Author's Note: I feel like an ambitious idiot, so I'm going to start yet another fanfic, and not update the other ones for a bit. I'm just an ambitious idiot like that. I promise I'll update all of my stories within the next couple weeks. God, I'm such an idiot. I GET INSPIRED ON TUMBLR A LOT, OK? By the way, I fell a bit in love with Alistair Brammer, so…yeah. The Barricade Boys need to stop. They just do.

P.S: I changed my URL name or whatever from EponineJondretteGirl to blushed-at-a-mere-nothing for…reasons.

Jehan's POV:

'Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night—'

"Jehan!" Combeferre whispered curtly to me. I looked up through my curly brown hair that flopped in my face to realize the room was quiet. And staring at ME. Enjolras stood at the corner of the room where we usually give speeches, his arms crossed. Merde…

"I do hope whatever book you're reading will assist you in your speech today, because you're up now." Enjolras' voice was calm, but I figured that trying would give me a bit of credit.

"Of course! Why on Earth would I read a book instead of listen to you, great leader," I said, strolling to the corner. Enjolras took a seat and waited for me to start; a slight smirk was growing on his lips.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. "In times like this, Paris and all that inhabit it are under a never-ending night. Now, the lion roars, and the wolf howls. The brave yet fearful people roar and howl at those who claim to be for the abased. But what do those protectors they do? They turn away and do what they wish, consequences aside, helping no one. Those weary ploughmen cannot rest, for they have no security. Soon, we shall find a way to bring the dawn to these poor citizens, and set the screeching supporters of false liberty toward the truth."

I must've sounded like the biggest dunce in all of Europe. I sat down quickly and waited for someone to start laughing.

"Interesting, Prouvaire. Who did you elude to there? Voltaire? Robespierre?" Enjolras inquired. I blushed and made no reply, so he approached me and spoke, "I'm afraid a monologue of Puck's is not revolutionary material, though I'll grant you mercy. That was well-said for coming up with it out of the blue, and I happen to enjoy A Midsummer Night's Dream. Now pay attention." He knocked the book against my head softly and sat again. Not the first time he has scolded me during a meeting for reading or day dreaming, but I'm pretty quick to make material up. When the meeting was done, I left the café brusquely to avoid further embarrassment.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered to myself as I strolled past the marketplace. I stopped, as I always did, at the florist to see if there was anything of interest. I pushed open the door and was surrounded by the scent of the plants. I grinned and looked around the little shop. Hundreds of vibrant colors met my eyes, and I completely forgot my blunder at the café. I don't know why I enjoyed walking about a flower shop, but I understood why women did it. It's very calming.

"Jean Prouvaire! I knew you'd come today!" The shopkeeper, Henriette called. She bustled over, and I bowed. "Oh come now, no need to do that. We're old friends now."

"Whatever you say, Henriette," I replied with a smirk.

"You have a letter." She pressed a small envelope into my hand.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "From whom?" She just laughed and shook her head.

"She made me promise not to tell. Think of it as a mystery. Go find her."

"Wait, HER?" Henriette ignored me and went off to help a customer. I left the florist more confused than when I entered.

Walking quickly, I returned to the café faster than I thought I could. I sat at one of the several tables upstairs, and with a shaking hand, I opened the letter.

Never before, have I felt like this,

Struck by familiar Lightning.

Your eyes are like an ocean

They keep my smile heightening.

Though you may never meet me,

I hope you'll get to know,

That you seem very lovely,

Like a little doe.

Your eyes are wide and trusting,

Your laughter gives me a chill.

I hope one day to speak to you,

For it would be a thrill.

Sincerely,

A Secret Admirer

P.S: Your presence in the flower shop makes it all the more cheery.

P.P.S: I tried my hand in poetry. Hope you like it.

I stared at the note in surprise. I had a…Secret Admirer?

"Jehan! What're you doing in here? Meeting's over." I heard Enjolras' voice from the back of the café. I could feel that my face was very red, but I looked up at him anyway. He was standing at one of the tables with several books open. He raised an eyebrow and spoke again. "Are you ok?"

I cleared my throat and replied. "I got a letter at the flower shop."

Enjolras smirked and strolled to my table. "Let's hear it!"

"This is incredibly out of character for you, but alright." I read the poem off to him, and his smirk grew a bit larger with each line.

"She seems interesting. Do you know who she is?" I shook my head, and he continued. "Looks like you've got searching to do." He returned to his spot, and I ran a hand through my hair. How in God's name would I find a random poetic girl in the flower shop? She could be anyone!

Thinking about the cliché, I realized that this would be a lot harder than I thought. Tons of people go in and out of the shop every day. I just needed to pick one of them out. This would be interesting. I've always been the romantic type, but when it comes to talking to women? I was one horribly awkward man. I'm only twenty-two, and the University that most of the Amis and I attend doesn't have a speech class. It's mostly Law, Sciences, and History. The only eloquence I have is written on paper. I trip up on my words, I mumble, I stutter. Speaking to the fairer sex? Forget about it.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Monsieur's, but the café is closing. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave." The owner of the café broke my train of thought. I helped Enjolras to gather his things and offered to help him home.

"Jehan?" When we were headed in the direction of his apartment, he broke the silence. "How are you going to find her?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Well I hope you find her. It'll do you good to get a woman in your life." At this, I burst out laughing. "What?! What's so funny?!" Enjolras asked, exasperated.

"You blew up on Pontmercy yesterday about his lark, Cosette. Now you're encouraging me to fall in love? You contradict yourself, great leader."

He rolled his eyes. "Well Marius is a love-struck fool. He does nothing but fawn over the girl to the point where I wouldn't feel bad if I put his head through one of the tables! But you, Jean Prouvaire, are smart. You can be obsessed with love and fully attentive. Except for today, of course." I blushed at the mention of my mistake, and he continued. "You need a girl, so you can make sense of your works. You always said that your poems never made any sense to you, especially the ones concerning love. Maybe you can figure it out. Here we are."

He stopped at his apartment, and I set his supplies inside. I left Enjolras with an air of almost confidence. Maybe I SHOULD search for her. Maybe my poems would make sense. Maybe. Minutes later, I came to my home. My reverie made me lose track of the time and the speed at which I was walking, so when I checked the clock, it didn't surprise me that it read midnight. Setting the letter on my bedside table and choosing not to change out of my day clothes, I fell asleep quickly. Maybe all of the mystery went to my head.

Who will she be?