Hi guys! Something a bit different to my usual, today :) This fic is going to be based on I Like You, a brilliant song by SJ, with each line bringing up a memory of the Lake House. They won't all be as long as this one, and there will be chapters with more than one lyric per chapter, but I wanted to set the scene a bit first. I highly recommend giving the song a listen to, it's adorable.
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, or I Like You, or any of the other songs mentioned.
PROLOGUE
Late one night in the summer of 2013, Adrien Courfeyrac lay wide awake in a bunk bed, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. He was still wearing his suit trousers and shirt as he listened to the rhythmic snores of his friend Jehan on the bunk below him, completely unable to so much as rest his eyes for a second.
This was not something Courfeyrac was accustomed to. As a general rule, he was a very happy man; he had a great family with enough money to keep him comfortable – not to mention allow him to bring 12 friends to their island lake house – and a really fantastic group of friends, each one different but united by a brilliant sense of humour, and a genuine desire to look out for each other. They also believed passionately in social change, working tirelessly to help those less fortunate; a cause which Courfeyrac intended to support to the best of his ability, starting with his law degree. He was a good-looking and charming guy, and that combined with his passion for life meant he did pretty well with the ladies, too. He enjoyed life, and so soul-searching was usually an activity he teased his friends about rather than participated in himself.
Reaching over to the windowsill, he picked up his phone and checked the time: 4.13. Gaaaaah why can't I sleep?! Sighing heavily, he put in his headphones in search of peaceful music as a solution.
Coldplay's The Scientist was no help.
Cough Syrup by Young the Giant did nothing.
Even Love Love Love by the The Mountain Goats had no effect. This was a dire situation indeed.
It was only when the soft, cheery melody of SJ's I Like You kicked in that he felt any different. Every lyric seemed to strike a chord in him, bringing to mind a memory from their week at the lake. Even stranger, the memories seemed to have a common denominator.
I like the way you look at me every time, you first come into my mind
"FINE! WE CAN GO ON HOLIDAY!" Enjolras yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration at his friends as they sat around the corner table of the Café Musain, their usual haunt during semester time. Actually, it was their usual haunt almost all of the time, since it was where they planned their rallies and protests; the headquarters of their activist group, Les Amis de l'ABC.
A great cheer rang out from the nine men and two women around the table that weren't Enjolras, including Courfeyrac himself, who high-fived his best friend Combeferre with a goofy grin. It had taken a long time time, a lot of whinging, some bribery, and a PowerPoint presentation, but it seemed they'd finally convinced Enjolras that a week at Courfeyrac's parents' summer house wouldn't be the disastrous setback for the cause he envisioned, but might even be fun.
And so, in mid-July, before Enjolras could think of a reason not to, Courfeyrac found himself stood next to a rented minibus as his friends slowly started to arrive. Éponine was the first one there; she arrived in skinny jeans, a loose tank top, and leather boots and jacket, with a hold-all slung over her shoulder and a Natalie Dormer-esque smirk of greeting.
"Top of the morning to you, Miss Éponine! You're uncharacteristically early, if you don't mind me saying so?" he called across the car park.
"Had to sneak out before the old woman got up and chained me to the bar. Are we the first ones here?"
"Yep!"
"How you are you this cheerful so early in the morning?!" Éponine laughed, her characteristic dimples appearing on her cheeks.
"We're going on holiday! It's exciting!"
"You're as bad as Gavroche."
"That's why we get on so well. But on to more important business: predictions for the trip?"
"Hmmm… Enjolras complains at least 300 times that we're getting nothing done."
"Ha! Ok, Grantaire argues with him every time AND insists on driving the bus at least part of the way"
"and nearly kills us all" she laughed "Joly has a nervous breakdown over the cleanliness of this minibus"
"because Marius and Cosette are making out in the back"
"and Musichetta is sass-mouthing them in Italian. OOH and singing along really loudly to the radio."
"Good one… Bahorel starts a fight with a local"
"Injuring Bossuet in the process, whether he's involved or not."
"Leaving Combeferre to diffuse the situation like the father figure he really is"
"Hmmmm…. Ooh, you'll pick up at least two girls on the ferry to the island."
"It's like a 40 minute ferry!"
"I stand by my statement."
"…fair enough. Ok, at least 3 different guys will attempt to pick you up on the ferry, but you'll be having none of it and will instead throw small objects at Enjolras with Grantaire."
Éponine laughed loudly. "Probably" she agreed. He liked it when she laughed. It made her seem a lot more approachable, and frankly, she didn't get to laugh enough.
It took approximately 18 minutes for the first prediction to come true. They all piled into the bus; Combeferre driving, Courfeyrac navigating, and Éponine two seats back next to Grantaire. Ferre hadn't even turned the key before Joly disgustedly announced that "this bus is positively RIDDLED with disease" to 12 peoples' groans. Immediately thinking of Éponine, he turned in his seat to look at her and found her turning to look back at him, with an eyebrow raised and a barely concealed smirk. The look made him almost laugh too, and he smiled happily as he fiddled with the radio, much to Combeferre's interest and amusement.
1 hour later
"TELL ME WHYYYYYY!" Musichetta warbled, loudly and out of tune.
Feuilly – a usually quiet man who held a secret love of the Backstreet Boys deep in his heart – belted back (equally badly) "AIIIIIIN'T NOTHING BUT A HEAAARTACHE!"
"TEEEEELL ME WHHYYYYY!" Courfeyrac finished telling Combeferre where to drive, and turned to catch Éponine's eye again, just as Feuilly bellowed "AIIIIN'T NOTHING BUT A MISTAAAAAKE, TELL ME WHY!"
She met his eyes seconds later, as though she'd felt him look at her. She grinned widely and mimed back enthusiastically, nose scrunched up and mouth wide in false power singing "IIIIII NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU SAAAAAY, IIII WANT IT THAAAT WAAAAY!"
Their eyes met as the verse kicked in, grinning at each other from across the bus.
"Hey Courf, do I take this exit or the next one?" Combeferre asked.
After a moment's confusion, Courfeyrac turned back around. "Errr… next one!"
3 hours after that
They'd stopped to get some food at a KFC by the road as they were about halfway to Toulon, where they'd catch the ferry. Combeferre had apologetically admitted he was exhausted and in no shape to continue driving, prompting the inevitable debate.
Cosette had piped up "I'll drive, I don't mind!" , to which Marius had replied "But I need you in the back with me!". At this, Musichetta had rolled her eyes and muttered "per l'amor del cazzo…", prompting another raised eyebrow smirk from Éponine. This time he couldn't contain a big goofy grin.
"I'll drive" offered Enjolras "but I'm not having that god-awful music on if I do"
"The Backstreet Boys and Miscellaneous 1990s-early 2000s mixtape is non-negotiable" Feuilly announced firmly.
"I need to map-read, I'm the only one who's been before" Courf apologised.
"FOR GOD'S SAKE I'LL DRIVE!" Grantaire half-shouted, before climbing into the driver's seat and strapping himself in. He ignored the chorus of "NO!"s that followed, instead announcing "anyone who is not on this bus in 40 seconds is getting left behind, and you can walk home, bitches!"
"But -!"
He started the engine. Everybody scrambled for their seat. Once all 13 of them successfully in the minibus, Grantaire pulled out the car park like he was being chased by Libyan terrorists; Courfeyrac turned to look again, just before Éponine did. This time they couldn't contain the laugh, and sat giggling away as the rest of the bus looked on, bemused.
4 and a half hours after that, on the car ferry from Toulon
He stood looking out over the sea, his mind clear except for excitement. He loved the Île des Rêves, with its one tiny village marooned in a thick Mediterranean woodland and large freshwater lake taking up half of the island; and he loved the big old house by the lake where he'd spent every childhood summer. He was just contemplating how good the week was going to be, when a leggy blonde girl came over to him, smiling widely at him with a hand on her hip. They made small talk for a while – the weather, why they were going to Île des Rêves – but he couldn't help noticing her exceptionally irritating laugh, so when he took her phone number, it was really just so she'd go away. He turned back to the ocean, intending to forget the whole thing, but suddenly Éponine's smirk came into his head, and he turned around, expecting to have to go and look for her; but there she was, looking out over the other side of the boat, breeze teasing her hair. She turned around to look over the deck, catching his eye with a grin and her eyebrow raised above her aviator sunglasses. She'd also ditched the leather jacket, and he noticed he could see her whole side, and lacy dark blue bra through the long, loose armholes of her white tank top when she raised a hand to mock salute him. He didn't really know why he noticed that, but he did.
Weird.