Work Text:
Jehan falls in love a lot. It's always passionate, and intense. It never last for longer than a season.
Spring was Feuilly. Red hair and freckles became the subject for poems. Tired overworked eyes turned windows to the soul. Calloused hands became metaphors for old souls. Paint splatters and ripped clothing represent the working class struggle, rather than styled choices. Feuilly found more work, leaving the city, while Jehan kept searching.
Summer was Eponine. Cutoff jeans and light airy sundresses, swapped between lovers. Menthol tinged smoke permeates clothes, hair, shawls. Skinny dipping in broad daylight, shoplifting, and drug deals never looked so good. This one ended in an empty apartment and a tear stained note. Jehan just hopes she’s happy wherever she is.
Fall was Grantaire. Tie-dyed fingers, shirts, and hair made for an interesting meeting. Grantaire was as much Jehan’s muse as much as they was his. Neverending caked on clay, ink, paint, graphite (whatever grantaire could get his hands on and more). Bruises covering hips, and scarves covering necks. Mulled wine and tears. Grantaire fell for another, with golden curls, while Jehan found his winter.
Winter was Courfeyrac. Bright smiles and an even brighter outlook. Large sweaters and even larger cups of cocoa. The cold outside made for an even warmer embrace. Courf loved as Jehan did, with an intensity previously unmatched. They left no stone unturned, no path unwalked, and no snowman unmade. Jehan worried, would it hurt come spring? The holidays came and went, cloaked in warm clothes and good food. As February ended, so did they. It was nothing but amicable. Courfeyrac moved on, just like all those before and like all those who will come after.
Jehan has loved, does love, and will love unconditionally. They can (and will) find something to love, to treasure, to hold dear, in everyone. There is something precious in everyone. Jehan will find it and they will shine.