"Enjolras? Where are you?" A voice called through the door.
"Not here." Muttered the blond, turning over in his bed, refusing to think about the memories from the night before.
Combeferre unlocked his door, and walked into his room, Grantaire in tow.
"Combeferre!" Enjolras exclaimed, sitting up quickly in bed, "It – I – What did he tell you?"
"Enjolras, relax, this has nothing to do with... Us." He said the last word quickly, "Or what we've done in the past, but Grantaire was worried, and he knew I had a key to your apartment."
"Yer normally up and abou' righ' now. I was kinda scared." The wine-cask muttered.
Enjolras looked at his two... lovers.
Grantaire had made an effort to look good today, he had sort of shaved, and he didn't smell of absinth like he normally did. His clothes weren't rumpled either, Enjolras couldn't help but notice.
Enjolras couldn't deny his attraction to the man, he had always seemed so... Alone, and Enjolras wanted to help people, even if it was to give them company.
Combeferre looked impeccable, as per normal. Although he was short, and his hair wasn't tidy in the slightest, he still managed to look more put together then any of the other students.
Enjolras remembered their childhood, they had shared together. They had been sweet-hearts, and even though his brunette had moved to Paris a year before himself, Enjolras had missed him, and in a letter, vowed to always loved the man.
Oh god, what had he dragged himself into?
"Would you mind if I asked you two to leave the room for a moment?" He asked the pair, "I have to... get ready."
Both Combeferre and Grantare muttered something and left the room.
He pulled himself out of bed, and opened his amour. It didn't take him long to get changed, and, remembering that Combeferre loved to have things neat, he even made his bed. All the while he was thinking.
Enjolras was a smart man, and he knew that last night had been really, really stupid. He knew he had been too tired, and he knew he should have left a few hours earlier. If he had, he would have managed to avoid the entire thing.
But no, the speech had seemed too important at the time, and his inspiration had blossomed, and it wouldn't let him leave. Jehan was right, sometimes a person could easily become a slave to their art. He liked to think that he had a gift for public speech, but if he thought about it too much, the more normal it seemed. Everyone could talk, and people like Courfeyrac could talk terribly smoothly.
He shook his head to bring him back to the present problem.
What was he going to do?
He'd have to talk to them both, and see what they thought. This could get ugly, very, very quickly. But, it must be done.
He ran his fingers through his hair in a variation of combing it, and figured he couldn't waste much more time. It was time to face the music. Why was falling in love so easy?
Then he remembered something that Courfeyrac had said, months ago, when he had been deciding between two girls.
"Loving a person is hard, but, once you let yourself, you find yourself loving, more and more."
At the time, Enjolras had thought it nonsense, but now, he knew the truth of the words.
A/N: Oh crap, this actually has a plot now, doesn't it? That means I have to continue, doesn't it?