On the 1st day of the Barricade I gave you… 1 Courfeyrac. Yes, I am so generous. Exams were kind of a hard battle to win and I’m barely alive right now. All of my deadlines for arts moved because of that. Courfeyrac, as you remember, loves cats, and they kinda-sorta think he’s okay to hand out with. And I have a new paper for watercolor - it’s yellow.
Enjolras was a charming young man, who was capable of being terrible. He was angelically handsome. He was Antinous wild…He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a witness…He had but one passion—the right; but one thought—to overthrow the obstacle…He hardly saw the roses, he ignored spring, he did not hear the carolling of the birds. He was severe in his enjoyments. He chastely dropped his eyes before everything which was not the Republic. He was the marble lover of liberty. His speech was harshly inspired, and had the thrill of a hymn. He was subject to unexpected outbursts of soul.
The first time Courfeyrac spoke to him familiarly, using “tu” as if it was normal and almost expected of him to do so, Marius did not startle, nor got offended, which was, without a doubt, the most surprising thing of the whole business. He had, at this point, known Courfeyrac for less than a month, and had trouble remembering how life had been before his fiery and enthusiastic companion started to come into his new rooms at least once a day.
“Tu?” he repeated, having not heard anything from what Courfeyrac had said after that. His tone was both inquisitive and hesitant: he had never used the word out loud before.
Courfeyrac blinked, taken aback for a second, and then he grinned:
“Is this a bother?” he asked.
“No,” said Marius’s mouth before his brain had fully formed a proper answer.
“Thank god, otherwise that might have turned awkward,” said Courfeyrac cheerfully. “I couldn’t keep saying “vous” to a dear friend, it was making me feel more and more queasy each day.”
“Friend,” repeated Marius, painfully aware he might be making things weird right at this instant.
“If you say we’re only acquaintances, I will cry,” threatened Courfeyrac, amused.
Marius stared; he knew enough of society to be aware that you could not say to someone “nobody ever called me his friend before” - especially to another young man, and one with seemingly an infinite number of said friends at that. But this was the fantastic thing about Courfeyrac: there was no need to say anything at all. It took only a few seconds for Courfeyrac’s smile to turn gentler, his eyes shining with unspoken understanding. He raised a hand, and squeezed Marius’s arm.
“Come now, my friend - since we’re now more intimate than most couples with fourty years of marriage behind them, I reckon I should show you off a bit; I don’t believe you’ve met my dear citizen Enjolras yet - you’ll like him, I can assure you, if only because I’ve yet to met one person who do not.”
<b><p></b> <b></b> At the ABCs, Enjolras is sitting with Courfeyrac and Feuilly. Grantaire is drinking a bottle of wine while leaning on the piano and laughing with Marius and Joly...<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> Is he looking?<p/><b>Courfeyrac:</b> Nope. Not now.<p/><b>Feuilly:</b> *giggle*<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> what?</b> <p/><b>Feuilly:</b> Look at you! You just look as a silly teenager!<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> shut up! *blushes and look at Grantaire*<p/><b>Grantaire:</b> *look at Enjolras that's blushing and angry and giggles*<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> *blushes even more and look at Courfeyrac*<p/><b>Courfeyrac:</b> *laughs*<p/></p><p/></p>