"So I'll be your personal tutor. You can probably tell I'm more of a Politics man than History or Philosophy, but I know enough. What exactly are you planning to do with your degree?"

"I haven't decided yet," Enjolras replied, studying his new professor. His age was impossible to guess but his eyes were friendly enough. "But I may go into Politics. I've always been interested in that, Professor."

"Call me Lamarque." He smiled at Enjolras. "Any help you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you sir- I mean, Lamarque." Enjolras gave a small smile in return.

"Now I'm sure you'll want to have free what is left of your day, and I have others to talk to as well, so I won't keep you any longer. I'll see you in lectures next week."

Standing, Enjolras grabbed his bag and bid his professor goodbye, leaving the building and stopping only to swear loudly at the rain which had started during his short meeting. Sighing, he hunched up and started to hurry towards the nearest building he recognised - the cafe they'd been in the previous night.

"Let me guess, another person who forgot their coat," Combeferre said without looking up from his book as Enjolras dropped his bag onto an empty chair with a thud.

"Who else? Ah, Courfeyrac." His question was answered as their friend flopped down in the chair Enjolras had been about to sit in, a towel wrapped round his shoulders. "Where did you get that from?"

"Barmaid. She's kinda cute," he grinned.

"You'll catch pneumonia if you don't wear a coat," Combeferre lectured idly.

"It was sunny half an hour ago!" Courfeyrac protested, Enjolras shrugging when Combeferre looked up at him.

"He's got a point," he called over his shoulder, heading for the counter. "Hi," he greeted the waitress.

"Let me guess, Courfeyrac suggested you could get a towel from here," she smirked, eyes flicking up to his mop of wet curls.

"...Yeah," he admitted, pushing his fringe back as it started to drip.

"Give me a sec." Disappearing, she was back moments later, offering him a bright red hand towel. "You look like you could use a hot drink as well."

"Tea please."

"You go sit down, I'll fetch it over."

"Thanks." Joining Combeferre and Courfeyrac again, he ignored Courfeyrac as he started to ask what he thought about the waitress, instead turning to Combeferre and glancing at his book. "Your tutor give you that? It's not one I recognise."

"He said it's the first thing we would be studying, so I could read it before lectures start if I wanted. What's your's like?"

"Friendly. We almost set off on a political debate until he remembered he had other students to meet today. I think I could grow to like him as a teacher." Enjolras fell silent for a moment. "I thought I saw him again," he said softly, so quiet that Combeferre wasn't sure at first that he'd heard him right. "When I was on my way there."

"Forget him," he said firmly, putting the book down for the first time since he'd been given it. "He's not worth your time, Enjolras." He lowered his voice so Courfeyrac wouldn't hear. "I heard you last night. I thought the dreams had stopped."

"They had." Enjolras shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"Like I said, forget him. Or at least try to." Combeferre reached over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll help, I promise."

"I know. Thank you."

"Just... try and not think about him too much." Combeferre went back to his book as the waitress brought Enjolras's tea, knowing his friend needed time to relax. Courfeyrac instantly started flirting and joking with her, letting Enjolras sink back into his chair, wrapping his fingers round his mug as he smiled slightly at his friend's antics, something which had never changed.


"Remind me why we agreed to this?" Combeferre asked, an amused glint in his eye as he saw how awkward Enjolras looked in the club.

"Because we're idiots," Enjolras growled, scouring the room with his eyes for Courfeyrac. "Where has that fool gone?"

"Over there, flirting with a girl from the year above us."

"Does he know she's in the year above us?"

"Nope." Enjolras cracked and smirked, waiting for the actions he knew were going to come. When she finally slapped him, the pair laughed quietly and high fived.

"And now I know you're both kids."

Spinning, they turned to face Grantaire, who had arms crossed and a grin on his face.

"Hey 'Taire," Combeferre greeted him, turning back to look for Courfeyrac again.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," Enjolras commented.

"The same could be said for you. Are you even old enough to be legally allowed in here?"

"No. Courfeyrac showed up at my house this afternoon with false IDs - I don't even want to know how he got pictures for that - and proceeded to plee with us to accompany him here so he didn't look like any more of a sad loser than he already does."

"Hence why you look like you'd rather be being burnt alive than being in here."

"Why are you even here? I didn't think you drank."

"I don't. My sister was coming, and I don't trust her to not get drunk."

"So you're on guard duty. That's thoughtful of you."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Grantaire joked before peering round Enjolras to look at the bar and sighing. "Somehow I don't think I'll get a coffee from here."

"Nope, though they do serve good water." Grantaire laughed and leant on a railing, eyes searching the room slowly, relaxing visibly when he caught sight of his sister. Suddenly, he straightened and frowned. "Wait a minute, isn't that Courf...?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Stop hitting on my sister you bastard!"


"Stop hitting on my sister you bastard!"

"Seriously Gavroche, I'm sixteen!" the waitress protested, while Courferac sighed and muttered "Why do I always seem to hear those words? Hold on, you're sixteen!?"

"Cradle robber," Combeferre murmured, not looking up, while Enjolras was jolted back to the present by the noise and focused on the kid who'd joined them. He couldn't be any older than eleven and was glaring up at Courfeyrac.

"Please ignore my brother," the waitress said quickly, shooing him away. "He should be at school."

"So should you," Enjolras said quietly, trying to keep his voice and expression none judging.

"I finished in summer," she explained.

"But still," Courfeyrac groaned. "Sixteen!"

"Maybe that'll teach you to stop hitting on random strangers," Combeferre suggested, a slight smirk showing.

"I'd best be getting back to work," the waitress muttered quickly when her boss shouted over at her, escaping before any more references could be made to her age.

"Okay then boys, what are our plans for tonight?" Courfeyrac inquired, grinning at his friends.

"Sleep," Combeferre replied.

"Sounds good," Enjolras agreed.

"Dear god tell me not together." They glared at Courfeyrac together and he shrugged apologetically. "Will you at least join me for one drink first, or do I need to start asking the students in my flat?"

"About time you got to know your neighbours," Enjolras smirked.

"Have you?" Courfeyrac retorted. The only reply he got was the blonde student pointing at his best friend, and he sighed again. "Fiiine."


Combeferre stood in the doorway to the kitchen/dining room/lounge for a few minutes before speaking, watching Enjolras cooking what looked like lasagne.

"Not often you cook," he commented finally, entering the room and seating himself at the table, looking over at his friend.

"I wanted a change," Enjolras replied, focusing entirely on what he was doing. "If I manage not to poison us, then I'll take that as a bonus."

"Damn it, Enjolras, what exactly were you expecting him to say?" Combeferre exploded finally, after another few minutes of silence. "'I'm so sorry for just ditching you like that, let's be best friends again?' It was never going to happen!"

"Why the hell are you bringing this up now?" Enjolras shot back.

"Because you're doing just what you did after he first left - changing everything about your routine and life so you can try and pretend he didn't exist. He used to love cooking for all of us, so you're making sure you cook so you can't be reminded of him if someone else makes your food. He got you addicted to coffee, so you moved onto drinking tea instead. He helped you with all your Classics work, so you almost dropped the subject. Need I give more examples?"

"This is stupid," Enjolras grumbled, turning his back on Combeferre and trying to ignore him. "I'm not doing that, I'm just hungry and you were busy."

"Right. I'm not an idiot, Enjolras."

"You know what, on second thoughts I think I will go out with Courfeyrac tonight," Enjolras decided suddenly, wanting nothing more than to get away from Combeferre. "You can finish cooking if you want." Turning, he refused to look over at him and instead stalked into his room, leaving Combeferre to groan and rest his head in his hands.

"I'm an idiot," he mumbled, before standing and turning cooker off. He knew Enjolras well enough to know that he wasn't going to listen to Combeferre now, not even to an apology or attempt at making peace. He still hesitated by his friend's door though, before shaking his head silently and making his way into his own room.


"Enjolras! Come meet the guys from my floor!" Enjolras had barely walked into the bar when Courfeyrac was dragging him across the room. "This is Joly, the medical student I was telling you about yesterday. Would you believe it, turns out it is the same guy as Combeferre is working with!"

"How much have you had to drink?" Enjolras asked dryly, before turning his attention to the people Courfeyrac was trying to introduce. The group either smiled or waved at him, and a few offered him drinks.

"I'm Joly," the first one said, "seeing as Courfeyrac failed to say which of us he was refering to. So you know Combeferre?"

"Have done my entire life. And I'm Enjolras, just in case you missed that idiot yelling it loudly." Everyone laughed, and the man next to Joly leant forwards.

"Laigle, but buy me a drink and I'll let you call me Bossuet."

"Post grad?" Bossuet nodded. "I thought so, I recognise your textbook. My cousin used to study Business and Management as well. How come you're with a bunch of undergrads?"

"I've known Joly since high school, we used to live next to each other. He came to live in my flat when he started college, as it was far closer than his old place." Bossuet shrugged. "Most of my old friends moved away when they finished their courses, and Joly was starting at Uni, so when he invited me to join him and his friends for the night, I accepted."

"Well, nice to meet you."

"You too."

"I'm Bahorel," someone suddenly announced from behind Enjolras, clapping him on the back. "Third year who somehow managed to get myself into halls of residence for a third year." Enjolras turned to see a face, which was grinning widely at him. "I'm just lucky like that."

"He also gets into a remarkable number of fights for a Geography student, so make sure you're never with him if he's getting drunk," the final student laughed. "I'm Feuilly, by the way. Studying Automotive Systems Engineering and Polish. I also work with a local garage, so if you have any troubles with your car, just gimme a call."

"He's our plumber and electrician as well," Joly added. "That's what his Uncle did, so he knows enough to fix whatever goes wrong."

"Sounds like you're a handy man to have around," Enjolras smiled, shaking the hand Feuilly offered. "And you're all staying in the same flat as Courfeyrac? You poor souls."

"Well, all bar Bussuet. He has a small flat he's renting, lucky begger."

"Lucky? That means cooking for myself!"

As they all laughed and joked, Enjolras found himself enjoying their company and ever, to his own surprise, agreed to meet with them again the next night. As they ordered the next batch of drinks, Courfeyrac excused himself, drunkenly stumbling out onto the street for a breath of fresh air. Leaning against the alley wall, he breathed deeply, feeling his growing headache start to ease slightly. Only moments later he saw the heap by the opposite wall, the bundle of clothing that looked like it was moving slightly. Staggering over to investigate, Courfeyrac groaned as he recognised the drunkard who had collapsed by the back door of the opposite pub.

"Seriously Grantaire?" Bending, Courfeyrac groaned again as he struggled to drag the older student upright. "I am hardly in a fit state myself tonight." Pulling one arm over his shoulders, he set off towards the flat he'd left the man at the night before. "Maybe you should just stop drinking," he continued, desperate for anything to fill the silence. "It can't be healthy, and you may get yourself home some nights then. Or you could call your flatmates before it got too late and warn them you're going to need picking up. I'm helping you again now, but that's it. I have my own life to lead, I can't keep on carrying you home every night. Though it would improve my muscles, you weigh twice as much as you look." Stopping for a moment, Courfeyrac leant Grantaire against a wall while he caught his breath, a worried look crossing his face at how the other man's head flopped to the side. Carrying on again, he walked as fast as he could manage, only stopping again when he reached the flat door. Seating Grantaire against the wall, he banged on the door and walked away, relaxing when he heard the door open behind him. Pulling out his phone, he started to reply to all the texts his new friends had sent, using the excuse of a pretty girl as his reason for suddenly vanishing and not returning. Sighing, he set off back towards his halls, suddenly feeling exhausted.