A/N: This does not belong to me this belongs to Victor Hugo
I was obvious you were in love with her by the way you looked at her. Your eyes, those cruel and beautiful icy blue eyes would slowly melt when she came into the café and suddenly they would become brighter. You did your best to conceal it, you did it better than her when it came to her infatuation with Pontmercy. Yet it didn't escape me. I've watched you for a long time so it would only make sense I would see the look.
For week I tried to figure out why you liked her so much. She wasn't pretty( however not ugly either), but you don't seem like the type to base attraction on looks alone. One conclusion I came up with was because she wasn't like the other girls, the kind both you (and especially I) loathe, the spoiled ones who often tried to throw themselves at you. Another conclusion was she represented everything you were fighting for and everything you believed in, she was your Patria what with her long black hair and the fact she often wore red rags: red and black, your favorite colors. In my opinion the best and strongest conclusion I came up with was that she didn't see you as 'Apollo', a god or any perfect being. You didn't feel the need to be perfect in front of her like you do with everyone else, she wasn't perfect either so why should you be.
What ever the reason you loved her and that was that.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt to watch you though. I have been loyal to you for how many years- I have lost count- while she throws herself at an idiot who doesn't even realize she loves him. The first time I have ever seen you talk to her (to get her opinion on the revolution) you stood, your face in perfect tranquility as always but your eyes... those eyes betrayed you and she didn't even know it. You talked to her gently as well, you weren't harsh or brash or anything less. While I was being called 'wine cask', 'drunkard' and you... you could barely look at me with anything else but disgust because I didn't believe in anything except for you. I didn't hate her though, that was the hard part, a small part of me wanted to dislike her but I couldn't.
Jealousy is not a good look for either me or you. Whenever she was sent out by Pontmercy to find 'his heavenly blonde angel' she left heartbroken, when she left you chaste him for it. You both were close but sometimes you would just loose it. It was ironic that the girl you would have feelings for would love someone else, it was even more ironic when you added me to the mix. I knew it scared you. Love terrified you because you have never experienced it with anyone before. This was why you didn't confess to her. Yet your not alone.
I wish I could tell you how I feel too but I knew you wouldn't look at me with the same eyes you give to her.
Not to me