𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐫𝐲 [ 𝘫. 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴 ]

11, craintes

a/n: thank you so much for 5k reads. it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing🫶🫶

Joseph.

"I made you a sandwich for lunch," Béatrice told her son. Joseph stood in front of the mirror in the hallway, to put on his eyepatch. The scar Jean-Pierre had left disgusted him if he was honest, but he'd never admit that to anyone. He repped his eyepatch in an attempt to look proud of what he overcame, but all he wanted was his eye back.

And revenge.

He glanced up at his mother through the mirror, and went back to adjusting his eyepatch. "I know how horrible the school food is," his mum went on. "Thanks," he muttered.

His mother put a hand on his arm. "I spoke to the ophthalmologist. He thinks it's time," she said with a smile. He hummed. He loved his mum, he did, but she never knew when to give up. "They've made great strides. They can perfectly match your eye colour now, no one will see the difference." She rummaged through his hair, and patted his cheek.

"Have you ever seen a guy with a glass eye?" he asked her. She stayed silent. "One eye moves, the other doesn't."

Béatrice grabbed his face. "My son is no pirate," she said, "you'll regret it when you're old and looking back at your wedding pictures." He frowned. "I doubt I'll care, and Eponine even less," he said.

"But you'll be handsome again!" his mother clung onto him. He sighed, and escaped her grasp. "See you tonight," he muttered.

"Wait!" Béatrice called. She adjusted his buttons. "Stop by the drugstore, there's something for you there."

"What is it? A glass eye?" he bit. She stilled in her motions, and laughed awkwardly. "Don't be silly, Joseph."

He successfully escaped her this time, and tuned her out when he left for school. He'd heard her, but he wished he didn't. It was easier to say no when she didn't prod as much. He stood right outside of his door, and started his lonesome trek to school.

He thought that the number of stares would decrease after a while. But it was well past the halfway-mark of school, and people still stared like it happened yesterday. Not that he cared. The only person in school that he cared about — excluding Dupin— had long ago accepted his facial scarring. Eponine herself knew what it was like to have a visible scar, so he felt oddly at peace when talking to her.

At first, he tried to hate her. He felt guilty about being angry at his parents, so it was easier to aim his anger at someone else. But he just couldn't do it. They were so similar, it felt like putting a knife to his own throat.

And even now, with this pent up anger, he felt like he was holding a burning gun. No idea where to aim, no regard for the damage it would leave. Talking about it helped, but he'd refused his mother's offer to go to therapy, which he regretted now. At least in therapy he could take it out on someone who was paid to do so and help him heal, instead of the girl he found himself falling for.

He felt guilty for Eponine. He got lucky, as she was patient with him, and showed him how to be gentle. She however—she got stuck with him. The maimed, angry, teenage boy who knew nothing but confusion and anger at the moment. Not that he thought he was any better before the accident, because he'd been an immature ass even then. He knew that.

So, Joseph found himself stuck. The only rational options were either completely ignoring her, or— he had no second option. But Eponine was too good, too sweet, to deserve his first option. He felt lost. He could just ask her for help, of course, but the fear of being a burden to her was almost as big as the fear of hurting her.

Alas, he knew not what to do. He decided to just fare the course he was on, to let her lead, and to let his thoughts sit for a while. They gnawed at him, but he could dull them with her.

a/n

short chapter, a little glimpse into his brain.
also i wrote this in like 15 minutes so please excuse spelling mistakes😭😭 sorry if he's a little too emo😔