A/N As usual, all rights go to the late, great Jonathan Larson, who has saved my life ten times over. I own none of the characters or the plot of RENT. But Musetta is my creation, with her own personality and life I gave to her. But other than that, nothing is mine.
Strangers with Hazel Eyes
"History has shown us time and time again that you don't have to know someone to love them with all your heart."
-Shannon L. Alder
I dash across the subway platform, squeezing past all walks of life, professional looking business men, lost tourists looking confused, grubby homeless people panhandling and street performers of every kind. I push past the hordes of people, stepping on feet and briefcases in vain to push past the surging crowd of humanity in front of me. I was not going to be late to the Life Café again, I had footed the bill for three weeks in a row because of a sort of natural selection game of nose goes. It wasn't my fault Alexi had kept me so late, I thought to myself as I shoved past an elderly man playing a somber ballad on a violin. I glance back, halfheartedly apologetic and ran straight into another on coming figure and I'm knocked to the disgusting subway platform ground.
"Oh fuck!" A female voice calls out. I glance up to see a young women wringing her hands in a panic, the entire front of her blouse covered in paint and a huge asymmetrical rip through a canvas she had been carrying. "This took me a month to paint!" She shouted, her anger not pointed at anyone in particular. She sighs and turns to glare towards me. "Watch where you're going jackass." She growled as she tried fruitlessly to wipe the paint off her blouse. I readjust my glasses which had been knocked askew off my nose. She would be very pretty, if she hadn't been yelling at me. She was very small, a Mimi sort of build, but that's where the similarities stopped. She was extremely pale with elegant features, like that of a queen. She was wearing all black and her hair was a bright blue and was wound back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had hazel eyes that seemed to be glowing with anger, alive with her furry, they were captivating.
"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help me?" She barked, snapping me out of my daze.
"Yeah, sorry." I mumble as she extends a hand to help me up. I take it and she tugs me off the concrete with surprising strength. I gape at her in shock.
"Yeah, yeah." She says, waving her hand dismissively, "I'm strong for someone who is only 5 foot. I've heard it before." She sighs.
"I can pay for this…" I trail off, trying to think off a way to rectify the damage that had already been done.
"It's fine. I hadn't sold it yet and I only used the paints at a public art center, so it was no loss of profits to me. Only my time." She sighs again, pitching the totaled painting in an overflowing trash bin next to a very hung-over looking man sitting in a puddle of his own vomit. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
"What? Never seen vomit before?" She smirked. I gulped, thinking of finding Mimi sitting in a pool of her own vomit, too late to call the paramedics, she was already gone. I shivered.
"No, it's just that…" I stutter, trying to think of how to say this. A look of concern takes over the girl's face, her smirk fading, aware that she had overstepped some boundary. She recoiled and extended her hand in a sort of improvised truce.
"I'm Musetta." She smiled as I took her slender, pale hand.
"Mark. Mark Cohen." I reply, shaking her hand firmly. "Musetta as in…?"
"La Boheme." She smiled, "My mother loved Puccini and his operas, so when I was born, my parents decided to name me after one of his most famous character." She has started walking away from the trash can and I had unconsciously followed her.
"That's interesting. I was just named Mark because that was my grandfather's name." I say, pushing my glasses further up my nose somewhat self-consciously. Musetta smiled slightly to herself.
"Where were you headed in such a hurry Mr. Cohen?" she simpers, teasingly calling me Mister just to get under my skin.
"The Life Café. I was meeting some friends there and the rule is, last one there foots the bill. Well, I've been late three weeks in a row and it's not my fault that my boss keeps me overtime." I sigh and glance over at Musetta who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. This girl was very manic, going from anger to concern to joy in the matter of a few minutes.
"I'd be glad to be your excuse to why you were late." She smiles in sort of suggestive way, evident she was aware of the innuendo she had just made.
"N-no. That won't be necessary." I blush as she skips to catch up with me, me heavy combat boots slapping the sidewalk.
"Oh, that's shame." She said, innocently, "I could help pay." It was a tempting offer, and for whatever reason, I liked this girl, with her sarcastic seductiveness. It was almost like she was parodying herself.
"If you'd like." I offered bashfully.
"Mister Cohen, I think we'll get along just fine." She grinned.
A/N Okay, that was the first chapter. R&R, all your advice helps!