The City That We Loved

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A few weeks after the first meeting, the café Musain was starting to get regulars. Enjolras had not in fact scared Jehan away. He was a shy young man that kept to himself but he was not afraid of Enjolras.

It appeared Enjolras had underestimated him.

Over the course of those few weeks, meetings had become more frequent than originally planned. But eventually only the same people showed up.

So it was an odd day when three men had showed up. They were not familiar to the trio. The first man had light reddish brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a light sprinkle of freckles across his nose. He looked to be a little younger than Enjolras. He was dressed in dirty jeans, an old shirt, and a ratty jacket.

The second man had light brown hair and stormy blue eyes. He was dressed just as well as his brown eyed friend. He had a smirk on his face as if everything he set eyes on was a joke.

The final man was completely bald. He held a baseball cap in his hands and he shifted uncomfortably as if waiting for something bad to happen. Yet he was still smiling. He looked to be the eldest in the group. He was the only one Enjolras found slightly familiar. Maybe he'd seen him around the university.

"Welcome, Messieurs," Courfeyrac said. He went over to greet the new arrivals. Enjolras sighed and looked down at his textbook. He had exams coming up in a week and he didn't have time to socialize. "Enjolras." He sighed and looked up. Courfeyrac was motioning for him to come over.

Combeferre was sitting with Jehan who was playing with a flower in his hand. He had an excuse.

So did Enjolras but Courfeyrac wouldn't care.

Enjolras got up and walked over.

"This is Henri Feuilly," Courfeyrac said, motioning towards the red head. "That's Pierre Bahorel and the bald one is Jaques Lesgles--but prefers the name Bossuet. Gentlemen, this is our leader, Gab--" Enjolras gave Courfeyrac a look and the latter stopped himself. "This is Enjolras. He's grumpy. Just warning you."

"Don't we have class together?" Bossuet asked. Enjolras studied the bald man a while longer and then it finally clicked. He recognized him. Bossuet usually sat in the front row in class and tried to be the first one out the door. Enjolras remembered the multiple times that the bald man had tripped over his own feet or had simply not been paying attention and had walked right into a wall.

"Yeah, yeah, I think so," Enjolras said. "How long have you been studying law?"

"Eleven years," Bossuet said. Enjolras tried not to show the shock on his face. If he had to study law for that long his father could take all the money he wanted from him.

"W-Wow," Enjolras said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "That's-That's a long time. A very long time. Um...Feuilly, it's Feuilly right? Are you a student, too?"

"No," Feuilly said. "I'm a fan maker." He took a beautiful fan out of his pocket and handed it to Enjolras. "I have to work for a living. I'm saving for college or university but...I only get a couple bucks a week and I have to pay for rent, so..."

"So what brings you men here?" Combeferre asked, coming up beside Enjolras. Jean Prouvaire took the fan from Enjolras' hands and looked it over.

"Our friend Joly told us about it," Bahorel said. "Said you were wanna be revolutionaries."

"Wanna-be?" Enjolras asked, his expression going dark.

"Calm down, E," Bahorel said. "It was just a joke. If I actually thought that, I wouldn't be here, now, would I? I found the idea of it interesting. You'll have to get used to my jokes if you want connections to the other societies. I've got the inside scoop." Enjolras chewed on the inside of his cheek in annoyance.