#frenchrap

noel: well i could make him worse!

ricky (using an aac system): so both of you date him to reach an equilibrium

mischa: do i get a say in this?

constance: you've said how much you want to kiss both of them plenty of times, this is the best case scenario for you

mischa:

noel and talia *shaking hands*: hurt him i kill you.

A Nischa oneshot in which Noel stays up late writing a poem, and Mischa finally gets him to sleep.

Your voice,

Though I hear it every day,

Never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Your hands,

Though I hold them every waking moment,

Caress mine like no other.

Your…

Noel slammed his fist against the table, crumpled the yellowing paper, and tossed it into the waste basket. Absolute garbage, what he’d just written. He clicked his ballpoint pen a few times and then threw it down against the hard mahogany of his desk, head falling backwards.

“Try writing poetry they said,” he grumbled, “It’ll be fun, they said!” His eyes went wide as he stared up at the ceiling. “Gets the anger out, they said!”

Noel stood up, went to his bed, and wrapped himself in a fluffy red throw blanket. “I promised myself I’d have this done tonight.” He sucked in a breath, ignoring any thoughts of giving up and going to sleep. The old fashioned clock above his bed read 9:07. It was a school night, but that didn’t really matter. With his luck, he’d sleep in and miss the morning bell anyway. He was about to get started on the poem once more when he felt a buzzing sensation in his pocket.

He whipped out his phone to reveal a text message from Mischa.

M: You left your hoodie at my place

He sighed, and typed out a reply.

N: Ik, I’ll get it tmrw

M: I will bring it over

N: Mischa its like nine at night!!

M: So?

N: Ur not a good driver let alone at night

M: YOLO

Noel didn’t know what was stupider: the fact that Mischa was coming over to drop off a stupid hoodie, or the fact that he’d unironically used YOLO. His boyfriend really was not the sharpest tool in the shed. Noel rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Knowing him, he’ll show up and want to stay.” Noel chuckled. “He can sleep while I finish this up.”

He started writing once more:

With your touch, my worries fade

With your song, my mind’s at ease

With your…

What could he possibly put down next? He frowned at the page. “Come on, Noel, think!”

He thought alright. He sat there and thought for a good twenty minutes. Most of the thoughts he had were less about poetry and more about how hungry he was (mom had gotten McDonald’s for dinner and Noel would rather sit in a tub of monkey piss than eat a McNugget) or about all the homework that would enevitably be due before he even finished his first stanza.

In that time, Mischa had thrown on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt (and was very tempted to put on Noel’s hoodie, as well, but resisted for the sake of his gangsta persona, yo) and taken to his beat up Civic for a late-night spin. Noel’s place was only a few minutes away, so he arrived in about twenty after a slight detour to the local 7-11 for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Mischa had been to his boyfriend’s place enough times to know the drill—front door was always locked after 7, but Noel locked the back door before he went to sleep, and clearly the poet was still awake. So Mischa, hoodie and half-eaten bag of Cheetos in hand, hopped the fence to the Grubers’ backyard (there was a gate but it was too dark to see the latch, and frankly Mischa enjoyed jumping fences) where he was presented with the back patio in all its glory.

It was a few measly slabs of cement and a rocking chair.

He knocked on the back door once, twice, three times, before twisting the knob. Unlocked, just like always. He politely wiped his feet on the mat, took off his shoes, and tiptoed through the living room, kitchen, down the hall, and eventually into Noel’s room.

It was rather spacious—Noel had the master bedroom since his mother wasn’t home enough to make use of it. The walls were a sort of green-grey, with deep red velvet curtains hung over the single, dew-glazed window. Noel’s antique vanity, which doubled as a desk, was sat below said window. On it was a pile of paper, a framed picture of the choir, a picure of Noel and his mom, and several lit scented candles. In fact, there were candles littered everywhere. Noel was really into mood lighting, apparently.

Noel, as of then, was hard at work and didn’t even see Mischa come in. So, naturally, Mischa swooped in and enveloped him in a big bear hug, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Noel jumped, but quickly melted into it.

“Remind me never to text you again?” Noel hissed at him, mood suddenly back to snarky and broody. “Using YOLO is henceforth forbidden.”

“So is ‘henceforth’. This is not Shakespeare-land, yo.” Mischa countered. He pulled Noel into a gentle kiss by the chin, their lips pressing together lightly as Mischa’s hand set upon Noel’s shoulder.

“Henceforth is an actual word, unlike YOLO.” Noel smirked as he pulled away. “Now where’s the hoodie you oh so desperately needed to bring me?”

Mischa handed it to him. “Sorry, it probably smells like me now.”

Noel pressed it to his nose and made a show of taking a big whiff. “Mhm~”

Mischa laughed. The two of them talked for almost an hour, just like they always managed to do. However after a while it became clear that something was off.

“Poet, you seem tired.” Mischa pointed out in a town of fake nonchalence. Internally, he was panicking. Was something up?

“I’ve been up for a while, yeah.” He held out the paper he was scribbling on. “Can’t get this how I want it.”

“Let me see.” Mischa insisted. He scribbled another word in big letters before proudly showing Noel.

“Mischa, this just says ‘spicy noodles’ in big letters.” Noel did not seem impressed.

Mischa shrugged. “I am hungry.”

“You just ate an entire bag of Cheetos.”

“And?”

“Mischa, you have the appetite of a black hole.”

Noel got back to work, stifling a yawn as his candles developed gutters deep enough to drown a rat. Mischa watched idly as his boyfriend tossed away paper after paper after paper.

“Want more help, Noel?” He teased, hovering over the shorter’s shoulder. Noel slapped him away as if he were swatting at a pesky fly.

“You are less than help. Negative help.” Noel hissed, “If you’re so hungry, go make something to eat. There’s a jar of peanut butter, slap together a sandwich or something.”

“I’d rather just watch you, beautiful.” He admitted, watching Noel’s face flush through the vanity mirror.

“Shut up…”

“Don’t think I will. But, Noel? It’s getting late. You should be in bed, yo. Sleeping.” He pointed at the bed for emphasis, or just in case Noel didn’t know what a bed was.

Noel sighed sleepily. “I know, I know.”

“Maybe sleep will make your brain juice run better.” Mischa suggested, poetic as ever. It was clear he was not taking no for an answer. He scooped Noel up into his arms, leaving Noel a flustered gay mess, and placed him on the bed, tucking his body around Noel’s like a mother cat would around her kitten.

“Mischaaaaaaa~” Noel whined. “I can stay up!” But he clearly didn’t mean it. His eyelids were already growing heavy with sleep. Mischa moved slightly so he was holding Noel closer, feeling his poet’s soft breath on his collarbone as Noel tucked his pretty little face into the crook of Mischa’s neck.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ride the Cyclone: A New Musical - Maxwell & Richmond Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Noel Gruber/Corey Ross Characters: Noel Gruber, Corey Ross Additional Tags: Unrequited Crush, One-Sided Attraction, this is my first time writing frenchrap so lol, pretty short bc my brain is empty, no beta we die like the choir Series: Part 10 of RTC Ship Weeks!! Summary:

Corey Ross never fit in. But Noel made him feel like he had a friend. A person to trust. But he didn’t feel the way Corey did, did he?