This chapter is un-beta'd so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies. ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo usually catches those for me but I got caught up in a writing frenzy tonight and really wanted to get this update out. This chapter is inspired by Creep by Radiohead and the previous chapter was Neon by John Mayer.
When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather in a beautiful world
I wish I was special, you're so fucking special
When Musichetta woke up the next morning, she remembered bits and pieces of the previous night. It was snippets of flirting across a table at a bar, casually leaving their respective groups of friends, and falling (then kissing) on the walk to Joly's place. It was tearing each other's clothes off in his living room; tequila shots on the floor of the kitchen; it was taking him right on the couch. It was half-smoked cigarettes and smeared lipstick and just lips everywhere.
However, Musichetta wasn't the type of woman to fuck and leave because she wasn't the type to go home with just anyone. Joly had been an exception for her, but she didn't quite know why. Musichetta was curled up on her side Joly was spooned up against her back- although the mattress was more than large enough to accommodate them both. She rubbed her eyes, and dark smudges of eyeshadow and mascara stuck to the backs of her hands. She caught sight of herself in a mirror above a dresser, and she had to stifle a laugh so as not to wake up the man beside her. I should probably go scrape this damn makeup off and tame this hair if I don't want to scare him off, she thought. I need to find water, aspirin…and mouthwash. Definitely mouthwash.
Musichetta slipped out of bed and across the hall to where she thought the bathroom was. She used her fingers to twist her long, dark hair into a messy bun. She hummed to herself as she scrubbed the traces of makeup off of her hands and face, and smiled as she took in the small consequences of the previous evening. Her lips were a little chapped and her knees burned where they'd scraped repeatedly against the living room rug. It was when she was looking for mouthwash to rinse her mouth out that she saw it. All the color drained from her complexion and her already dizzy head spun.
In a simple, unassuming cup on the sink, there were two toothbrushes. I did not hook up with a guy who already has a girlfriend, Musichetta groaned to herself. She couldn't remember Joly saying anything about a roommate, and she was irritated with Azelma for letting her go home with someone who was spoken for. Across from the bathroom was Joly's room. Musichetta tiptoed down the hallway toward the only other door, which was closed. She opened it quietly and looked around at what she decided must be an office or study area, confused at seeing two desks on either side of a large bookshelf.
She scampered back down the hallway, looking for further evidence. There were no photographs on the walls, and no women's beauty products in the bathroom. The small living room and kitchen offered no clues. Musichetta leaned against the wall in the hallway, deciding exactly what to say to Joly.
"Hey," said Joly softly from his doorway.
She jumped. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
Musichetta suddenly became aware that she was naked, and crossed her arms over her chest as if Joly hadn't spent half the night with either his mouth or her hands on her breasts. He at least had boxer-briefs on. "Yeah…yeah I think so. So this is the awkward morning after part, huh?"
Joly smiled, and then tousled his light brown hair with one of his hands. Musichetta bit her lip, and she couldn't help but think about how cute it was when he did that. It was one of his mannerisms she had catalogued after a night of staring at him from across the table.
"Yeah, I guess it is," said Joly. She gave him a shy smile in return, and walked past him into his room. She found her jeans from the night before and put them on, and made a face when she picked up the tiny, revealing black tank top she had been wearing.
"Here," said Joly, throwing a t-shirt at her from a pile of laundry. "That might make your walk of shame less awkward," he teased.
"Such a gentleman," said Musichetta. She boldly walked to him, t-shirt in hand, and kissed him. She pressed her bare chest against his, and he sighed into her mouth. Suddenly, she remembered what she had been searching for before Joly startled her.
"What's wrong?" Joly asked as Musichetta pulled her chapped lips away from his.
"Do you…have a girlfriend?"
"Excuse me?"
"I was looking for mouthwash-"she grimaced as she realized she never found said mouthwash and probably still had awful breath, "-and I saw two toothbrushes in your bathroom. And then two desks. And only one bed." A playful smile formed on Joly's lips. "Oh, God, I didn't realize how creepy that sounded until just now, I'm sorry for being a snoop," Musichetta apologized. She hastily shrugged the t-shirt over her head, hoping he couldn't tell how hard she was blushing.
Joly seemed unperturbed, and he picked up both of her hands in his. "Would you like some coffee? Breakfast? I have to explain something to you…and no I don't have any STD's or anything." Truth be told, that was her first thought when he said he had something to explain.
"About your girlfriend? Sure," she let Joly lead her into the kitchen. She had been entranced by this man for 12 hours at this point. It wasn't like her to flirt with strangers at the bar and to go home with them, and on those rare occasions, it was even less likely for her to stay past the light of dawn. There was something about his demeanor; how it was shy and bold at the same time and his hands felt both protective and provocative.
Musichetta sat at the table while Joly fixed coffee and put some bread in the toaster. She admired the scratches she had raked down his back the night before as she wondered what this mysteriously charming man had to tell her.
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
While Joly fixed breakfast, his heart thudded in his chest so hard that he wondered if Musichetta could hear it. Bossuet wasn't due back for hours, and Joly hadn't had to explain this situation on his own before.
"You know, I don't often do this kind of thing," Musichetta said apologetically. She couldn't bear silence and she had to say something. "I've only been in one real relationship and that ended a couple years ago and I haven't had very good luck in that department since then, and last night was nice and all but I can't do this if you've got a girlfriend, and now I'm rambling. Sorry," she added.
"I told you, it isn't exactly like that," Joly assured her. He joined her at the table and handed her a cup of coffee. "I don't have a girlfriend."
"Oh."
"I live here with my boyfriend."
"Oh." Musichetta choked on her coffee. "Well. I wasn't expecting that."
"I figured."
Musichetta really wished she had her phone with her so she could look anywhere other than Joly's face. She settled for staring into her coffee cup.
"I don't think I've ever been used to facilitate cheating, either," she said sharply. Joly swore under his breath, a habit Musichetta thought seemed familiar from somewhere. It clicked. "You're with the guy I spilled my drink on?"
"Bossuet…yes. We've been together for a few years. I've never had to explain this situation to someone before without him being here too. I did not cheat on him with you and I'm sorry I haven't explained that well."
"So, what, you're in an open relationship or something?" Musichetta felt a gnawing sense of dread in her stomach. The summer she hoped to finally find love had started with her finding herself as the punch line to a bawdy joke. When the hell did I become this girl, she mentally shouted at herself.
Joly winced at the phrasing. "No, not really an open relationship. But sometimes one of us will find a girl we really like, and all three of us…kind of…together."
This isn't fucking happening. Musichetta grew defensive; upset she had been so easily fooled by this man's charm and wit. And tongue. "So you regularly participate in threesomes?"
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm doing a shitty job explaining, I know." Joly took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Not regularly. Just sometimes. I love Bossuet, the whole 'other half' way and everything," he said, his ears reddening.
"You just bring a toy into bed sometimes, is all?" Musichetta was past the point of defensive and moving directly to irate. "So you flirted with me last night with the intent of using me to spice up your own sex life. To hell with my feelings, right? And your boyfriend doesn't know we hooked up either so I'm calling bullshit on you saying you didn't cheat on him. This is straight out of a fucking bad sitcom or something, I'm done," she half-screamed at Joly.
I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control
I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special, I wish I was special
Joly had not expected this conversation to be painless, but he had not prepared himself to feel like a nominee for Douchebag of the Year. It was his turn to stare into his coffee cup, embarrassed and at a loss for words. Musichetta stalked back to the bedroom and gathered her shoes and purse before storming out the front door of the building.
Eponine and Grantaire had embarked on a haphazard road trip. This trip was the brainchild of Azelma, who had figured that the best way for those two to really have a fresh start was away from their familiar, overlapping environments. It was Eponine's idea to fund the trip with money stolen from the amount her parents kept stashed in a mattress at home, and it had been up to Grantaire to pick a location.
After their reconciliation, Eponine had started driving south from their university, which was located in western Pennsylvania. They'd spent a few hours in the car that night, driving the boring turnpike. Eponine finally decided to stop for the night at a hotel just off an exit, and they fell asleep spooned together in the cheap hotel room, watching an NCIS marathon.
The next morning, Grantaire woke up first. He was on his side, pulling Eponine against him. He smiled and kissed her cheek, happy to wake up with her instead of alone as he had for weeks upon weeks. "Hey," he said softly, trying to wake her without being harsh.
"Mmmh," Eponine said in response. "Morning." She buried her face in a pillow, and Grantaire knew this was the best response he would get from her for a few hours.
Grantaire checked his phone. "Oh, fuck. Ponine, I think there's a slight issue at home."
In response, Eponine pulled the plush red comforter tighter around her head.
"I'm serious, I have a few missed calls from Joly. I'm gonna call him, okay?" Eponine mumbled her assent from under the comforter and a few flat pillows.
Grantaire fiddled with the hem of his undershirt as he waited for Joly to pick up. "What's wrong, Joly?"
"I brought a girl home last night."
"You and Lesgles?"
"No…just me."
Grantaire ran a hand through his messy black curls. "Well, fuck, Joly. I don't know what you want me to tell you. What are you gonna tell him?"
"Goddamn it, I don't know. He was at work and she and I just clicked at that party at the Corinth."
"And?" Grantaire grew impatient. He finally, finally woke up with Eponine and he didn't want to ruin anything.
"This girl, Musichetta. I think I like her. I think I fucked up."
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
"I feel like we've had this conversation before, and it never works out when you two bring someone else into the mix. Text me," Grantaire offered in what he hoped was a hopeful manner. He wasn't about to screw up this road trip with Eponine, no matter what his friends got themselves into.
Joly sighed, and hung up his cell phone. Bossuet, fresh off of his twelve-hour shift, walked through the door.
"The oncology wing was a nightmare last night" he sighed. His hair was matted and messy, and his entire body looked tired. "Please tell me you at least had a good time," he murmured to Joly, and sidled up beside him on the couch.
Joly gulped. He was sitting in the same spot he had the night before when Musichetta went down on him. The thought gave him goosebumps, which reminded him why he was so nervous in the first place.
"So, I brought a girl back last night," said Joly cautiously.
"What?" asked Bossuet, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I met this girl, Musichetta. I really think she's great, you'd love her."
"I just got home from a twelve-hour shift from hell at the hospital, and you're telling me you brought a woman back here, in our bed, without me?"
Joly paled. "Do you remember a few weeks ago, Cosette came to us for relationship advice? Obviously we are doing something right."
Bossuet sighed. "I can't fucking do this right now. Wake me up in a few hours." Defeated, he returned to their bedroom. Joly buried his head in his lap.
"Everything okay?" said Eponine in a muffled voice through her blanket.
"I don't know," Grantaire admitted. "I think Joly took one of your friends home or something."
Eponine peeked out from under the covers, her dark eyes dim with sleep and her hair in a wild mane around her face. "Maybe if there's some other drama, everyone will shut the fuck up about us for a while, right?"
Grantaire laughed. "Yeah, maybe so. But we're far too interesting; our names won't stay out of their mouths for long."
"This won't stay out of my mouth for long," said Eponine as she grabbed Grantaire's dick through his boxers.
"Oh really?" he challenged. "I thought we agreed we were going to Virginia Beach. That's hours away, if you want to make it there today."
"I do want to make it there today. So you're going to have to make up for lost time, sir," she teased. Eponine pulled Grantaire into bed with her, and crawled until she had positioned herself over him. She liked feeling in control.
She's running out the door
She's running out, she runs runs runs
Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want
You're so fucking special, I wish I was special
Grantaire gladly let her tear his boxers off, and she greedily took him in her mouth. "You fell asleep last night before we could do this," she accused when she surfaced for breath.
"Mmm sorry," mumbled Grantaire, as best he could with her wet lips around his throbbing dick.
Eponine grabbed his balls as gently as she could, squeezing lightly with one hand while she steadied herself with her other hand on his thigh. Grantaire's one hand fisted in her hair; the other in the red comforter. He felt himself getting closer to his release when his phone buzzed again.
Eponine's eyes snapped open. "Fuck that," she said. She reached over to the nightstand, where Grantaire laid his phone. It was Feuilly. He could wait. Eponine tossed the phone across the room, and continued to work her boyfriend's dick with her mouth until he came down her throat a few minutes later.
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
