Hey y'all! Sorry this update is so long in coming, but I've had to spend quite a bit of time in remote areas of the Midwest without the lovely interwebs over the past week and a half. Thusly, my apologies.
This is the last part of "Cheurs" –I know, I know, it makes me quite sad, too- but I'll be writing more about Les Amis (so, if you'd like to see anything/lack of certain things in future stories, let me know).
I'd like to thank TWSythar, Insanemistosingsmore, Bakura From School and Colonel Despard for their many reviews and help with my characterizations of Les Amis. I love you all very, very much. Also, thanks to anyone who has even left a single review. I love all of you, too. Thank you so much!
Disclaimer: Hmmm, did Hugo spend time in remote, wild-life filled areas of the Midwest?
And now, the ending…
Epilogue
Feuilly sat on Jehan's rather comfortable couch, completing a meticulous sketch of the pretty poet from memory. Jehan would be home soon, and Feuilly intended to surprise him with the completed sketch.
Feuilly smiled to himself, carefully correcting the angle of Jehan's left eyebrow. He'd really come to love the poet, even more so than before, in the past few months he'd spent with Jehan. He'd become quite happy in the months he'd lived with Jehan, since he had let the poet convince him to accept help, had let Jehan love him. Jehan had turned out to be quite lovely to live with; helping Feuilly find another job, even offering to help Feuilly find another flat- as if he would even spend enough time in it to justify the cost-, writing him sweet, love-filled poems, playing his flute for Feuilly –he hadn't even known the poet had a flute before they'd moved in together-, greeting Feuilly every evening with a kiss and a soft spoken reminder of love. Feuilly was simply exquisitely happy with Jehan.
It wasn't perfect, Feuilly acknowledged, slightly straightening the curve of Jehan's nose, but then, nothing was. They'd had, and would likely continue to have, all sorts of minor disagreements- about Feuilly exhausting himself with work; about Agnes biting, scratching, or otherwise maiming Feuilly when he spent too much time distracting Jehan; about Jehan's fits of poetical inspiration and consequent night of sleepless, frantic scribbling. But the quarrels had never escalated into fights that like that horrid one he'd had with Courfeyrac; and neither he nor Jehan was able to spend more than an hour or so sulking after a quarrel, most likely less than fifteen minutes would pass before the accusing party would come over and wrap his arms around the other, kiss him, apologize. Staying angry with each other simply made them both too sad, and, being as in love with each other as they were, there was absolutely no reason for them to stay sulky and sad instead of joyously light-hearted and happy.
Feuilly frowned slightly at the drawing; there was something off about Jehan's eyes… He loved Jehan's eyes dearly. They were quite his favorite part of the beautiful poet. Jehan's lovely eyes were what had convinced him to go with Jehan that awful night, to let Jehan help him, to let treat Feuilly as gently as if he were a child as the fan maker had convalesced, let Jehan love him. The love, warmth, and fierce affection Jehan had made it clear he felt for the fan maker had never left the poet's eyes after that night, and Feuilly earnestly hoped it never would.
He smudged a bit of charcoal in one of Jehan's pupils, hoping to correct the shadow in the poet's eye. Jehan really was wonderful to live with. He and Feuilly spent countless, splendid hours discussing absolutely everything under the sun. Feuilly was fascinated by Jehan's thoughts on society, the fate of the modern worker, freedom in love, marriage laws, as much as he wondered at the poet's dreamy, philosophical musings on God, the future, clouds, poets of all types, art, beauty. Jehan was a wonder to talk to, a wonder to watch as he would suddenly become animated and passionate as they spoke of everything they could think of.
Feuilly glowered a bit at his sketch, wishing it would more closely resemble his darling poet. It was Jehan, clearly, but the sketch didn't have the lovely dreaminess Jehan usually had in his eyes, nor the perfect, soft, whimsical smile that often graced his lips, nor the general loveliness Jehan usually carried about his person, wearing it as a graceful, charming garment.
Feuilly sighed, accidentally leaving a smudge of charcoal across Jehan's nose. Damn. That would be difficult to remove before Jehan got home.
Feuilly started to carefully wipe away the charcoaled smudge. The door to Jehan's flat-well, the flat they shared now- opened. Jehan stepped into the flat, smiling amiably over at Feuilly. He scrambled to hide the sketch and rose to greet Jehan.
Jehan embraced him tightly, gave the fan maker a gentle kiss. "Mon cher…"
Feuilly smiled at the poet, felt Jehan lean against him comfortably, lightly caress his cheek. "Petit…" A quick pause, a gentle squeeze from Jehan," How was your day?" He led Jehan over to the couch, checked quickly to make sure the sketch was hidden under a pillow, and sat beside the poet.
Jehan leaned against him, smiling slightly as Feuilly lightly stroked his hair, "Difficult. The masons at the Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Honore aren't as easy to convince as Julian thought they would be." Jehan frowned for a moment, and Feuilly found himself hating whatever made his lovely poet frown. Jehan shook his head and smiled up at Feuilly, "But you, Martin, how was work today, cher?"
Feuilly smiled pleasantly down at Jehan. He loved these short moments they shared every evening, leaning against each other as they spoke of the day, relaxing and reveling in each other's company. "Not bad at all, Petit."
Jehan smiled more brightly, then looked away from Feuilly as he caught sight of the sketch, barely hiding behind a pillow. Jehan tried to grab the paper, but Feuilly pulled it away, holding it were the poet could not see it. Dear lord, there was no way he could let Jehan see this imperfect, sloppy sketch. Jehan laughed in a rather bewildered way. "What on earth are you hiding, Martin?"
Feuilly looked down, feeling silly and somewhat embarrassed. If only he'd had time to perfect the sketch…
Jehan gently pulled his hand down, capturing the sketch, giving it a long, studious look.
Feuilly was on the brink of snatching the sketch back from its subject when Jehan turned and smiled more brightly than ever up at him, "Is this me?" The poet sounded wondrous and oddly happy.
Feuilly tried to pull the sketch away from Jehan and felt the poet pull the sketch away, saw Jehan hold it protectively to his breast. "It's not very good, I know. But if you'll just give it back, I'll finish it for you…"
Jehan shook his head and brushed Feuilly's hands away from the sketch. "Martin, this is lovely. It's perfect, cher." Jehan smiled beauteously at him. "I can't believe you think I'm this beautiful."
Feuilly could himself beginning to grin back at the poet. But the sketch still had to be fixed, no matter how much Jehan liked. It wasn't really Jehan, not yet. "But it's not finished." He gestured at the sketch as Jehan held it out before him." This eye is all wrong, and I can't get that angle right. Just look at the smudge on your nose!"
Jehan pressed a finger to his lips and grabbed Feuilly's hand gently, "It's perfect, it's beautiful, and I quite like it the way it is." Feuilly felt Jehan brush one of the fan maker's charcoal covered fingers across his nose. "There, now I quite resemble this lovely portrait." Jehan uttered a delicious, musical laugh and kissed Feuilly.
Feuilly kissed the poet back warmly, wrapping his arms around Jehan's waist, "Silly Poet." A pause. "But I'm glad you like it, even if it's not finished."
Jehan grinned brightly, playfully, "Far-Too-Sensible Fan Maker." Jehan paused for a long moment, then kissed Feuilly's cheek gently, looking almost entirely serious now. "I love you, mon cher, mon amour."
Feuilly gazed back at Jehan lovingly, giving him a gentle squeeze, "I love you, too, mon petit."
Jehan gave Feuilly long, serious look, then kissed him in a quite pleasant way. "I'm so happy you've come to live with me."
Feuilly smiled brightly and kissed Jehan in the fondest, most affectionate he could possibly manage for an answer. He couldn't think of anything in his life that made him happier than Jehan had.
And that's it. Thank you for reading! If you review, Jehan and Feuilly will be even happier, and we like them to be very, very happy. So please, please, please review!