𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 | 𝙅𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙨

20: you'd have to stop the world

I don't seem to remember the house atmosphere being this stuffy and tense.

But at the same time, I'm alone with Joseph Descamps. It's a whole other experience than having his mother in the house with us.

Talking about his parents; They're supposedly gone for a business trip to Bordeaux, so he had the house to himself for a few days. Lucky bastard.

"Right," Joseph mutters, getting himself comfy in his own armchair. I act as if I didn't notice him manspreading - as if his hands and fingers grabbing his half-empty box of Marlboro Red doesn't make my stomach do a flip or whatever.

I'm here to talk about one topic, so I need to concentrate.

"Right," I parrot, my hands placed on my lap as I try to not look at him. "About... everything," I hear the lighter flicker, and when I look up, I'm given a sight that makes me think that God trying to doom me.

Joseph has his head thrown back, cigarette in between his fingers as he blows out smoke. His eyes are closed, he's manspreading, his white linen button-up seems too translucent and my blouse suddenly feels too warm for comfort.

Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

I forcibly peel my eyes away, looking the wallpaper instead. I mentally slap myself, I need to concentrate and I am so out of it. The thoughts going through my head would even make Lucifer himself look down on me with shame.

"What about it?" Joseph asks, and he sounds almost snappy and irritated. I never knew someone could be that dramatic over someone they did themselves.

There goes a beat of silence. I hesitantly look back to see Joseph giving me a quizzical look, awaiting my next words.

I shake my head, taking an inhale before speaking up. I manage to rehearse it in my head before I talk, making sure I don't sound idiotic. "Firstly, the magazine,"

"I think you should take the blame," I say, and Joseph looks at me as if I've gone completely mad. "Or at least make Jean or Charles do it,"

"What, you actually mean that?" He retorts, as if he didn't believe my words. Did he not think I was taking it seriously? "You think those two idiots would be willing to take the blame?"

"...No, but you can get them to,"

He scoffs at my words, taking a drag of his cigarette and puffing the smoke directly in my face. "Yeah, as if I'd ever do that."

I wave the smoke away, my face scrunching up at the dreadful smell. "If you do it, it'll be less of a trouble for the others and for you too. Maybe people will start liking you if you do," Joseph didn't seem all too happy at my words, judging from his expression.

"No, are you crazy?" Joseph spits, and I feel an eye twitch. "Why should I? Go tell your little friends to take the blame and get this over with."

"Uh, no? I already told them that I'd get you to admit yourself in! You're the one in the wrong." I chided roughly.

Joseph gives me a look of disbelief, rolling his eyes. "I didn't do shit, Madeline."

"Yes, you did." I fume. "You're framing another person for what you did, again."

"Again?" He asks, and I roll my eyes with a hefty sigh. "First day of school, Laubrac? Ring any bells in that empty cranium of yours?"

It takes him a minute, but his smile is smug as it all comes back to him.

"Did I draw them too small? Is that why you're mad, or is it because you're actually the one in love with the foster loser?" He suggested, an atrociously mischievous expression on his face. Like a cat that got its cream.