His name was Bonhomme and he was liked from the start. He was a few years older than most of them, he had left school and was employed as a lawyer, instantly gaining approval of Bahorel. When asked why he did join them, his answer was simple. He believed in the Republic. Most of all, he believed in Enjolras. He had heard him speak to a group of workers when passing by a factory and became curious of their ideas, and later convinced.

He soon became a valuable member, having contacts in the more dangerous parts of Paris. He could get them weapon, ammunition, everything they needed for the uprising as long as they asked of it. He wanted nothing in return, his passion for their cause being enough motivation.

He was witty, smart and friendly. It was not surprising how quickly he and Enjolras became friends as they were alike, almost as twins in personality, but personality only as Bonhomme was quite ordinary, almost ugly while Enjolras was the definition of beauty.

The two of them lingered after meetings, talking in huddled voices, sharing laughs and smiles. And when it was time for them all to leave, they left together as they lived in the same part of the city, a few streets from each other.

Courfeyrac joked about their leader would not be a virgin for much longer.

That predicament would prove to be true.


Bonhomme stared at Enjolras. He did it a lot. He shared that with Grantaire, who's eyes never left their young leader.

Grantaire did not like the way Bonhomme stared at him. He knew it was out of jealousy he disliked it. He did not like the man and in the beginning made fun of him in a cruel manner. It was wrong of him to do so, he told himself. Jealousy it was. The man was everything he was not, and he had managed to gain the trust and friendship of the man he loved with all of his being, his Apollo, who had been his whole world for so long.

He stopped with the crude remarks and the awful jokes as he could not stand the way Enjolras frowned and took him in defence. And Bonhomme made him happy, which was more than Grantaire had ever done.

Bonhomme stared at Enjolras. Maybe in a manner that was to be considerer abnormal, in a way that would make someone who payed attention wonder, maybe ever fear, what was hidden inside the mind of his.

Grantaire payed attention, and he did wonder. But he also told himself that it was jealousy and drank ever more to drown the uneasy feeling in his gut whenever the two of them, Bonhomme and Enjolras, left the café together.

Later, Grantaire would regret not listening to his instincts.