A/N : As I said, here's the second chapter. I wrote that one in the middle of the night and it's not that good, but I like it the way it is. Thank you so much for reading, and please review !

It was 4 in the afternoon when everybody arrived at the Musain. Enjolras was there first, with Combeferre. Courfeyrac and Jehan were the last (Grantaire doesn't really count). Combeferre was sitting in the far corner of the room, reading notes, and Enjolras was trying to get everybody to take a seat and listen to him.

"Courfeyrac, are you hungover ?" Bossuet whispered as Jehan and Courfeyrac entered the room.

"Nope. I know we have the same hair color, but sorry to disappoint, I'm not R" the dark haired man answered.

"I heard you" That was Grantaire, sitting somewhere with a bottle in his right hand and a cigarette in his left one. The other boys ignored him.

"Then why are you wearing sunglasses ?" Bossuet frowned.

"I'm practicing. I have to be prepared, for when I'm famous"

"Uhm... Okay" Bossuet didn't add anything. He simply took a chair and sat down next to Joly.

Enjolras was standing on a chair. Jehan was really interested in what they were planning here, he really was, like each and every one of them (except Grantaire), but he couldn't concentrate. What Enjolras was saying didn't hit his brain, and he was uncapable of understanding what was happening. He was excited about Courfeyrac, about the talk they had had earlier, and the one they were about to have with their friends. So when Enjolras spoke about flags and protests and Enjolras-y things, Jehan was on another planet. Finally, he heard the name of his lovely boyfriend, and Enjolras had his attention again.

"Courfeyrac, you can speak now. Be quick, I have a lot of other things to talk about, like, for example, the pamphlets that Combeferre and I wrote, Feuilly's idea of talking to the men who work in the same factory as he does, and-" Enjolras was cut off by Combeferre who put a hand on his arm and said gently : "Enjolras, if you let him speak now, he'll be done quickly". Enjolras nodded. Of course, Combeferre was right, Combeferre was always right.

Jehan was stroking Courfeyrac's hand when the young man stood up, suddenly a bit nervous, which was out of character. Jehan let go of his hand and played with his flower to occupy his fingers.

"I know what I'm going to do after this year of college" he said. When they heard that, everyone started shouting and laughing and cheering and Courfeyrac couldn't help but smile. He took off the sunglasses and put them on the table. When his friends were -kind of- quiet again, he said. "I want to do musical theatre".

Silence. They were staring at him awkwardly. No one pronounced a single word. Bossuet decided to look down to his own shoes, Jehan was playing with his flower nervously and his fingers brushed Courfeyrac's in the attempt to give him a bit of support. Enjolras didn't really pay attention, and he probably didn't even understand what was happening. All the other pairs of eyes were looking in his direction, and Courfeyrac was sure that a few of them had stopped blinking. He had a nervous laugh.

The first to speak had been Combeferre. "But... can you actually sing ? Or act... ? … Or dance … ?" He was very serious, like he always was. Courfeyrac smiled. "Well I guess. My mom says I can sing" He shrugged. Combeferre wasn't really satisfied with this answer. "But you know that singing is important if you want to be in musicals, right ? I mean, you better be sure you can sing and not just say I guess"

Courfeyrac was looking at the floor. Combeferre was the smart one, and anything that Combeferre said was always the truth. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. But you should know that... the most important is to know what you can do, and what you can't do. It's your job. So... Can you sing ?" Combeferre asked again.

Courfeyrac looked up. Something in his eyes was different. "Yes" he said, convincing.

Bossuet asked with a bit of hesitation : "Can we hear you ?"

Courfeyrac smiled and looked at Jehan for a short moment. The blond man was still sitting on the chair. He was so proud of his boyfriend that his eyes were shining. They both smiled. "Okay..." Courfeyrac was nervous. And then, he realised that those people were only his friends, his best friends. And then, he was back at being his normal self. He opened his mouth and began singing loudly.

Enjolras jumped with surprise. He looked at Courfeyrac, his eyes wide. "Can you stop screaming ? What the hell is wrong with you ? I thought someone was being murdered !"

Courfeyrac didn't stop singing. He only replaced the original lyrics by his own words : "It's called music, Enjyyyyyyyyy. I'm sorryyyyyy you don't have a life and it's aaaa shame you don't understand anything about aaaaaaaaart..."

"This is a serious meeting, Courfeyrac" Enjolras said, loud enough to be heard. They ignored him.

"Seriously Courf' I could punch you in the face right now" said Bahorel while trying to lit a cigarette, and to cover his ears at the same time.

Courfeyrac sang louder. Combeferre was back to his books and simply whispered : "I'm trying to read..." Marius mumbled something about Cosette being a better singer, and he left.

Grantaire, who was still holding his bottle of alcohol, couldn't stop laughing. At least someone was enjoying the moment.

Bossuet looked as if he was about to cry. He turned to Joly and whispered : "Why did I ask him to sing ? This isn't even bad luck. It's personal. The world is against me. The odds are never in my favor..." Joly stroked his cheek. "It's not your fault, you didn't know"

Courfeyrac was still singing. It was making him happy, and everyone could see that. He was smiling like a child. Feuilly stood up. "If you want to sing, you could do the Polish anthem ?" he said. Bahorel whispered in his ear : "You know that the Polish anthem has lyrics, right ?" Feuilly suddenly looked scared. "Oh shit."

When Courfeyrac finally stopped singing, a lot of them had left the room. Bahorel and Feuilly were downstairs, drinking and having fun with other people. Combeferre was locked in the bathroom with his book on his thighs. Grantaire was still laughing like a crazy person, and Enjolras tried to think, still working in the same room. Bossuet was standing next to the door, waiting for Joly who was still there. Jehan, of course, didn't let go of his hand.

Courfeyrac realised that a lot of his friends were gone, and that they didn't really like his singing. He stood there, trying to process the information. Joly was talking to him.

"I think there's something wrong with your vocal chords. This sound is not normal, you should let me see. Really. They're not supposed to sound like that. I'm sorry Courfeyrac, you might lose the ability to speak." And the worst part was that he was absolutely serious. Courfeyrac looked at him in shock. "I'm going to check on Bossuet's ears. See you soon." And they left.

Courfeyrac let himself fall on the chair, next to Jehan. The poet came closer and put an arm around his boyfriend's body. "I think you're really talented" he said honestly.

"Are you sure ? Or is this just because I'm your boyfriend ?" Courfeyrac was disappointed. He didn't expect his friends to have that kind of reaction.

"I'm sure. Your voice is beautiful. It's not perfect. It needs training, and coaching, but you have something."

Jehan stood up and stretched out his hand. "Come on. We're going home. I have something for you." Courfeyrac looked up at the angelic face and took his hand, a sweet smile slowly taking place on his sad face.