Author's note: I have updated! Sorry in the delay, I've been student teaching. One quarter down, one to go…anyway, here is the next chapter. Because of the delay it is a longer one. Enjoy! More to come..
By the time Musichetta had gotten the boys and her sister ready to leave, Bossuet had joined the others in their juvenile mental state. Combeferre found that he felt oddly alone as his friends formed a tight group around Marquette.
Sighing he absentmindedly fingered the rim of his glasses. There was something else that was bothering him. As much as he wished he could deny it, a small part of him wondered if perhaps…the curse was more of a blessing.
Guilt came creeping into his veins with the thought. But as he watched his friends he had the oddly secure feeling that there wasn't a whole lot Enjolras could use them for now. Combeferre bit his lip, feeling uncomfortably disloyal to his friend and leader.
Musichetta however, seemed keen to leave as quickly as possible. Her curiosity was piqued by the prospect of meeting a woman hating young man who looked like a Greek god traipsing the earth.
So Combeferre squared his shoulders and lead the way to Enjolras' apartment with Musichetta at his side.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"What if they try to find you at home?" Feuilly asked, as they circled the block once more. The fan-maker was beginning to get tired of walking in circles.
"I hadn't considered that." Enjolras replied with a frown. "Will any of them recall where I live?"
"Grantaire seemed to recall things fairly well until just a while ago." Courfeyrac said casting a swift look at the youth.
Grantaire was peering the window of a wine shop. "Can we go in there? My father won't let me drink much…he says it's the devil's water…but he's not here, and I thought that maybe…" He trailed off at the awesome glare he was receiving from Enjolras.
"You really ought to be a professor." Grantaire replied, his young eyes wide. "That glare is most impressive. Makes you look at least forty."
Enjolras drew a deep breath and allowed it to escape as a thin hiss. "We are going to my home." He replied curtly. "And your father is correct. It is the devil's water. Abstain." Enjolras added as he turned towards home.
"He's fun!" Grantaire said cheerfully following on Enjolras' heels.
"He's something, alright." Feuilly said laughing, while Courfeyrac smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Enjolras' building was in sight when a most peculiar feeling overtook Combeferre. It was a warm feeling, the sort of feeling one would get if they drank a glass of good wine. He felt for an instant as if the ground had suddenly started spinning beneath him.
With a desperate gesture he clutched Musichetta's arm and pointed to Enjolras' building. "Room number 8." He gasped, feeling strangely as if he were fighting to keep his head above water.
"Room 8." Musichetta repeated, obviously alarmed. She placed a worried hand on his arm to steady him.
The information understood Combeferre let go of her arm and with it he let go of his adult perspective.
René Combeferre stared at the group of boys he was standing near. "Hi…I'm René." He said somewhat shyly.
A boy with gray eyes smiled at him. "Hullo, René! I'm Jean. And this is Michel…and this is Charles-Leon…and this is Lyle." He indicated each of the other boys with one of his thin hands in an awkward gesture. "Oh! And this is Musichetta and Marquette…they're helping us find someone."
The woman named Musichetta looked oddly as if she were fighting back tears. "Well boys!" She managed. "Here we are at last! We just need to go and have the landlady notify room 8 that we are here…and…and things will work out from there."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Monsieur Enjolras!" The landlady cried when she saw him enter the building. "A pair of young ladies and a passel of children to see you."
Enjolras blinked. "Thank you, Madame. I'll take them up to my room."
"They're up there waiting. I figured you'd want to see your—"
"They are NOT my children!" Enjolras exclaimed over Feuilly and Courfeyrac's guffaws. "Thank you, Madame." He added hastily as he stormed up the stairwell to his room.
Enjolras swung the door to his room open and felt his heart nearly stop in his chest.
"Oh, hello!" A brunette said cheerfully. "You must be Enjolras. I'm Musichetta. Oh, hi there Feuilly, Courfeyrac! How are you two?"
"Hi, Musichetta!" Feuilly and Courfeyrac replied in unison.
Enjolras was looking at the boys who were sitting on his bed, staring up at him with wide eyes. "And these are?"
Musichetta shrugged. "These are, Jean, Rene, Lyle, Charles-Leon, and Michel." She said tapping each boy on the head as she spoke. "Also known as Prouvaire, Combeferre, Bossuet, Joly, and Bahorel."
Enjolras knelt down on the floor in front of the boys. "Hello…" he said slowly, the color steadily draining from his face.
"Hello, M. Enjolras." The boys replied together.
Musichetta thrust a letter into Enjolras' hands. "This is from Combeferre. He said it would explain everything."
While Enjolras tore open the letter, Grantaire was introducing himself to Marquette. "Hi, I'm Jerome Grantaire…what's your name?"
"I'm Marquette." Marquette blushed furiously.
"This is boring, dontchya think?" Grantaire asked. "Would you want to go off and grab a bite to eat? My treat."
"Sure! Just don't let my sister see us. She'd kill me." Marquette whispered hurriedly.
"Okay!" Grantaire whispered back. And the two joined hands and slipped off.
Jean and Michel noticed the young couple's departure and they moved to the window to peer down below. "Do you think we ought to say anything?"
"Nah." Michel replied. "The big blonde guy looks like he has enough to worry about."
"'kay." Jean said as he watched the two teenagers walk hand-in-hand down the street below.