AN: There are no words to describe this. I honestly have only a vauge idea of how this came about. But yes. Here it is. Victor Hugo/Original Male Character, implied Les Miserables slash at the end. So if you don't like it, turn back now. I am warning you, don't flame me if you don't listen.
Write of Us
Victor smiled as charmingly as he could. "Come now, Marlon, sit down. Tell me why you greet me so coldly, why you refuse to exchange pleasantries in public. I tell you, she does not know. Why so formal? Come embrace me, Marlon, you look so worried!"
The words hit Victor like a wave of pain, coming to crush him. It is over. The words he had been both dreading and expecting since this love affair began. He forced the smile to remain. "Over, mon cher? What is over?"
"We. We are over."
There was no denying what he meant now. Victor dropped the smile, looking away in fear that he might begin crying. "Why, Marlon?"
"My father is dying. I have to go to America to see him. My brother and I are leaving in the morning." Marlon's voice sounded tight.
"But you'll be back. In a week- a month- I can wait a year, if need be." Victor looked back desperately. "Why end it? I love you, Marlon."
"I won't be back." Marlon was not looking at him anymore. Now he was staring at the door, perfectly still, back to Victor, hands clasped behind his back, slightly hunched over. "My brother has asked me to stay in America with him, and share my father's house." He hesitated. "I agreed."
Victor felt his heart break further. "You... agreed?" he whispered in shock.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I need to leave. You need me to leave. I'm just distracting you from your writing, Victor, and you are distracting me from... Well, I have no business." Marlon turned, his eyes closed. "I am no good for you, mon cher."
You are! Victor wanted to cry out, but words had left him- he, who had never been speechless.
"So, I am going." He opened his eyes, and Victor wished he'd close them again, because Marlon's brilliant, beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears. "At dawn, I will be on my way."
"No."
"It must be so, my love." Marlon walked forward, placed his hands on Victor's shoulders, and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead. Victor closed his eyes against tears of his own. "Promise me one thing?"
"Anything," he answered immediately.
"Write us into one of your stories. Not our love, no, that would be risky. Your career would end. But how he began."
Victor laughed without humor. "You mean how you despised me?"
Marlon echoed the laugh. "And how you admired me, yes. All that."
"As you wish, my love."
Marlon kissed him one last time, then turned to go. As he was preparing to leave, he said without looking back, "My brother will be home in an hour. If anyone comes, tell them you came to ask about flowers you asked for. They will believe you- it's my brother's latest career venture. Be gone before he arrives."
At the door, he paused and turned back. "Make my last name start with E, yes, Victor? I always thought Marlon E. was better than Marlon H."
Then he was gone, and Victor sat there, stunned, and cried.
When he returned home, he sat at his desk and stared at the part of his book he had stopped writing last at. He closed his eyes and thought of Marlon- the beautiful marble pale skin, the brilliant deep blue eyes, the innocence and the passion. He thought of his love, and his love's last request.
He looked at the list of the student's names on the paper, and smiled slightly as he realized he was perfectly set up for it.
He began to write.
'Enjolras, qu'on avait nommer le premier...'
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AN: For those of you who do not know, this is the beginning of Enjolras' description from the book in French: 'Enjolras, who we have named first...'