/notes/
Grantaire hadn't been expecting the group studying sessions to begin quite so soon. At the very least, he'd been expecting to have some time to prepare so that he could arrange his class materials into some semblance of order. But he hadn't counted on the strength of Joly's enthusiasm. Exactly two days after the Kerckhoff meeting, he found himself in Cosette's dorm, surrounded by the entire ABC and ready to learn some neuroscience. Combeferre, as the person with the soonest exam, had been elected to lead off in the teaching role. He seemed a little disappointed not to be learning anything new right off, but any hesitation he might have had quickly faded when he brought out the three-inch-thick binder of paperwork.
"Okay guys," he said happily, "I have all my notes here, so we can look at some of this stuff. It's super interesting, and I think you'll like it. So! Where do you want to start?"
Courfeyrac raised his hand. "What's a neuron?"
"What's a neuron?"
"It's in the brain, right?"
Combeferre looked like he'd been personally betrayed. "It's in the– yes, Courf, it's in the brain. It's a cell that processes and transmits information, using chemical or electrical signals. Actually, it's cool, the– "
"Wait." Bahorel sat up a little straighter. "Did you say electric?"
"Yeah, they're all electrically excitable, actually." Combeferre looked a little more cheerful now. "They maintain voltage gradients across their membranes by means of electrically-driven ion pumps combined with ion channels, which can be voltage-dependent and are altered by changes in the cross-membrane voltage. It's pretty awesome!"
"Oh." Bahorel pondered for a second. "I dunno what that means."
"It means that when Whitman said he sang the body electric, he was being serious," commented Jehan dreamily. "Isn't that lovely?"
Combeferre was determined not to be derailed. "Neurons are made up several parts," he said. "There's the cell body, which people call a soma, dendrites, and an axon. Some neurons don't have all of these, but mostly, this is the basic structure." He took out a piece of paper and began to sketch rapidly. "See, the cell body is just a small part of the whole. Dendrites come out of it and stretch and branch, sort of like tree roots. There can be a lot of them, but just one axon, and the axon has to come from one special place. Signals come from the axon of one neuron, and travel through the dendrites of other neurons, and that's how information is passed."
"Like telephone," commented Bossuet.
"Wait." Courfeyrac tapped on the paper. "So you're saying these neurons are all connected?"
"Oh, definitely. See, neurons can connect to each other to form neural networks. These networks are connected by the dendrites and axons from different neurons, and they make a web where information can flow around and be processed. It's a very complex process, and there are lots of layers, but we're starting to use the concept to help us with technology. Computers can sort of use artificial neural networks now, and it's really cool!"
"That's artificial intelligence, isn't it?" asked Cosette. "I thought research in the specific area of AI and artificial neural networks wasn't developing very well."
Combeferre opened his mouth, probably to cite a specific article concerning this claim, but Joly interrupted him. "It'll develop, just you wait. We're going to be overrun soon."
"You sound happy about that," said Musichetta. "Why do you sound happy about that?"
"Because it's awesome!"
"It's not going to happen, though," spoke up Enjolras. "I really don't think machines can evolve faster than people."
Grantaire thought it was high time he joined the discussion. After all, anything having to do with sentient robots was intrinsically worth talking about. "Do you really think that, sunshine?" he asked, nudging him softly. "People are stagnant, but machines– they can change in a heartbeat. It's implausibly naive to think that they'll never outstrip us."
"People aren't stagnant," argued Enjolras, looking at him with big, serious eyes. "We change and grow all the time! Just because we don't evolve physically doesn't mean that we're not getting better internally. We can't change our operating systems, but we can change our internal software!"
"Do you have any idea how computers work?" inquired Floréal. "Like, at all?"
Enjolras blinked at her innocently. "Not really, no."
"His point still stands, though," said Feuilly. "I mean, machines can only evolve because we design them to."
"Yeah!" Enjolras smiled dazzlingly at him before turning back to Grantaire. "If we can create machines that get better and better all the time, can't we create a society that gets better and better all the time?"
"Hmm." Grantaire had to admire his optimism, but he was still wrong. "Now it sounds like you're conflating moral goodness with objective progress. We could be the best, nicest society in existence– which won't happen, by the way, but that's another discussion for another time– but machines could still take us over because they're smarter. They could have minds."
"But not like human minds!"
"No, and that's the point, isn't it? Humans are flawed, fundamentally flawed. I can't believe we'd ever rise above our hubris and pettiness to have governance even over ourselves, and machines, with their non-human minds could come in and seize control. It would be easy."
"No, I don't accept that." Enjolras shook his head vehemently. "People aren't as hopeless as you think. Machines are pretty cool, but I have faith in humanity. Are you banking off the idea of original sin or something? I refuse to believe that we're all doomed from the start and some random machine with a nice CPU could come in and take over because we're all too busy fighting ourselves to stop it. That's such a defeatist attitude!"
Grantaire made a face at him. "Defeatism is what I'm best at, darling."
"But why?" Enjolras seized his hand and looked up at him with equal parts distress and fervor. "Why don't you believe that things could be good?"
That really cut to the heart of the matter, didn't it? Grantaire wasn't sure what to say. It was true that they'd had variants on this discussion before, but even with that precedent in mind, it was hard to think of a response, especially with Enjolras holding his hand and staring up at him with those beautiful eyes. He settled on a half-deprecating chuckle and a shrug. "It's not that I don't believe it, I just don't think it's feasible."
Enjolras frowned. "Now you're splitting hairs."
"I would never."
"Um, guys?" Joly cleared his throat apologetically, and both Grantaire and Enjolras jumped. "Sorry to interrupt you, but can we get back to our study session?"
"Oh." Truth to be told, Grantaire had practically forgotten that there was supposed to be a study session going on. "Right, of course. Sorry."
"It's okay." Combeferre sighed long-sufferingly, probably used to such interruptions after sharing an apartment with Enjolras. "So, neuroscience! What else do you guys want to know?"
/
The study group broke up a few hours later. Feuilly was beginning to nod off in the middle of his sentences and Jehan had outright fallen asleep on Bahorel's lap, so Cosette politely but firmly ordered everyone to go home and get some rest.
"Especially you, Enj," she said. "I know for a fact you pulled two all-nighters already this week."
"That's not so bad," protested Enjolras, but Cosette shook her finger at him.
"Shush, none of your silliness now. 'Ferre, you make sure he goes to sleep, okay?"
Combeferre saluted to her. "Yes ma'am."
"Okay, good." She turned to give Eponine a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
It was hard to tell, but Eponine looked like she might be blushing. "Yeah sure," she mumbled. "Thanks for having us."
"Thanks for coming." Cosette held her by the shoulders and looked at her seriously. "You take care, okay?"
Now Eponine was definitely blushing. "R-right, yeah. Uh, see ya later, then. R, do you wanna go…?"
"Totally." Grantaire wasn't sure where she wanted to go, but knowing her, it was probably somewhere with large amounts of alcohol, and that wasn't something he ever liked to pass up. "See ya, Cosette!"
"Bye-bye! Stay safe!"
"She's literally the sweetest person I've met in my entire life," Eponine said as they made their way down the hall. "Actual marshmallow princess."
Grantaire was inclined to agree with this. He'd never met anyone so completely live-action Disney before. "I'm surprised she doesn't have birds flying around her room and singing," he said. "It would fit the atmosphere."
Eponine rolled her eyes, but she couldn't seem to keep the smile off her face. "All she needs is a tiara, and she'd be all set."
"Oh yeah!" Grantaire stopped walking for a second. "Did she say you guys are meeting up tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Well, so is it like a meeting up kind of meeting up? Or just like a 'meeting up' kind of meeting up?"
"Second one."
"That's– well, no, that's okay actually, you can work with that. What are you guys doing?"
Eponine rolled her eyes again. "There's not going to be any 'working with that,' okay? It's literally nothing. Like, she just wants to meet up and get coffee and talk or something."
Grantaire stared at her incredulously. "You do realize that's like the definition of…?"
"It's so not."
"Yeah, sure. So what are you going to talk about with her? Did she say?"
"Not really." Eponine paused to check her phone. "So anyway I guess that bar where 'Sous works is still open, do you wanna go there?"
"Isn't that the place that has 4Loko cocktail hour?"
"Yeah."
"Then, yeah. Let's go."
Not so long after, Eponine and Grantaire were happily situated at one of Claquesous's very grimy tables, well on their way to getting completely wasted. Claquesous's drinks weren't very good, or probably very acceptable according to FDA standards, but they were certainly cheap, and Grantaire wasn't complaining. He was probably going to be extremely hungover tomorrow, but that's what afternoon lectures were for, and besides, wasn't living in the moment an integral part of self-actualization? His philosophy professors would probably concur with that.
Eponine knocked back an impressively large shot of something vaguely fluorescent, then banged her glass down on the table and looked at him purposefully.
"Be level with me, man," she said. "When's the last time you had a real relationship?"
"The fuck, 'Ponine? Where'd that come from?"
"Just answer the damn question."
"Uh, okay." Grantaire tried to think. It hadn't been this year, certainly, and he didn't think it had been last year either. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn't properly dated anyone since his first year of college. "I guess it was Annie," he said.
"Annie Hernandez?" Eponine gave him an incredulous look. "That was like two years ago, man! You're in a serious dry spell."
Grantaire shrugged. "What can I say? It's hard to date when you're only interested in one person."
"What, so you've been saving yourself for Enjolras pretty much ever since you met him? Weak, man. Really weak."
"I didn't say it was Enjolras," protested Grantaire feebly. Eponine looked unimpressed.
"Yeah, sure. Anyway, how did you know you liked him? And when?"
Grantaire decided to answer the second question first. "Pretty soon after I met him. We were walking together, and all of a sudden he looks up at me and goes, 'I feel so comfortable with you, even though I don't know you that well, isn't that weird? This hardly ever happens; you must be really special!' Like, who says that, right? Anyway, that's when I knew the little dork had me good."
"Aww. Gay." Eponine crinkled her nose. "What'd it feel like, though? How did you know?"
Grantaire pointed warningly at her. "Don't laugh."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"I guess it was like everything sort of came into focus. Like, I don't wear glasses, so I don't know how that would be, but people always say they can suddenly see the leaves on the trees and shit, and that's kind of what it was like. Everything got so much brighter and clearer, and I knew it wasn't a change in the world, so it had to be him. And then I realized that I would get excited to talk to him, even about really mundane stuff, and I sorta miss him when he's not there. And just being around him makes everything better, like he's my little ray of sunshine, except he's also everyone else's sunshine, but you know what I mean, right? And it's kind of frustrating, because I love being his friend, and of course I'm content with that, but he's so attractive, and I just wanna grab him and pin him up against a wall and kiss the shit out of him. Ya get me?"
"I get you." Eponine looked thoughtful. "So it's both hella cool and hella painful?"
"Basically."
"You're lucky. For most people, it's just hella painful." Grantaire was going to ask her what she meant by that, but she went on. "Did you ever worry that he was straight?"
"This is Enjolras we're talking about, right?"
Eponine nodded. "Fair point." She paused to down another shot before continuing. "It's just, I don't know, romance is stupid. Why am I focusing on this when there's literally everything else?"
"I mean, it's not like you can help it."
"I guess." Eponine shook her head. "I feel so weird about it. Do I even like her? It's like you said, I wanna be her friend, but I also wanna be, like… not her friend."
"So you wanna hook up with her?"
"No!" Eponine paused. "Well, yes. But not just that. I wanna buy her flowers and bring her coffee and go on stupid dates and wake up looking at her stupid cute face every morning and talk about poetry while we cuddle on the couch, and I dunno, I think I'm fucked."
Grantaire nodded his affirmation. "You're fucked."
"I guess that makes two of us, then." Eponine raised her now-empty glass. "Cheers?"
"Cheers."
/
"Have you talked to Jehan lately?"
Grantaire pulled out one of his earphones and turned to see who was talking to him. As far as he knew, none of his friends had classes in the art building, but somehow, here were Cosette and Bahorel, seated on the bench outside his studio looking perfectly at ease. Bahorel had even found a sketchbook somewhere, and was drawing what appeared to be an alien punching the director of the FBI (all of which was only apparent because it was labelled as such). Cosette jumped to her feet and repeated the question.
"Have you talked to Jehan? Or, like seen them at all?"
"Huh." Grantaire considered this. "Not recently. Why?"
"Well– "
"You're done with class now, right?" interrupted Bahorel. "We've been sitting here forever, and I need coffee. Let's go to Northern Lights and talk about it there."
"How long is forever?" Grantaire wanted to know. "Were you guys just sitting here waiting for me to get out of class, or…?"
"Duh, we didn't know when your lecture ended. Now are we going or what?"
"I guess." Grantaire put away his earphones and started towards the door, Cosette and Bahorel right behind him. He still had some questions as to what they were doing there, but he figured they would clear it all up as soon as they all got outside. Neither of them was particularly good at being mysterious. Sure enough, as soon as they got inside the cafe, Cosette started talking while Bahorel went to get a drink.
"So I'm living with Jehan now, right? And it's honestly really great, like they're so sweet and thoughtful and clean, oh my gosh. They change their sheets every two days, and their pillowcase every day. Once I came back, and they were dust-rolling my comforter because they didn't want me to have to deal with the dust bunnies, which, I swear is practically Joly levels of thoughtful. They don't cause any trouble, and it's almost like I don't have another person in there at all. And that's where the problem starts."
"What problem?"
"Okay, so I might be overreacting," began Cosette slowly.
"She's not." Bahorel set his cup on the table and sat down. "Trust me, you'll think the same."
"Tell me."
Cosette took a deep breath. "Well, okay, it's like this. So they've always been introverted, and I totally respect that, but when they're not out at class, they're curled up in bed, like they never go out, and I don't mind that, because they're basically a mouse, and I sometimes forget they're even in there. But it's kind of worrisome, because they cry when they think I can't hear, and they have panic attacks, and they don't eat, and they don't sleep, and it's just bad. So I asked them about it, and they freakin' apologized for it. Like, the poor thing, I'm not trying to make trouble, you know? So I let it go for a bit. But then recently I asked them why they didn't go out much, and they got all wide-eyed, you know how they do, and squeaked out an apology and ran out of the room. And now they stay out of the room all the time, probably trying to give me my privacy, which is totally not what I wanted, you know? I was just worried, but now I think they're convinced that I want to kick them out. And I could just be overreacting, and I really hope I am, but when you think about how they've been withdrawing lately, it kind of fits, doesn't it?"
"Wow." Grantaire had to think about this for a second. "But you haven't discussed this with them, though?"
"I haven't had the chance."
"They really have been withdrawing," added Bahorel. "They give excuses half the time we hang out, and when they do show up, they just cling to Feuilly."
"That's true, now that you mention it," said Grantaire. "They didn't even join in the discussion when we were comparing Neruda to experimental noise music."
"Right? I thought for sure that would offend them enough to make them talk."
"Okay, maybe I shouldn't share this," said Cosette. "But I feel like it might be important."
Bahorel leaned forward conspiratorially, and Grantaire did the same. "No, tell us."
"So, I hope it's not a huge invasion of privacy," Cosette said seriously. "But one time I looked over while they were changing, and they're so painfully thin, like they look seriously sick. And they have these marks all over, like scars, you know? Except a lot of them seemed really fresh. I feel like that's why they wear those big hideous sweaters all the time. They didn't know I saw, so I didn't say anything, but it's like, what am I supposed to think?"
"Fuck." Bahorel curled his hands into fists. "Fuck. You're sure?"
"Unfortunately."
"Okay." Bahorel stood up, looking dangerously calm. "Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Talk to Jehan, of course. We have to get to the bottom of this."
"No, wait." Grantaire stood up too, and moved to get in Bahorel's way. "Think about this for a second. They're already having a hard time, and if we all descended on them out of the blue like this, they'd be terrified. Let's not confront them, okay?"
Bahorel stood still for a second, then slowly sat down. "You're right," he muttered. "I'm just– shit, I'm so worried."
"I am too." Cosette's usually peaceful features were twisted up into a frown. "Do you think it would help if we talked to Feuilly? He and Jehan are so close, I'm sure if someone knows anything, it would be him."
"That's a great idea!" Bahorel jumped to his feet again. "Come on, let's go! His shift ends in about fifteen minutes, so if we hurry, we can get him as soon as he gets out."
"Okay!" Cosette seized Bahorel's and Grantaire's hands and took off walking speedily. "No time to waste. It's our quest. Let's go!"
They caught Feuilly coming out of Ackerman just as his shift ended. He looked exhausted, and had forgotten to take off his name tag, but he smiled and waved cheerfully as soon as he caught sight of them.
"Hi guys!" he called. "Did you just get out of class?"
"No, actually we were looking for you," said Cosette.
"We need to talk to you," added Bahorel. He probably didn't mean to sound ominous, but Feuilly's smile dimmed a bit anyway.
"Of course, what's up?"
"It's about Jehan," said Cosette seriously, somehow sounding even more portentous than Bahorel had. Feuilly was immediately all concern.
"What's the matter? Where is she? Is she okay?"
"They're fine. It's not urgent." Bahorel paused. "Well okay, it's kind of urgent. But like, they're not in any immediate danger. That I know of." Feuilly looked, if possible, even more concerned.
"What's going on, guys?"
Grantaire and Bahorel looked at Cosette. She scratched her chin awkwardly. "Uh, okay. So here's what I was thinking…" She went on to outline everything she'd discussed with Bahorel and Grantaire, adding a little more detail of what life was like with Jehan as a roommate. By the time she'd finished, Feuilly was looking at her with unmixed alarm.
"Oh my god, the poor little thing. I didn't know it was that bad. We have to do something, you guys!"
Cosette nodded. "There's no way we can let this go on."
"Do you know anything else about their situation?" asked Bahorel. "I mean, you guys talk all the time, they probably told you something, right?"
"Well, I do know that she's having a harder time than usual right now, and everything's really stressful. I just didn't know the extent of it all. She tries to hide her problems, even from me."
"From me too," spoke up Cosette. "I've walked in on them crying before and asked what's wrong, and they always try to distract me or make a joke or something. I haven't wanted to push, but maybe I should?"
"Don't push," said Feuilly. "But don't just let it go either. Ask her what's wrong, and make sure to reassure her that it's okay to talk about herself. If you're gentle and non-threatening, you probably won't scare her away."
Cosette nodded. "Okay, I can do that."
"Are you going to talk to them too?" asked Grantaire. "I feel like they would respond more thoroughly to you."
"I will. But in the meantime, I think the most important thing is for all of us to let her know that we love her and are willing to do whatever we can to help. I remember being in that position, and it's really not very fun."
"Wait, you remember…?" Bahorel grasped Feuilly by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "Bro, are you struggling? Tell me."
"I'm not struggling," said Feuilly. "At least, not any more than anyone else."
"That's not any kind of answer!"
Feuilly looked uncomfortable. "I think we should focus on Jehan right now, not on me."
Bahorel didn't look convinced, and Grantaire suspected that this conversation wasn't anywhere near done. Jehan might be the priority now, but Feuilly was always front and center in Bahorel's mind. There was no way he was going to let this go easily. For now, though, he merely scooped Feuilly up into his arms, bridal-style, and gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek.
"I got you, okay?"
"Okay, dude."
"I'ma carry you up the hill, bro. Ya hear me?"
"I hear ya. Wait… No, you really don't have to do that."
"I'ma do it." Bahorel grinned at Grantaire and Cosette. "I bet I can still beat you slow-ass punks."
Cosette flexed. "Oh, you're so on."
"I'm not racing you guys," said Grantaire, but no one seemed to hear him. Bahorel rolled his neck to crack it, and Cosette did a deep knee bend. Feuilly tried to look tolerantly amused, but it was clear that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
"I'll see you all at Cosette's room," said Bahorel. "Cause obviously I'm going to be the first one there."
"Keep dreaming, puddin'."
"On your mark, you three," intoned Feuilly. Grantaire rolled his eyes.
"Again, I'm not racing."
"Go!"
Cosette and Bahorel took off running. Everyone on Bruin Walk hastened to get out of their way, although one particularly persistent member of the anime club managed to stick a flier in Feuilly's hand as Bahorel zoomed past. Grantaire shook his head fondly and followed his friends at a more leisurely pace. If he'd been less tired, and less encumbered with art materials, he might have joined them, but as it was, he was happy to take his time walking back up the hill, even if it meant he had to deal with all the flier people. It was a nice afternoon for walking, and as for racing, there was always next time.
When he arrived at Cosette's room, Bahorel and Cosette were arm-wrestling, and Feuilly was perched on the love seat watching them and providing encouragement intermittently to both. Jehan, however, was nowhere in sight. Bahorel looked up to see him in the open doorway and shouted out a greeting.
"Took ya long enough!"
Cosette took this opportunity to slam his arm down. "I win!"
Bahorel yelped. Tough as he was, even he wasn't completely proof against Cosette's frightening upper-arm strength. She'd been training with her dad since she was small, and the results were enviable. Feuilly laughed at him.
"That's three for zero now. Better step up your game, man."
"Shut up, I'm trying, okay?"
"So you say."
By this time, Grantaire had sat himself down on the floor by Feuilly's feet, so at first he didn't notice that the door was opening. It was only when he heard Jehan's soft gasp of surprise that he realized that they'd returned at all.
"Oh no, I'm sorry, are you busy?" Jehan made as if to leave. "I can go."
"Obviously we're not going to kick you out of your own room," said Bahorel forcefully. Grantaire knew that this was how he showed his concern, but Jehan flinched anyway.
"O-oh, sorry."
"Why the fuck are you apologizing?"
"I- I…"
"It's okay," Feuilly interposed in a much milder voice. "Come sit, sweetie."
Jehan considered for a second, but finally they came over to kick off their shoes and curl up next to him. "Nice to see you," they mumbled, then hid their face in his shirt. Feuilly put an arm around them and stroked their hair while Cosette looked around at them all significantly.
"This is what I'm talking about," she mouthed.
Grantaire wasn't sure what to say. Jehan was struggling; this was perfectly clear, and he could definitely relate. But since he'd never discussed anything of this sort with them, he didn't know the best way to help, if he even could. On his own bad days, he often resorted to alcohol, but this was definitely not the sort of coping strategy that he wanted to impart to innocent, underage Jehan. Feuilly would kill him, and Eponine… well. He didn't even want to imagine her reaction. He was gearing up to either prompt Jehan to talk about their feelings, or to provide a distraction– he wasn't sure which– when everyone's phones sounded in unison. Bahorel pulled his out to read the message.
"It's Enjolras," he said.
Cosette stuck out her tongue. "I swear, if he's asking us all what our favorite court cases are again…"
"No, it's an ABC thing. Apparently he got us a performance?"
"Woah. No way?"
"Yeah way. He didn't say how he got it, but it's… oh."
"What?"
"It's on Friday."
Cosette cocked her head. "Isn't that the day after tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Bahorel sighed. "Man, I love him, but he's kind of a space case, ya know? This ain't the sort of thing you're supposed to spring on us."
"It's pretty impressive that he got it on such short notice, though," said Grantaire. "You have to admit, he can really get things done." He pulled out his phone to look at the text for himself, ignoring Bahorel's smirk and Cosette's "ooh, look at you defending him." Sure enough, Enjolras had texted the group a long and rambling message, telling them all that he had found a "totally cool opportunity," deviating in the middle to tell them all how necessary it was to have equal opportunity in all areas of life, and culminating with a plea for them all to tell him what they thought. It was a very Enjolras message, and Grantaire couldn't help smiling. Sometimes he could be so cute.
"Where are we supposed to perform?" asked Feuilly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "It's not another "wedding," is it?"
Grantaire groaned. "You guys are never going to let me live that down."
"It looks respectable enough," said Cosette. "Apparently it's for some fancy rich people club that meets in Powell."
Feuilly made a face. "Ew. Why?"
"Oh hey." Bahorel snapped his fingers. "Do you think they'll pay us?"
"Probably not," said Cosette. "Rich people can be so stingy."
"Aren't you a rich person too?"
"Oh yeah."
"I think we should do it," said Grantaire. "It'll be a good opportunity for us, and it'll help us get connections. Besides, even if they don't pay us upfront, maybe they'll donate to us later."
"Hey, that's true!" Bahorel clapped him on the back. "Good thinking, man!"
Feuilly looked down at Jehan, who still hadn't moved. "What do you think, hon? Do you want to do this?" Jehan didn't look up, but they mumbled something that might have been a yes.
"So are we decided then?" asked Cosette.
Bahorel pumped his fist in the air. "Hell yeah! Get good!"
"It's okay for me," said Feuilly, and Grantaire nodded his assent.
Cosette beamed. "Great! I'll tell Enj we're on board!"
She texted back, and in less than a minute, Enjolras had sent them all an emoji-filled text expressing his excitement and delight. Grantaire had to smile. He wasn't as optimistic about the situation as Enjolras was, but somehow his enthusiasm was contagious. This performance would probably be absolutely terrible, he couldn't deny that, but he thought it was a small price to pay to see Enjolras happy. As long as he and the rest of their friends were enjoying themselves, that was enough.
/*
Courfeyrac ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth down the frizz. Why had he picked last night to try that new conditioner? There was no way he could sing his best when his hair looked like this. In fact, he wasn't sure he could sing at all. Maybe it would be best if he just sat on the sidelines, so as not to embarrass the rest of the group. Enjolras and Feuilly could carry the tenor parts, right? They were talented and stuff. Sighing, he reached for his travel-sized container of mousse again, ready for one last-ditch effort. Before he could open the lid, however, the door banged open, and Enjolras came rushing in.
"Courf, why are you in here? We're singing in like five minutes!"
Courfeyrac gestured to his hair with a tragic gesture. "I can't go out there like this."
"Why not?" Enjolras, bless him, actually looked puzzled. He'd probably never had a bad hair day in his life. Courfeyrac took his hand and put it on his head.
"Do you feel this? Do you?"
"What am I feeling?"
Courfeyrac sighed. "You're useless. I look terrible, okay? My hair is a disaster. How am I supposed to go out there in front of these rich people like this?"
Enjolras patted him on the head, making what he probably thought was a sensitive and sympathetic face. "It's okay to be nervous, you know."
"I'm not nervous, my hair is a mess!"
"Aww, there there. Come on." Enjolras gave him one last pat, then seized his arm and pulled him towards the door with surprising strength, given his small frame. "We're going to miss something."
"Wait, you don't understand! I really can't!"
"Yes you can! It'll be okay. 'Ferre will tell you!"
"I don't want him to," wailed Courfeyrac. "Not unless he can fix my hair."
Not paying any heed, Enjolras continued to tow him through the library, not letting go until they'd arrived to the anteroom where all their friends were waiting. Finally, he stopped in front of Combeferre, looking proud of himself. "I found him," he said. "He was in the bathroom fixing his hair."
Combeferre looked at him, puzzled. "Why? It looks fine to me."
"Oh my god, you guys are blind!"
"He's nervous," put in Enjolras helpfully. "You should give him a pep talk."
"I'm not nervous!"
"Hey, it's okay." Combeferre grasped him by the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. "Being nervous is perfectly fine. I think we all are to some extent. All that matters is that we try our best and make a good effort, okay?"
"Huh." For some reason, Courfeyrac's distress dissipated a little. "What if they throw us out, though?"
"Then we go get drunk and make fun of them. It's not the end of the world. I mean, this wouldn't be the first time that we've been thrown out of somewhere, and it won't be the last."
"I guess that's true."
"It's totally true!" Enjolras looked entirely too happy about this. "We could probably get thrown out anywhere, if we really tried!"
"Not helping," warned Combeferre.
"Sorry."
"You're going to do great, okay? All of us will. We're going to do our best, and if they don't like it, then that's their problem. There's nothing wrong with being worried; I know this is scary, but trust me, it's going to turn out perfectly fine."
Courfeyrac took a deep breath. "Okay. We got this."
"Yes, we do."
Before Combeferre could continue, Eponine came up behind him and waved her hand in front of his face. "Guess who!"
"You know that doesn't work unless you actually cover his eyes, right?" asked Courfeyrac. Eponine stuck out her tongue at him.
"Shut up. It's the thought that counts."
Combeferre turned around to face her. "Hey there Ep, how's it going?"
"Well, I was wondering if you could repeat that nice speech you gave just now," she said. "Not to me, but to Jehan. I think it would help."
Courfeyrac was instantly on the alert. "Jehan? Are they okay?"
"Yes, Courf." Eponine rolled her eyes. "They're just nervous."
"I can help!" Courfeyrac stood up a little straighter. He didn't want Jehan to be upset in any way, and now seemed like a good time to try and help out. "Come on guys, let's go!" Without waiting for an answer, he made his way over to where Jehan was. They were sitting on Feuilly's lap, hiding their face in his shirt, and Bahorel, who was standing next to them, seemed to be trying to calm them down.
"Don't cry, little one," he was saying. "It'll be okay, I'll punch them if they do anything to you– not that they will, of course– shit, that probably scared you more, didn't it? I'm not good at this." He broke off, looking flustered, then caught sight of Courfeyrac. "Oh good. Courf, come over here! You're good at being nice and stuff, tell Jehan that nothing bad is going to happen!"
Courfeyrac precipitately came over to stand beside Bahorel, and Jehan lifted their head up to look at him. They weren't crying, but they did look rather miserable, their eyes wide and full of panic, and their face pale underneath its freckles. It was an expression that wrung Courfeyrac's heart.
"Hey, it's okay," he said. "It's okay to be scared. We're all nervous, I think. But it's going to be all right. You know that nothing bad is going to happen, right?" Jehan stared up at him mutely and shook their head. Courfeyrac took this to mean no, I think something bad is definitely going to happen. He decided to try again.
"It's easy to imagine lots of scary possibilities, I know. People throwing us out, or throwing things at us, or laughing at our hair, maybe…." Jehan reached up to touch their own hair, looking worried. "Oh no, not you. Your hair is nice. Pretty. You're pretty." Jehan blinked at him confusedly. Oh crap. Get it together, Courf. "Um. Uh, anyway. The point is, there are any number of things we could imagine happening. And they might happen, who knows? But it doesn't matter. Because we're all together. Anything bad that happens to one of us will happen to all of us, and we'll share all of it, so it'll spread out the bad effects, like uh, like… ya know?" He stopped, acutely aware of how terrible an ending this was. Why was his brain picking now to freeze on him? To his surprise, though, Jehan gave a tiny, shaky smile.
"Like diffusion?"
"Yes! Exactly!" This wasn't the analogy that he would have gone with, but it made sense. "We can, uh, diffuse the bad effects because we're a group, and we're stronger that way. We're so strong! Nothing bad is going to happen to any of us, because we won't let it. I won't let it."
Jehan got up from Feuilly's lap and threw their arms around Courfeyrac's waist. "Thank you."
Courfeyrac wondered if it was possible for humans to actually melt. He stuttered something that may or may not have made sense and returned Jehan's hug, hoping they couldn't hear the way his heart was pounding. Bahorel and Feuilly wiggled their eyebrows at him, grinning mischievously.
"Aww."
"Look at them."
"Too cute."
"Totally."
"Totally," repeated Courfeyrac for some reason, feeling ridiculous even as he said it. Jehan looked up at him.
"What?"
"Uh." Courfeyrac tried to figure out how to tell them that his brain was short-circuiting and it was all because they were too cute for this world, but ended up with nothing. Fortunately, at that moment Enjolras came over.
"They're ready for us," he said. "We can go in now."
"You don't look happy," noted Feuilly. "What's wrong?"
Enjolras shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go in." He, Feuilly, and Bahorel moved off to gather up everyone else and go inside, but Jehan hung back.
"You're sure nothing bad's going to happen?"
Courfeyrac wasn't, but there was no way he was going to say this. "I'm positive," he said instead. "We'll be with you the whole time."
Jehan still looked scared, but they nodded determinedly. "Okay. Let's do this."
On an impulse, Courfeyrac took their hand and squeezed it. They smiled up at him, and he thought he finally knew why people always compared sudden smiles to sunshine breaking through the clouds. Jehan wasn't just adorable; they were radiant. Dazedly, he thought that even if this whole performance turned out to be a disaster, he would still be happy. This moment was worth everything.
/
In all his two-and-a-half years at the university, Courfeyrac had never found reason to go into the conference rooms in the library. Granted, he didn't usually find reason to go into the library at all, so this was hardly surprising, but he thought he really hadn't been missing out on much. Powell's beautiful and renowned architecture seemed to extend only as far as the foyer and main floor; frankly, this room was a little dingy. Joly looked somewhat alarmed, and was clinging to Musichetta rather tightly, though whether that was because of neatness or nerves, Courfeyrac really couldn't say. Certainly, he would have good reason to be nervous. The room was packed full of men in dark suits, looking critically at the group and murmuring among themselves. None of them were smiling, though some of them were openly leering at Enjolras, Jehan, and the girls. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, one of them stood up and addressed the room.
"Gentlemen, as you know, we always try to sample the vibrant student life that this campus has to offer. Today, we have a special treat." He came over to where Enjolras was standing and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Enjolras looked like he was trying not to flinch away. "I'm sure most of you recognize Claude and Simone's daughter Angèle. She's always been very active in, well, most things– " here, a genteel laugh rippled around the room, " –and this is no exception. Now she's a member of one of the music groups on campus. We've asked her and her little friends here today to show us a sample of what they can do. So, gentlemen, give it up for the ABC vocal ensemble!" The men clapped politely, and the their speaker returned to his seat, while all the other ABC members winced and looked at Enjolras with concern. Courfeyrac went over to him and took his hand.
"You okay?" he whispered.
Enjolras didn't really look okay, but he nodded. Courfeyrac wondered if he could manufacture an emergency, or if it was better just to cut the performance as short as possible and then leave. Probably the latter; he didn't want to be invited back again to finish what they'd started. He squeezed Enjolras's hand one more time, then raised his voice to talk to the men.
"So, as you heard, we're the ABC, and we're going to sing you a couple songs. First is our arrangement of a song called Arsonist's Lullabye. Grantaire is going to be singing the solo part." Grantaire waved, but his scowl looked completely murderous, and some of the men shifted uncomfortably. Courfeyrac motioned for the group to get into position, before sliding into his own spot. "Uh, okay. Enjoy."
Combeferre gave pitches. He, too, looked angry, but his expression was more controlled, and really, more threatening than Grantaire's. Nodding curtly, he motioned for the group to start, and they began singing.
It wasn't their best performance. They had all sounded better in rehearsal half a dozen times. Nonetheless, there was a raw power and energy behind it that suited the nature of the song, and the anger in Grantaire's voice as he growled out the lyrics gave it an edge that they'd never had before. Courfeyrac thought it was all wasted on their audience. Many of the men looked unsettled, and when they finished, the applause was much more polite than heartfelt. Good, Courfeyrac thought. Maybe they won't invite us back. He thought for a second, trying to come up with another unsettling piece they could do, anything to ensure they wouldn't have to return. After a second, he decided and stepped forward again.
"Okay, everyone, I'm glad you enjoyed that. Now we're going to show off one of our ladies. This is Chantal Claret's Can't Save Her as arranged by Floréal. Eponine is singing the solo part." He gave Eponine a significant glance, make it as angry as possible. She smirked back at him. Message received. The group began singing, and by the time they'd gotten to the second verse, Courfeyrac was pleased to see some of the men shifting in their seats. The applause was much lighter this time, and Eponine glanced over to give the group a subtle thumbs-up.
Courfeyrac was about to step forward to introduce another song when one of the men raised his hand.
"Do you guys know any real music?" he asked.
"Real music?"
"You know, classical music."
Courfeyrac had to grit his teeth and count to ten before he could reply. "You want classical?"
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"Okay. We'll give you classical. This is the Black Swan aria from Menotti's opera The Medium, arranged into four parts. Enjoy."
Combeferre gave pitches again, and the group began the piece. This arrangement was one of Jehan's, and it made exquisite use of the dark overtones in the harmony. Combined with the creepy words, Courfeyrac was willing to bet it would unsettle a few of their listeners.
He was right. Almost as soon as they'd finished, the man who'd spoken before was standing up.
"That was something, all right," he said. "Unfortunately, we don't have time to listen to any more, but we do appreciate you all coming in. Thank you, Angèle. I'll pass your regards on to your parents and tell them how… well you're looking." It was impossible to miss the unpleasant inflection in his voice. Enjolras looked at the ground and didn't say anything, and seeing this, the man came over and put an arm around his shoulders. "Cat got your tongue, dear?"
Enjolras looked up. "Thank you, sir," he said flatly. "It was very kind of you to have us."
"Ah, that's better!" The man leaned down to plant a kiss on Enjolras's mouth, slightly too forcefully to be a strictly polite gesture. "We'll see you soon, Angèle."
"See you," whispered Enjolras, then turned and fled from the room. Grantaire was right on his heels.
"Uh, okay." Courfeyrac wasn't sure how to take charge of this situation and keep his friends from attacking a group of middle-aged white men, especially since he wanted to throw some punches too. "Thanks for having us," he said, trying to sound polite. "I guess we should get going now."
"You don't have to!" The man was all hospitality now that they weren't singing. "You can stay and listen to the meeting. I'm sure you would hear some useful things."
"We're talking about the young generation and their preoccupation with technology," put in another man.
Courfeyrac tried hard not to roll his eyes. "Of course you are."
"Do stay," urged the first man. "We'll pull up some chairs for you. Here." Without so much as a by-your-leave, he reached for Jehan, who happened to be closest, and pushed them into a chair. They squeaked in surprise, but didn't resist. Courfeyrac thought they were probably too intimidated. Marius looked around, bewildered, then went to sit down too. Everyone else remained standing.
"Make yourselves comfortable," said the man. "I'll go get Angèle, and– "
Combeferre cut him off. "His name is Enjolras."
"What?"
"Enjolras. Not Angèle. Stop calling him that."
"Oh." The man chuckled condescendingly. "I think you're laboring under a misapprehension here. See, there was a time when little Angèle was confused about who she was. Very embarrassing for her parents, and very worrisome too. But there are ways to take care of that, and after a few years Claude and Simone got her straightened out. Everything's fine now. So don't try to mess it up, all right? Don't go planting strange ideas in her head again."
"Strange ideas– Do you even know what you're saying?"
"I do. But I don't think that you do."
"Okay." Combeferre went over to the table and pulled Jehan and Marius out of their seats. "We're going. We have better things to do than sit around and listen to your bullshit. Come on." He stalked to the door, and everyone followed him, though Montparnasse and Eponine stopped to give the men a steely look and hold their fingers to their throats (a gesture that somehow looked threatening rather than cheesy), and Bahorel glared at them all, flexing obviously.
"I'm watching you," he said.
Courfeyrac didn't stay long enough to see the men's reaction to their intimidation tactics. He wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, and he was anxious to see if Enjolras was all right. This had to have been an ordeal for him. All his friends must have felt the same, because they poured out of the room, practically vibrating with anger. It looked like they could barely contain themselves, though Combeferre seemed particularly upset. He was stalking along with such a terrifying expression that Courfeyrac was almost scared himself as he went up to him.
"You okay there, buddy?" he asked tentatively.
Combeferre glared at him. "Am I okay? I don't know. Who cares! Is Enjolras okay, that's the question we should be asking here. Did you see that in there? What the hell was that?"
"I think Enjolras has a shitty family," Courfeyrac said immediately. "And I think there's a lot about his past that he hasn't told us."
"No kidding."
"Ferre." Courfeyrac paused. "You're not mad at him for not telling us all this, are you? I mean, you really can't blame him."
Combeferre sighed. "I'm not mad. I'm just a little hurt that he didn't trust us more. Like, what, does he think we're going to throw him out of the house or something?"
"I don't think we should take that personally," said Courfeyrac. "It seems like he's been through a lot, and it's only natural that he wouldn't want to talk about it."
"I guess."
"No, really." Courfeyrac grasped Combeferre's arm. "The most important thing right now is to make sure he's okay. After that we can worry about the other stuff. But he comes first. Yeah?"
Combeferre nodded. "Yeah."
"Good." Courfeyrac looked around. "Now– wait. Where is he?"
"Oh crap."
The anteroom was just as they'd left it, but Enjolras was nowhere in sight. Courfeyrac and Combeferre ducked out into the hallway, but the only people there were their friends, also looking around confusedly.
"It's not like he could have gotten very far," Eponine was saying in exasperation. "We weren't even in there very long."
"He can go fast when he wants to, though," said Courfeyrac, and at least six people turned to look at him in alarm. Bahorel glowered and punched the wall.
"We gotta find him, man."
"Isn't he with Grantaire, though?" asked Cosette. "He should be okay."
"Unless he ran away from him," added Combeferre gloomily. Everyone fell silent, pondering this.
"I don't think he would," said Eponine finally. "Probably."
"He didn't." Everyone turned to look at Montparnasse, who preened a little and held up his phone. "I just texted R. Enjolras wanted to go home, so they went back to his apartment. They're both there now."
"Wow, you actually did something sensible for once, 'Parnasse," said Eponine. Montparnasse puffed up even more.
"Thanks, I know."
"Okay, I'm going back then," said Courfeyrac. "Come on, 'Ferre." Combeferre nodded.
"You guys could come too, if you want."
"Yeah, no, I don't think he would want all of us hovering over him right now," said Eponine, and some of the others murmured in assent. "Keep us updated, though."
Courfeyrac waved his phone. "Will do!"
He and Combeferre left the library to make their way over to their apartment. They didn't talk much, both too absorbed in their worries, and for the hundredth time that quarter, Courfeyrac was grateful that they'd managed to score an apartment so near campus. It really made all of this much easier. Still, it took a bit of time to walk over, and by the time they had arrived, Combeferre looked like he was ready to tear out his hair. He unlocked the door and strode into the apartment, eyes blazing.
"Enj!" he called. "Where are you?"
"He's in the shower," came Grantaire's voice. "Come over here, guys."
Courfeyrac didn't remember the last time he'd heard his usually-flippant friend sound so upset. He hurriedly kicked off his shoes and went over to the couch to see Grantaire sitting there stiffly, a deep frown etched on his face.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Is Enj okay?" added Combeferre.
Grantaire shrugged. "Do you know about what his life was like before he met us?" he asked.
Combeferre shook his head. "Not really, no."
"Well, it sucked."
Courfeyrac and Combeferre sat down on the couch. "We sort of gathered that."
"Like, okay." Grantaire's frown grew even more pronounced. "So his family is super conservative, right? Like, ridiculously, stupidly, have-to-see-it-to-believe-it conservative. And they never treated him very well, I guess, but then when he came out as trans, it really went to shit." He fell silent for a minute, and Courfeyrac looked at him in horror.
"Went to shit how?"
"Conversion therapy. Conversion camps. Abuse– literally all kinds, you name it, they did it. Shitty, bigoted hatred from almost everyone… and it went on for years." Grantaire curled and uncurled his fists, looking like he wanted to break something. "He's got an eating disorder, did you know that? And god knows what else. The things he's been through…"
Courfeyrac didn't think he was capable of saying anything. When Combeferre spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. "But he got out. How?"
"I don't know. After he told me all that, he said he felt disgusting and went off to take a shower."
"It didn't help."
Grantaire's head snapped up. Courfeyrac looked up too, and saw Enjolras standing in the doorway to the living room, hairdryer in hand, looking very small and fragile in one of Combeferre's sweaters and a pair of mismatched socks. Courfeyrac went over to him and took the hairdryer before he could forget about it and burn himself.
"What didn't help, sweetie?"
"Taking a shower. I still feel disgusting."
"You're not disgusting," spoke up Combeferre. "You're not."
Enjolras shook his head, looking even more distressed. "No, I am! You don't get it!" Courfeyrac put an arm around him and gently led him over to the couch, where he immediately dropped down limply and curled up against Grantaire. "I'm the worst," he said.
"Why are you the worst?" Thank goodness for Combeferre, Courfeyrac thought. He wasn't sure he would have thought to ask this.
"I let them get away with it." Enjolras looked around uncertainly at his friends, as if asking if they understood. Courfeyrac nodded encouragingly, and he went on. "I tried to fight them for awhile, but it got so bad, and I didn't know what to do, and then… I just gave up. I let them think they were right. And they still did things, bad things, but it wasn't as bad as before, so I could take it. And then I told them that I wanted to go here for school because it would help me… help me learn about who I was. As, as a woman. And they were so mad because they don't think girls should have higher education, but they finally let me come here, and then… now…"
"They still don't know," finished Combeferre. Enjolras nodded, sniffling.
"I'm the worst."
"You're not." Grantaire spoke so forcefully that Enjolras looked up at him with surprise.
"What?"
"You're not the worst. You're good. You're wonderful, and so incredibly amazing in so many different ways. I promise, no one here thinks these bad things about you, okay?"
"But, but I just gave up, I didn't…"
"Shh, angel. It's okay." Grantaire went to wipe his tears away. "I know you don't feel good, so it's hard to see this, but you didn't give up. You just went underground for awhile. No one could blame you; from what it sounds like, your life might have really been in danger. You had to keep yourself safe, and there's nothing wrong with that. And then you got away, you came here. That's brave, okay? It's not disgusting, or pathetic, or anything else. You're good. You're so good, and they're the disgusting ones for doing those things to you."
Enjolras looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed, then buried his face against his shoulder. "You don't know that," he mumbled. Grantaire pressed a kiss to his still-damp curls.
"I do, though."
"He's right," said Courfeyrac, feeling that it was time he got in on this. "You really didn't do anything wrong."
"They probably made you think that you did, didn't they?" asked Combeferre, then went on without waiting for an answer. "I promise, they were lying. None of this is your fault, and whatever you did or didn't do, you're okay. You did good getting out of there, and you did good surviving it through all those years. You're okay, love. They're not going to hurt you anymore."
"But what if they do? I don't think I can stop them."
"I'll stop them." Grantaire shifted so he could wrap his arms more securely around Enjolras and tuck him under his chin. "They're not getting through me."
"Or me," piped up Courfeyrac. "I'll fight them."
"There's a lot of things we could do." Combeferre sounded dangerously calm, and Courfeyrac decided that he was definitely the scariest out of all of their friends. Anything the rest of them could concoct would be downright pleasant compared to what Combeferre was capable of doing.
"But this is my problem," Enjolras protested. "I shouldn't drag you guys into it like this."
Courfeyrac squeezed his hand. "You're not dragging us. We want to help. Right?"
"Of course we do."
"I want to do everything I can to make you happy," added Grantaire. "I mean– we all do, of course. We don't want you to go through this shit by yourself."
Enjolras's only response to this was a sniffle and a tiny hiccup. Courfeyrac took this to mean that he'd accepted their arguments. "Why don't you try to sleep?" he asked. "You might feel better."
Enjolras shook his head vehemently. "I won't. I'll just have the dreams. I don't want to have the dreams right now."
Courfeyrac decided not to ask what the dreams were. That was a whole other issue for another day. "Just try to lie still and rest a little bit, then," he said. "You haven't gotten much sleep recently, and I'm sure that doesn't help anything."
"I'll stay right here with you," said Grantaire. "I'm not going to abandon you or anything."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay." Enjolras snuggled up against Grantaire, visibly more relaxed. Grantaire kissed his forehead and began to pet his hair soothingly.
"Do you want us to talk to you to keep your mind off everything?"
"Is that okay?"
"Of course."
"So you know the thing about Alpha Centauri," began Combeferre without any preamble. Enjolras hummed contentedly, and Combeferre went on. "It's the closest star system to our solar system, you know, but there's more to it than that. It's really quite fascinating, because its system is rumored to contain an earth-sized planet called Alpha Centauri Bb, and that would be the closest exoplanet to earth. We're not really sure if this is true, but it's wonderful, isn't it?"
He went on speaking enthusiastically. Courfeyrac wasn't knowledgeable about astronomy by any stretch of the imagination, but he thought that Combeferre's grasp on star systems was really very nuanced. Enjolras seemed to think so too, because eventually his breathing evened out, and Courfeyrac could tell that he'd fallen asleep. Realizing that he'd lost his audience, Combeferre broke off in the middle of an extended speech about dwarf stars and went to fetch a blanket from the closet.
"Since he's always cold," he explained, rather unnecessarily. "It looks like he's using you as a pillow, R. Is that okay? We could move him."
Grantaire shook his head. "No, don't worry about it. I don't mind."
"I bet you don't," muttered Courfeyrac. Thankfully, no one heard him.
"Thank you so much for taking care of him," went on Combeferre. "I seriously could have killed those people."
"I would help you." Grantaire sounded worryingly sincere. Courfeyrac thought he should probably give a lecture on how killing people was immoral and wrong, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so with any degree of believability.
"At least we're here now," he said. "We're not going to let anything happen again."
"Or at least, we'll do our best to minimize the damage if something does happen," added Combeferre, logical as ever. Courfeyrac made a face at him.
"Do you ever get tired of being so rational all the time?"
"Not really."
Courfeyrac shook his head, but he did so fondly. This type of calm rationality was exactly what he himself lacked, and he thought that this was exactly why they made such a good team. There was no doubt that they could work together to protect Enjolras– and all their friends– from whatever might come. Today might be hard, but Courfeyrac was positive that tomorrow would be a new day, and he was ready to face anything it would bring with all the strength he had in order to carry everyone through.
/notes/
misgendering and general transphobia and also mentions of past child abuse (that isn't very detailed though)
