A/N I know that I said I was going to do a funny chapter this time, but this plot would not leave me alone and I hope you guys like it, because it's one of those chapters that just kind of built itself…
So, you guys probably know what I'm going to say next, please review, follow, and favorite.
You guys all know you can always ask for chapters based on specific characters.
And also, I'm having this night out with some of mon amis this weekend and so I might have a really funny story for you guys really soon! Who knows. I guess we'll see!
Oh, and also I'm going to an interview thingy tomorrow.. So wish me luck on that! I dunno if you guys even really read these notes but I like to think you do. Even if you don't, oh well.. I still think you guys are like the best followers EVER!
Okay I'm going to stop now. Please enjoy the chapter. Love you guys. Bye.
Disclaimer; I don't own Les Miserables… Not yet anyways.. Mwahahahaha! just kidding.
The meeting was running on its fifth hour now, and the group of young revolutionaries had each found their own ways to small groups where they sat and talked quietly.
Some groups talked of plans for the up and coming revolution, others spoke to each other of young mademoiselles who had caught their eye, then there was Grantaire and Eponine who sat in their corner together, drinking and occasionally laughing at a joke which really wasn't all that funny.
And then, there was Feuilly who had fallen asleep at one of the abandoned tables at the far side of the room from where nearly everyone else still was.
He did this occasionally, showed up to the meetings he knew he was to tired to show up for, and simply fall asleep to the sound of his friends voices. He knew it didn't help at all, with him being there if he was asleep the entire time, and he might as well sleep at his own flat but he could never bring himself to do such a thing. There was something soothing to him about being surrounded by his friends, their laughter, their bickering, and their constant chatter.
Everyone let him sleep, because they knew just how exhausted he was. And what long hours he worked. Then when the meeting was over, one of the amis would rouse him and perhaps walk him home just as they did Grantaire when he passed out drunk on some nights.
Feuilly didn't think this necessary. But his friends seemed to, so he went along with it. Besides, it never hurt to walk in numbers when the streets were dark, and when one was built as Feuilly was.
It's not that the ginger haired young man was small by any means, he was simply average sized.
Bahorel was usually the one to walk him home. And Feuilly thoroughly appreciated it.
He knew Bahorel had studying to be doing, and could be out doing many other things rather than walking him home on these nights. But the large man chose to walk him home instead. And that touched a part of Feuilly's heart that few things ever had.
The pair of friends had become closer through these walks, and Feuilly wished to let Bahorel know just how much he appreciated his time and so, he always tried to make the other man's job easy by waking up as cheerfully as he could.
So, when he felt a warm, large, hand upon his shoulder shaking nearly his whole body, he assumed the meeting had ended and it was time to go home. However, he soon found he was wrong. It was Bahorel who was waking him up, but not to walk him home.
Bahorel sat, crouched in front of him with what was Feuilly's own work cap placed upon his head.
It looked, Feuilly thought, actually very nice on him. It gave the usually intimidating young man something to soften his appearance.
He would never tell him that though, for fear that he would never see the cap upon his head again.
But in truth, it looked very nice.
"Give that here. Didn't your parents ever teach you not to take things that don't belong to you?" Feuilly scolded, as he snatched the cap off of his larger friend's head and placed it upon his own.
"My parents didn't teach me many a thing they should have, mon ami!" Bahorel laughed, cheeks flushing as he chuckles.
Feuilly pushed Bahorel's shoulder playfully and rolled his eyes, "You are cutting into my sleeping time. Do you not care about my health? This could cause me to become very ill. Just ask Joly."
Bahorel laughed again when Feuilly gestured to his hypochondriac friend who stood in a corner with Bossuet, Combeferre, and Enjolras all deeply in conversation but Joly held a handkerchief up to his mouth while talking with the rest of the men, occasionally shooting a sideways glance towards the doorframe as if preparing to bolt in that direction were someone to cough.
Feuilly watched as Bahorel shook his head and clapped a hand upon his shoulder. "My friend, you are in fine health. Of this I take great care to make sure of. For when your own health deteriorates, mine soon follows. Do not ask of me, however why this is, but has happened many a time and will likely happen again."
Feuilly was genuinely touched by his usually closed off friend, and was about to tell him so when Bahorel began to chuckle once more.
"I even believe, if you were to break a leg my own may gain a sprain."
Feuilly laughed half-heartedly at this.
The two walked to Feuilly's flat that night just as they always had, and Bahorel made his own way home.
The next day was the first day Feuilly ever fell asleep on the job.
Because he had not slept the night before.
He had lay in bed and thought over the words his friend had spoken to him.
For Feuilly was a man of many friends, he always had been easy to like and easy to get along with. But he had never had a best friend.
And that night, he felt as though he had gained one.
It became known, in the weeks that followed that the two were an inseparable pair.
Where one was, the other followed.
At times, Bahorel would show up at one of Feuilly's many jobs and bring him lunch, or dinner, depending on the time of day.
When one was invited to somewhere, it was always implied that the other would make an appearance as well.
At the meetings, when Bahorel came in late some nights after getting caught up in a brawl, Feuilly would save a seat by placing his cap upon a chair which was seated directly next to his own.
When Bahorel would arrive, without fail, he would place the cap upon his head and act as if it were his own.
Things stayed this way, in the weeks leading up to the revolution. The two were joined at the hip just as everyone had become accustomed to.
And then there was the day of the protest.
The day when everything changed.
The day had begun as one would expect it to. Those who were participating in the protest each had stomachs that were unsettled, and minds that seemed to never stop thinking of what was to come.
Bahorel and Feuilly prepared for the day together.
Bahorel took up Feuilly's cap from the chair that had been saved for him at breakfast just as he always did, and placed it upon his head.
They hugged each other, before leaving to take their places at the protest. And this was nothing out of the ordinary, the two hugged in such brotherly ways as this many a time. But this time, Feuilly noticed that Bahorel's hands were shaking as they embraced one another. And he had never seen that happen before.
The protest seemed to move like clockwork, everything was working.
And then came the barricades.
And the national guard.
And then Feuilly was shot, and fell to the ground, Blood turning his already red hair into an entirely new color. Ginger became crimson as the worker boy lay unconscious on the ground.
The last thing that passed through his mind before everything went black was that he was glad that Bahorel had worn the cap today and not himself, for the blood would surely ruin it. And Bahorel loved that cap.
When Feuilly awoke, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room.
After blinking several times, he could see a face before him, not the face he expected to see, but a familiar one none the less.
Marius' freckled face broke into a grin as Feuilly glanced about the room, but faded as soon as he saw where the ginger-haired young man's eyes fell to.
In the chair, next to the bed where he lay, injuries tended to and mind now fairly steady, sat a cap.
A cap which was stained with splotches of crimson blood, and had a bullet hole through the left side.
A cap, which had been the beginning of an unbreakable friendship.
A cap, which had served as a reservation on many a chair before while Feuilly waited for bahorel.
And a cap which had been worn more by Bahorel, than Feuilly, the actual owner, had ever worn it.
Feuilly's stomach twisted as he begun to add the facts up, the fact that he had not been the one who had placed the cap upon his head that morning, but Bahorel had. And the fact that Bahorel made sure no one but himself or Feuilly ever wore the cap.
He knew what had happened.
But, for a split second, he allowed himself to believe the the cap sat there just as it had many a time before, simply waiting for Bahorel to come, take his place in the chair next to Feuilly's bedside and place it upon his head.
Then he rolled over, as painful as it was, and closed his eyes, closed his mind to the truth and to everything that was happening. He let tears slide down his freckled cheeks, and clutched his blanket up to his chest tightly.
The only thing Feuilly could even manage to think, before unconsciousness overcame him once more was that no one else was going to be allowed to walk him home. Because that was Bahorel's job. And that no one would ever wear that cap again.
Because that was Bahorel's cap.
A/N I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm sorry that it's really sad. I even am kinda sad about this right now, but oh well. Please review, follow and favorite. I love you guys as you know and hope you enjoyed this! God Bless!