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It came as no surprise to anyone that when a hot new kid with a Ukrainian accent joined the school in junior year, Noel developed a slight crush. But it soon faded when it turned out that he was a massive dick to anyone who tried talking to him. So when Misha Bachynskyi was forced to join the school choir in senior year along with Noel, he could tell himself that he didn't care at all. He even almost believed it. Still, it hurt a bit when he found out that Misha had an internet fiancée that he spent all of his time texting, even when they were supposed to be practicing. It made Ocean considerably more irritable and put more work on Noel's shoulders, which sucked. But at least now he had a pretty face to stare at while tuning Ocean out.
And in fairness, Misha got a lot better about halfway through the year when Talia broke up with him. Suddenly, his main distraction was taken away, and while he still refused to actually take part in competitions, he would at least sit with the rest of the choir at practice. And the practices were ramping up now during the lead up to the annual choir competition in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.
Shockingly enough, there were very few choirs who were willing to travel all the way to Prince Albert to take part in a stupid competition. It didn't even come with prizes, so there was even less of a reason to take part. Unsurprisingly, however, the St. Cassian Chamber Choir was one of those unfortunate groups of teenagers who were dragged all the way across Saskatchewan to come dead last every year. This would be their third year attending, and they had yet to score a single point from any of the judges.
But it made Father Marcus so happy to give the choir a chance to bond, and Ocean always loved to find something to latch onto and obsess over in the months leading up to the competition. So every year, without fail, Noel would be dragged halfway across the state on a stupid, meaningless road trip. Since the drive was twelve hours each way, the school would book rooms in a motel in Prince Albert for the choir to stay at. They would leave a day early, spend the night at the motel, take part in the competition the following day, and then leave the next morning after another night in the motel. Up until this year, Noel had been able to sleep in a room by himself. Ocean and Constance would obviously room together, but Ricky had to share with Father Marcus in case he had a medical emergency in the night.
This year, thanks to the new addition of everyone's favourite asshole, Noel would be forced to share. It's not that he didn't like Misha. Noel wasn't the type of person to buy into rumours, especially after hearing the ones spread about him. He would prefer not to believe that Misha had held his nine year old cousin down and poured wine down his throat in some kind of sick murder attempt. And, come to think of it, he also didn't believe that Misha had brought a bomb into school on his first day that had somehow failed to go off.
Since they knew each other from choir, Noel often found himself sitting next to the Ukrainian, and it blossomed into a sort of friendship of convenience. They didn't speak to each other much, but they would sit next to one another in the classes that they had together. Noel would do all of the work, and in exchange Misha wouldn't knock his teeth out and call him slurs. It worked.
That wasn't to say that sharing a room hadn't been awkward, especially when Noel found out that Misha liked to sleep in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. He had been sitting up in his bed journaling when Misha had exited the bathroom. Noel had caught one look at the smooth skin and muscles of Misha's chest and immediately ducked under his covers, covering his blush with horror.
It was extremely obvious that Noel had a crush on Misha. He was basically his only male friend, and he was the most gorgeous boy that Noel had ever seen. Of course Noel liked him. And Misha didn't seem to mind him either, especially once Noel had walked in on him crying in the choir room after Talia had broken up with him. Noel had sat beside him and rubbed his back as he punched the floor and sobbed, and in some strange way it had only intensified his crush. Noel liked a guy with feelings.
They hadn't spoken a word to one another for the entire first night, but Misha was in an unusually chatty mood the following morning. He sat down at the same table as Noel to eat breakfast in the motel's canteen, and placed bets about how badly he expected the competition to go. Noel was so shocked that he barely said a word, but Misha hadn't seemed to mind.
He ended up being completely right, anyway. Out of six choirs, they came dead last, with a grand total of zero points. The choir in fifth place got seventeen out of thirty. It didn't phase Noel too much, and Misha clearly couldn't have cared less, but Ocean was entirely devastated. Even Father Marcus had known what to expect, but Ocean had to spend the entire bus ride back to the motel being comforted by Constance.
Noel was sitting and watching Ocean's fit of sorrow with mild distaste when he felt something knock against his arm. When he looked over, Misha was subtly nudging a bottle of what appeared to be vodka into his hand. "Drink," Misha whispered.
"Where did you get that?" Noel asked instead, amused.
Misha shrugged. "Figured we were going to be shit. Thought I should bring something to help us forget awful memory."
Noel smiled and grabbed the proffered bottle, taking a cautious sip. He was right to take it slow; it was all he could do not to cough as the drink burned its way down his throat. Misha laughed softly at the face that Noel pulled and took the bottle back. Noel found himself focusing on how shadows seemed to pool in the dimples that hollowed Misha's cheeks when he smiled. It wasn't a sight that he saw often.
"We can drink rest in room," Misha promised.
"I've never been drunk before," Noel whispered back.
"Won't take much drink, then. Good. I brought only one bottle."
Father Marcus parked outside the motel and motioned for the choir to make their way in. Ocean was leaning on a supportive Constance, occasionally letting out a sniffle or a full on heartbroken sob. It only got worse once they got inside.
"I'm so sorry, but you only booked for one night," the receptionist was telling Father Marcus. "I'm afraid that your old rooms have already been booked, but I can give you the address of another motel about an hour and a half from here?"
"The school must have forgotten," Father Marcus told the choir. "I'm sorry, children. We'll have to stay on the bus for a little while longer."
Ocean was whispering viciously to Constance about how unfair all of this was, and Noel could see Father Marcus's patience wearing thin. Nevertheless, they all trouped back out to the bus.
Misha was grinning easily as Noel took his seat next to him. "Unfortunate," he said. "At least we won't have to spend one more night on those awful mattresses. I am... black and brown all over me."
"Um, it's actually black and blue," Ocean interrupted, stopping her tears enough to turn around and give Misha a saccharine smile. "And I'd suggest that you don't use phrases that you're not sure about when you're not great at English. You could confuse someone." She flounced back around quickly enough that she didn't see the murderous look that Misha trained on the back of her head. Constance made eye contact with the boy and mouthed sorry! but Misha continued to glare daggers at Ocean's back.
"She doesn't mean that, Misha," Noel said. "She's just upset that she managed to mess up her speech despite it being in the only language she knows how to speak." He raised his voice just a touch, to be sure that Ocean heard it.
Misha's frown relaxed, and Noel sat back and closed his eyes in order to tune out Ocean's outrage from in front of him. "I don't appreciate being spoken to like I am idiot," Misha admitted quietly. "I speak Ukrainian, Russian, English... even some Dutch. Not even the Dutch speak Dutch, and yet little orphan a-hole over there thinks she can talk down to me because she is better than me at my third language."
Noel winced sympathetically. "I know how you feel. Well, not really, but I know what it's like to have to speak to Ocean, so it's probably close enough."
Misha laughed softly. "Yes. Anyway, thank you for stopping her. It was nice."
Noel shrugged and looked out the window to hide his flushed cheeks. This was probably the most vulnerable Misha had ever been in front of him, apart from that day in the choir room. Of course it was messing with his mind.
Eventually they arrived at the next motel, but things were only getting worse. Father Marcus went inside to check availability, but there was only one room with two beds. Everyone else was going to have to share.
"Now, children, I know that this isn't ideal. But I think you can all be grown up about it and share beds for one night. If someone truly feels uncomfortable with that, we can try to find another motel, but we would have to drive for at least another hour and it's already getting late. So will you all be okay?" It was clear that Father Marcus was tired, and Ricky looked like he wanted to rest as well. Despite Noel's utter terror, he wasn't going to be the one to drag everyone back onto the bus for another hour.
Ocean and Constance had already agreed, but Noel was horrified. Sharing a room with his crush was bad enough, but sharing a bed? Before he could protest, he felt an arm sling around his shoulders. "Me and Noel are homies," Misha said easily. "Is no problem."
Father Marcus gave a relieved little grin and headed back inside to book the rooms. Ocean gave a nasty little giggle and looked pointedly at the arm that was still around Noel's shoulders, causing him to duck away with flushed cheeks. Misha looked just a little bit confused, but Noel's head was swimming from the contact. Sweet Jesus Christ, he was going to need a drink.
The bedroom that he and Misha were meant to share was on a different floor to the others. It wasn't even that bad, all things considered. The bed looked pretty comfortable, and there didn't seem to be an infestation of spiders in the corners of the room like there had been in the last motel.
"I'll take the left side," Misha declared, taking a running jump and sprawling across the bed. Noel laughed nervously, taking his shoes off and perching unhappily at the foot of the bed. "Come on, man," Misha continued, watching him. "Just sit next to me. Will make it less awkward for when we have to go to sleep."
He rolled onto his back and stretched languidly, and Noel's eyes were drawn to the sliver of skin that was exposed between his shirt and pants. God, he was already blushing. "I'm going to get changed," Noel blurted, and fled into the bathroom.
Inside, he sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "Fuck," he breathed out shakily. Tonight was going to be torture. He took his time changing, finding himself wishing to the Lord that he had thought to bring full length pyjama trousers. Instead he was stuck with a t-shirt and shorts that didn't even reach his knees, which was at the very least better than Misha's outfit of choice.
Finally, he brushed his teeth and made his way back out into the room. Misha was sitting on the bed in a pair of shorts and his uniform shirt, watching some sort of children's cartoon on the TV. Noel laughed a bit at the sight, and Misha glanced over.
"What?" he asked with a grin. "Is interesting."
"Right," Noel answered. He sat down on the bed and tucked his knees under his chin. "You're hardly wearing that shirt to sleep, are you?" he asked, turning to look at Misha.
"What, you trying to get me naked, Gruber?" Misha replied lightly, and Noel felt his stomach drop.
"No, not at all, I-"
"Relax, is joke. I know you are not attracted to me." Misha grinned at him, and Noel was again struck by the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. "Don't be so serious, okay? Drink more. Loosen up."
He dug through his school bag to find the bottle of vodka, all while Noel took deep breaths and tried to calm his racing heart. When Misha handed him the alcohol, he immediately tipped his head back and took three strong gulps. "Yuck," he grumbled, wiping his mouth on his wrist.
Misha was looking at him with some sort of admiration, but he still took the bottle back. "No more for now," he said, grinning.
"Why?" Noel shot back.
"You will get too drunk without realising," Misha said, and Noel scoffed.
"I think I'd know if I was drunk."
Misha shrugged a bit and took his own sip of alcohol. "Takes time for your body to process drink. If you take too much too quickly, you will not realise how much it is affecting you. Then you will keep drinking, telling yourself that you feel fine, and then it hits you all at once and suddenly you cannot remember your own name."
Noel laughed a bit. "You're smart."
Misha grinned back. "I know." He took another sip from the bottle and sighed happily.
"Why did you leave Ukraine?" Noel found himself asking, shifting a tiny bit closer to the other boy on the bed.
Misha hesitated for a second, his easy smile dropping. "It was my mother. She was sick, and she thought I would have better life here, so she made me go. I wish..."
He trailed off there, taking another drink from the bottle. Noel frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, is okay. We are friends, yes? Friends ask each other questions."
"Okay, well then I owe you a question," Noel said. Misha smiled.
"Fine, I have one. What is in the book that you always write in?"
Noel froze for a second. His heart nearly stopped. "Different question." He didn't want to tell Misha about the collection of poems he was trying to start, especially when so many of them were inspired by the Ukrainian himself. They were all shit, anyway.
"What?" Misha exclaimed, sitting up straighter and looking affronted. "Unfair, I answered your question, and that was way worse!"
Noel found himself laughing at the Ukrainian's indignant look. "I'd have to be way more drunk to answer that question."
"Fine, then we play game. Every question you answer honestly, you can drink. Sound fun?"
Noel nodded, grinning. "Fine, but I'm still skipping that question."
Misha groaned. "Okay, easy question. What is your favourite subject?"
"Um, English?" Noel held his hand out for the bottle and took a sip. "My turn. What's your favourite colour?"
"Easy. Green. Same as money. What colour would you most like to paint your nails?"
Noel glanced down at the chipped black nail polish on his fingers. "Red, maybe. Like a lipstick." He took another sip, then handed the bottle back to Misha. "Who's your least favourite person that we know?"
Misha scoffed. "Ocean, of course. Stupid question." He took another drink, and hesitated. "Have you ever been kissed?"
Noel's smile dropped. "What kind of question is that?" he snapped, and Misha frowned.
"I was just wondering," he said, and Noel rolled his eyes.
"Right, yeah, because everyone's just throwing themselves at my feet, right? I'm getting kissed left, right and centre."
"I didn't mean anything," Misha tried, but Noel was getting defensive now.
"It's not my fault that I'm basically the only gay kid in all of Uranium City, Misha. If I tried to kiss someone I'd either get my nose broken or get accused of having AIDS."
"You are not only gay kid in Uranium," Misha said, and Noel laughed a bit.
"Sure. Name one other gay kid."
"Well, me, for starters," Misha said, a bit angrily.
Noel stared at him, too surprised to even react. "But..." he faltered. "What about Talia?"
"I'm actually bisexual," Misha mumbled, taking a swig from the bottle. "Not that it matters."
"No, Mish," Noel murmured. He felt a bit stupid and mean for just assuming that Misha was straight. "It means a lot. Thank you for telling me, I know how hard it is."
Misha shrugged, glancing up at Noel. "Mish?"
Immediately, Noel noticed his mistake. He flushed bright red and buried his face in his hands, horrified. "Oh, I'm sorry, it just slipped out!"
Misha was laughing. "Is fine, Noel. I don't mind."
"I'm such an idiot," Noel whined, but Misha was still laughing.
"Is no big deal, man. Seriously. Come on, let's keep playing."
Noel peeked out from under his arms. Misha didn't seem to mind, but he was still grinning. "Stop laughing at me," Noel complained.
"I'm not!" Misha declared. "Take your turn."
Noel groaned. "I don't know. Have you ever been kissed?"
Misha let out a grumbling noise. "Not fair. I already asked that."
"Why, are you scared to answer?" Noel asked, and Misha scoffed.
"No. Is just cheap cop out. Come up with better question."
"Okay, have you ever kissed a boy?" Noel asked. Misha groaned and took a deep swig from the bottle.
"Stupid question. But no, never."
Noel wrapped his arms back around his knees. "Yeah, me neither," he admitted. "Well, obviously." He held his hand out for the bottle, and Misha handed it to him. He had a strange look on his face, as though he was about to say something that worried him, but he was interrupted by Father Marcus knocking on their door.
"Lights out, boys! We'll be up early tomorrow to head back to Uranium."
Misha frowned. "We can turn off big light. Use lamp."
Noel got up and went over to the door to turn off the light, then took a running jump back into the bed. Misha laughed at him and shoved him back over to his own side, then took another drink. Noel was definitely starting to feel the effect of the alcohol. His head was tingling pleasantly and his tongue felt much looser, as though he didn't care what he was saying.
"I don't know if I'm ever going to kiss anyone," he admitted. "I'm saving up to move to France, but it's taking so long that I don't know if I'll ever make it out. And I don't think anyone in Uranium will ever want to kiss me."
Misha looked at him seriously in the lamp light. "Of course you will be kissed, Noel Gruber. You are gorgeous, and I know someone will see that soon. You just need to wait."
Noel frowned and averted his gaze. "Thanks, Misha, but you don't need to try and make me feel better. I've already accepted my fate." The last bit was said lightly, as a joke, but Misha didn't seem to take it that way. He reached out and grabbed Noel's hand. Noel jolted in surprise.
"I'm serious, Noel. You will find someone soon, I promise."
Noel felt almost sick to his stomach with want. He stared down at the hand that was covering his own, feeling the heat of Misha's skin. "What are you doing?" he whispered dully.
Misha's hand tightened against his, and Noel felt him move closer on the bed. "I don't know," the Ukrainian whispered, and suddenly Noel felt a hand on his chin and then lips pressed against his own.
His eyes were wide with surprise, his head swimming with a mix of shock and want and terror. He felt Misha's hand flatten against his cheek, felt his hot breath and his lips pressed against Noel's own. Finally, Noel allowed himself to melt into the kiss, bringing a shaking hand up to rest awkwardly on Misha's shoulder and tilting his head to slot their lips together more comfortably. His heart was pounding as Misha pulled away, frowning.
"Now we have both kissed a boy, yes?" the Ukrainian said. Noel couldn't bring himself to answer. He was staring at the other boy in horror, unable to comprehend what had just happened. "Noel?" Misha asked haltingly.
"I-" Noel faltered. Misha frowned.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. In my country it is natural for two men to show affection by kissing... I didn't think. I apologise."
Noel could almost feel his heart breaking. Finally, he had been kissed, and it wasn't even out of genuine love or even attraction. It was just because Misha had felt like kissing a boy and he happened to be in the same room.
"We should sleep," Misha blurted, and without another word he turned over and switched off the lamp. Noel lay with his back to the other boy, trying desperately to hold back tears. He heard fabric sliding against skin as Misha undoubtedly stripped off his uniform shirt, and then felt the bed shift as he lay down. It took what felt like hours for Noel to drift off to sleep, too hyperaware of the boy lying so close to him, and how utterly miserable he felt to be able to close his eyes.
Despite all of this, however, he eventually drifted off. He knew this because he was jolted awake hours later by the feeling of Misha rolling almost directly on top of him. Noel could feel the other boy's chest rising and falling on top of his. He could feel the heat radiating off the boy's body through the thin fabric of his shirt. Misha's bare hip was pressed against the bit of Noel's skin that was exposed between his t-shirt and the waistband of his shorts. Misha's face was buried in the crook of Noel's neck, and he could feel Misha's lips pressing against the sensitive bit of skin where his shoulder met his neck. Noel lay there, frozen, wondering if this was perhaps on purpose. Then Misha made a grumbling noise and rolled back onto his own side, one arm still slung over Noel's chest, and started to snore.
Noel carefully raised a shaking hand to where Misha's face had been pressed against his neck. His eyes were burning with newly formed tears. God, he was so stupid. To think that Misha was trying to tell him something, maybe show that he wanted Noel as much as Noel wanted him, was idiotic.
Noel felt sobs forming in his chest, fighting to get out past the painful lump in his throat. He carefully slipped off the bed, sliding out from under Misha's arm, and made his way into the bathroom.
Once inside, he couldn't keep the tears from falling. All he could do was sit with his face buried in his hands, trying to stop his sobs from carrying through the walls. His shoulders shook with the effort, and he couldn't help but think that it was so stupid to be this upset over a boy. It's not like he even really knew Misha. Today was the most they'd ever spoken to one another in their lives. But still, he'd never felt so connected to anyone before, even before the kiss. It just wasn't fair.
Misha woke to an intense feeling of falling. His limbs contracted and he sat up in the motel bed, looking around the room frantically. It was empty, which was strange. Noel appeared to have left. Misha sat for a moment in silence, straining to hear whatever could have woken him. Then he heard it again, muffled by the walls of the bathroom. A shaky breath in and out, like someone was crying. It had to be Noel.
Misha realised with a nasty jolt that it must be his fault. After weeks of stupid, useless pining, he had finally worked up the courage to kiss a boy for the first time, and still managed to fuck it up. And now the only person that he cared about in all of north-eastern Saskatchewan was sitting in a motel bathroom, crying. Because of him.
Misha swung his legs out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom, heart in his mouth. He had never felt so tense in his life. He cursed the language barrier now more than ever before, wondering what he could have done to make Noel react this way. For a moment he entertained the thought that Noel might be sad that Misha only kissed him once. Emboldened by this, he raised an arm and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Noel?" he called. The other side of the door remained silent. "Noel, please, I need to talk to you," Misha tried again.
He heard movement from the bathroom, and finally Noel's voice rang out. "Just go back to bed, Misha."
"No, I have to talk to you," Misha insisted.
"I don't think there's anything we need to say to each other," Noel replied, his voice muffled. "We were drunk and we made a stupid, embarrassing mistake. That's all there is to it. So just go back to bed."
Misha frowned to cover up the pain in his chest that formed as Noel spoke. Was it really that embarrassing? He wanted to ask, but that was too sad even for him. "Fine," he snapped instead, making sure Noel would hear his angry footsteps as he made his way back to the bed. He clutched his pillow and buried his face in it, screaming silently into the fabric. Of course he managed to fucking mess everything up. Now Noel was too ashamed to even look at him, all because Misha had kissed him without even considering if it was something that Noel might have wanted.
He had been so sure; all of the soft smiles and lingering glances at his lips that Noel had thrown his way had only added to his suspicions that Noel might have returned his crush. But clearly he had made the wrong choice, and now he had lost one of his only friends in Uranium. Misha's hands curled uselessly into fists and he drummed them against the mattress, wishing that it was a wall or even someone's face. God, he was such a fucking idiot.
He lay there in miserable silence until he heard the bathroom door open about half an hour later, then pretended to sleep as Noel climbed back into bed.
They didn't speak at all the following morning. Misha was still furious at himself, and Noel still seemed to be horribly embarrassed at the fact that he had actually kissed Misha Bachynskyi. The bus ride back to Uranium was torture. The two boys sat in uncomfortable silence. Every time Misha glanced at Noel, he seemed to be leaning as far away from Misha as he possibly could.
Finally, at about ten o'clock at night, the bus pulled back into Uranium City. Noel instantly stood up and rushed off the bus, followed by all of the other choir members. Only Misha hung back for a bit, waiting for everyone else to leave so that they wouldn't see him having to walk home. Once everyone else had left and Father Marcus had driven off in the bus, Misha shoved his hands into his pockets and began the walk home. It wasn't too far, but it was late and cold, and he would have much preferred a lift.
During the walk, Misha would occasionally stop to pick up a rock and hurl it as hard as he could at a wall, or up into the air. It was an ineffective way of getting his anger out, but a lot better than going to find some crackhead to beat up in the park.
When he arrived home he fumbled with stiff fingers for the keys to his basement, pulling them out of his bag and slotting the key numbly into the keyhole. The door took a couple of sharp bangs with his shoulder to open, and when he stepped inside his breath clouded in the freezing air. He didn't even bother to change before he crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow to his body. He fucking hated it here. There was nothing good left in Uranium unless he could fix whatever problems he had caused with Noel.
The choir was given the following day off to recuperate after the time spent travelling. Noel spent the morning wandering around his house and trying to write in his journal, but the only poetry that was coming out was either filled with self-loathing or angry complaints about gorgeous boys who play with people's feelings. This would likely have continued if someone hadn't knocked on his door at about eleven o'clock.
Noel frowned. His mother was working, and the postman didn't usually come until much later. Nevertheless he opened the door, and stood there in numb surprise at the sight of Misha leaning against the wall beside him. Noel wanted nothing more than to slam the door shut again, and yet something about the way that Misha was standing compelled him to stay there.
"What?" he asked flatly. He worried that if he said too much, the tears would spill over again, so he left it at that.
Misha pushed off the wall and stood in front of Noel, shoving his hands awkwardly into his pockets. He was wearing a hoodie without a jacket, despite the cold of the Canadian winter.
"I want to talk about other night," Misha said, looking directly at Noel in an almost defensive manner.
Noel frowned. "Well, I don't. We were drunk and being teenagers, that's really all there is to say."
He went to close the door but Misha stepped forward, blocking his way. Suddenly there was far too little space between them, and Noel could see the clouds of Misha's breath. "Noel, please," he tried. "I was trying to tell you this. I was not drunk."
Noel's brow furrowed. "So?"
"So I kissed you on purpose. I didn't realise how drunk you were, or I would not have done it. I'm sorry."
Noel swallowed and took a half step back, confused. "What do you mean, you kissed me on purpose? Just to see what it was like to kiss a gay kid? You stole my first kiss, Misha. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?"
Misha glared at him and dared to take another step forward into Noel's hallway, leaving the door open behind him. "I tell you before, I am bisexual. If I want to kiss gay kid, I practice on my hand. I wanted to kiss you, Noel."
Noel let out a breathy laugh, mouth dry with disbelief. "Misha..."
Misha's gaze, which had been trained on Noel's face, dropped. "I'm sorry, Noel. I took advantage of you when drunk. We don't have to be friends if you are too uncomfortable. And I'm sorry for stealing your first kiss."
He turned around, leaving Noel rooted to the spot in shock. Misha didn't even bother to look back as he closed the door with a gentle click. It felt like hours before Noel could unfreeze his feet, too preoccupied by the thoughts whirling through his mind. Did Misha truly want to kiss him? He came all this way to apologise and explain himself, and Noel just let him leave.
"Fucking god damn it," Noel shouted, kicking the wall next to him and hurting his foot. Not only had he completely misunderstood Misha's original intentions, he'd just gone and fucked things up even more.
"Shit," he hissed between his teeth as he wedged his feet into a pair of boots and threw open his front door. He didn't even bother to grab a jacket as he followed the trail of footprints in the light dusting of snow on the ground. He felt dizzy with anticipation and nervousness as he raced down the road to catch up with the dark figure trudging away from his house.
Misha turned around in surprise just as Noel reached out and grabbed his wrist, hands shaking with relief. "Okay, Noel?"
"I'm sorry," Noel blurted. "I don't know what was going on in your head the other night, but I know that all I was thinking was that I wanted you to kiss me again. I don't know if that's what you want, but-"
He was cut off by Misha grabbing his cheek with his free hand and crushing their lips together. Noel's hands fell to his sides in shock, and then he brought them up and laced his fingers through Misha's curls. Misha used his other hand to grip the back of Noel's head, deepening the kiss as they swayed blindly on the side of the road, entirely lost in each other. Noel's head was swimming with sheer joy at the feeling of Misha's lips pressed against his, and he found himself left with a stupid grin on his face as Misha pulled away.
Misha kept his hands where they were as he pulled back and studied Noel's face, and then he grinned. "What?" Noel mumbled. His mouth felt as though it was full of sand.
"Today will be good day," Misha said decisively, and Noel let out a breathless, adoring laugh.
"Why don't you come back to my house?" Noel watched as Misha's eyes darkened at the suggestion, and he laughed again. "Not just for... this, but to spend the day. I'd like to be with you, if you want."
Misha nodded, breath coming quickly. "You mean like boyfriends?" he asked, and Noel felt a blush rise in his cheeks.
"I don't know." He wasn't sure if that's what Misha wanted, or if he just wanted to be friends who would kiss occasionally, but then Misha grabbed his hands and interlaced their fingers.
"I mean like boyfriends," he said seriously. "If you will take me."
Noel felt as though he might faint from happiness, but he tightened his grip on Misha's hands and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Okay," he whispered, grinning like a lovestruck kid. He looked down at their interlaced hands, but his smile faded when he saw the state of Misha's knuckles.
"What happened?" he asked, shocked. Misha's left hand was red and swollen, and blood was still seeping from cuts on each of his knuckles. "Shit, Mish, that looks painful." He raised the hand closer to his face in order to inspect it, cradling it carefully in both of his.
Misha cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, shoving it back in his pocket. "I punched wall. When I left just now. Sorry."
Noel let out a laugh of disbelief. "Oh, man, come on. I'll get you cleaned up."
Misha laughed embarrassedly. "Is no big deal. My fault anyway, I should not have done it."
"Yeah, it was stupid," Noel agreed. "But come on. If we're going to be boyfriends, I can't let you sit there with a bleeding hand when I want to hold it."
He watched in delight as Misha grinned and flushed, then grabbed his good hand and started dragging him back towards the house.