Chapter Text
Ricky is fighting sleep with every fiber of his being. He’s exhausted, he can’t even bear to pretend like he isn’t, but the longer he sleeps, the longer his inevitable dream about Mischa will be. If the only control he has over his life anymore is damage control, he’ll take it.
His strained eyes flutter shut for just a moment, blocking out the harsh glow as the late-night cable horror movie he’s “watching” cuts to commercial. With a heavy sigh, he wraps his comforter tighter around his cold, weary shoulders. He’s washed his sheets 5 times since Mischa slept over, but he won’t ever forget his smell. He hasn’t listened to any of Mischa’s songs or voice messages for a few days, but he won’t ever forget his voice. It’s almost like Mischa is still in the room with him, like their sleepover never ended, but it’s not enough.
Anything less than Mischa himself will never be enough.
It makes Ricky nauseous to think about. He’s tried to think about what the Space Age Bachelor would do, as he always does when he comes to a crossroads, but it’s no help. The Space Age Bachelor is wanted, that’s his whole shtick. He doesn’t want much, but he gets plenty.
Ricky wants one thing, and he wants it so much. He doesn’t know what to do with it all. It makes him so sick. He’s never wanted something this much, and he hates that he found out by losing it.
Tears well up in his eyes and he forgets all about the stupid movie. He grabs his remote to turn off his television, smashing the power button and tossing the remote on the floor defiantly. He nestles into bed like he’s trying to bury himself alive. Christ, was his room always this freezing?
He’ll turn on the heat and then he’ll finally go to bed, he promises himself. Shrugging off his heavy duvet with a shiver, he fumbles for his cane in the dark and approaches the door. Before he can open his door and slip into the hallway, he hears something on his window.
Tap, tap, tap.
Fear creeps down his spine like a creek freezing over. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Lack of sleep isn’t the only reason to drop the late-night horror habit, he thinks. Uranium City is windy in the fall. It always has been. He has nothing to worry about.
Then it happens again.
Tap, tap, TAP.
More aggressively this time.
Heart racing faster than his feet can, he staggers down the hallway, movements bogged down by his exhaustion and wildly exaggerated by his terror. He bumps the heat up two degrees, then races back to his room, unintentionally slamming the door behind him. As he catches his breath against the door, he sees his phone light up. His stomach churns, his heart soars, and his brain tells them both to calm down. There’s no way.
Like there’s a live bomb on his bed that he’s anxious to trigger, Ricky tip-toes towards his phone. He doesn’t look directly at it until he’s put his cane back and sat on the edge of his bed next to it. Without looking, he picks up the buzzing device and holds it up. When he opens his eyes, his heart drops.
October 22nd, 12:05 A.M.
mischa: open the window
mischa: now
He throws his phone too, and it meets the remote with a thud. Keeping a hand on the edge of his bed for support, he scurries around to his window and peels back the curtains.
There he is. Standing in Ricky’s front yard. Wet hair, tank-top, shorts. Ricky stubs his toe against the wall to make sure he really is awake.
There he is.
Ricky uses all of the strength left in his tired body to throw open the window. He feels like a comic book superhero growing musculature on the spot, and gives Mischa a hand as he gets a leg up over the windowsill.
A freezing gust of wind sweeps through Ricky’s room and he shivers. Mischa notices, because of course he does, and whips around to slam the window shut again.
“Better?” he asks, full volume.
Ricky holds a finger to his own lips.
“Ah, your parents. Sorry. I got distracted.”
They stand there for a minute. Ricky is face-to-face with them— his want and its subject. He’s dreamed about this moment, both literally and figuratively. He’d imagined throwing himself onto Mischa, their arms and legs wrapped around each other, kissing and crying and laughing and promising that it would never ever happen again.
Nobody does anything.
Ricky is still terrified. He wants to be mad, but he sees Mischa, looking so genuine, and he can’t be. Still, why is Mischa here? Why so late at night? Why now, and not yesterday, or the day before?
Ricky crosses his arms.
Mischa’s lip quivers as he does so. “I’m sorry.” he chokes out, poorly stifling a cry.
Oh.
Ricky drops his arms immediately, allowing Mischa to step forward and swifty take him into his arms. The hug is tight but not suffocating. He’s warm, too, and Ricky loses himself in Mischa’s embrace as he melts completely.
“Oh, Ricky, I’m so sorry,” Mischa cries. He’s shaking. He’s falling apart. Ricky squeezes him tighter.
“I can’t believe I let myself be so… so stupid, and so naive. To leave you alone without a word, I mean, it is downright cruel. You deserve better,” Mischa inhales deeply, steadying his voice. “I want to give you better.”
Ricky rubs Mischa’s back as they sway slowly back and forth together. He’d hate to break the hug to sign, and his phone is still on the floor. He knows Mischa knows that he’s okay. Ricky trusts him. It makes him tear up that, even after Mischa disappeared, he still trusts him. He wouldn’t give that grace to everyone.
“It should not have taken Ocean and Penny coming in to my room for me to realize you need me, and I need you too,” Mischa sniffles. “I really need you, Ricky. In my life, by my side, everywhere and in every way.”
Ricky makes a mental note about the comment about Ocean and Penny coming into his room that he’ll have to visit later.
He pulls away from the hug a little, Mischa’s arms still gently wrapped around him. He looks up at Mischa, blinking away tears that run down his cheeks. Although teary-eyed, Ricky prepares for Mischa to pull him into a kiss, just like they do in the movies.
But he doesn’t. He just speaks.
“You are beautiful.” Mischa whispers. He looks mesmerized, like he’s never laid his eyes on anything so precious. Ricky likes the way that makes him feel.
“Do you remember that? Drinking together, you called me beautiful. I have replayed it in my mind every night since I left. I have been needing to say it back so badly.”
“Why did you leave?” Ricky signs.
Mischa lets out a half-cry, half-chuckle. “I was scared. I was so scared. I just couldn’t face you. I have never felt something that strong before. I did not want to stay if you did not feel it.”
Ricky’s heart swells. His chest feels tight, but it’s different from the anxious tightness that plagued him while Mischa was gone. It’s tight like his heart is so full it’ll burst.
Silently, Ricky grabs Mischa’s wrists and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. Ricky carefully bends down to pick up his phone and takes a seat next to him. He starts typing.
As Ricky types, Mischa keeps his hands folded in his lap. It’s funny how formal his mannerisms and speech have been tonight despite his outfit. Ricky’s tears are drying and he cracks a small smile.
“Mischa, I’ve felt that way about you since I first laid eyes on you.”
Mischa gently socks Ricky in the shoulder. “Bullshit! No way!”
“Yes way!”
“Yo…” Mischa stares ahead in disbelief. “I find that hard to believe considering you are… you, you know, and I’m me.”
“I know you’re you. That’s why I like you.”
“Even if you are clever and creative and kind and I am… Mischa?”
“Mischa, you’re all of those things and more.”
Mischa shrugs, hums, and crosses his legs. “I like that you think so,” he says quietly with a humble smile.
“I know so!” Ricky signs. “You make me laugh and smile, but you also make me feel so… fulfilled. I don’t know how to describe it. When I’m with you, I feel like you see me in a way no one else does. I want to be closer with you than with anyone else.”
“No one has ever told me anything of that nature.” Mischa says.
“I guess we’ll just have to hang out again so I can tell you all about it.”
“Ah! Wait!” Mischa stands up. “I would love to go on a date with you, Ricky, but as repayment for ghosting, I must be the one who asks.”
He turns on his heels to face away from Ricky. He shakes out his arms and clears his throat. After drawing in a deep breath, he turns back around to face Ricky. “Richard Potts, your endless kindness and otherworldly beauty has captivated me for weeks,” Mischa says. His voice is steady; you wouldn’t even know he’d been crying if it weren’t for the tears still staining his cheeks. “It would be my greatest honor to take you out on a date. Will you accompany me?”
Ricky giggles. “Yes!” he signs.
Mischa helps him to his feet and hugs him tight once more. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
Ricky pulls back to look up into Mischa’s eyes. Now it’s his turn to be bold.
He places a hand on Mischa’s cheek, hoping he’ll get the idea. He’s never kissed anyone before, but with Mischa, right here, right now, he doesn’t worry too much about being perfect. He just wants to be Ricky, and he wants Mischa to be Mischa.
And, to no surprise, Mischa is. He puts his hand over Ricky’s and twists his head towards it. Tenderly, and softer than Ricky could have ever imagined, he kisses Ricky’s palm.
“If I am being honest, I really want to kiss you right now,” Mischa says in that low, gentle voice that makes Ricky weak in the knees, “but it just would not be right until I take you out on a real date.”
Mischa folds Ricky’s fingers into his hand and gives his fist a squeeze. “I am very thankful you let me in tonight. I will text you concerning our date tomorrow, yes?”
Ricky nods. “I can’t wait.” he signs.
“Get some sleep, коханий.”
Ricky opens the window for Mischa and helps him back out. As he crosses the lawn, he glances over his shoulder to wave goodbye. Ricky waves back until Mischa has vanished into the night, then closes his curtains.
He falls back onto his bed, breathless. He grabs his pillow and squeals into it. He stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, remembering the feeling of Mischa’s lips against his palm. Even though Mischa isn’t holding him, he feels just as warm. There’s a buzz under his skin that feels absolutely electric. Any tiredness from before Mischa showed up has fizzled away. Ricky knows he isn’t getting any sleep tonight, but he’s okay with that. It’s more time he can think about Mischa. He texts Penny.
October 22nd, 12:37 A.M.
ricky: hey what
penny: you’re the best penny
penny: i love you penny thank you so much
penny: those are some examples of things you could say to me right now
penny: ocean is reading over my shoulder and wants you to thank her too
ricky: did you break into his house to tell him to come see me?
penny: it’s not breaking in if the window was open. nothing was broken.
ricky: thank you penny and ocean
penny: did he kiss you
ricky: LET ME START AT THE BEGINNING