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Disclaimer: I think this is going to be the last disclaimer, just because there's only so many ways one can say "I am writing about characters that are not mine."
When Feuilly gets his acceptance letter from the university, the Independents decide to throw a party the likes of which they have not seen before. Grantaire pools in his remarkable supply of liquor, Eponine promises the best supply of weed they've ever had (though how she'll get it, no one's sure; her dealer was Montparnasse, and they've been very careful to not let her around him after what happened two months ago), Enjolras reluctantly agrees to not mention a single word about activism or politics for the entire time, Courfeyrac swears that he won't bring people they don't know, Combeferre agrees to plan it, Joly decides to supply the food (which will be prepared by him and Jehan, wearing hypoallergenic gloves that will be removed every ten minutes), Bossuet promises to stay away from anything breakable, Bahorel agrees to watch his drinking so that he doesn't end up picking a fight with a lamppost (which has happened), and Cosette swears to make a mix of music that won't include a single mushy love song that Pontmercy has written her. It's truly a collaboration of efforts, and Feuilly has never felt more grateful.
The morning after, they all wake up in a pile in Enjolras's and Courfeyrac's living room; Courfeyrac and Jehan are bundled up together under a Snuggie with the design of Vincent van Gogh's "Starry Night" on it, Combeferre and Bahorel are in the corner with their heads on each other's shoulders, Combeferre's spectacles dangling precariously from the precipice of his nose, Marius has his arm around Cosette, who is asleep on his chest, Eponine and Feuilly are entwined (Feuilly awakens to the smell of Eponine's hair, which smells like peppermint), Joly has his head on Musichetta's stomach, who in turn has her head on Bossuet's, and, though no one immediately remembers why, Enjolras and Grantaire are sharing the couch, their arms wrapped around each other.
They attempt to piece together the night in snippets.
"Okay, guys," Combeferre says, rolling his head around to try and crack his neck in an attempt to alleviate the pressure he can feel on it, "who remembers anything about what happened last night?"
"My head is killing me, so it must've been hella good," Courfeyrac says, not bothering to untangle himself and Jehan from the Snuggie, choosing instead to stroke Jehan's knotted hair. "Speaking of, water, anyone?" Everyone makes affirmative noises, and Enjolras, playing the willing host, scurries off to go fetch water and painkillers.
"I remember…at one point, Cosette played 'Ain't No Rest for the Wicked,' and then I vomited. I think," Bahorel offers. "Damn. Haven't gotten that blackout drunk in years."
"I vaguely remember Courfeyrac making dying whale noises," Jehan says, "but I thought they were adorable…so we went to his room…"
"You can stop right there," Eponine says, rubbing her temples. "I think we can guess the rest."
"Sorry."
"You're always welcome to join, 'Ponine," Courfeyrac winks. Eponine rolls her eyes, which hurts her head even more.
"I remember…at one point Joly walked up to me and asked if I thought that belly buttons scream when we put shirts on because they're afraid of the dark, so I'm using that to infer that 'Ponine's weed was as good as she said it would be," Bossuet says. "Though that may have just been Joly trying to get me to take my shirt off."
"I think…did we…?" Feuilly turns to look at Eponine.
"I honestly can't remember," she lies, because she can't deal with herself or what happened last night right now. Maybe when she's not hungover, she'll sit down with Grantaire and Jehan and discuss what happened, but not now, and not here, in front of everyone.
"Maybe not. I really don't know what happened," he allows.
"Can we talk about the elephant in the room, please?" Eponine asks, changing the subject to one she cared much more about. "Um, Enjolras and R looking very couple-y over there on the couch?"
Grantaire's face lights up. "I don't kiss and tell." He is met with a barrage of complaints and protestations. "I don't. This is for me." Because Grantaire has been waiting so long for something to happen here, they drop it, but Eponine makes a mental note to pester him about it later.
"Water, everyone!" Enjolras is holding a tray of what looks like a gazillion glasses of water and a small bottle of Ibuprofen. "Take two and drink the whole glass. But do not hurl on my carpet, or I swear to God, you will be cleaning it up, and you will be on Grantaire-sitting duty the entirety of finals next year." Everyone laughs as best they can without aggravating their hangovers and follows his orders. Joly heads to the bathroom, positive of his impending vomit, and Bossuet follows for moral support.
They all conclude that the party was the best thing that had ever happened to them; they wake up Marius and Cosette, who have somehow slept through all this hullaballoo, and they all head home once they can open their eyes without crying. Grantaire and Jehan remain, and they both disappear into the bedrooms of the various owners.
Later, when Feuilly is home in the small flat he shares with Bahorel, he finds an envelope addressed to him from the university. Positive that it's his scholarship offer, he opens it. Bahorel finds him sobbing.
Later that night, once everyone has sufficiently recovered, they are all summoned for a meeting. "I…well. I'm not going to the university next year," Feuilly says, face blank and expressionless, eyes dead. "They didn't offer any financial aid or scholarships, and I refuse to take out student loans." Courfeyrac tells him not to be stubborn, Enjolras gives him a look of pride, Eponine squeezes his hand in solidarity, but Feuilly has made up his mind.
That night, he drinks more than he did the last night, and though in his drunkenness, he is in a state of lucidity ("so that's what happened last night"), he is also so incredibly sad. He fires up his laptop, writes a drunken email to his Polish pen pal, looks up ways to kill himself, but closes the page before it loads. No solution there. He has to face the facts: America is a vicious country that doesn't want for her people to improve themselves; social mobility isn't democratic, life isn't fair, and freedom is an illusion. For a moment, he understands what Grantaire feels like most of the time, a mix of bitter and drunk, and when he finally passes out, it's after an angry session of self-loathing masturbation in which he calls out Eponine's name, the name of the girl who denied him in front of all their friends earlier today. In this moment, Feuilly has become Grantaire completely, and the thought of this is so utterly depressing that he idly scratches at his wrist, because he's not brave enough or stupid enough to break the skin, before falling asleep, on his back, arms spread open, looking utterly hopeless even in sleep.