Author's Note: This is a random drabble that occurred
to me while watching the movie. It's for BohemianCane04, because she
always encourages my insanity.
Fire
"I set the house on fire when I was seventeen," says Roger, bringing a blanket from behind the shower curtain that serves as bedroom-door and sitting on the couch beside Mimi.
"You…what?" Mimi trails off, her voice dissolving into a fit of nervous giggling. They've both had a bit too much to drink, and the events of the cathartic past hour have left her with little room for response between laughing and crying.
"Well, not really the whole house. Just um…" He smiles abruptly and looks at the floor.
"Just what?" Mimi pulls the blanket around their shoulders and pokes him in the ribs.
"Ouch! Just my mother's knitting collection. But it kinda…spread." As if to prove his point, Roger reaches out and runs his hand over the tips of the candles that are burning on the coffee table.
"Why were you burning your mother's knitting collection?" Mimi plays with the zipper of his sweatshirt under the blanket, slipping her hand inside the neck and tousling the back of his hair.
"You know, I don't remember." Roger laughs a little, his breath a nearly-visible puff of air in the moonlit loft. The power is on tonight, but it makes no difference. Electric lightbulbs will just kill the mood on Christmas. "But it looked really pretty."
"Pyro," says Mimi, balancing on his thigh and leaning in for a kiss.
"Yes," says Roger against her lips. Now that she is no longer forbidden, he can't seem to get enough.
"Cute," says Mimi when they have both come up for air. "Is that why you were staring?"
"What?" asks Roger, fixated on the reflection of flames in her dark eyes, unaware that he is doing it again.
"When I came up here the other night. And you couldn't stop staring. I thought it was because you were a horny artist. Was it just because you're a pyro and I had fire?"
"Yes," says Roger, giving her a crooked half-smile.
"I'm flattered," says Mimi wryly. "Actually I knew that. I figured if I offered fire, maybe you'd drop the recluse act and let me in."
"Have you been spying?" asks Roger, pressing his lips into the nape of her neck and smiling when she shivers.
"No. Yes." She giggles. "You're fucking gorgeous! How could I not?"
Roger laughs again, thinking what a foreign feeling this is. "Actually it had nothing to do with the candle."
"Actually, that's good, because I really hate fire."
"Kinda thing you wanna tell a guy on the first date," laughs Roger.
"You gonna throw me out?" Mimi pulls his sweatshirt the rest of the way down and runs her fingers over his bare arms underneath.
"No," says Roger, his voice going husky. And he leans forward and snuffs out the candles on the table, letting the moon be enough. Because for once, it's not about the fire. For once, it's not even about him.