Rtc Nischa/Perfectdolls/Spacedolls one shots!!! [On permanent hiatus]

Noel Gruber: born 1801, France. Died 1867, Canada. 

People at the time and historians now love him. School kids hate him. However, almost every single person who went through high school can give you the name of at least one poem he wrote. 

A tragedy is what most people called his death. Suspicious circumstances, say the police. Intriguing, say the historians. 

Which is why, the historians of a local museum of where he died (now Saskatchewan) pounced at the mere idea of making an exhibition on him. 

2 of the world's most famous, Evaline Jenkins and William Woodby-Stock. 

They were given special access to his house (which was now a tourist attraction) to see all of the writings written by the one and only Noel Gruber. 

They started with the basics, his life. Lucky for them, as Noel kept diaries from the age of 16.

They had the basics from the first diary alone. 

Born to Cassandra and Charles Gruber on the 5th of March, 1801. They quickly learnt his father left him at the age of 11, however, the reasons why seem to be smudged with some sort of liquid (later determined as his own tears) so they couldn't get an exact recollection of what he wrote. 

Evaline looked it over many a time, just to see what he wrote. Many words popped out to her. The one that she thought made the most sense was 'homosexual'. However, William quickly shut that idea down. Saying "he would not admit such a thing back then, definitely not in a diary that could be opened by anyone".

So they were left stumped. 

These works are over 100 years old, so they obviously weren't in the best shape. 3 names seemed to come up most of the time. 

Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg, known for being one of the first female politicians in Canada. 

Constance Blackwood, known for running one of the biggest bakeries of the time, many of her recipes still in use today. 

And another, Mischa Bachinski. 

Mischa wasn't known for anything. It's mentioned a lot that he wrote music but that seemed to be more of a hobby than anything. However, he seemed to be mentioned the most. 

Pretty much every page had his name scribbled in cursive at least once. Why was this man so prominently written about? 

Until, Evaline knew why. 

A cold day for mid November. William was cleaning off old diaries they were reading and preparing new ones as they wouldn't fall apart once touched whilst Evaline was reading through a diary. 

"I am going home, we should have clocked off thirty minutes ago!" William said as he put his jacket on a sorted out his bag. 

"I'm going to stay here, I don't have much left of this one. It would just be a waste to wait until tomorrow" Evaline responded, not looking up. 

"If you say so" William shrugged, putting on his scarf and leaving the room, only leaving one light on for Evaline to read. 

There was silence for a good 45 minutes as she read, getting deeply invested in the life of this poet. Thats when she gasped out loud. 

Tuesday, March 5th 1833.

Noel Gruber's 32nd birthday. This was the point where his popularity was slowly growing. This was also the day Mischa gets mentioned the most. As well as, why he's mentioned so much in the first place. 

The two men were simply just in the same room. Mischa had come over for his birthday, and sat on Noel's bed as he wrote music whilst Noel sat as his desk writing poetry. 

This is where Evaline learns the most about Mischa. From background to appearance. 

Mischa Bachinski is an immigrant from (What is now known as) Ukraine. His original arrival wasn't greeted well, many yelling words at him for being foreign. The worst of these led to physical attacks down at the local bar, the one also owned by the Blackwoods. 

This is how Noel found him; on the floor, sitting down and leaning against a wall behind the bar with a bloody nose and a gash on his head. 

"What happened? Do you need help?" Noel asked with concern, kneeling down to this stranger on the floor. 

"I do not know what happened, I walked in for drink and next thing I knew I was against a wall getting beaten." Mischa responded breathlessly, sounding oddly broken. 

"Wait here a second, I'm going to get something for your head and nose, ok?" Said, brushing off his knees as he stood up. 

"Please, let me come with you! I can't risk them seeing me again" Mischa practically pleaded as he stood up shakily. Noel quickly nodded and helped him to his house, holding his arm as he shook. 

"I don't believe we met, I'm Noel. Noel Gruber." Noel introduced himself. 

"Like the poet? You are the Noel Gruber?" Mischa responded, slightly aghast. 

"Oh? You've seen my stuff? Yes, I am him" Noel responded, slightly proud of himself for being known. 

"Am Mischa, Mischa Bachinski" Mischa said quietly, a slight limp in his walk.

The rest of the walk was silent. Noel quickly got the stranger to his house and helped patch him up. Luckily the gash on his head wasn't too deep and only really needed a bandage, and his nose would definitely hurt for a bit but it wasn't broken, just bleeding. 

Soon, Mischa was done, with a bandage around his head and a tissue in his nose. He stayed sitting on the bed next to Noel as they spoke. It was almost funny how these two polar opposites seemingly connected at the click of a finger. 

Then, his appearance was mentioned a lot.

Sharp jawline, slip figure, slight tooth gap, clothing always a little too loose, a thick Ukrainian accent. 

That's when the description is more of just admiration. 

"The softest looking hands"

"Tall stature"

"Attractive"

Pause, what? Surely he used those words as just admiration right? 

Evaline read the words in awe, wanting to know more and more about this long deceased man and his close 'friend'. About how close they were.

How Mischa was there for him through tough mental health struggles, how he wouldn't leave him for days until he knew Noel was fully ok after a relapse, how they got called slurs out on the street for seemingly no reason. 

And how they weren't just friends. 

Friday, July 17th 1835.

Noel had just finished writing an exceptionally good poem, one which is now taught in schools worldwide, much to the distaste of the 14 year olds who would rather do literally anything else.

Anyway, Mischa was invited around to read it. That's how it had been since they met. Mischa always got first look at them. It definitely didn't seem to be changing soon. 

"Poet! This is incredible!" Mischa complimented, quickly putting the paper down and hugging Noel. 

(That's another noticed about their "friendship", they were seemingly more touchy than others.) 

Noel leaned into the hug happily, tightly wrapping his arms around the taller man's waist as he smiled. 

"My poet, you are incredible!" Mischa smiled again, holding the poet tightly. 

"Thank you, Misch." Noel smiled. 

Suddenly, Mischa pulled away from the hug and held both sides of the smaller man's face, making sure they were definitely making eye contact. 

"Poet, please understand how incredible your works are to me. Please understand how incredible you are to me. Please understand how-" 

Mischa didn't finish his sentence before Noel connected their lips together. A kiss he immediately pulled away from, apologizing before Mischa could get a word in. 

"I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me! I get that was totally in the wrong, and it probably was kinda obvious I'm a homosexual but I understand that was incredibly wrong and... And I'm sorry" Noel said quickly, to which Mischa just gave him a blank stare before walking over. 

Noel prepared for the worst. He had been beaten many times before for liking men (mainly by his father), so, he quickly stepped back, and feared he was going to leave the house with a black eye and broken nose.

To his surprise, Mischa kissed him again. His slightly chapped lips feeling like silk amongst his own, one of his hands in his hair and the other holding his cheek, their bodies pressed close together. 

Soon after, they pulled apart, both out of breath and bright red. Noel could almost cry with happiness (in fact, he did later on his own). 

"My poet I... I do not know what to say." Mischa smiled, tearing up as he went to sit on Noel's bed before his tears fell. 

"I hope those are tears of happiness?" Noel said quietly. 

"Definitely. I have liked you a long time, I love everything about you and it just hurts, because it's wrong. I shouldn't like you, yet, out of everything I've been taught my whole life, you seem to be the one to take my heart." Mischa said, tears streaming down his face. 

Noel sat down next to him, holding his hand and wiping his tears. 

"I wish you were a girl" Mischa whispered through quiet sobs. 

It's difficult. They couldn't be affectionate in public, they couldn't love each other in public without assault going their way. Somehow, they stayed together in private. They truly did love each other. 

Every romantic date, every kiss, every flirt and every poem was written about in the diary. All of the poems Noel wrote about after that day we're about Mischa.

Evaline shook her head in disbelief. Noel Gruber, one of the most famous poets of all time, was gay. And that was shocking as it didn't really seem obvious unless you read the diaries (which no one had done until now). 

This also solved the mystery of his death, as Mischa wrote the final page of the diary, which was stained with the blood of his lover and the tears of his own. This was determined to be Mischa from the messy scrawl and how he signed his name at the bottom. 

Tuesday, October 15th 1867.

Noel and Mischa were together that night, laying in bed together. Enjoying each others company, holding hands as they both read. Until, someone burst through the door. A (long thought dead) familiar person, Charles Gruber. Now 82, stood surprisingly strong and tall compared to a 66 year old Noel and Mischa. 

He caught them red handed. 

"My boy, so I was right about you?" Charles yelled as he dragged Noel up by his arm and threw him into a wall. 

"I'm sorry" Noel apologized through sobs. 

Those words turned out to be some of his last as Charles grabbed the nearest object (unfortunately, it was a knife) and stuck it into his son's chest before realizing what he did and ran off. Never to be seen again. 

As soon as he went, Mischa stood up and screamed, holding his lover in his arms, quickly covering his once white shirt in blood. 

"No no no, come on my love, you'll be ok" Mischa repeated over and over as his tears fell violently from his eyes, landing on the floor, mixing with the quickly spreading blood. 

Noel looked Mischa in the eye and smiled weakly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Do not cry, my love, it will all be over soon"

Were the last words of the poet. Not much is known what happens to his father apart from that he later went back to France and died age 96.

Mischa however? He travelled the world, showing everyone the works of his lover that were never published. He devoted the rest of his life to it before he eventually passed at age 79.

They're buried together now, in a church not far from Saskatchewan. 

Evaline's eyes filled with tears as she finished reading. She quickly called William and told him everything. To which he got there quickly too. 

Noel Gruber and his 'close friend' Mischa Bachinski will forever be hand in hand in history together.