Mishka: All the Ways You'd Wreck Me

Mishka lasted about seven days into his “don’t send Hansel any more notes” resolution.

Hansel had sent him one back on a gray bird. Mishka unfolded it with a snap. Registered, for a split second, that it was Hansel’s handwriting, no salutation, no closing, just that quick scrawl of his.

*Fuck you. I don’t go around telling people your secrets.*

 His hands burned the edges of the note and smoked where he held it. Mishka dropped the paper before he accidentally burned it.

Nixie peeked around the door into his bedroom. “Mishie?” God, he hated that name, but he couldn’t possibly tell her. At least he’d been able to talk her into only using it when no one else was around. “I smell smoke.”

Potential lies:

1. “I knocked over a candlestick and it burned the rug.”

Nope. He obviously hadn’t. She was standing right there, and there was no candlestick and there was no rug.

2. “I got bored and burned this paper.”

Out of character. Made no sense. She’d never believe that, and Sugar was the most naïve, adorable little cinnamon roll he’d ever had the delight of attempting to take hostage.

3. “My husband sent me a letter and it caught me off-guard.”

Nah, fuck that. Mishka would resort to literally anything before the actual, you know, truth. “I’d prefer not to discuss it, sweetheart,” Mishka told Nixie. That always worked with her. She nodded, eyes wide, and stepped back out to give him his peace.

The problem was, Hansel **didn’t** tell people Mishka’s secrets. What the hell was up with that? What kind of weird game was this? Why fucking not? Why not lash out the way Mishka had been? If their positions were reversed, Mishka would’ve. Had tried, in fact. Multiple times.

The mask—the fucking black dragon in the desert—the cuff tight around his wrist, itching—the embarrassing birthmark on his shoulder—the things Mishka had told him late at night. The only things Mishka didn’t talk about were Aleksei and Jonesy. And he probably would’ve told Hansel about the whole Jonesy thing, too, if he hadn’t, you know, panicked and stolen a whole pirate ship instead.

Mishka was normally pretty at winning arguments, but Hansel had a serious advantage here, because Hansel was actually… y’know… right.

Potential schemes:

1. Kill Hansel.
2. ~~Apologize.~~
3. Elaborate plan to become Spymaster, then Prince. Exile Hansel from the city.
4. Pay someone to shoot him?

He grabbed a piece of paper and started to write on it.

*Well*, he wrote, *maybe you should’ve thought about that before you butchered and ate my entire former pirate crew. Maybe you ought to think ahead next time you feel peckish. You really are as dumb as you look, huh.*

 Hansel never responded when Mishka said things like that, but Mishka was still pretty sure it cut him, and sometimes that was satisfying. He crumpled the note and set it on fire in his hands before he got the urge to send it.

Grabbed the pen a second time. Started writing.

*I didn't want any of this. Fuck, Hansel. Are you okay? Khamen was telling the truth? What happened to you?*

*You looked half-dead when I found you in Skyport. You still look that way sometimes. Like you’re not all here. I miss you. Look at me. I can’t imagine what that was like. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I do this to you?*

 He burned that one too.

Hansel ignoring him ripped him up inside. If he could provoke Hansel into attacking him or hurting him, that would feel satisfying. He couldn’t breathe when they were around each other, waiting for the hit that never came. Mishka never trusted anyone not to hurt him. Hansel had every reason in the world to hurt him—

He wrote one last note.

*Han,*

*I’m*

 There was no point in apologizing. Hansel would never believe him. Would not hear a word out of his poisonous mouth. Mishka was always better at lying than telling the truth.

*I’m sorry,* he wrote. *I love you.*

 He’d burn it. He’d write it out, then burn it.

*I’m sorry. I love you. Fuck all of this.*

 The edges of the note burned in his hand. He put his head down on the desk and didn't move for a long time.

He didn’t know what Hansel’s quarters looked like. He needed to be familiar with a place to teleport there. If he wanted to give Hansel this note, he'd have to actually make an effort. Disguise himself as Nixie, walk onto the ship when she was gone, and slide the note under Hansel's door.

So instead, he folded the note inside his pocket, and left it there.

He'd burn it. Later.

He took Hansel's letter, the one with Hansel's handwriting. He ripped off the part that said "*Fuck you"* and pinned it to his desk as a reminder. He took the other part, the part about Hansel not telling people his secrets, folded it, and put it in the drawer. And tried to forget about it. Like he always did.