one step forward, three steps back

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     the weekend seemed to go by agonizingly slow. for the most part, you lied on your bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what would happen next between you and mischa. you had almost expected him to call you, text, anything. it was safe to say you were confused, conflicted, and anxious. your bedroom was dead silent. the only noise being the whirring of your fan and the ruffling of your sheets as you shifted around, never quite feeling comfortable. after lying there, squirming, you finally decided to get up. you weren't going to let your anxiety ruin your whole weekend.

     after making yourself look presentable, you grabbed your mom's ipod and headphones. you shoved your phone in your pocket and pressed shuffle on the ipod. the music started blasting from the headphones, full volume. you jumped and immediately muted the ipod. after taking a breath, you adjusted the volume to where you were comfortable with it. you could hear U2's with or without you playing. you listened to the lyrics, and couldn't help but think of mischa. you groaned and skipped the song. you didn't want to think about him. you were going to deal with it later. but then again.. what if he expected you to reach out to him? could you have done something wrong last night? is he really avoiding you? questions filled your head, self-destructive, annoying, terrible questions. you would see him tomorrow at school, then all of your questions will be answered. no need to stress. you took a deep breath and went outside.

     while attempting to convince yourself that it wouldn't be awkward between you and mischa, your phone buzzed. your eyes widened as you thought it was mischa, finally leaving a message. you sighed in defeat when you realized that it was just ocean. you unlocked your phone and opened the message, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand so that you could read it better. the text said something about their upcoming international singing competition. you skimmed the rest of it and finally found what you were looking for. ocean had been able to raise enough money for the whole choir to be able to go to the competition, stay at a decent hotel, and go to the fair afterwards. she was able to raise a whole 985 dollars by bake sales alone. you automatically assumed that she probably donated her own cash too, she had been looking forward to this year's competition. ocean had been bitter ever since they got second place last year, and ocean being ocean, she had to redeem herself. you quickly typed a reply. it was brief, but enthusiastic, she would understand how you felt.

     soon enough, the sun was starting to set. you had been walking for about an hour now and had begun walking home. by the time you reached your house, many stars were peeking out from behind the clouds, and the sky had become a muddy, dark blue color. you opened the door to your house, it was unlocked. your parents had been living here long enough to know that nobody was going to invade your home, nothing like that ever happened in uranium. at least, not in your part of uranium. you set the ipod and the headphones down on the island in the kitchen and went upstairs. your parents wouldn't care if you skipped dinner just this one time.

     you took a long, hot shower. the walk had cleared your head for the most part, and you were left with exhaustion. thinking took up a lot of energy. you flopped down onto your bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

...

     "y/n! get up, you're gonna be late." your mom was leaning in your doorway, with a stern face. you quickly got up and yawned, wiping your eyes. your phone was on your bedside table, plugged in. you had gotten a message from ocean seven minutes earlier reading that she was on her way to grab you. you shrieked a obscenity and ran to start getting ready. you quickly put your uniform on and want to brush your teeth and hair simultaneously. the ringing of the doorbell made you panic even more, rushing to slide your shoes on and make sure you looked fit to be seen. you grabbed all your things and ran down the stairs, shouting goodbye to your parents and leaving the door, sighing when you greeted ocean.

paradox | mischa bachinski x female readerWhere stories live. Discover now