly crimson with blush, when he hears Ocean yell something about PDA.
Noel rolls his eyes. “Fireball if I hear you say something along the lines of ‘There’s a difference between affection and smut’ I am going to throw the damn birthday hat at you.”
“I wasn’t-”
“She was.” Constance says, kind-of glaring at Ocean. “Anyway, we’re happy for you two, and we found a cake…somehow.”
Noel and Mischa look at each other, both surprised that there actually was a literal birthday cake in the warehouse.
“Can’t promise it’s good, but it looks okay enough to eat.” Ocean adds, showing it off.
It was a simple chocolate cake with ‘ Happy Birthday ’ written in icing, with about eighteen candles as well.
“How the hell did you find this?” Noel asks, moving off Mischa’s lap and walking closer to the other two.
“How did Mischa find that giant bottle of vodka?” Ocean asks back.
Noel shrugs, not knowing.
“Exactly. We don’t know. We just found it.”
Noel nods as Constance says something about lighting the candles. Mischa tosses her his lighter – the same one he used to light Monique’s cigarette in Noel’s song during the game – and the candles are lit a moment later.
“Should we sing again?” Ocean asks after a second, setting the cake in front of Noel.
“Yes, of course we should! It’s tradition!”
“So…old song or new song?”
“Obviously the new one,” Ricky cuts in, speaking the same time as Constance. He even has the accordion ready.
Mischa’s the one to start to sing this time, along with Ricky. Ocean and Constance join soon after.
One two three…one two three…one two three four
This is the new song we sing for birthdays
Bouncy and merry and not quite as scary
The new birthday song
One two three one two three one two three four
This is the new song we sing for birthdays
Bouncy and merry and not quite as scary
The new birthday song
Right after the song ends, Noel blows out all eighteen candles in one breath. He does make a wish, though it’s different than the one he made earlier.
As much as he wants to go home, to Uranium, he can’t…and that fact now doesn’t seem so bad.
It’s weird that he thinks that. That the warehouse isn’t so bad.
It’s even weirder how normal this feels.
They’re dead, eating cake and celebrating a birthday in limbo – in a goddamn warehouse , and that is somehow normal.
Noel isn’t even sure it’s his actual birthday, but he’s glad it was celebrated like this.
Even dead, it was a pretty damn good birthday, at least in his eyes.