Jehan's POV
Today is the day I will find her, I thought as I strolled to the café. I felt quite confident.
"Hello, dear Jehan! How is your mystery?" Combeferre and Lesgles asked
"So the secret has spread. It has barely begun," I replied with a smirk. Once I sat down, the meeting began like always.
Speeches and rhetorical questions about liberty and the people of the republic rang throughout the little building, but I hardly heard any of it.
What am I to do? I suppose this is one of the times where being a bit of a romantic doesn't help. What does she look like? Or sound like? I know her writing style; I just need to find her. This is making me crazy.
"JEHAN!"
"W-What?" I snapped out of my thoughts when Enjolras yelled at me. He was standing directly in front of me; his face about five inches from mine.
"We have asked you ONE question. ONE. Do you know how long ago we did so? An HOUR. We have been waiting for a response for an HOUR. Not in silence; I figured you would reply eventually. But you STILL HAVEN'T. NOW, I'd like to ask again: How old are you?" His fingers were twitching, and I realized how strung up he was.
"Um...why is that pertinent?" I replied, a little confused.
He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his composure, and said, "I need to know for a specialized record."
"22"
"Thanks a lot!" He shouted sarcastically, and he stomped back to his table, which was covered with books, papers, and random supplies. He scribbled a few things in a notebook, and Courfeyrac awkwardly continued his side of a debate.
"Enjolras..." I said quietly, not really wanting to bother him, "are you ok?" The meeting was now over, and everyone had already left. I was about to go on my girl expedition, but I felt too bad for Enjolras to just leave him alone.
He looked up slowly. "Am I ok? Yes, I'd like to think so. In reality? Probably not."
"...that made no sense. Let's try again. How are you feeling at this moment in time?" I pulled a chair up to his table with a smile.
He just rolled his eyes. "Like I want to punch out a wall."
"Ok...and why do you think you're feeling like this?"
He smirked. "Are you my therapist?"
"I'd like to think so."
"Because I have to plan a revolution with daydreamers, womanizers, and an alcoholic."
I couldn't stop my laugh. "Am I, the daydreaming King, causing you that much stress?"
"Yes!" He negated this with a smile.
"Don't let us deter you. Just do what you do best- speak and draw people in."
"Well…have you any advice?"
"Learn how to speak like no one is listening. I don't mean for you to yell, I just mean that you should speak without a boundary." I stood to leave, but before I could go downstairs, he stopped me.
"Thank you, Jehan. I'm happy that you are my therapist."
I just smiled and left.
"What do you mean? Why can't you at least tell me what she looks like?!"
Henriette was being impossible. She wouldn't tell me anything!
"That would take the fun out of searching, Prouvaire," she stated. I followed her around the near-empty shop as she arranged flowers.
"B-But..."
"But nothing! You will find her by yourself."
I groaned and flopped onto a bench like a whiney child.
"You are smart; you can find her. Perhaps you go around and ask who has written that specific poem?" She stalked over to where I was sitting with a handful of lilies.
"Maybe...or, I could write a poem in response!"
"Depending on whether or not I would give the girl said poem." She gave a haughty chuckle and I rolled my eyes.
"Why can't you just tell me who she is?"
"Like I said; it would ruin the fun."
"You, my friend, are one of the most impossible women that I have ever met!"
She just shrugged. Shaking my head, I left the flower shop. On my stroll around town, I found myself staring intently at each female that passed; like searching her face would reveal who wrote the note.
Having the last straw, I walked up to the first woman coming in the opposite direction and asked her, "Have you written this?" I handed the poem to her, she read it, and shook her head. She continued on her way, and I sighed. "Thanks..." I went to the park.
That was a lot easier than I expected. Why can't my head make this simple!?
For the rest of the day, I sat on a park bench and asked each woman that passed. I never got her.
"Have you written this?"
"Are you the woman from the flower shop?"
"Do you recognize me?"
I had even resorted to asking them to identify me. "Who am I?"
With those, I just got odd stares. Not that it mattered; I figured I wasn't getting anywhere anytime soon.
At around eleven, I figured it was time to leave, but I was stopped.
"M'sieur, I could help ya find your lass!" A gamine that looked almost a year younger than I approached me.
She was quite pretty for living on the streets, I noted. Thank God she had tolerable grammar as well! But I couldn't let her distract me from the matter at hand.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're searchin' for the girl that wrote that note, right? Let me help ya."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care? Haven't you other matters to worry about?"
"Why do YOU care what I do with my time? I wanna help. You need it."
I couldn't help myself; I laughed. She started to play with her fingerless gloves nonchalantly. But I could see the smirk on her face.
"You are truly adamant about helping me."
"Well, I'm not so sure what adamant means, but if it connects to wanting to do something really badly, then yes."
"Again, why?"
She replied like it was obvious: "Cuz you're interestin'. I like to associate m'self with interestin' people."
I stared at her for a moment and pondered it. Maybe I didn't have to do this all by myself.
"Fine. But on one condition."
"I dunno what I could poss'bly pay ya for, but go ahead."
"I want to pay you for your help."
She shook her head. "I suppose you'll be findin' someone else then. I don't wanna be paid."
"Ok, ok. Then nevermind the condition. Will you help me for free?"
"Now yer talkin'! Let's meet here tomorrow. Just whenever, I'm almost always around." She turned to leave, but I grabbed her shoulder and she stopped.
"Your name, mademoiselle?"
She shrugged. "Don't have one."
I laughed yet again. "You don't have a name? That's ridiculous!"
"Well, when you're an orphan, you aren't given one!" She shrugged my hand off her shoulder and tried to leave again.
"Fine, then. Our first mission tomorrow will be to find your name."
I could swear she shook her head as she slipped into the darkness of the city. The streetlamp I was under didn't help to let me spot her.
Back at my apartment, I paced wildly across the sitting room. Why was something as miniscule as a note making me this crazy? Perhaps I hate mystery? Perhaps I hate Henriette for keeping this secret? Perhaps it all is a dream!
And what of the gamine? She was rather odd for wanting to help me so badly. And she doesn't have a name, so we should find one for her. But why did all of this matter?
I had to focus on the revolution, and I'm sure Enjolras doesn't appreciate my search. I could be focusing on something a little more important.
Sitting down on my bed, I tried to slow my swirling mind. I'm no detective; I have too many obligations. But the gamine is also something I wish to help. I want to help EVERYTHING! And the mystery woman? I can't just let her stay a mystery. The revolution is quickly approaching, and I could die. Why be alone in my time before death?
Deciding that I would juggle everything that was expected of me in accordance with my personal endeavors, I fell asleep. Perhaps tomorrow would be a bit more enlightening.