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“Let’s go over it again.” Combeferre insists, shaking his best friend’s shoulder. Enjolras simply stares up at him with weary eyes.
“‘Ferre. We’ve been over it about a million times. You’re psyching yourself out.” The blonde chides sternly.
Combeferre bites his lip. “I know. It’s just… I don’t wanna mess this up. Especially not for Courf. He deserves everything and… I don’t think I could take it if he said no.”
Enjolras looks up at him, fondness swirling in those piercing sapphire eyes. “Courf won’t say no. How could he? He’s been dreaming of this just as long as you have. No matter what happens, he’s going to think it’s perfect.”
Combeferre sighs, nodding. He knows. He knows that Courfeyrac loves him and he knows that Courfeyrac has always dreamed of getting married. Maybe not to him, but married all the same. He just doesn’t want to mess this up for his boyfriend. Courf loves romance and grand gestures: things Combeferre knows next to nothing about. All Combeferre has ever had to offer his boyfriend was his love and adoration. Is that enough?
No. It’s not. That’s why this proposal has to go perfectly.
Combeferre has it all planned out: Courfeyrac is currently at final callbacks for a lead role in a huge new production. If he gets it, his performing career might finally get off the ground! Combeferre took the liberty of researching the others who got the same callback and he can vouch for the fact that his boyfriend is a shoo-in for the part. So, after Courfeyrac comes home with the big news, Combeferre will have a dinner already made (meaning he’s enlisted Grantaire, ‘Chetta, and Cosette to cook a dinner because the only thing Combeferre can actually make by himself is cheap microwave ramen and even then, when he can do that without a hitch he considers it an achievement). Then, he’s going to take his boyfriend to the observatory because of the meteor shower happening tonight and as the meteors scatter across the night sky in streaks of stardust, allowing sparkles to shimmer across Courf’s wonder-filled hazel irises, he’s going to go down on one knee and open the tiny box he’s kept inside his pocket the entire night and then he’s going to (hopefully) whisper something really romantic and then Courfeyrac won’t be his boyfriend anymore—he’ll be a promise, a promise that lasts for eternity.
Combeferre smiles just thinking about it. Enjolras looks up at him, grinning knowingly.
“Are you and Courfeyrac having a good time in your head?” his best friend teases.
Combeferre’s cheeks flush as he chuckles. “I hope it’s romantic enough for him. Honestly, Jehan would be a lot better at this stuff.” Suddenly his face lights up. “Do you think Jehan could do the proposal for me?”
Enjolras shakes his head, smiling slightly. “You’re going to do great. You know what? Let’s practice. Pretend I’m Courfeyrac, how’ll you propose to me?”
Combeferre swallow deeply. He can feel his stomach swelling and the blood rushing to his brain, broiling beneath his skin.
“Um… hey Courf. I… uh… I wanted to um… to tell you that… uh… I really love you… and um….. would you… maybe… would you want to get married? I mean, we don’t have to… but… uh… I’d really like to… but I’m not going to like, break up with you if you say no… or does saying no automatically mean you break up with me or--?”
Real smooth, ‘Ferre. Encore.
Enjoras is worrying at his lips, staring at Combeferre with scrutiny. Slow, sarcastic claps come from somewhere behind the taller man.
‘Ferre turns around to see Grantaire smirking and slow-clapping.
“I’m glad Courf wasn’t actually here to see that.” Grantaire snorts, walking over to his boyfriend.
Enjolras glares at him. “R, that really does not help. At all.”
Combeferre sinks down in a chair, burying his face in his hands and groaning. He can sense sharp, salty tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. How is he going to do this?
Grantaire puts a hand on Combeferre’s shoulder and murmurs something in his ear. “Look, ‘Ferre. That? What you did there? Sucked. If you were proposing to me, although why would you I’m a piece of shit, I would’ve turned you down flat and probably broken up with you.”
Combeferre stares at him, appalled. Did he think this was helping? I mean, R isn’t even drunk now and as oblivious as he is… can he not read the room?
Grantaire continues. “But see, I’m not Courf. And neither is Enj. This is why Courf is dating you and not any one of us. Because what we might see as socially awkward, he sees as adorable. No matter what word vomit spills out of your mouth, Courf will be all over it.”
Combeferre smiles uncertainly. Maybe. Maybe he was enough for his boyfriend.
But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t give this proposal his all.
Combeferre turns back to Grantaire. “Is the dinner ready?” he asks hastily.
R nods. “It’s at Cosette’s. We’ve kept Marius busy too, just so he doesn’t ruin the surprise for Courf or, more likely, accidentally crash into the dinner and break his skull.”
Enjolras snorts. “I think his skull is already broken. Do you know what he said to me the other day? I swear, it was the most Bonapartist thing I’d ever—“
“Enjolras!” Combeferre cries. “Pay attention, please.”
His best friend rolls his eyes. “‘Ferre! I know what to do! Now go get ready. Courf’ll be home soon.”
Combeferre nods and rushes out of Enjolras’s and R’s apartment.
--
Combeferre waits at the observatory, worrying at his nails with his teeth. Courfeyrac is exactly five minutes and 32 seconds late making Combeferre extremely concerned. Did something happen? Does he not want to come? Is the food cold?
Suddenly, the door opens slightly, and there he is.
Courfeyrac is here, his chestnut curls mussed and messy, his eyes flickering in wake of the candlelight. The moon illuminates every dusty freckle across his cheeks and every quirk of those coral lips.
The sight makes Combeferre drop his hands from his lips and sigh a little.
“Hi,” Combeferre smiles, walking over to his boyfriend. Courfeyrac doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, he waits until Combeferre is close enough to wrap his arms tightly around his boyfriend, burying his face in Combeferre’s chest.
“Um, okay? I missed you too.” The taller man whispers into Courf’s hair, kissing the top of his head. “How did callbacks go?”
Courfeyrac squeezes him tighter, as if thinking that if he lets go, he could never find his way back. “I didn’t get it.”
The whole world suddenly stops. What? How could he not get the part? This is what Courfeyrac has been working for, for almost a year now. He’s been with the project since the beginning, how? This was supposed to be their celebration day. The day when Courf can finally stop waiting tables and tolerating drunk men and women flirting with him in bars. The day when Courfeyrac could finally do what he’s always dreamed of doing: charming an audience from the stage just as he always charms everyone around him.
Combeferre fiddles with the tiny box in his pocket and grimaces. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel right. Suddenly, the moment has shifted, the dinner is forgotten, and all that matters right now is Courfeyrac.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” He murmurs into his lover’s wispy locks. “I’m sure you did amazing.”
Courfeyrac begins to sob, enveloped in Combeferre’s arms. “I wanted… I wanted this for us. Because… because I’m nothing more than a waste of space… if I don’t…. if I can’t help you pay bills or taxes or whatever. I have to… to mooch off of your doctor salary. You’re saving lives… I want to do something too.”
Combeferre clasps his boyfriend’s face in his hands, holding him close. “You are not a waste of space. The only reason I’m alive is because of you. Only you know what stress does to me, and you are the one to bring me back from the brink every time. You are the best thing in my life, okay? This one rejection does not define you.”
Courfeyrac sniffles. “But I let you down. You were expecting me to get the part. That’s why you did all this. Right?”
Combeferre’s eyes survey the landscape around him: The star-studded navy sky, the warm dinner prepared so lovingly by their friends, the way the flickering firelight casts shadows on the face of the love of his life. He shakes his head.
“No. That’s not what this is for.”
Fumbling with the tiny box, he kneels down as Courfeyrac gasps audibly.
“Oh my god, ‘Ferre. Oh my fucking god, you…. Oh!” his boyfriend starts babbling.
Combeferre smiles, mist clouding his eyes. “I love you so much. And I want to spend the… the rest of my life with you. I want to kiss you good morning and good night every day. I want to have a little house in the suburbs when we’re old. I want to be with you forever and ever and ever and I don’t even know how I’m sounding so eloquent right now, do you hear me? I’m practically Don Juan! And—“
“You’re killing the mood, ‘Ferre!” Courfeyrac squeaks.
“Sorry,” ‘Ferre murmurs sheepishly. “What I’m trying to say is… will you marry me?”
Courfeyrac whimpers a little and whispers, “Yes.”
Then a little louder, “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes ‘Ferre! I love you, I love you, I love you!”
Combeferre pulls his boyfriend close, pressing their lips together. Courfeyrac sighs into the kiss, his arms reaching out to grasp his fiancé tighter.
Fiancé. Combeferre did it. They’re actually getting married! The thought makes him lean into Courf’s lips even more, transmitting all of his love into the kiss, spurred on by his lover’s breathy laughs. It’s all feeling and sweetness, nothing too crazy.
When they finally pull apart, Courfeyrac places hand on Combeferre’s cheek, caressing the skin there. “Thank you, ‘Ferre.”
Combeferre grinned, pressing a small kiss to Courf’s temple. “Was it romantic enough?”
Courfeyrac shook his head. “Not necessarily, but that’s my job anyway. I’m just glad it’s you.”
The two of them finish the dinner, then take a seat on top of the observatory, staring at the sky with their fingers intertwined. Combeferre glances at Courf who now has fresh tears rolling down his face in droplets.
“Hey,” he murmurs, squeezing his lover’s hand. “You okay?”
Courfeyrac nods, not looking at him. “I’ll be okay.” The smaller man turns to Combeferre, displaying a watery smile as he does. “I have you.”
Combeferre grins and leans over to kiss Courfeyrac’s cheek. “It’s going to get better, okay? We can start looking for auditions tomorrow.”
Courfeyrac shakes his head. “I just want to be with you tomorrow.”
Combeferre bites his lip. “I have work…” he trails off. “But I’ll take off for you.”
Courfeyrac nods, closing his eyes. The tears have not stopped falling, but neither of them have let go of each other’s hand. And Combeferre doesn’t plan to let go anytime soon.
Because the ring on Courfeyrac’s finger isn’t just a band of metal. It’s a bond, an oath. A promise that the two of them will be there two hold one another’s hand in moments like these when the future looks murky in the distance, where the only thing for certain is the two of them together.
Combeferre is going to make that promise. He’s going to hold his lover’s hand forever, for as long as Courf lets him. He’s going to kiss away tears and murmur the sweetest nothings to drown out the torrential hail that is Courfeyrac’s self-doubt.
He’s not going anywhere.
And when the meteors begin to fall, streaking and glimmering in the sky with every feather-light trail of stardust, Courf gives ‘Ferre’s hand the slightest squeeze.
He’s not going anywhere either.