Notes: There /is/ a cafe on the corner of East 10th Street and 1st Avenue, but it is not called Le Juste Musee, I made that up.
Chapter TextNew York City, New York
Le Juste Musée, East 10th Street, East Village
The Les Amis were gathered around a large table in the cafe just down the road from where Enjolras and Combeferre lived. The whole group lived near each other in East Village with the exception of Joly, who lived up in Greenwich to be closer to the medical center on campus. When they all met, they had no idea that they all lived so close. When they signed up for Les Amis and were deciding on a meeting place, Enjolras suggested Le Juste Musée. It was only after a few meetings when they realized they all lived within two blocks of each other.
They all started out at the same college, but after three years, things had changed a bit. Enjolras and Combeferre, who were in the same grade level until sophomore year when a protest at their private school got Combeferre expelled (even though the protest was entirely Enjolras' idea, but it was Combeferre who accidentally punched the headmaster when a student ducked out of the way). Combeferre went to public school then where they bumped him up a grade. He had finished his med school degree and was about to celebrate his one year residency at the hospital. Enjolras had finished his bachelors in political science and philosophy and was about to go onto his masters. Courfeyrac was the same year as Combeferre, but decided he wanted to work as a journalist instead of getting a degree higher than his B.S. Joly was the same year as Enjolras and was getting his premed and health sciences degree. Bahorel went to college for a year because of his parents, but ended up dropping out. He now worked as bartender and a gym attendant. Bossuet was two years older than Combeferre and was in law school. Musichetta actually never went to college. She ended up joining Les Amis when during one of their meetings, she started arguing with Enjolras instead of taking orders.
The group had weekly meetings which often ended with them eating and drinking until late at night. Currently, the table the group was sitting at was half covered with Enjolras' papers, books, and empty coffee cups. The other half was covered with food and everyone except Enjolras was socializing. Combeferre was talking about sudden influx of flu patients at the hospital with Joly. Bossuet and Bahorel were discussing a concert they went to last night. Musichetta was working the bar. Courfeyrac was flirting with her, as per his usual routine of talking up anything that breathed. But Enjolras was working studiously at his laptop.
Musichetta left the bar laughing at something Courf said. She walked to the table and grabbed the empty cups. Courf followed and sat down next to Combeferre. Combeferre stopped his conversation with Joly and said to Courf, "I was telling Enj last night that he needs to take a vacation."
"I told you I don't like that nickname," Enjolras said, not looking up from his work.
"I've been using it for over twenty years, you should be used to it," Combeferre deadpanned.
"I think he's right," Courfeyrac said, perking up. "Look around, Enjolras, there are at least five hot guys here whose pants you could easily get into, but do you notice them? No, you're too busy noticing the words on your screen," he pointed angrily at the laptop. "And from the amount of coffee you drank even in the last hour, I doubt you're even noticing them."
Enjolras still stared at the screen, but he just kept rereading the same sentence without noticing it. At this point the rest of Les Amis were paying attention to the conversation and nodding at some of Courfeyrac's points.
"When was the last time you slept?" Joly asked, concerned.
Enjolras looked up then, thinking.
"Oh God, he has to think about it," Joly said, looking at Bossuet for help.
"Shut up," Enjolras said, only half joking. "Ok, I think it was... Uh, I got four hours in two days ago."
"Enjolras!" Joly shouted. "Do you know what that can do to your health?!"
"Oh he's aware, I just don't think he gives a damn," Courfeyrac said in angry sarcasm.
"I can't afford to give a damn," Enjolras said angrily, glaring at Courf.
"You can't afford to give a damn?! You're not the only person in the world fighting against the government! What the fuck do you think we are," he yelled, gesturing at their little group and standing, "dead meat?! Combeferre writes arguments as airtight as yours. Joly can find holes in speeches better than anyone I know. Bahorel is fucking terrifying; bring him to a riot and the police are the ones backing away. Did you even know that Bossuet and Musichetta moved in together?" Courfeyrac's voice faded to a softer tone as he sat back down. "You care so much, but you don't know how to ration it out."
Combeferre placed a hand on Courf's shoulder. "Courf is right, Enjolras. You can't keep going on like this. You're going to die from a heart attack before you're thirty."
"But it's not like I can take a month off like you want me to."
"Yes you can," Bossuet said, shyly.
"He's right," Musichetta said from the bar. "You spend fifty dollars a week on coffee. I know; I add up your tab. I didn't even know someone could have a tab on coffee."
"We can handle it here for a month," Combeferre said.
"It's not like we're idiots," Courfeyrac added. "We went to college too."
"Take the month off or I will personally see to it that you're murdered," Bahorel said, sending a positively evil glance in the blonde's direction.
Enjolras, throughout this whole argument steadily grew more angry and frustrated. With Bahorel's glance in his direction and vigorous nodding from the other members, he suddenly stood and shouted sarcastically, "Fine! I'll take the goddamn month off and fly to fucking Paris, for Christ's sake!"
"Great!" Combeferre said.
Enjolras deflated as the others grew more excited, "Wait, no, I didn't-"
"Awesome," Courfeyrac said, grabbing Enjolras' laptop, "I'll book your ticket now."
"No, I don't-"
"There's been an outbreak of swine flu in Paris, I'll check what vaccines you'll need," Joly said.
"But-"
"Where's his wallet?" Courf shouted.
Enjolras lunged to his bag where he kept his wallet but Bahorel beat him there and tossed it to Courfeyrac, who pulled out the credit card.
"You can't- This is illegal!" Enjolras shouted.
"You said you would go and I know from experience you've done worse things than this," Combeferre said, stopping Enjolras in his tracks.
Musichetta placed a glass of whiskey in front of Enjolras. "In celebration," she said. She stopped at the glare Enjolras gave her, "Or not." She backed away, "On the house," she said with a cautious smile.
Enjolras sneered and downed the alcohol in one gulp.
"That's the spirit," Courf said, wrapping an arm around Enjolras' shoulders and shaking him enthusiastically. "You leave tomorrow morning."
"I- what?!"
"Tomorrow. In the morning. 5 AM, it's not like you'll be asleep anyway." Courfeyrac started shoving Enjolras out the door. "You're staying at a hostel, the address was sent to your email. Now go pack," he said, shooing Enjolras. "Remember, one month. Don't forget your underwear!" he said, pretending to be an overjoyed mother.
Enjolras angrily turned away and out the door. Courf wiped fake tears from his eyes and said overdramatically, "They grow up so fast."
Enjolras just continued to walk off angrily. Before the door closed, he swore he heard Courf high-five Bahorel. He pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Combeferre: I hate you.
The reply came ten minutes later: Love you too. Staying with Courf tonight. I'll meet you at the airport tomorrow to give you your laptop. There were some minor programming adjustments made.
Enjolras immediately replied: If you messed with my laptop in any irreparable way I will make sure you are found dead in a dumpster.
See you tomorrow :), came the reply.