WIP Ride the Cyclone request on Ao3
Noel gets fired from Taco Bell because of his shitty manager, but Misha is there to comfort him weirdly (in this fic, Misha is just sorta friends with Noel). But UH OH! They both go to a random party some annoying chodes are hosting, and Misha and Noel have developed romantic feelings for each other. I'll leave the rest to you :D (also, by the way, love your writing)
Taco Bell is hell, being the second most popular spot in the mall food court outside of the Teriyaki Express, the mall is surprisingly (and luckily) dead, with only a few groups of people walking around.
He could really go for some orange chicken, maybe he can convince the teenaged employee at the Teriyaki place to trade with him.
He turns around at a small “scus’ me”, startling at the sight of his manager. It's a wonder how he’s even the manager, with his horrid social skill, and him being eighteen at the most.
His stringy hair is a mess of curls around his face, sticking to his forehead even as he looks up at Noel.
He mumbles a bit, fiddling around with an envelope, creasing the corners “oh, well…”
Noel turns around at the bell on the counter ringing, quickly putting in an order for a middle aged man. His manager continues when Noel sends the receipt back to the kitchen.
He continues, glancing between Noel and the man standing at the counter just a few feet from them “Your lifestyle makes customers…”
“Uncomfortable, I’m making people uncomfortable?”
He nods quickly, handing the envelope over to him with shaking hands.
“Aren’t you meant to give me a two week notice” Noel says, exasperated. The Taco Bell is understaffed as it is, with the manager only coming in every other week.
“I, well yes, but it’s a—it’s a special case.” The weasley guy says, brushing his greasy black hair to the side “and don’t—there’s a… drug scene in your lifestyle.”
Noel’s coworker comes to the front, handing the bag to the man who smiles at the two of them. She stops at the counter when the man leaves “are you doing poppers for your little Russian boyfriend?”
He shoves her back in the general direction of the kitchen, confused.
His manager’s visibly hot under the collar, tapping his foot, it was making Noel increasingly irate, the guy obviously working himself up while Noel was momentarily distracted. “Can you just give me the hat?”
Noel slams the hat onto the counter behind him, glaring at him, who backs up quickly. “Here” he holds out the envelope, Noel continues looking at him perturbed. “It’s your paycheck for two weeks.”
Noel lets out a huff, pushing past Sean and grabbing the envelope, going through the kitchen to leave.
“You can’t—your shift’s not over!”
He has to wait for his bus, hence his wandering around the mall. He's walked past the same Pacsun six or so times now and he's getting a headache from the vanilla floral scent emitting from the Victoria Secret next to it.
When the headache finally got too bad to ignore he had to make his way outside, pushing through throttles of people standing near the exit, bumping into at least two kids who’ve been allowed to wander too far from their parents in the crowded mall.
He can feel tears coming, his eyes burning and a lump forming in his throat.
At least the parking lot was mostly empty, small graces.
The cool fresh air helped his senses, his headache quickly ebbing away.
Said boy turns around quickly at the Ukrainian accent, seeing Mischa, wearing a balaclava and puffer jacket of all things. He quickly wipes at his eyes, accidentally wetting his eyelids.
Noel lets out a small “hm?” when Mischa gets close enough to hear, said boy panting slightly under his balaclava from the small jog across the parking lot.
And Noel could answer, could lie and say he was, or that he quit, or he can be honest and say he got fired for his ‘lifestyle’
“No” he grimaces at the voice crack, swallowing back tears.
Mischa pulls his balaclava up, a worried expression on his face “you call out?”
Noel shakes his head in response, he knows he’ll cry if he talks.
“Did you uh—“ he starts shifting from one foot to the other, fiddling with something in his pocket, a mother with her kid gives the two of them a wide berth “did you get fire?”
He nods, hands shoved deep in his pockets, clinching at a hand warmer, wishing he hadn’t forgotten his jacket.
He kicks at a muddy snow clump at his feet, watching as it breaks apart. He feels hot tears roll down his cheeks and it’s humiliating, hiccuped gasps escape his bitten lips, tears landing on the concrete under him.
He feels a hand touch his shaking shoulder, quickly trailing to his wrist when a car honks, startling the both of them.
Mischa quickly drags them out of the parking lot, Noel trailing behind him, frantically wiping at the tears falling from his eyes, sniffling grossly.
The walk to the bus stop is awkward, Mischa not letting go of his wrist.
The both of them sit down with a sigh (or in Mischa’s case a huff)
Mischa began taking off his puffer, revealing a yellow long sleeve under it, sliding down his shystie over his face in the same movement “There’s a uh—orgy happening tonight apparently.”
Noel blanks at that, cause genuinely, what could he mean by that. He knows he mixes up words or even blanks on them occasionally, but an orgy?
Mischa hands the puffer over to Noel who hums a thanks and pulls it on, zipping it quickly…
“Oh yeah, that’s the word.”
Noel slumps over, head hanging over his knees “who’s even hosting it?”
He can hear Mischa shuffling around a bit, startling when a hand starts stroking at his back.
“Mike? I saw it on MySpace, pretty sure he goes to school town over.”
Noel hums, the back rubs are kind of nice if you ignore that rustling coming from the puffer jacket.
Mischa hums, hand moving to Noel’s hair, parting it into zigzags.
“Yes, 20, 30 minutes from the res.”
“2100, it is bring your own.”
Noel turns his head to the right, facing Mischa who fumbles, brushing Noel’s hair behind his ear a few times. Noel straightens up, resting his head on the clear plastic wall behind him.
The bus arrives with a screeching halt, making his ears ring.
“I can drive you if you print a map.” Noel says as they shuffle into the seats.
Mischa cracks his back with a loud pop when they get off the bus, grabbing Noel’s wrist again much to his surprise.
“I’m copping a drink” he says, dragging Noel behind him towards the 7/11 down the block.
The 7/11 is as brightly lit and headache inducing as usual, the cashier giving them a glare and then continues to watch whatever’s on the monitor next to the cash register, probably camera footage.
They shuffle to the candy aisle, Mischa shoving a few packs of rainbow sour candies down his pants much to Noel’s chagrin.
“The 360 camera is covered by a shelf near the savory aisle.”
Noel nods “it’s been out since… June, July last year?”
He points at the milk duds and Mischa shoves a box into his pocket “and you didn’t tell me?”
“Thought you knew I guess,” Noel says, swiping a finger over the dusty shelf, grabbing a bag of peach Maynards that he’ll pay for.
They circle around the shelves towards the savory aisle, Mischa using the new found blank spot to grab handfuls of jerky and shove them into his pants while Noel watches the door.
“Why’d you even get fired?”
Noel crouches down to grab a bag of pork floss. His eyes are getting hot and the headache is coming back. “Uh- he didn’t like my—my lifestyle, I guess.”
“Too much party raving?” Mischa says, grabbing at Noel’s belt loop to pull him to the alcohol aisle, grabbing at his own crotch with his other hand, presumably to stop everything there from falling out of the pant legs.
Mischa pushes Noel against one of the fridges, cracking the one next to him open and grabbing cans randomly, handing them to Noel to… hide? He does just that, tucking them under his jacket.
“Yeah, is this everything?”
Mischa nodes and they begin to make their way to the counter, Noel putting down the two items he grabbed, Mischa sliding a Gatorade up to the items.
It takes a bit for the cashier to get to the counter, even with Mischa’s persistent dinging of the bell next to him.
The woman rings them up, staring pointedly at Mischa’s balaclava.
“You can’t wear those inside.”
“Oh- yeah sorry.” Mischa folds it up quickly.
Noel hands over the money and grabs the items, both of them shuffling out, Mischa grabbing at his pants crotch again.
About a block out Noel can start to feel his panic setting in, he just stole, he just stole a lot.
And don’t get him wrong, like any other teenager he’s stolen before, usually just a lone jerky bag or small canned coffee, but the amount Mischa took from the store was making it hard for him to walk.
Mischa takes a right, walking them to the park, he’s slid his balaclava down again, and moved most of the contents previously in his pants into his pockets. He’s shivering from the cold and it makes Noel feel almost bad about taking his jacket, but he offered.
Despite the cold Noel can feel himself sweating under the collar, his hands fidgeting with a small toonie in his pocket.
He’s kicking at the snow on the ground while Mischa lazily swings on the swing set, eating strips of candy from his pocket.
Noel takes a much needed shower when he finally goes home, eating too many slices of cold pizza in the fridge light while waiting for Mischa to text him the details.
He’s still jittery from what he did (or more accurately what Mischa did) just an hour before, the frankly illogical thoughts of the clerk somehow finding out flooding through his brain, he shoves the slice of pizza he was holding back into the box at the sound of his phone buzzing.
Noel grabs his keys off the counter and calls out a quick “I’m going out” to his probably asleep mum before leaving through the door.
