"Before the Others Arrived"
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Les Mis characters. They all belong to Victor Hugo, that incredible genius we all adore!
Feuilly bent his head over his detailed work as he sat at a lonely table in Le Café Musain all by himself. None of the other Amis had arrived, leaving him plenty of time to catch up on his work, which he had missed due to his lethargy that day. The boy had no room for such delays, as the three francs he scraped up every day barely fed him and clothed him as it was, but the harsh chill of December was beginning to take its toll.
Because money was scarce, Feuilly could not afford to buy himself a new overcoat, nor did he have the time to patch up his current one after work. The apartment he rented had cracks in the windows, allowing bitter winter wind to seep in and cause him to shiver at night. Due to such unfortunate circumstances, the young workman always caught dreadful colds during this time of year, but none so persistent as the one he came down with now.
Nevertheless, he continued his labor as usual, painting an elaborate masterpiece in the solitude of the empty café.
With stunning precision he dipped his tiny paintbrush into a bottle of red ink and touched its tip to the paper of his handcrafted fan and began to illustrate a fabulous scarlet rose. His experienced hands knew their course, for this was a popular design he was asked regularly to replicate, and he painted flawlessly, every line and curve in its place, every color perfectly molding into the magnificent image.
But just as he began to lose himself in his work, Feuilly quickly dropped his brush onto the table, laid down his fan, and sneezed forcefully into his fist.
At that very moment, Eponine strolled into the café.
"Bless you, Feuilly," she smiled, removing her coat and draping it over the back of a random chair. She took off her hat, placed it on the table, and sat down beside the boy, beaming at him with bright eyes. "So, no one else has come yet?"
"No," Feuilly replied, shaking his head before sneezing again, shuddering slightly with the force. "I thought I'd catch up on some work before they got here."
His already flushed cheeks reddened in the presence of the girl, as they always did ever since she had taken to regularly attending the nightly meetings. He lifted his hazel eyes from the table, brushing a lock of short, dark hair from his forehead, and smiled shyly, but Eponine frowned with concern.
"Feuilly, you shouldn't work so hard," she sighed, worrying the way she did for all the friends of the ABC. "I can tell you're falling ill, and it's not good to waste all your energy when you're not well!"
The boy shook his head, though it touched him that Eponine cared for his well-being. He fought to restrain a smile, biting his lower lip in quiet glee, while he pretended not to be overly moved by the girl's distress.
"I have to," he stated, and paused to cough lightly. "I've fallen behind, and I need to make up for the time I've wasted. I'll be fine. In fact, I feel much better now than I did this morning."
But the stubborn Eponine was far from convinced. Obstinately, she reached across the table and touched her hand to the boy's cheek, unwittingly causing his heart to jump a bit, and sighed in disapproval. Feuilly blushed and lowered his eyes, though he hoped she wouldn't take her hand away. It was cool against the heat of his fever and sent a shiver of delight down his spine.
"You're burning up," she declared with a fretting tone that caused the boy to smile softly, despite how poorly he felt. "I told you. See, you're getting as bad as Enjolras, never wanting to stop working long enough to recover! Now listen to me: I want you to rest tonight. No more working for now, you hear me?"
Before Feuilly could protest, Eponine rose from her chair and removed a clean handkerchief from her pocket. She had seen a rich gentleman drop it earlier that day, and had picked it up with the intention of returning it, but did not have the opportunity, for he had quickly disappeared in a crowd of shoppers. Now she thanked the man silently as she walked to the bar and dipped the tiny scrap of cloth into the bucket of fresh water on the counter. Then she rang it out, folded it in half, and returned to Feuilly's side.
"Here," she smiled, removing the boy's hat and bringing the soft, damp fabric to his face. "This will cool you off. Maman always used to do this when 'Zelma or I had a fever. I swear to you, it worked!"
She leaned in closer to Feuilly, caressing him with the cloth as she nurtured him in silence. He merely gazed back at her in awe, noiselessly thanking her for her kindness and compassion.
If one had not known better with whom Eponine was truly infatuated, one surely would have thought she was in love with Feuilly, for she remained so intimately close to him as she tended to his illness, a breath away from his soft lips, a sight so pure to be seen, words do not do justice to the beauty of the moment. The room was still and absolutely hushed aside from the sound of their breathing as they sat beside one another, two figures frozen in the sweet image of affection.
But the silence was broken when Feuilly abruptly pulled away and sneezed again, twice, his dark chocolate hair falling majestically over his eyes. Eponine flashed an expression of utter sympathy to the boy and squeezed his shoulder lovingly.
"Take care of yourself, Feuilly," she smiled, brushing the dark locks from Feuilly's face and pocketing the handkerchief. "I think you'll be alright if you get a good night's sleep. But don't tell Joly about this, because he might start planning your funeral."
Then, laughing playfully, she kissed the tip of Feuilly's nose and replaced his hat, making him swear that he would put away his paints for the evening, just as the café door opened.
Courfeyrac entered, followed by Combeferre and Enjolras. They immediately greeted the two already seated and set to work as usual, and Eponine hurried to help Enjolras design a new attack strategy.
As Feuilly watched her go, he swore to himself that he would always remember the pleasing moments he had shared with her before the others arrived.
FIN
***You like? Is it any good? Please review! I was so pleased with the feedback from my last fic, I'm anxious to see what you all think of this one!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Les Mis characters. They all belong to Victor Hugo, that incredible genius we all adore!
Feuilly bent his head over his detailed work as he sat at a lonely table in Le Café Musain all by himself. None of the other Amis had arrived, leaving him plenty of time to catch up on his work, which he had missed due to his lethargy that day. The boy had no room for such delays, as the three francs he scraped up every day barely fed him and clothed him as it was, but the harsh chill of December was beginning to take its toll.
Because money was scarce, Feuilly could not afford to buy himself a new overcoat, nor did he have the time to patch up his current one after work. The apartment he rented had cracks in the windows, allowing bitter winter wind to seep in and cause him to shiver at night. Due to such unfortunate circumstances, the young workman always caught dreadful colds during this time of year, but none so persistent as the one he came down with now.
Nevertheless, he continued his labor as usual, painting an elaborate masterpiece in the solitude of the empty café.
With stunning precision he dipped his tiny paintbrush into a bottle of red ink and touched its tip to the paper of his handcrafted fan and began to illustrate a fabulous scarlet rose. His experienced hands knew their course, for this was a popular design he was asked regularly to replicate, and he painted flawlessly, every line and curve in its place, every color perfectly molding into the magnificent image.
But just as he began to lose himself in his work, Feuilly quickly dropped his brush onto the table, laid down his fan, and sneezed forcefully into his fist.
At that very moment, Eponine strolled into the café.
"Bless you, Feuilly," she smiled, removing her coat and draping it over the back of a random chair. She took off her hat, placed it on the table, and sat down beside the boy, beaming at him with bright eyes. "So, no one else has come yet?"
"No," Feuilly replied, shaking his head before sneezing again, shuddering slightly with the force. "I thought I'd catch up on some work before they got here."
His already flushed cheeks reddened in the presence of the girl, as they always did ever since she had taken to regularly attending the nightly meetings. He lifted his hazel eyes from the table, brushing a lock of short, dark hair from his forehead, and smiled shyly, but Eponine frowned with concern.
"Feuilly, you shouldn't work so hard," she sighed, worrying the way she did for all the friends of the ABC. "I can tell you're falling ill, and it's not good to waste all your energy when you're not well!"
The boy shook his head, though it touched him that Eponine cared for his well-being. He fought to restrain a smile, biting his lower lip in quiet glee, while he pretended not to be overly moved by the girl's distress.
"I have to," he stated, and paused to cough lightly. "I've fallen behind, and I need to make up for the time I've wasted. I'll be fine. In fact, I feel much better now than I did this morning."
But the stubborn Eponine was far from convinced. Obstinately, she reached across the table and touched her hand to the boy's cheek, unwittingly causing his heart to jump a bit, and sighed in disapproval. Feuilly blushed and lowered his eyes, though he hoped she wouldn't take her hand away. It was cool against the heat of his fever and sent a shiver of delight down his spine.
"You're burning up," she declared with a fretting tone that caused the boy to smile softly, despite how poorly he felt. "I told you. See, you're getting as bad as Enjolras, never wanting to stop working long enough to recover! Now listen to me: I want you to rest tonight. No more working for now, you hear me?"
Before Feuilly could protest, Eponine rose from her chair and removed a clean handkerchief from her pocket. She had seen a rich gentleman drop it earlier that day, and had picked it up with the intention of returning it, but did not have the opportunity, for he had quickly disappeared in a crowd of shoppers. Now she thanked the man silently as she walked to the bar and dipped the tiny scrap of cloth into the bucket of fresh water on the counter. Then she rang it out, folded it in half, and returned to Feuilly's side.
"Here," she smiled, removing the boy's hat and bringing the soft, damp fabric to his face. "This will cool you off. Maman always used to do this when 'Zelma or I had a fever. I swear to you, it worked!"
She leaned in closer to Feuilly, caressing him with the cloth as she nurtured him in silence. He merely gazed back at her in awe, noiselessly thanking her for her kindness and compassion.
If one had not known better with whom Eponine was truly infatuated, one surely would have thought she was in love with Feuilly, for she remained so intimately close to him as she tended to his illness, a breath away from his soft lips, a sight so pure to be seen, words do not do justice to the beauty of the moment. The room was still and absolutely hushed aside from the sound of their breathing as they sat beside one another, two figures frozen in the sweet image of affection.
But the silence was broken when Feuilly abruptly pulled away and sneezed again, twice, his dark chocolate hair falling majestically over his eyes. Eponine flashed an expression of utter sympathy to the boy and squeezed his shoulder lovingly.
"Take care of yourself, Feuilly," she smiled, brushing the dark locks from Feuilly's face and pocketing the handkerchief. "I think you'll be alright if you get a good night's sleep. But don't tell Joly about this, because he might start planning your funeral."
Then, laughing playfully, she kissed the tip of Feuilly's nose and replaced his hat, making him swear that he would put away his paints for the evening, just as the café door opened.
Courfeyrac entered, followed by Combeferre and Enjolras. They immediately greeted the two already seated and set to work as usual, and Eponine hurried to help Enjolras design a new attack strategy.
As Feuilly watched her go, he swore to himself that he would always remember the pleasing moments he had shared with her before the others arrived.
FIN
***You like? Is it any good? Please review! I was so pleased with the feedback from my last fic, I'm anxious to see what you all think of this one!