Chapter Text
Rain was falling from the sky in white waves. Jehan pulled his scarf closer around himself, burying his nose in the soft yellow fabric. He hadn’t anticipated this change of weather in such a short time.
After only a few more minutes, the woolen material was soaked down to the base layers, leaving Jehan shivering as he tried to move faster. The lamps were flickering around him, and he just wanted to get home to his plants. It was watering day today. His phone was going off at a near constant pace.
“Probably the weather station telling everyone to go inside because it’s so cold and miserable out,” he grumbled.
Normally, the poet would have loved this weather. If he’d been inside, possibly with a warm cup of tea. Possibly even a nice book to read.
He was lamenting his problems to himself at a crosswalk before rain suddenly stopped falling on his head. Jehan looked up, perhaps the treacherous weather was over already? But he could still hear it falling around him. No, it wasn’t over. Instead, he saw a tall man beside him holding a black umbrella.
“You seemed quite sad and small, little flute.”
Jehan straightened with a start. He knew that voice. He had to listen to it every day during band class. It was the voice of the seemingly very dangerous oboist, Montparnasse.
At his school, there weren’t very many ways to get in. Jehan had gotten in because his rich father had paid tuition, and was now renting out an apartment near the school for his son to live in. Nobody knew how Montparnasse had gotten in. He didn’t seem particularly wealthy, and while he was smart, he didn’t apply himself in class and was now nearly failing out. People spread rumors about him blackmailing the school board to let him in. Jehan wasn’t quite sure if he believed this. Sure the boy was shady, but he didn’t have any concrete evidence against him. Besides, he was a wonderful musician.
“I didn’t need help, but thank you,” the shorter boy felt a hot blush run up his face and looked down towards the wet pavement. He tugged the soaking scarf tighter around his face.
“Well, if you don’t need help, then I suppose I should retract my offer.”
Jehan felt rain begin making its way down his already heavy and wet braid.
“Wait, no. Please stay. I do need some help I guess,” he moved closer into the dry bliss under the umbrella.
Montparnasse quirked his lips in something resembling a snarky smirk, “My my my, he admits it. Perhaps you aren’t as shy as I thought, little flute.”
“Do you even know my name?” Jehan asked, following when the taller man began to walk across the road.
“I do, but I see no need to use it. It’s quite similar to our TLA, Mr. Valjean, is it not?” Montparnasse’s voice sounded like how a chocolate cake tasted.
“Yes, but… I also go by my last name, or Jehan if my last name’s too hard.”
“Hm. Alright then, little flute. Perhaps I will start calling you by Jehan, it’s a pretty name I suppose,” he mused.
They walked in silence for a while, the sound of rain surrounding them.
“I take it you expected this weather?” asked Jehan, hoping to spark some more conversation.
“No, I’m simply prepared. Unlike you,” Montparnasse responded with something that greatly resembled sass.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that I didn’t want to carry an umbrella and ruin my outfit!”
“It’s not like that outfit could get much worse,” responded the dark-haired boy, forever the fashion critic.
“Rude. Just because I don’t dress like I’m auditioning to be a model for some alternative magazine doesn’t mean that I have bad fashion sense,” Jehan snapped back.
Montparnasse looked taken aback, staying quiet for a moment.
The poet was suddenly wondering if he’d been too harsh. “Sorry I didn’t mean-”
“No, I don’t need your approval, Jehan,” he quickly replied, tone calm and even.
They kept walking, soon reaching the apartment where Jehan took up residence. It was a tall red building, one of the nicer apartments in the city. Especially in the school district.
Jehan swiped his card to get into the building, Montparnasse stood outside under his umbrella.
“Do you… want to come in? It wouldn’t be too bad, and it might save you a long walk in the rain to get to your place of residence,” the copper-haired boy felt his heart racing. Was he actually inviting someone beautiful and probably dangerous to stay at his apartment? Until now, he’d only admired the sharp-witted oboist from a distance. Emotionally, at least. They sat next to each other during class, and Jehan had quickly taken notice of his flawless makeup and style.
The other boy was silent for a moment, but only a moment.
“Sure. I have no reason to get back to my place tonight. Lead the way, little flute.”
Jehan began walking towards the elevator, he felt lightheaded with excitement and nerves. He was actually bringing someone home for the first time. Not only that, but he was bringing home what he considered the most beautiful boy in this entire city.
By the time they’d reached his apartment Montparnasse had shaken most of the water off of his umbrella. Jehan unlocked the door with trembling hands, desperately hoping that he’d remembered to clean that morning.
To his immense relief, he had. Plants lined the walls, and the floors were covered in fluffy rugs in pastel shades. To the side of the room was a pale brown couch that looked soft but was rarely sat on. The only messy thing in sight currently was the kitchen, which was littered with pasta and flour and an assortment of other foods that he had cooked at some point.
Montparnasse removed his combat boots and hung his coat on the hook on the backside of the door. It was a long black trenchcoat that Jehan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. But honestly, he always felt like that man was wearing something new. It was almost never true. He was simply very skilled at styling his current clothing.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” Jehan made a wide sweeping gesture to the apartment, positioning himself to hide the kitchen from Montparnasse’s view.
“How can you afford this? I don’t believe you have a job, little flute. Unless you sell your poems,” Montparnasse questioned, looking the poet in the eyes.
Jehan felt his breath catch in his throat. The other man’s eyes weren’t just brown, they were the colour of a forest in spring. Almost gold, with green hidden in their depths. He’d never noticed that before. He’d have to write a poem for this man someday.
“My… My dad rents it. He lives in New York City, but wanted me educated outside of the US, so now I’m in Montreal,” he laughed nervously.
Montparnasse raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Dare I say, you’re a trust fund kid?”
“Well… I suppose so. If you look at it like that…” Jehan looked down in embarrassment.
The other man just shrugged and looked around again. “May I take a seat?”
“Of course! One minute let me just… Do you want a blanket? Or some tea maybe?” Jehan asked, scrambling around to find supplies.
“I would love a cup of tea, thank you. But hold off on the blanket, I wouldn’t wish to wet any more of your furniture or belongings that I already have,” he responded in cool tones.
“I wouldn’t mind, I swear. It’ll get wet anyways from my clothes,” Jehan grabbed a towel and undid his braid, tucking it into his towel. He was keenly aware of Montparnasse’s gaze on him as he began to brew some tea.
“Alright then, I still wouldn’t like a blanket. I’ll be leaving soon anyways,” he sat down on the couch and leaned back to watch Jehan brew tea.
While he watched, the poet pulled out some biscuits and other treats from under the sink. They would go very nicely with the rose tea he planned on brewing. He’d noticed Montparnasse’s fascination with roses, and had purchased a large stock of rose and lavender tea as a reaction. Probably not the most financially responsible decision, he realised in retrospect. But now he was quite grateful that he’d purchased it, as he hoped it would make a good impression on the handsome man.
He took out some of his fine china, adorned with gold leaf and paintings of flowers.
“Would you like the cup with lilacs or the one with sunflowers?” he asked quickly, stumbling over his words.
“I’d prefer the lilac one, thank you,” Montparnasse said with a soft smile.
Jehan prepared it with a tea bag and a flower, “It’ll just be a moment.”
Thunder rumbled softly outside, adding to the soft atmosphere. It would feel domestic if not for the fact that Jehan was anxious, and Montparnasse was probably going to leave the minute the rain stopped. But for now, Jehan would cherish the moment.
Looking over, he saw that Montparnasse’s eyeliner had become smudged in the rain.
“Do you want to clean up in my bathroom? Maybe wipe off the eyeliner?” Jehan cautiously asked.
Montparnasse looked up with a look of surprise, “I suppose it would do no harm. I will. Could you direct me to your bathroom?”
“Yeah! It’s just down the hall, first door on the right.”
Montparnasse nodded in thanks before standing up and walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. Jehan leaned against the counter, breathing heavily with elation and fear. He was actually doing this. He was genuinely talking to Montparnasse, not only that, but he was actually hosting him in his apartment.
“The tea is ready!” he called down the hall, hoping to keep the shakiness out of his voice.
Montparnasse walked out into the main room, his face now bare of any makeup. Jehan felt his heart in his throat. The man was just as handsome without the makeup on his face.
“Uh… here you go!” the poet thrust a cup of tea into the other man’s hand before hurrying back to the kitchen. Then he walked out into the living room and sat on the couch beside Montparnasse.
They drank their tea until the cups ran dry.
“I will leave now, I won’t bother you any longer.” Montparnasse stood up and brushed his pants.
“Wait! You… you can stay if you want. The rain only looks to have gotten worse. Besides, the couch is fairly comfortable for me to sleep on,” Jehan’s suggestion tumbled out of his mouth.
Montparnasse considered it for a moment, before accepting it, “Alright then, I can. Do you maybe have some form of sleepwear?”
“Oh yeah! Here.” Jehan ran to his room and grabbed a soft hoodie and sweatpants from his room.
The other man was still sitting on the couch, but when Jehan got there, he stood up and took the clothes.
“Thank you,” he said before walking to the bathroom.
Jehan stood in the living room for a moment before walking to his room and getting changed. He then went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.
“Montparnasse? Are you done in there?”
The man walked out, Jehan’s hoodie slightly too small and his pants slightly too short.
“I don’t think I’m your size,” he said with a soft smile.
Jehan’s face was on fire as he quickly walked into the bathroom past him, “Yeah…”
He quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He could see the redness of the blush on his cheeks. Quickly, Jehan redid his penny-coloured braid. He tied it up at the bottom and washed his hands before putting on a face mask. Then, he walked out of the bathroom and turned off the light.
He got some blankets from his room and went to the living room, where Montparnasse was laying on the couch.
“I got you some blankets, just to keep you warm in the night,” he whispered, laying the floral quilt over the beautiful man in his house.
“Thank you, little flute.” Montparnasse rolled over and tugged the blanket closer around himself.
Jehan ran to his own room and laid down, his heart beating fast. He kept thinking about the person sleeping on his couch. As he fell asleep, he could hear the man’s breathing through the wall.