The poet was quietly humming to himself, his slender fingers wrapping around the flower stems quickly. The sun was shining down on him and gave his hair an unnatural shine. Jehan had a smile on his lips and his bright eyes flickered over to where the first half of his flower crown was laying in the grass. He was out in the small garden in front of the apartment he shared with Joly and Enjolras. Flowerpots were dotted around the crammed space and he had planted tulips and roses next to the large tree that stood in the corner of the yard. This was his little private escape, here he lay on his belly and read book after book, scribbled verses into notebooks with the sloppy handwriting that was his, and dreamed his free days away.

But today, since autumn was nearing and he didn't want his precious flowers to go to waste, he had started to make a flower crown. Jehan hadn't yet decided if he was making it for himself or for one of his friends, so he settled for using every color possible.

"Jehan!" He suddenly heard his name being called and his head shot up immediately. He would recognize that voice everywhere. A brighter smile than before lit up his gentle features.
"Joly!" he replied and raised his hand to wave at the man that was now crossing the garden.
That turned out to be a mistake, because all of a sudden the poet felt a sharp and stinging pain shooting through his palm. The young man flinched and pulled his hand to his chest. Upon examining it more closely, he saw the cut that was at least a few inches long. It wasn't too deep, but there was a thick line of blood running down his wrist and dripping onto the ground below him. Not even a second later, Joly was by his side and grabbed his arm in a fanatic manner.

"Jehan? What's wrong?" It took him only a second to see the blood and before Jehan even had the time to think of a reply Joly was already dragging him towards the house. Once they reached the steps, Joly gently pushed him down, a worried frown evident on his face.
"Stay here! And don't die!" he ordered before dashing up the stairs to their apartment.

Jehan looked down at his hand, which now was lying in his lap. Somehow, he was fascinated by the crimson line running along his wrist and the little droplets of red on his pants.

On his way down, taking three steps at a time, Joly almost knocked Jehan over on accident. "Everything is gonna be fine!" he kept repeating, probably more to calm down himself rather than to sooth the poet.

Jehan offered a gentle smile as the medical student crouched down in front of him and took the poets hand in his own. He worked quickly, his fingers as skilled as Jehans were when braiding his hair. He poured some disinfectant on a cotton ball and lightly tapped it on the cut. Jehan winced quietly and Joly shot him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry." He said. "You won't need stitches, so I'll just bandage your hand, alright?" His voice was gentle and calm, but Jehan could tell that he was worried about him.

The look in Jolys eyes as he wrapped a white bandage around his injured hand made his heart leap in his chest. As Joly skillfully fastened his work with a band aid, he looked up at Jehan. With gentle fingers he pulled the poets hand towards him and placed a gentle kiss on the skin that wasn't covered. He held it between his palms a little longer and said "See, all better now!

Jehan smiled down at him, his cheeks reddened by a deep blush. Suddenly, Joly's expression got more serious. "You need to be careful with that knife, J. I don't want you to get hurt again! What were you doing anyways?"

"I was making you a flower crown…" Jehan blurted out, surprised by his own words. A few minutes ago, he hadn't even known if he wasn't making the crown for himself. Of course deep down his answer made sense to him, seeing how tingly and sweaty his palms got every time he was around the young medic.

The poet didn't notice that Joly had stood up and now had his hand extended to help him up. He quickly grabbed it and stood on his shaky legs within the blink of an eye. His face must have been rather confused, because Joly set to explain.

"Well, someone needs to finish this crown, right?!"

Jehan nodded happily and motioned to the flowers he had collected on the grass. Without a second thought, Joly let himself fall into the grass and pulled the poet into his lap. With their legs tangled together, Jehan quietly started explaining the process of flower crown making to the other student, a deep blush covering his cheeks.

An hour of giggling, nudging and countless times Joly sighing in frustration, the crown was finished. Jehan gently wrapped his uninjured fingers around the soft petals and perky stems as he examined it closely. "It's beautiful…" he whispered with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. After swallowing his doubts, he carefully placed the flower crown on Jolys head.

"You're the flower king!" he exclaimed happily.

"If I'm the king, then you're my knight in shining armor!" was all Joly said before he leant forward and crashed his lips down on Jehans.