Work Text:
“My friends,” said Courfeyrac, slinging his arms over the shoulders of his friends on either side, “I am so delighted you could join me in celebration.”
His friends obediently stooped down a little so Courfeyrac could reach.
“Of course my friend,” said Enjolras solemnly, to his right.
“You made me come,” said Marius Pontmercy to his left with a plaintiff air.
“Well yes of course,” said Courfeyrac, “if I hadn’t you would have spend the night wandering the parks alone or worse, locked inside buried in translations. No no, that won’t do on my birthday, dear friend, tonight we celebrate!”
Combeferre, walking ahead of them, paused in his step. “It is not your birthday Courfeyrac, you were born in April.” This made Courfeyrac pout unconvincingly.
“True, Combeferre, but consider this. On my actual birthday we all were engaged in—” he recalled his surroundings, the still busy street, ”—business on behalf of our dear leader’s mistress, which prohibited properly festive celebrations. So, like a gentleman I postponed my birthday in favour of helping a lady in need. And since now is the time Mlle Mars will reprise Henriette, today my birthday shall be and today you will join me in admiration for their tragically doomed love. And that includes you, M’sieur Enjolras. I know she’s not as beautiful as your exalted mistress, but please, for my sake, enjoy the story.”
“For your sake, Courfeyrac” said Enjolras smiling down on him, “I will try”.
Marius murmured his assent while trying to avoid the eyes of a group of grisettes emerging from a café. Courfeyrac’s spirits were so high he didn’t even mind that their eyes jumped over him in their haste to look from one handsome friend to another. He threw them a roguish wink all the same, which was returned by a particularly saucy woman with elaborate green ribbons in her hair. The grisettes went the opposite way and Marius ceased his attempt to disappear into his slightly faded collar. Enjolras had not noticed the interactions at all, busy as he was staring of into the distance, lamplight shining in his hair as the contemplated something or other.
“Combeferre!” called Courfeyrac to him, “I pray you, take Enjolras’ place at my side, I have lost him to reverie again and require new lively company.”
Combeferre turned back, smile playing on his handsome face.
“If you do not keep your arm linked with his, I fear we might lose him. You’ll have to do without me a while longer.”
“That will not do!” cried Courfeyrac. “I must have you closer! Oh that God had given me enough arms to embrace all my friends!” He would have shaken his fist at the skies, were any of his arms not employed in dragging around his friends.
“Perhaps, Courfeyrac, you might allow me to follow in your footsteps and you can walk with Combeferre?” Marius frequently managed to combine shyness with hauteur, but Courfeyrac knew full well Marius was desirous of evading the general attention. He pulled Marius closer in elation and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“You are a gift to mankind, Marius Pontmercy.” He said to his rapidly colouring friend, “now mind you don’t go chasing ghost, I must and will have you next to me at the theatre!”
Marius, when released from Courfeyrac’s arms, straightened his coat to hide his face, but the edge of his smile was still visible. Courfeyrac linked arms with Combeferre and Enjolras, looked back to ensure Pontmercy hadn’t been stolen away by flying fancies or enamoured Grisettes, and set off again. Were he drunker he might have attempted a song, but as it was he merely grinned his happiness. His dearest friends, come together in celebration of him, getting together harmoniously and all nicely dressed, if a bit sombrely. Enjolras had even submitted to having his cravat retied, and Marius at last accepted the gift of an old waistcoat. Combeferre looked as neat as ever and had not mentioned cadavers or unsightly diseases even once. To top it all off, Courfeyrac’s curls were behaving admirably and his hat had graciously consented to stay with him for a fortnight already. After the performance, those of his friends more inclined to dance were to meet him at a public ball and altogether this would make a perfect night.
Not a cloud fell over his carefully planned out evening until Courfeyrac, cheerfully calling out to all his acquaintance, noticed that a large part of them were moving away from the theatre. Indeed, the crowd around the entrance seemed occupied in leaving it, not entering in anticipation of the delight that was before them. They made their way into the crowd, to see the notice stuck on the door.
“Mme Mars regrets that she will not be able to appear as Henriette tonight—”
Courfeyrac stopped reading after those fateful words. They were to have no play. Or worse, Henriette played by some other actress, someone copying Mlle Mars, without being her, some pale imitation. He would have clutched his heart in horror had he not still been arm in arm with his friends.
“I’m so sorry Courfeyrac,” said Combeferre with feeling, “I know you wished particularly to see Mlle Mars.”
Enjolras patted his shoulder consolingly.
“It says here there will be a show still. I’m sure her replacement will be just as good,” said Marius, as cheerful as his sombre sobriety deemed possible. Courfeyrac freed himself from Enjolras and Combeferre so he could properly show his distraught feelings.
“Pontmercy, must you betray me so? And on my birthday? To talk of replacements and substitutes. No, it cannot be. I am undone!” he staggered backwards to properly show his wounded heart. Enjolras caught him by the arm to stop him from stumbling into the gentlemen standing behind them.
“Perhaps we might take in some other entertainment,” said Combeferre over the explanation Marius was muttering. “The Opera perhaps, or a music hall.”
Courfeyrac perked up from where he had been hanging on a bemused Enjolras’ shoulder. Combeferre would ordinarily prefer other pursuits above music halls, and Pontmercy and Enjolras could generally only be drawn there by subterfuge and excessive pleading. But then he remembered that Mlle Mars would reprise Henriette for one night only and he could never see her cry her soliloquy in the arms of her long lost dying love. He slumped down again, repressing the smile when Enjolras caught his weight neatly.
“Perhaps,” said Enjolras while patting Courfeyrac’s shoulder, “we might discuss this over some dinner. I was engaged in some business before this and I’ve scarcely eaten.”
The indignancy this brought forth was nearly enough to restore Courfeyrac enough to scold his friend for neglecting himself, but was so overpowered by his wounded emotions before he could do so. Still. Enjolras had to eat. He was too thin by far.
“My friends, go on without me. Combeferre, I rely on you to ensure these two have a good dinner,” he said weakly.
“But Courfeyrac, it’s your birthday,” interjected Marius, for once not reacting to the idea of others taking care of him with wounded pride.
“Out of the question.” Said Combeferre firmly. “You are the one who asked us to come out, we are here to celebrate you. You must dine with us, and pick the entertainment. We are at your disposal, my friend.” Combeferre, steadfast and kind, and looking very handsome in his neat coat, was such a wonderful person Courfeyrac could deny nothing. He smiled.
“Very well, I will join you. But I warn you, I am brought down with disappointment. ”He threw his arms around Combeferre and Enjolras, who were nearest. “I have been deprived of my energies by this grave betrayal. I couldn’t possibly support myself.”
He pulled them closer. “My friends,” he said, gathering them close and supressing his smiles, “I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me.”
And Courfeyrac found that, as Enjolras and Combeferre demonstrated that such a feat presented no challenge to them, that even the grave disappointment he had faced could not keep the smile off his face With Marius following behind to catch Courfeyrac’s hat when it inevitably fell, they continued on full of laughter, in search of further amusement to conclude his perfect night.
Fin