As the others chapters were being hard to come up with, the idea for this one (not planned) came up and so I wrote it.
Hope you guys enjoy it as I'm sure you always do.
Being fifteen is a weird phase. It's not like you are a child, but you're not a young adult either. You're just standing in the middle of the crossroads, being bewildered and dethroned by feelings, emotions and mood changes that you don't control. You're just a tool to be experimented on by your own body, pushing barriers until you reach your break point. Hopefully you gather some knowledge from certain situations and are moulded with values for your adulthood.
Mycroft hated that day in particular. He was going to take part on the school's spelling contest. He had participated every year and represented the school on the regional competition. But, this year was different. He was going up against Natalia Zhirova, the Russian girl from his class. His friend, the only one he really had. She was smart, as much as he was, sarcastic, teasing enough to keep Mycroft on the loop and interested. Natalia, in a certain way, forced Mycroft to always be the best. Whatever she'd do, he'd try to beat her, and then she'd overpass him, only to stimulate him. She was worth the effort; before Mycroft's eyes, Natalia was a challenge that he enjoyed being put up against every day. They sat together in classes and were pretty much always together, triggering rumours that they were a couple. Though, it wouldn't take long for someone to point out that a girl like Natalia could have much better than Mycroft. Even if he didn't feel any need of having friends (he never really expressed out loud that Natalia was his friend) or a person he'd care about, it bothered him deeply the fact that Natalia was all kinds of perfect. She was smart, funny and popular. The two of them were together for long periods of time, but it upset Mycroft whenever she'd hang out with the cool lads and he'd be left alone. He liked being alone, he couldn't understand why he hated so much when she wasn't present.
The teenager walked straight away to the auditorium where he took a seat at the first row and waited there. He hadn't seen Natalia yet; he knew she wasn't a morning person, so that meant arriving twenty to thirty minutes late to school. His hands rested on his lap and he played with his fingers, taking short in and out breaths. He didn't know why he was nervous. He had done that contest three times and he knew he could rely on his capabilities. At the exact time, the other three students joined the room along with the English teacher who was the judge of the competition. Mycroft raised his look; Natalia was nowhere to be seen. The teacher took notes of the students' attendance, when he announced that Natalia was ruled out because she wasn't present.
"Professor, please," Mycroft plead. "wait a couple more minutes."
"Ms Zhirova isn't known for her punctuality, but if it's okay with everyone, we can wait." Looking at the other three students, he got an approval nod. He carried on. "But we're only waiting ten minutes. If she does not show up by then, she's ruled out."
"Understood."
Internally, and not knowing why, Mycroft was patiently waiting for Natalia to arrive. And she did. Her timing was indeed perfect, and that was something that Mycroft liked. Despite the fact that it annoyed him that she always arrived late, he liked that perfect timing sense of hers.
"You can thank me later, Лапушка." Mycroft whispered as the two climbed up the stairs to the stage. Natalia winked and smiled.
And so the contest began. As the opponents were eliminated, Mycroft grew nervous, until there was only him and Natalia left. Then he hit the maximum of panic and couldn't calm down. He didn't know what was going on. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing fast and his breathing was troubled. Everything he could see was a blur, he thought he had gone deaf and his brain was jumbling with thoughts that didn't matter at the moment.
"Ms Zhirova, are you ready?" The teacher asked.
Natalia nodded and got up from her seat, waiting to know the word she was supposed to spell out. Mycroft was lost, looking at her. He was gazing her face, focused, the way her black curls fell over her shoulder, her blue eyes attentive on the teacher. Even the way she was putting her right foot back on an upright position, ballet position, he immediately registered. He had seen her dance; she was marvellous.
"Picturesque."
"P-I-C-T-U-R-E-S-Q-U-E. Picturesque."
"Correct, Ms Zhirova. You may take your seat. Mr Holmes, are you ready?" Mycroft took a deep breath and nodded his head. The teacher announced his word. "Liaison."
The teenager studied the word in his head, and then said. "L-I-A-I-Z-I-O-N. Liaison."
"Incorrect. Liaison spells with s." Looking at his opponent, the English teacher expressed. "Therefore, Natalia Zhirova will be representing our school on the regional spelling contest. Congratulations, Ms Zhirova."
As soon as he heard that Mycroft walked out of the auditorium with long and quick strides. Natalia walked right after him; she knew he might be upset for having lost. Surprisingly enough Mycroft stopped on his way down once he heard her calling his name.
"Hey there." Natalia said after approaching him. Mycroft was silent. "You know, it's common courtesy for people to greet back."
"Hello." Mycroft told her with the tone of a pouted little child.
"Ooh, jeez, someone's pretty upset for having lost! Sorry I won." She joked and laughed.
Mycroft was confused. Her laugh was a beautiful sound, he had heard it before, but her words had been harsh. His grip tightened around the handrail as he turned around. "If you must point your finger at me and laugh, please respect the queue. I'm sure there will be a long one."
"Why so?" Natalia asked, curious. Mycroft did not appear alright.
"Because I'm a disappointment… to my parents, my teachers. Now I'll go from the smarty-pants Holmes to the dumb Holmes."
"Hey, I know you've been representing the school for the past years, but it's no reason to be like this. These things happen-"
"No, things like this they just don't happen… I don't know what happened in there. I'm a disappointment to myself. But it's not my fault, though. You're not a righteous winner, Natalia. If I did not have a problem, I would have won."
"Uh, well, I did spell correctly nine words and you only spelled eight. I'm pretty sure I won righteously." Mycroft scoffed and said no more. The girl's face softened even more as she asked him. "Why did you let me win?"
"I didn't let you win."
"Alright," Natalia walked down the staircase a bit more, being two steps up the one he was. She crossed her arms over her chest. "what did happen then?"
"Nothing happened."
"Make up your mind, will you? A bit ago you said you didn't win because something happened to you and now you're saying nothing's wrong."
"What happened is that I lost the spelling contest to a Russian girl who has been in the country for three years. I lost an English contest spelling to a foreigner!"
Natalia walked past him and made sure to bump her shoulder on his, spitting an angry Russian babble. "Ты идиот!"
"Hey!" He shouted.
"You'll tell me some day, right?" She told him, her eyes shining on a beg. She really wanted to know what was wrong with Mycroft.
Mycroft looked down for a while. "I don't know what happened, alright? I always have answers for everything, but this time I don't, ok?" He then stormed off before she could say anything else or even go after him.
Mycroft went through his clothes in the wardrobe and found the garments he wanted. He got out these dark blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a black leather jacket and a pair of black work boots. He slipped into the T-shirt firstly and then he put on the jeans, to which he ended up adding one of his father's belts with a big buckle. Then he put on the boots and the leather jacket. As his garments were complete, he moved to the bathroom.
Mycroft dug two fingers in the jar of gel and scooped out a large dab. He rubbed the pomade together in his palms and run it evenly through the top portion of his hair. Then he proceeded to grab to comb his hair back until it was slick and smooth enough to place one hand on the top of his head, right in the middle. Mycroft pushed the hair forward while combing it in the front straight up and created a wedge shape from the front to the back. To finish it, he blended the sides into the top and looked himself in the mirror. He stuffed his hands in the pocket and put on brooding look; he looked just like James Dean and he liked it.
His mother smiled once she saw her always-so-neat son with such dishevelled appearance. He was going through his teen years and she was sure that a girl was part of the reasons why he was dressing up like that. Sherlock found him strange and got a head slap because of saying so. Mycroft had zero tolerance to his little brothers' childish attitudes. Adolescent stuff. Quickly walking out the house, he met Natalia on the bus. She covered her eyes with the hand and laughed.
"What's with the clothes, James Dean?"
He asked her as he took a seat next to her, chewing a gum with his mouth slightly open. "Do I look bad on these?"
"No, actually, no… You look different."
The two were in relative silence when Mycroft softly spoke, pulling her out her thoughts. "Natalia?" She took her eyes from the outside and looked at him. "Я позволил вам выиграть."
"Почему?"
Mycroft shrugged. He didn't know the answer either. He didn't know why he wasn't feeling bad for having purposely failed the spelling contest. He didn't know why in the morning he picked up those clothes. He didn't know why he felt the need to impress her somehow. Simply he didn't know anything.
"I knew you had faked it. You have greater skills than I do. And I do know why you purposely failed." Mycroft waited for her explanation, but instead she asked him something else. "This is a no question asked type thing, ok? Close your eyes."
Next thing Mycroft realized was that Natalia's lips were on his, her tongue gently forcing his lips to part. When he allowed her to do so, astonished by the mint flavor suddenly lingering in his mouth, Mycroft lost control of his self. He was a normal teenager enjoying his first kiss. When they pulled back to fill their lungs with air, Mycroft's mind started working again. He was a ball of tension, ready to burst at any moment.
"It's not that this wasn't good. I just…"
As he couldn't explain himself, Natalia did it for him. "I know you, Mycroft. You're not type of guy who wants to have anyone around, but I'm a kiss doesn't mean we have to marry." Natalia placed her hand on his thigh and he tensed. Every muscle of his body tensed and a felt the pool of warmth bubbling inside of him. "And it doesn't mean we have to be like those gross people." As she dragged her hand upper his leg, he gasped, feeling his organ hardening. "We can keep this interesting. No boredom. What do you say?"
Mycroft showed half a grin and told her. "You're poisonous gift. Из России с любовью."
I guess you'll have to go to a translate program and find out what they said! xD I'm mean sometimes!
Reviews are important. There are still four chapters to come, but suggestion are always nice.