Work Text:
Feuilly pulled the last cigarette out of his pack: the upside down one, the lucky.
He usually hated that cigarette. It meant he was out of cigarettes, and who knew when he'd get more. He would stop flipping the lucky, if he could. It was an old habit from his high school girlfriend. When she bought a new pack, she would toss it to him to pack. Feuilly was good at packing cigarettes, unlike Grantaire (who hits it against his hand twice before he opens it). He would slap the little box against his hand for minutes (it drove Bahorel absolutely nuts. "You, ginger shit, cut that shit the fuck out. You're giving me a goddamn migraine.") She would make him open the pack, pick a random cigarette, flip it, and place it back in. She would repeat the process when it was his new pack, but she would always press her red coated lips tenderly to the side of the lucky leaving a kiss mark.
She was his first love. A week before she left for college, they gave each stick-and-poke tattoos of the each other's initials inside of hearts. Feuilly's was just below his elbow where everybody could see it. If anyone asked Bahorel about the tattoo, he'd shrug and say "Whatever, we all have one shitty tattoo." But what Feuilly never told anyone was that Bahorel would run his fingers across it and say "Cover it, please, gorgeous. I'll pay for it. Just get rid of it." Feuilly never would though. You can't just cover up parts of your life that made you.
This time, though, he had a new pack tucked away in his backpack and at least half of a carton in his dresser. He woke up two weeks ago at 5 am to a kiss pressed onto his forehead. He tried to wake up, but his valiant effort was all for not; he was asleep before he could lift his head off the pillows. He woke up properly a few hours later to a plastic convenience store bag where Bahorel would usually be. Inside the bag was a carton of Winston Red Box (his favorite cigarettes) and a ton of different candy bars. Under the bag was two bottles of Jack Daniels. Tape to one of the bottles was a note that said "in 3 weeks, I'll be back tomorrow." He had almost forgotten that Bahorel left to visit his mother in Hawaii.
Now Feuilly was sitting on their fire escape in the early morning, listening to Yeezus, smoking the lucky, and drinking a cup of black coffee. As 'New Slaves' started up, it was abruptly cut off by the annoying sound of his phone ringing.
"You, fucking asshole, you're fucking up my peace and quiet. And you know that no one interrupts Kayne." He tried not to sound like he missed Bahorel, because this is the first time he'd heard from him since the standard "I got off the plane" text.
He loved the quiet; he loved being by himself. He never got quiet before he lived by himself. Orphanages and foster homes aren't really conducive to quiet. Then Courfeyrac moved in Jehan (and consequently Eponine and Cosette) leaving Bahorel with an apartment he couldn't afford. Which led Bahorel to move into Feuilly's studio apartment, and it got loud again. But he was starting to miss being interrupted during his morning pot of coffee with an inane question asked just to bother him. Or when Grantaire jumps into bed with them early in the morning, getting Bahorel up to go boxing with him. Or the sound of dominoes crashing against the wall with Courfeyrac cursing out Grantaire, Bahorel, but especially Combeferre.
"Freckles." Bahorel whined.
Feuilly started to freak out. Bahorel only called him cute little pet names, when he was upset or when he was content. He only whined after a bad fight. "Did you get in a fight?" He wasn't with him. He couldn't take care of him. "Did someone clean you up?"
"Uh, yeah. My sister." Bahorel sounded tired and drunk, which meant he was the master of cling. Although, he always was after a fight, good or bad; it didn't matter.
"Go to sleep, baby." It must be 2 in the morning there. Bahorel made a sound akin to a whale dying. "No. Have phone sex with me."
"In a week, you'll be home tomorrow." Feuilly wiped his hand across his eyes. "If you go to sleep now, it'll be six days. Then you can get into as many dumb fights as you want." It was silent for a few moments, then he heard the unmistakable sound of Bahorel snoring.