AN: I'd meant for this to be a one-shot, but I Had to write this chapter because it mirrors something that's happening to me now, except that I didn't give Enjolras tendonitis, and Enjolras has violinistic skills (in my mind) that I will never have, as I just gave (sigh) my last performance, due to tendonitis and my philosophical questions, ie, what am I doing for the world with music. However. This last performance of mine is going to be nationally broadcast on NPR, the week of 11-29. The show is called "From The Top". So if anybody wants to hear my historic (hehe) last performance that ended a promising career... (sigh) I'm pretty depressed.
Oh, well. On with the fic.
"Grantaire told me something interesting today," Courfeyrac said, a smirk evident about his lips. He waited for the taller blond to respond.
To no avail.
"Don't you want to know what he said?"
"Not particularly."
Courfeyrac sighed theatrically and leaned forward on his elbows, almost leaning all the way across the table. "Enjolras, when you think yourself to be alone... Sometimes you need to reconsider."
This seemed to pique the blond's interest. "Oh?"
"He said you played beautifully."
Enjolras narrowed his eyes and unconsciously traced the fingertips of his left hand with his thumb. Once down, index finger to pinky, and then back up. Then the hand relaxed.
"I'm surprised that he would know the difference."
Courfeyrac heaved another over-exaggerated sigh. "You never said anything. Jehan will kill you when he finds out that there was another..." Here, he raised his eyebrows mockingly. "...artist in Les Amis all this time with him not knowing."
"Courfeyrac, where are you going with this?"
"He will, you know. You should lock your door at night."
"I do. I am waiting for you to make a point, Courfeyrac. If there is none, kindly let me be." He indicated a book next to his right elbow. "I was, after all, otherwise occupied prior to your... Arrival."
If you can call creating a hole in the wall from force of an over-exuberantly opened door an arrival.
"My point is..." Another theatrical sigh. "If you're as wonderful as Grantaire said- and he was uncharacteristically serious when we spoke- why on Earth are you not in the Arts department with Jehan or at the Conservatory?" A smirk graced Courfeyrac's lips, but it did not reach his eyes. His eyes contained genuine curiosity.
Enjolras, who was on the point of re-opening his textbook, noticed the look and sighed, letting the cover of the book fall closed with a thud. "If I answer your questions, will you leave me be?"
"Certainly. If, that is, you answer to my satisfaction."
Enjolras narrowed his eyes, but did not treat Courfeyrac to his carefully honed glare, before sighing- barely audibly- but sighing, nonetheless. "I auditioned for both."
"Were you not accepted?"
"I was," Enjolras said with a frown. "I was the first accepted by both institutions." He shrugged, his modesty kicking in. "I had wonderful training in my youth."
Courfeyrac waved a hand. "But you're studying at the Law school." He paused. "I suppose that musical studies take many hours of practice... Life must be better as a Law student..."
Enjolras raised an eyebrow disdainfully. "I do not fear toil, Courfeyrac. This you know." The statement came out harshly, even by Enjolras's standards. He paused, and continued with his composure restored. "Academically speaking, music will always be my first love. It is the only thing that I truly enjoy studying. However. There is something else that I love more; the people. The Republic. Freedom." He paused for a moment, and then a smile, chilling in its rarity, graced his face. "Patria." He sighed, his eyes oddly downcast, before continuing. "I cannot put my personal happiness before the good of the whole. Through studies of the law and of politics, perhaps I can better understand how to create equality- how to instill justice in this world that has been corrupted."
"Enjolras..."
The blond stood, his eyes burning with an unusual emotion. "I have work to attend to." He lifted the book from the table and exited the room.