Chapter 20 #3
“I don’t know,” Misha sighs. “I had to share everything my whole life. There wasn’t enough attention to go around.
Being the middle child, I always felt left out and overlooked.
It’s hard to feel like you have to make everybody happy when at the same time you feel like you aren’t important enough to get the same in return. ”
“Misha…” I trail off, my words hushed in the quiet around us.
What do you say to something like this?
You’re important to me.
“Studies have shown that it is like that sometimes,” he quips with a wry smile, but his eyes tell me this goes deeper than he lets on. “My therapist says I like taking care of people because it heals the part of me that needed someone to take care of me. Sometimes, having a big heart sucks.”
“You’re not in charge of everyone else’s happiness,” I remind him gently.
“At least I grew up with two good role models,” Misha says, a touch of pride in his voice. “It wasn’t all bad. I love my mom and dad, and they gave everything for us.”
“I didn’t grow up with role models,” I say quietly, staring at the slowly brightening sky. “I grew up with people I didn’t want to be like.”
Misha turns his head and leans in close, whispering in my ear, “You’re amazing. You’re someone I want to be like when I grow up.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling too broadly. For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, overwhelmed by how much his simple confession means to me.
When I’m finally bold enough to glance at him, Misha gazes up, a contemplative look on his face.
“I don’t want a big family. I don’t want to share my partner with kids.
I just want her and me having a good life, doing what we love.
Being successful, having friends, going on hikes, enjoying life. That’s all I want.”
His words feel important. It’s as if they are meant to counter the echo of Mother’s voice that still haunts me and reminds me that I’m not enough, that it’s not okay to want the exact thing he’s describing.
“Sounds amazing. But not everybody thinks like that,” I whisper in response, almost without thinking.
I could see a life like that with him.
He didn’t talk about you, Amelia.
Misha turns his head to look at me, his expression serious.
“Not everybody has to think like that, but it’s okay to think like that.
It’s okay to live your life how you want to live it without putting the expectations of others on you because you are the one who will have to live that life.
And spoiler… we die in the end. If you can’t find anyone who will accept your way of living, it’s worth it to live it alone. ”
His words touch a raw nerve. I can’t think about it again. This was meant to be an escape from the heaviness.
I need to change the topic.
“And here I thought you were the funny one of the three of you,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood as I lean a little away from him.
But Misha just pulls me even closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I am the funny one. But that isn’t really hard to achieve given Oliver’s brilliant shyness and Grey’s… assholeness.”
I slap him playfully on the chest. “Grey isn’t an arsehole.”
Misha laughs, his voice carrying across the quiet mountaintop. “Oh? One evening, he was nice to you, and you come to his defense?”
“Sort of nice,” I concede with a small smile.
I consider him licking ricotta off my finger as nice.
“Don’t let him fool you.” Misha chuckles. “Under all that scowl, Grey’s a cinnamon roll, just like the rest of us. Maybe even more so than Oliver.”
Wait, what?
“That’s not possible.” I chuckle, thinking of sweet, considerate Oliver.
“Oh, it is. Oliver is so much more than what you see at first glance,” Misha’s tone now mixes amusement and respect.
“Sure, he’s shy, but don’t mistake him being quiet for weakness.
He’s incredibly resilient and always finds ways to support those he cares about.
Oliver is so deeply empathetic. He senses how you’re feeling, sometimes even before you fully process it yourself.
And he always knows what to say or do to make things better.
His strength isn’t loud or showy. But he’s a pillar, really, in his own quiet way.
I don’t know where I would be today if I hadn’t found him. But that counts for Grey too.”
Talking about Oliver and Grey stirs that feeling in my chest again, even though I’m lying in Misha’s arms, enjoying that fact a little too much as well.
I’m in trouble.
As we lie here, the first hints of dawn start to color the sky, and I feel more of the weight lift from my shoulders.
“Showtime,” Misha whispers after a few more minutes, pulling me with him to sit upright.
The sun begins its slow ascent, bathing the horizon in hues of lilac and pink, then a vibrant orange. I feel the promised warmth on my face when the first rays peek over the horizon. The world around us gradually illuminates, revealing the stunning panorama and a lake nestled in the valley below.
Misha’s eyes light with excitement, constantly flitting between the sunrise and me watching it. “See, I told you, the sunrise up here is amazing.”
I can’t help but agree as I take in the breathtaking view. It’s absolutely stunning.
He lets go of me, jumps up with a joyful whoop, and throws his hands in the air. “Whoo-hoo!” he shouts, his voice echoing slightly in the crisp morning air.
I laugh, watching him, his enthusiasm infectious. He’s a complete dork but utterly amazing and undeniably cute.
“Can you hear it, Amelia?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
I pause, listening to the gentle rustle of the trees and the distant calls of morning birds, mixed with the steady thump of my own heartbeat. “Hear what?” I ask, genuinely puzzled.
Misha grins widely. “Every time I see something special, something that makes me grateful to be alive, I hear this song in my head. “Midnight City” by M83. Can you hear it?”
I shake my head, still grinning. “No, I can’t hear it.”
Undeterred, Misha starts to hum and then yells, “Ba doo doo ba! Ba doo doo ba!”
He grabs my hands, pulling me to stand with him, and begins to sway, to dance with me. “Come on, Amelia! Just feel it!”
Laughing, I let myself be swept along by his energy, dancing and swaying to his rendition of the song as the sun climbs higher, casting a golden-orange sheen across his face. His joy is so vivid and palpable. It feels like it brightens everything around us, including me.
He’s living sunshine.
Misha stops his dance, and I stop, too, as he reaches out, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. His voice softens, almost lost in the wind. “See how life gets brighter if you’re just willing to sit through the darkness long enough?”
It really does.
Standing there, with Misha’s hand in mine, dancing to a song only he hears, I feel a rush of life, of joy I hadn’t known I was missing.
It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.