A/N: It's my personal headcanon that Enjolras and Combeferre share an apartment, which is what I based this story on, along with the assumption that Enjolras does indeed have a heart (so he's probably OOC like whoa). Also, headcanon first names! One more thing before I begin: it's my first Les Mis fic. Critique the crap out of my mistakes so I can fix them!
Combeferre was frozen in place, staring down the mysterious intruder currently standing by the window. Said intruder stared back with equal ferocity. Neither of them dared make a move, eyes narrowed, limbs tensed. Then, Combeferre sneezed, and the cat meowed and walked back out of the open window above the counter. He groaned and sniffled.
"Combeferre?" Enjolras called from the sitting room, "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," the medical student answered, walking through the kitchen doorway, breakfast in hand. "It seems we've had an unexpected visitor." Enjolras slightly quirked an eyebrow.
"Is that so? Who would be wandering in our kitchen at eight o' clock in the morning?" Combeferre sneezed again.
"A tabby-cat," he said through a sigh. Enjolras smirked.
"You don't like them?" he mockingly pondered, "Is that why you were so object to my wanting of a pet?"
Before Combeferre could open his mouth to retort, there was a knock at the door. The two men shared a look before Combeferre rose to open it. Standing at the door was a nervous - no, it was pouring outside; he was just cold - young man holding a wooden box.
"Are you Monsieur Leon Combeferre?" he asked.
"Indeed I am," Combeferre answered quietly, contemplating the second unexpected visitor of the morning. "How can I be of assistance?"
"I've come to deliver a - wait, before I forget, have you seen a tabby-cat wandering around? It's my sister's," the man explained.
"Actually, I have. He seeked shelter from the rain in our kitchen this morning. He went back out to god knows where, but I'm sure you'll find him."
"Oh, thank you! Here," the man said, handing him the box, "everything will be explained in a letter that's under everything else in that box. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a cat to find." With that, he ran out the door, and Combeferre was left staring at the crate in his hands.
"Have you any idea what that was all about?" Enjolras asked after a moment's silence. Combeferre shook his head and sat down on the couch.
"I suppose there is only one way to find out." Combeferre opened the box. Inside, there lay various pieces of jewelry, silver cutlery, and other valuables. He immediately recognized them as his mother's.
"No... This can't be." He carefully took out each item and setting them aside. The letter was at the bottom of the box, and even though he was almost certain what it said, he picked it up and quickly read it.
His mother had died.
Trembling, Combeferre set the letter down on the couch and put everything back in the box. Enjolras regarded him with an unreadable expression as he buried his face in his hands.
"Combeferre, what happened?" He glanced at Enjolras, fighting tears. The last thing he wanted to do was break, especially in front of Enjolras. What would he do? Combeferre was certain he wouldn't know how to react.
"I... Nothing of your concern. I just... Need air," he stammered and ran out the front door into the pouring rain.
Combeferre ran through the streets, trying to find a quiet, secluded place where he could regain his composure. He couldn't break. He would not allow himself to break. Turning into a miraculously dry alley, he sat down, took off his glasses, and closed his eyes. He was not going to break. After a long moment, he opened his eyes, noticing his waistcoat was torn and splattered with the grey-brown mud that currently covered the streets of Paris. His favourite waistcoat, gifted to him for his birthday by his mother, the last thing she ever gave him, was ruined.
That's when he broke. He scrunched up his eyes again, choking back a sob. He supposed her death shouldn't have been entirely unanticipated, what with her recently acquired sickness, but she was expected to make a full recovery! Combeferre finally let his tears fall freely. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder.
"Leon." It was Enjolras. Enjolras never used his first name. Combeferre look up in surprise at the revolutionary while he held out the letter from the box. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?" Combeferre shook his head in amazement while Enjolras settled next to him.
"I... I am s-sorry you m-must see me like this, I don't-"
"It's alright," Enjolras gently cut him off, "you mustn't be sorry. The situation is more than perfectly understandable." Combeferre nodded, tears forming once again. Without warning, Enjolras pulled him into a loose embrace while he cried.
They sat like that for a while, neither saying a word. Eventually, Combeferre wiped his eyes dry and pulled himself away from his friend.
"It's raining harder; I doubt this alley will stay dry for much longer," he said. Enjolras gave a little nod and stood. He offered a hand to Combeferre.
"Shall we?" Combeferre took his hand and pulled himself up. They began to hurriedly walk back to the apartment, not wanting to stay in the dreadful weather any longer than necessary. Once inside, Combeferre wordlessly moved the box into his room. When he walked back to the sitting room, Enjolras was quietly going over a speech he intended to present at the ABC Cafe that night.
"I had almost forgotten there was a meeting tonight," Combeferre remarked.
"You do not have to attend tonight, Leon."
"No, I can make it. I'll be fine." His friend nodded, still studying the papers laid before him. "Julien?" Enjolras looked up, startled at the use of his own first name. "Thank you." He smiled and gathered his papers.
"Would you mind reviewing this for me?" he asked, holding the speech up.
"Of course."