𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝//𝐦. 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

4//at-risk

His tone of voice did a complete 180° from the way he spoke to me.

"Oh! Mischa!" She turned around, enveloping him in a hug.

Mischa seemed to genuinely return the hug, which kind of surprised me.

"I am doing very much better. No more bad headache."

"That's great, sweetheart," She smiled. "I don't believe you need to check in next week. You seem to be almost completely better. Just keep taking it easy for the next week."

"No more check-ins?" Mischa echoed.

"I mean, unless you want to stop by and visit. I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind."

"I am sure she would not," He said, turning to me.

I didn't respond.

Mischa chuckled and turned away.

I left them and walked up to my room to do my homework. After maybe fifteen minutes waist-deep into my math homework, Mischa barged into my room.

"What the hell do you want this time?" I sighed, exasperated.

He took in the setting of my room, from my bed to my walls decorated with musical posters.

"I need more chemistry help."

"No. I'm at home. You've got to wait until next Tuesday."

"Aw, really?" He whined. "I need help! I will be removed from hockey team!"

I took a good look at him. He continued looking around my room, picking up random objects, and setting them back down. He glanced back at me, waiting for an answer.

"Fine," I conceded, rubbing my forehead.

He grinned, and then sat himself down on my bed.

"Make yourself at home, I guess," I mumbled from my desk.

"Oh, I will," He said, reclining on my bed and stretching out.

I decided to mess with him a bit. "You seem pretty good at making yourself comfortable in girls' beds. Why is that?"

"I fuck bitches."

That did not have the effect I intended. "That's straightforward."

"Mhm," He looked up at the ceiling. "Girls love that. They do not like when guy is sneaky. Or has the double meaning. So I just keep it simple."

"Oh. That actually makes sense."

He nodded. "I know. It works well."

I was a bit curious. "Do you actually, I don't know, care about the girls that you..."

"No," He sighed, almost looking guilty. "Half the time, I do not even know their names. I just go to a party, flirt a bit, and if she is not drunk and if she says yes, I will take her home."

I thought about that. At least he was decent enough to ask for consent and make sure she was in the right state of mind.

"Hm."

"But it helps, you know?" He piped in.

"Helps?" I echoed.

Mischa nodded. "With the stress. All of the things I must do."

"Like what?" I scoffed. "Be popular, have rich parents, and captain the hockey team that our town adores? Poor you."

"You do not get it. Just forget about me saying this whole thing," He grumbled. "Just teach me the chemistry now."