Disclaimer: Kanashimi: *looks up at the sky* I had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with this fanfic!!!! Okay, now that's over, Korin owns nothing...

And Every Dream You Ever Had

Everything crumbles. It is agony.

I cannot write. I sit here, day after day, one hand supporting my head, and the other poised over a new crisp clear piece of yellow parchment, holding a quill that is entirely full of black ink because none of it has been used. The words I long to write, but never to give to you, they will not come to me.

If a man has perfect happiness, it would be the greatest crime to take it from him. I could never do so. Not in my nature to begin with, I could not destroy what he has, though it kills me. Besides, I only saw you once, even if that once was enough to make me love you forever.

It *is* killing me. It is ending me. I have not even the power to express my loss and my anguish through my words, I am that crippled. I thought of leaving Enjolras' meeting today to see if I could catch a glimpse of you, but I had not the strength.

I almost believe now that the barricades will be welcome, for I cannot keep on this way at all. The realization that you belong to someone else, that he will make you happy, that there is no way to change this and that even if I could, I would not; all this is splitting my heart, tearing it to pieces and bloodying the ground upon which his feet and yours tread.

Oh, but mon dieu, if only I could write that, if I could let this unending-black ink spread into the paper, curl into words that would tell you so, then I would have a hope of being free. If I could, I would write this, and give it to him to give you. But I also would say that having written, I was determined to try and live again, just that I must first tell you of my love. Then it would be all right.

But my words will not come. They are trapped inside me, staining themselves with my blood. I will never have them, never be able to give them. My paper shall remain always blank, for there is no way to express, to tell, of this murdering love. I am robbed of my poetry.

Mam'selle Cosette, you tear me down, every time I hear Pontmercy speak of you in that way, and I know you are his. I am lost, and I drown in my own tears of grief.

Alone in my own thoughts, my own sorrows, I cannot do anything more than look out the window, and wish I had my words. Through that window, I can see many young women, but none to match your beauty and your perfection. My life, my heart, my whole self, is yours, and yet I am by myself, with nothing for comfort, only the knowledge that you, at least, will be happy...

~One Week Later~

There are not enough sheets of parchment in the world! Nor enough ink, either!

Mon dieu, I have never been as happy, or as full of poetry. I cannot stop writing, for there is so much to write to you. My joy at realizing you love me is thrilling, and raises me in ecstasy above my fellow man. There are too few ways to say I love you as well, far, far too few.

Mam'selle, mon Angelique, you are just that, an angel. No woman in the world can compare with you. My life, my heart, my whole self, is yours.

Owari ~ End