Chapter Text
Courfeyrac quietly opened the bedroom door. Leaning on the door frame, she looked around the room with a smile. It was small, typical of these Parisian apartments that were too expensive for what they were. A dim light illuminated it, the drawn curtains allowing only a tiny bit of light to escape from the windows, and there was a vague smell of paint, alcohol and sweat, probably coming from the occupant currently seated in the middle of her bed. Laying on the floor were brushes, sketchbooks , panties, clothes, bottles, paint stains, and what appeared to be an old pair of Dr Martens worn out by life. Her smile grew a bit bigger. Grantaire's room had a particular kind of familiarity; the kind of place where, despite the chaos and tightness, you felt at home.
« Boo. »
The said Grantaire jumped, dropping her pencil. It rolls on the ground towards the blonde, who bent over to catch it and hand it to her.
« Fuck, Courf, you scared me !
- Sorry ! Here's your pencil ! »
The brunette grabbed it, closing her sketchbook in her lap. This did not prevent Courfeyrac from sitting on the bed and trying to look at the contents of the sketchbook; without success.
« What are you doing ? Wait, let me guess, are you drawing Enjy ? »
The silence that followed only confirmed her words, and her smile only grew brighter. You see, Enjolras and Grantaire were terribly in love with each other. She might have found it adorable if they weren't both stubborn as a mule, determined in their denial and with a tendency to constantly argue with each other in order to ignore their feelings. At least, that was how Courfeyrac interpreted it; and as Enjolras' best friend and Grantaire's roommate, she was sure of what she believed.
« She... inspires me. »
It was with her cheeks reddened by embarrassment that Grantaire responded, her gaze resting elsewhere, far from Courf. A long sigh escaped her lips. It was too much. She had to intervene. Again.
« You should tell her R ! I mean, you love her since the 19th century, maybe before if Jehan's theory about successive reincarnations is true, you died holding hands, and in this life you are childhood friends who meet again later years ! It's meant to be !
- It sounds like the plot of a bad Christmas movie.
- It is ! And I feel like the cliché of the frustrated best friend ! I'm frustrated ! »
She fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She has tried everything. The basic advices, locking them in cupboards together, the bottle games, bringing Enjolras home then leaving her alone with R to "go shopping", getting the others involved, everything. Nothing had worked, or it made things much worse.
« Please R, just... Tell her.
- No. »
Her friend's tone was cold. Courf sighed again, pushing herself into a sitting position on the bed again. A silence settled in the room. In itself, she understood the reasons which pushed her two friends to act like this - a mixture of guilt, unsaid things, and their respective persona certainly didn't help. Two years. Courfeyrac has been trying for two years, without success. Others would have given up; it wasn't her style. She had analyzed the situation from all angles, found no solution, but she couldn't give up. What best friend would she be otherwise?
« I have a plan. »
It was a bit like in cartoons, when a light bulb pops up above the character's head. She got up quickly, almost tripping in the process.
« Again ?
- Yes, again. But this one is going to work, I'm sure of it. »
From the doorway, a voice was heard.
« Courf, my love, your plans always end badly. »
Courf turned around, a huge smile lighting up her face. Her second roommate and best friend, Combeferre, was standing in the doorway, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. Ferre coming out of her room in the middle of exams was already rare, so seeing her getting involved in their conversation made the blonde's heart beat a little harder.
« Please go flirt somewhere else.
- We're not flirting, and my plans don't end badly. Just not in the way I would have liked, that's all ! »
There was silence again, Courf pouting at her friends' accusations. Why couldn't anyone see that all she wanted was for those she loved to be happy ! Yes, sometimes her plans didn't go as she initially expected, but it was the universe that was against her, and not her plans that were bad in themselves! She has managed to push Marius into Cosette's arms after all - although Marius was much less emotionally stupid than his two friends, she has to admit.
The silence was broken by a long sigh.
« Okay. Anyway, whether I say yes or no, you would have done your plan, so... »
Courf's eyes lit up, like a child in front of a Christmas tree.
« Thank you, thank you R ! You will not regret it !!
- Too late. »
She ran out of the room, placing a kiss on her best friend's cheek as she went. This time was the right one, she knew it.
---
[Enjoltaire squad]
🌸🌺🌼: I still don't understand...
Swag pd ✨: But!!!!!! Jehan!!!!!!!!!!!
Pounine: ur plan isn't cohesive at all
Swag pd ✨: I HATE YOU
Courfeyrac sank onto her bed with a long sigh. The last rays of the sun illuminated her bedroom, the room setting into a soft orange atmosphere. Her only accessible window - her bed was leaning against the other - was open, and the sounds of Paris filled the room in a way that some would have found impossible to bear. It soothed her. One of the advantages of having lived in the capital her whole life, she supposed; where countryside children found the sound of the evening owl reassuring, she was able to fall asleep to the sound of cars and the laughter of passersby.
Courgette: Courf we just want clearer explanations :(
Swag pd ✨: This is the third time I've explained!!!
🌸🌺🌼: but you keep adding details each time, how do you want us to understand it darling ?
She wanted to scream into her pillow. Was it her fault that her thoughts were moving faster than those of others and, as a result, she was losing her friends in her explanations ? She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, a snow-white butterfly landed on her nose. Her breath hitched, her body froze, terrified of making the little insect fly away.
« Hey, you... »
Unfortunately, the butterfly flew away again, coming to land on her flowers - diascas, a gift from Jehan. Butterflies had always been her favorite insects. Their favorite game when they were children, Comberre, Enjolras and her, was catching butterflies, a bit like Pokemon. “Papallions”, as they called it. She would have dreamed of keeping one with her forever... Then, she learned that it only lived for a few weeks, and her heart was broken.
Swag pd ✨: Ok.
Swag pd ✨: My plan is to organize a party at the Musain on Thursday
Pounine: The day of the meeting??
Swag pd ✨: Yes sht
Swag pd ✨: And at this party we do NOTHING NO BOTTLE GAME NO LOCKED UP IN THE SAME ROOM NO FUCKING NOTHING.
🌸🌺🌼: that's what I don't understand... isn't that a bit... counterproductive?
« Hey. »
The blonde didn't jump. One of the advantages of knowing someone since, like, forever, was that you were no longer surprised to hear their voice at any time or any place of the day. It was a constant; a comfortable constant. Focused on her phone, she remained lying on her bed, in a starfish position.
« Hey. There's a butterfly on my flowers, wanna see it ?
- Oh really ? »
Combeferre knelt near the window sill, watching the insect carefully. Courf couldn't help but smile. Her best friend loved nature and everything in it; she claimed that it was more of a scientific approach than anything else, but Courf saw in her eyes the spark of their childhood. It was this spark that had guided her throughout his childhood, kept her under control throughout her adolescence, and made her fall in love at birth. She would have given the world for this spark.
« It’s a white moth, a very common butterfly, although not usually found in the city...
- He's going to eat my flowers ?
- Hmm no, he will just pollinate them, I think.
- Better, yes. »
Combeferre then layed down on the bed, next to the blonde. It didn't take much for the said blonde to roll onto her side and pass her leg over her best friend's, thus clinging to her. What was good about Ferre was that she never judged her, no matter what stupid things she said. She could make fun of her a bit, yes, but never unkindly. Where with Enjy they often argued, her relationship with Ferre was gentle and calm. It soothed her mind. Sometimes she thought to herself that, without her, she would have gone crazy a long time ago.
« What were you doing ?
- I was explaining my plan to the enjoltaire squad !
- And ?
- They don't understand.
- Well, it’s a bit against all of the plans you’ve proposed so far.. »
Combeferre placed a kiss on her hair, pressing herself a little closer to her. Courf looked at her. As soon as the two of them were together, the world around them seemed to disappear. Courf closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't want to think about her plan anymore.
« Is R still here ?
- Hmmm no, she’s at Baz and Feuilly’s. And then she has class, I think. »
- Can we make love ?
- Hmhm... »
---
A few hours later, the sun had set. Under the vague yellowish light of the street lamps, she grabbed her negligee, the floor creaking under her feet. A movement between the sheets; a slight smile illuminating her face. She closed the window, ran a hand through her hair, put her slippers on, then the sound of the door opening caused a little groan coming from the bed. She laughs, a clear and slightly magical laugh.
« Shhhh, go back to sleep. I'll be right back. »
Her feet guided her to the kitchen, where she silently made herself a coffee. Sometimes Courfeyrac loved silence. Ironic, perhaps, for someone who couldn't stand loneliness, but there was something comforting about the silence of one's own home at times.
« When are you going to get together ? »
She rolled her eyes. Obviously, the calm would not last; the joy of living with two roommates. She grabbed her cup, leaning against the counter. Grantaire had just returned from class; she was covered in paint, from her Dr. Martens to her bottle green hoodie, and her brown curls was tied into a messy bun on top of her head. She looked exhausted. She looked like she had been drinking.
« When you confess your love to Enjy.
- Ah. »
She sat on the sofa, under the attentive gaze of Courfeyrac. She dipped her lips in her coffee - latte, she liked it better.
« You could have brought me a bottle.
- Creative genius cannot be shared, my dear !
- Call your alcoholism whatever you want, I want white wine. »
She understood Enjolras. She was in love with Combeferre, of course, but she could not deny Grantaire's beauty. Some would have said that she wasn't the most attractive woman, that she was too tall, too muscular, too masculine, that her hair was a nightmare of unmanageable curls and that her face was certainly not the prettiest they had have ever seen. Courf, her, found a certain beauty in all of these imperfections. They were what made Grantaire so charming. They were what made her best friend fall in love so desperately all those years ago.
« You're pretty.
- Fuck off. »
The same answer, as always. Courf sighed, and put her cup into the dishwasher. She didn't even started her homework. She wanted to get back in bed with Combeferre. Instead, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
« Party at the musain on Thursday, after the meeting. You're in ?
- Is that your brilliant plan? A party ? »
And that was it. When she had been drinking, Grantaire was much more stubborn than usual - and that was saying something.
« Maybe.
- Courf.
- Oh no, you told me I could whatever i want !
- I never said that. »
She crossed her arms, and Courf immediately knew she was upset. Grantaire wasn't wrong, there had been dozens of parties, and nothing had ever happened. Brushing of hands, sideways glances, a lot of embarrassment, nothing very substantial. But Courfeyrac was hopeful this time. She felt it.
« R !
- No. Plus, she hates parties. And I'm going to drink, and we're going to argue again, and she's going to tell me again that I don't know how to do anything other than get drunk or something, and we'll be back to where we fucking started !
- Please trust me ! I swear my plan is perfect, I just have to- »
Too late. R went back to her room, slamming the door, making the living room wall shake and cutting the discussion short.
Courfeyrac sat onto the sofa.
She was right. Of course she was right. It was a scenario that had played out over and over again before her eyes, like a play that the actors would perform to the point of exhaustion. Still, she had hope. She felt that this time was the right one; that this time, they would kiss under the moonlight and Courf would have finally succeeded in making everyone happy. Why did no one ever want to trust her ?
Without realising it, a tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. She quickly wiped them with the back of the sleeve of her negligee. She shouldn't cry; she hah no right to do so. She had no reason to cry. Why cry when she had everything going for her ? The beautiful apartment, the incredible friends, the dream body, the prestigious studies, the pride of her parents. She wasn't going to cry just because her roommate was mad at her, it was absurd ! She sniffed, closing her eyes for a moment.
She was Isaure De Courfeyrac, sunshine in the hearts of her friends and pride of her family. She had no reason to cry, and therefore would not cry. As simple as that.
She opened her eyes again, a smile lighting up her face.
« My love, Grantaire! I'm ordering sushi tonight, tell me what you want! »
And too bad if her voice shaked behind her sparks of joy.