Work Text:
You step into the classroom, your eyes instantly meeting him—your now boyfriend, Mischa Bachinski.
A soft smile escapes your lips as you stride toward him, your bag casually slung over your shoulder. But before you can reach his desk, a shorter ginger blocks your path.
"Hi!" she greets you with such enthusiasm that catches you off guard. It’s not unusual, but still, you can’t shake the weird feeling that makes the fact of her treating YOU better than her own best friend.
"Hi, Ocean." Your smile falters, your focus shifting back to Mischa. Now that he's your boyfriend, every moment away from him feels like a waste. Is that selfish?
"How was your weekend?" she finally asks, her smile growing nervous, her posture stiff. It’s clear she noticed your hesitation.
"Great." You nod, your gaze fixed on her, searching for... something.
But she doesn’t meet your eyes. Well, she does—but not entirely.
She's tense, avoiding eye contact, and... is she sweating?
"That’s awesome!" she blurts out, her hand awkwardly hovering your arm before retreating. She seems unsure where to place it now. "Um, okay. You can go now."
Ocean steps aside, giving you a clear path. You murmur a "thanks," your attention immediately going back to Mischa. Your smile grows wider.
You’re so in love.
You continue toward him, his gaze softly over him. He’s so perfect.
"Hey," you murmur, resting your hands on his desk, looking down at him. For now, he's seated, making him shorter than you.
His head tilts, his eyes locking with yours. The furrow in his brow eases when hee sees you, and his lips curve into a familiar smile.
"Yo," Mischa murmurs back, getting up.
His hands find your waist, pulling you closer. His smile remains unchanged, and you let him touch you. It feels right.
He leans in, stealing a kiss from you. You let him, your lips almost curving into a smile... only if they weren’t pressed against his.
A flutter stirs in your stomach. Maybe this is what they mean when they say love feels like butterflies. You feel it.
The kiss is short and quick, but the sensation of someone’s eyes piercing through you makes it feel endless.
Mischa pulls away, his hand still resting on your hip. You sense that he felt it too, because despite holding you, he’s not looking at you.
You turn your head. A few desks away, Ocean is staring at you two, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
Your brow furrows. It’s unsettling—so unlike her.
But before you can do anything, her eyes meet yours, and she runs out of the classroom.
"What the hell," Mischa mutters under his breath, the exasperation clear in his tone.