Note: the poem which Jehan is writing is from the book "Perks of being a wallflower"

The train runs away from Paris, leaving behind all the responsibilities they have and things, which are needed to be done, runs away from the prejudices, away from dust of the streets and troubles of the university. To meet the peaceful company of the Nature. To see beautiful sunset, to hug each other's in the gentle light of the Sun's Brother – Moon. To kiss lovers' lips, drunk because of the smell of flowers, clouds, hearts, dreams.

Outside the window the landscape is changing so quickly that it forms one, big, colorful line of paints, just like on Grantaire's palette, when he has a good mood.

Courfeyrac blinks several times, the sleep slips away from his eyes and head. He looks to his right to watch Jehan, who has been writing his poem. Courfeyrac silently reads a few lines, a flood of mixed feelings erupts in his chest.

"Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines

he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly"

"Jehan." He whispers.

The ginger haired student turns his head slightly, eyes never leaving his notebook. He is a left-handed as well as Grantaire. "Why is your new masterpiece so bitter?" he asks, watching beautiful emerald eyes from upside down.

Jehan looks at the window. "It is not bitter. It's about life and it can't be always sweet and good. It's like jazz music. One second you are ready to dance, your head full of pictures, lips can fill the aftertaste of the kisses under the rain, but then the inconstant medley changes and in your heart echoes the dull pain of memories, because those kisses are gone, the warmth of hands is forgotten." His thoughtful gaze travels back to Courfeyrac's face.

The second one takes Jehan's hand in his own, their fingers tangled. They sit silently, sharing light touches of their fingertips. Everyone else in the compartment has fallen asleep. "He is cute, isn't he?" Whispers the Poet. "But fights with so many demons on his own."

Courfeyrac trails his lover's gaze and looks at sleeping Grantaire. He is holding a pencil in his left hand, a picture of Gavroche is half-drawn: a spark in the teen's eyes looks very realistic. R's head is resting on Enjolras's, which in his term is lying on the cynic's shoulder.

"The habit of dealing with problems alone is still strong. The heat of Enjolras's body can't melt it. Yet." He says gently.

As he speaks Courfeyrac squeezes Jehan's palm a bit tighter. "Do you feel my warmth? Can I make you feel more comfortable?"

Green, like leaves through which the Sun shines, eyes of Jehan peer into Courfeyrac's. "Yes." He breathes in reply. "My soul was wondering far away, lost in the heights of the stars. You've brought me back to Earth." His fingers touch Courfeyrac's palm, drawing the endless ornament on it by his touch. "You remind me that stars are cold, but down here is warm. Right here." Jehan touches Courfeyrac's chest, where his heart is.

Courfeyrac gasps, because of such speeches, when Jehan's mind works together with his heart. They don't seem strange to him; they are breathtaking. When his life is a dream and dream is his life. He leans just a little bit and carefully touches Courfeyrac's lips with his own, they are trembling.

"Jeh_"

"I am fine." He replies so quietly, that moment later Courfeyrac doubts that he really said something.

Those lips are trembling; they are warm; they are whispering, but he can't understand the words. That doesn't matter. The tongue touches the lower lip, making both shiver. Hearts are beating so loudly, yet rhythmic, hearing each other through the layers of cloth, through the cage of the ribs.

When Joly wakes up as the train stops on the small station. He yawns and rubs his eyes. Then carefully stands up and makes several steps, avoiding tangled legs of Jehan and Courfeyrac as well as Cosette's bag, which lies on the floor near her. When he reaches the door and opens it he notices Grantaire. The spring wind plays with the dark curls of the cynic, who has opened the window. He is smoking, inhaling the smoke slowly. In his eyes there is stiffness and lifelessness. Maybe from wine or coffee, or from the lack of sleep. Joly can't guess.

"Grantaire?" he comes to the skinny figure.

R turns and smiles. "Morning, Joly. How do you feel yourself? As for me it is better not to sleep at all rather than resting two or less hours. In result your head is so heavy as you wake up."

The medical student nods. "But resting is also important." He glances at Grantaire's face. "I am sorry, but you look like…" he pauses, thinking how to end the sentence.

"Like shit." Grantaire simply replies as he takes the last drag of his cigarette before throwing it away in the open window. "I know."

"You don't look always that bad." Joly leans near the window, his gaze catches the features of the Art student. "Actually, it seems like there are two versions of you."

Grantaire smirks. "I am just tired. Nothing special. Stop worrying about everything. It looks like paranoia." That sounds more like he is convincing himself rather than Joly. As the silence falls between them Grantaire continues. "We are almost there. Only thirty five minutes left. Let's go and wake everyone up."

Joly, following R back to the compartment, thinks that maybe, after all Grantaire is really just tired. But the small part of himself doubts. People can't change that fast. There are some scars, which always hurt.

Nine people are standing near the small building of the railway station, looking around. Marius's eyes catch the sign of two cars on the parking. "That is it. I've hired cars for us, come on."

Cars look old-fashioned, like the whole atmosphere of the town and Cosette's dress strangely fits it together with her hat, red shoes and glasses. One car is light blue, the other one is green. Marius doubtfully looks at two little Renualts and then back at their luggage. Combeferre has been thinking the same, but they just shrug and open boots.

At first they put backpacks of Courfeyrac and Gavroche, then Cosette's and Marius's suitcases, after that Grantaire's guitar, while he's been complaining loudly ("Careful, for Christ's sake, it's Yamaha!"). As Ferry closes the boot Enjolras suddenly notices that they haven't placed Grantaire's and his own suitcase, because R has distracted him with his guitar. Combeferre rolls his eyes, unlocking the boot once again. Together with Grantaire Enjolras manages to find a place for it.

"Okay, so it is only half an hour_" Gavroche loudly sighs as he hears the news. "And we will be there, I promise."

So in green car Gavroche, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Enjolras and Grantaire are riding(Enjolras is driving, because Jehan looks at the sky, caring about everything else so little and Courfeyrac is laughing hard together with Grantaire, watching a video on Gavroche's phone). In the second car Marius is driving, while Combeferre is sitting near Cosette, listening to Joly, who is telling them about the strange guy in the hospital where he is having the internship. Cosette laughs as Joly continues talking with a very serious face and Ferry just sits, watching the student with a small smile on his lips.

When at last after hour and a half, because they have turned wrong way several time; after the endless amount questions of Gavroche("Have we come? And now? We are there, right? No? What the hell!? Enjolras you are lagging like a schoolboy who has taken his Dad's car for the first time!") they have reached Marius's Grandfather's house.

It is a villa more likely. A big, ancient, wooden mansion with a large garden, which looks rather neglected, but it works for it. It gives a strange feeling of a mystery.

Les Amis walk inside, looking around curiously. "Wait a second." Grantaire stops suddenly, making Enjolras stumbling over their bag. "Is that a muscadine grapes plantation?" he points at the field behind the house.

"Well, yes, actually, my Grandfather likes wine very much. This is his hobby." Marius explains as a man comes to them.

"Good morning, messieurs, mademoiselle." He nods them. "Sir Marius, your rooms are ready, do you want to have a breakfast?"

Everyone, including Marius feels themselves embarrassed as the servant in a costume speaks. "Nono, thank you. You know, August, you have a day off today, please."

The servant bows. "Thank you, sir." And quickly walks away.

Combeferre looks at Marius's blushing cheeks. "I_I never like the fact that my grandfather is rich. It embarrasses me a lot."

Grantaire chuckles, still looking at the plantation. "At least he has a never ending supply of wine."

They grab all the packages and bags and enter the house. For everyone there are rooms with big windows from which the garden can be seen. As Enjolras and R walks to their, the Artist says. "I'd never live in such a place." Enjolras smiles, he thinks about that too. "It is too big and empty. So many rooms almost all of them are useless. Just like some people without souls." He reaches for the door handle and pushes it.

The room is also big with one bed. Grantaire enters it and collapses on that bed while Enjolras walks to the windows and draws apart the heavy curtains. The view outside is stunning. "Come here, R."

"Mhh?" Grantaire jumps from the bed and comes to him. "Oh."

Just under their window, hidden by the old trees, is a small pergola with two chairs, warm blankets are lying on them. Grantaire thinks of Enjolras sitting there, moonlight on his face, the reflection of the night in his beautiful eyes. He glances at Enjolras, who's been watching the place with shining face. The Artist smiles, putting his arms around the leader's waist, breathing in his neck. Enjolras closes eyes, enjoying a moment.

"Hey folks here's the story 'bout Minnie the Moocher
She was a red-hot hoocie coocher
She was the roughest toughest rail
But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale"

The sound of Gavroche, singing downstairs reaches their ears, making both students smile. "Come on, people, I am hungry!" he cries out.

Grantaire just stands there, in the big room, with dark red curtains, hugging Enjolras.

"Grantaire?"

"Mh Uhh?"

"I love you."

The cynic's heart clenches. "Why did you say that?"

Enjolras shrugs, leaning against R's body. "Because I do love you. And I can't understand why you are always so stunned when I say that." He looks up at the bottomless eyes. "Sometimes I think you don't believe me."

Grantaire kisses his cheek. "I am stunned, because you are Enjolras. The believer. And I am Grantaire." His voice sounds bitter. "A drunkard. A cynic."

Enjolras remains silent, thinking of the fact that R used "the" when he spoke about him and "a" when about himself. "I thought I was helping you. But now I see that you have been only playing. You are still very unhappy."

The dark hair on the cynic's face hides his eyes as he replies. "Sometimes happiness it isn't a huge grin or constant good mood. It is a realization that you are needed." He hugs Enjolras tighter. "I am happy. The happiest person in the entire Universe."

The door opens and Gavroche appears in the doorway. "People, come'n, why all of you are kissing, hugging and other disgusting stuff doing! Let's have some barbecue; it's not even evening!" he looks at the couple of people near the window. "I am seriously afraid of the darkness and what I am going to hear from all the rooms…" he sighs. "Please, I am hungry."

Grantaire chuckles. "You can join us if you want." The teen's gaze could literally burn a hole on R's face. Enjolras, laughing gently, tagging Grantaire to the corridor, his other arm around Gavroche's shoulder.

"Hey, lovebirds! It's barbecue time! Come on everybody!" Gavroche and Grantaire cries loudly as the walk downstairs.

The Artist feels that his heart isn't heavy like it was before. They will be fine. After all they are Enjolras and Grantaire.