"VIVE LA FRANCE! LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!" and then they heard a flash. Gunshots. When Joly recognized the voice of the young poet at the scream he went running, ignoring his friend's yelling at him to stay, that it was too late. He can't believe it; his beautiful little poet couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.
'Jolllly…' Prouvaire said with a smile on his face when he saw the doctor coming fast where he was lying on the floor, his chest bleeding quickly as he grabbed it. Joly sat next to him, hugging the poet close, as if he was trying to merge with him and give his friend a chance to life.
'My dear Jehan' the medicine student whispered, barely crying.
'You know, Jo… I'm ha-happy that your face can be the last thing I'll see. I like to see the beauty of the world once more, between all this bl-bloody mess' he smiled sadly, noticing that his sweet doctor was about to cry.
'Don't be an idiot. You'll live, I take care of you and-'
'Jolllly…' He interrupted his friend feeling weaker for moments. There was something he wanted to say him before he died, and it wasn't easy because they had an important lack of time running through their hands.
'No, I can't let you go. I can't because you're not over, we are not over' Joly was babbling, barely able to speak because of the tears crossing his face.
'We…?' Jehan asked, confused. He loves him, sure, he knew it since the moment he saw him trying to disinfect every glass of l'ABC café, enumerating each one of the diseases they all can get if they drink of a dirty glass. But… He never though his adored doctor could even think of him the same way. Not more than a friendship.
'Jehan Prouvaire, I've always wanted to tell you something… I love you, I love you and my only regret is that I never was able to give you my heart before because of my cowardice' the doctor kissed the poet's forehead, weeping without restraint because he knew that's how it all was going to end. 'Maybe… Maybe in Heaven I'll, /we'll/ have another chance. Wait for me, Jehan. Please. Can you promise you'll wait for me?'
Jehan smiled as he nodded and stroked Joly's face, cleaning his tears. 'O-Of course I will, Joly. I've been waiting… I-… I can, I will wait forever for you'. The ginger poet's last smile was still there as he began to spasm on his friend's arms. A little flower fell from his sleeve when he expired, floating towards the lap of his beloved hypochondriac. Joly took the little forget-me-not and put it on his own hair, fondling Jehan's face and crying his loss.
He was still grabbing the young dead body when the soldiers came. Joly looked directly at the eyes of the captain, even though he could hardly see his face between the tears. 'I hope you're satisfied. You've killed the only pure beautiful thing I have seen on this sinned world' The captain order his soldiers to pull the doctor apart of the dead man, and they did it after use some force, recieve some punches and kick Joly on the stomach. Even then, he refused to leave Jehan there, so he had an idea.
'LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC! LIBERTE POUR LA FRANCE'
He barely ended the sentence before ten bullets crossed him and made him collapse right next to Jehan. He knew he only had seconds before to die and go with his loved to the doors of Heaven, and he smiled at the thought of his fingers caressing the poet's curls, playing with them at the light of the sun. It was a sweet promise, an eternal life by his side. A promise that worth dying for.
