"This class is so incredibly nonsensical," Enjolras muttered, staring at his watch, waiting for the class to be over. The boy who sat next to him, with long braided hair and a flower print cardigan, was staring intently at the teacher with wide eyes, smiling.
"Come on, Enjo, you don't even know what the hell that means," Courfeyrac laughed, sitting on the other side of Enjolras and texting underneath the table, not paying the least amount of attention to the lesson. The other boy giggled and blushed slightly at what he had said.
"Of course I know what it means, I don't attempt to impress people the way you do," Enjolras replied, still staring at his watch, as though he could speed up time.
"Wow, someone's in a totally dickish mood!" Courfeyrac teased, pushing his phone into his pocket.
"This class isn't so bad," the other boy remarked, softly, while adjusting a flower in his hair and looking at Courfeyrac with those big, blue eyes, "how can you possibly dislike poetry?"
Enjolras softened a little at the boy's soft, sweet voice, "I don't understand why it's required. I'm majoring in political science," he shrugged, still anxious for the class to let out.
"Wow, I can't believe you just argued with Enjo, and got him to calm down. I like you, what's your name?" Courfeyrac asked, smiling and holding out his hand behind Enjolras. Jehan shook it, looking down, smiling and blushing.
"I'm Jehan," he answered, sweetly, waiting a moment before looking up at Courfeyrac's eyes.
"I'm Courfeyrac. This is Enjo," he said, turning back to face the front and pulling his phone out.
"I know who you guys are," he giggled; everyone at the school knew who Courfeyrac and Enjolras were: the two super-hot activist seniors that almost everyone respected. Jehan was a little surprised that they were talking to him, but happy nonetheless.
"Then I hope you know that my name is not Enjo, its Enjolras. Courf just calls me that because he's an idiot sometimes," he said quietly, as Courfeyrac slapped him on the shoulder, and Jehan giggled, noticing that the teacher was glaring at them for talking.
"We all call him that," Courfeyrac smirked.
"God, I loathe this class," Enjolras complained, putting his head on the desk. A dark haired boy behind them nudged him.
"If you hate this class so much, just leave," the boy said, smiling at Enjolras, who had turned to look at him, "I'm leaving, do you want to come?"
"Do I know you?" Enjolras asked, running a hand through his curls. He knew exactly who he was; a sophomore, who went to fewer classes than anyone at the school, showed up to class hung-over whenever he actually bothered to show up, named Grantaire.
Grantaire lifted an eyebrow and shrugged, "well the look on your face says you do," he said, standing up, "have fun in this nonsensical class," he teased, patting Enjolras on the shoulder as he walked out.
"He totally has a crush on you," Courfeyrac sang, not taking his eyes of his phone. Jehan looked over at Courfeyrac and couldn't help but smile.
"That's absurd, and I don't date," Enjolras said, glaring at Courfeyrac, who just smiled back at him.
All three of them fixed their eyes at the front as the teacher gave out the assignment for the next class: a sincere love poem about someone imperfect. Jehan's eyes widened at the thought of it, ideas already dawning in his brain. Courfeyrac shrugged, figuring he could pull out some crap that could get him a passing grade.
"This is ridiculous," Enjolras sighed, "When are we ever going to need to use this practically in life?" he asked, gathering his papers together and shoving them in his messy backpack.
"Gee, I don't know, but if you ever get tired of abstinence it might come in handy..." Courfeyrac laughed, throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder. Jehan folded up the paper he had written the assignment on delicately and placed it in his pocket.
"How we ever became friends is so lost on me. Stop texting your girlfriends. I have my next class in ten minutes," Enjolras said.
"Shut up, you know you love me, and your overachieving schedule doesn't affect me," Courfeyrac replied; Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding back a smile, "which class do you have next, new kid?" he asked, turning to Jehan.
"I don't have a class, I was going to go down to the cafe next to the park, you know?" he asked softly, trying to gather up the nerves to invite this cute new senior he had just met.
"Ha! Enjolras, have fun in whatever class you're taking! Me and Jehan are gonna go have a party!" he teased, putting his arm around Jehan playfully.
"Jehan and I," Enjolras corrected, "and I'm sure I'll enjoy myself much more than you will. I have to go."
"I'm sure you will, Enjo. Hey, isn't your little admirer in that class too?" Courfeyrac teased.
"I do not have an admirer," Enjolras asserted, "stop being ridiculous."
"I'm not the one oblivious that some sophomore obviously has a crush on me!" he yelled, as Enjolras ran off to class. Jehan blushed and smiled at the irony, since he sort of was.
Courfeyrac slid his arm off from around Jehan, checking his phone again before he put it in his bag, "so this cafe?"
"Oh-I-" he started, shocked and delighted that Courfeyrac, who he had heard so much about and thought about so often, wanted to accompany him. At the same time, he was a little nervous to spend the next hour with him; afraid he might slip up and say something stupid. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and smiled at him inquisitively, tilting his head.
Jehan's face went bright red, and he brought one hand up to his face as he said quietly, "you really want to go? Like with me? I'd love that..."
"You're adorable," he laughed, "and yeah, I think I might need help with this assignment, I'm not at all into this stuff."
"Oh, I mean I'd love to help you, but I think you'd do much better on your own. I'm a freshman, and you're a senior," he replied, bashfully, feeling his cheeks cool down a little bit as he brought both hands to his long braid, adjusting it.
"How the hell are you in advanced poetry if you're a freshman? God, you must be like a genius. You're helping me, it's decided," he said, laughing as Jehan's bright eyes lit up.
"It has to come from you..." he started, looking down and smiling, feeling his cheeks heat up again.
"Can I write about you? The adorable little freshman and his cute little insecurities; that'll make a good love poem about imperfection, won't it?" he asked, flirtatiously, and Jehan looked up at him, laughing, "Not really, but anyways, let's go."
Jehan couldn't stop smiling, his cheeks retaining a vibrant, rosy glow the whole time, "so, who are you going to write about?" he asked, almost whispering.
"This is why I need your help!" he laughed, "and who are you going to write about?" he asked.
"I have no idea; the first person who popped into my mind is too perfect, so I can't write about them," he giggled, "I'll come up with someone." he shrugged, still smiling.
"Awww that's cute, and who's this perfect person who popped into your mind? Can I meet them?" he asked, nonchalantly taking a flower from Jehan's hair and placing it in his own.
Jehan laughed, unsure of what to say, "We're almost there, do you want me to buy you something?"
"Do I want the guy I just met and invited myself to hang out with to buy me something. Jeez, you really think I'm that much of a douchebag?" he teased. Jehan shook his head.
"No, but I would like to buy you a coffee, or tea, or something," he laughed, softly, looking up at Courfeyrac's smiling face and the way the sun was falling over his dark curls and creamy skin. Courfeyrac put his arm around Jehan again, rolling his eyes as they continued walking.
Jehan spent the entire rest of the walk over there giggling and smiling at the fact that he was at the café with Courfeyrac, the boy he'd had a slight crush on the whole time he had been attending the university but had always seemed so far out of reach. He was so loved by absolutely everyone, more than half the people at the school had fallen for him, Jehan included. It was almost dreamlike.
"I suck at this emotional stuff. I can't just write a poem about someone I love despite their imperfections off the top of my head. Enjo was right about that class," he whined, flopping down on a chair at the café and putting his feet up.
"He was not," Jehan argued, still smiling, "why not write it about him?" he asked. Courfeyrac laughed.
"You're hilarious. No. That's weird," he laughed, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.
"But think about it! You two are best friends and you love each other unconditionally despite your many differences, it's perfect. I can't believe we didn't think of it before," he giggled, extremely proud of himself and loving the look of shock and amusement on Courfeyrac's face.
"Yeah, I guess so, but…" he started, and then shook his head, laughing, "no, you know what? That's genius; it'll be awesome," he laughed, ruffling his hair, "now who're you doing yours on?"
"I'll make someone up," he smiled, rolling and unrolling the sleeves of his floral shirt, "or something. Don't worry about it, I love writing," he closed his eyes and sighed, before getting up to go get their drinks.
"I'd love to read some of your stuff sometime, if you'd let me," he said, as Jehan walked over to the counter, smiling.
When he returned, Courfeyrac looked at his phone, "shit," he muttered.
"What is it? Is everything alright?" Jehan asked, and Courfeyrac chuckled slightly at Jehan's concern.
"Nothing, I'm just going to be very late for my next class, that's all, sweetheart," he laughed, standing up and walking over to the door.
Jehan followed him, "Courfeyrac?" he asked softly, "why did you choose to spend your lunch hour with me?"
Courfeyrac grinned and put one arm around Jehan's waist, leaning in very close and whispering, "I think you're cute, see you in class tomorrow."