Ever since there was talk about Enjolras’ potential gushing memoirs about his friends the other night, I then of course, being me, started thinking about what that would look like in fic form, sort of like those epistolary novels that used be popular? And THEN that led me down the sad path of what if he actually did have pages written about them in his rooms, and someone found them after they all died and I’m like god Katie why can’t you just pretend they’re all still alive? Why do you have to make things sad?
Anyway I’m the worst. Or Hugo is the worst, for killing them. Or history, really.