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Montparnasse was currently making the list of all the places he’d rather be right now. It was a very long list, but a lot of items were part of the « places I could lounge prettily and do some very fascinating things like polish my nails » category, and all of them could have been filed under « anywhere else because this place is the tenth circle of Hell, or maybe the eleventh, I don’t know, do I look like I read for fun ? ». What could have been going through Claquesous’ mind for him to tell them to go with him in this den of iniquity ? And when Montparnasse meant « tell », he meant « tell them that they had five minutes to get their asses down in the car and buckle up because they were going with him, willingly or not ». Montparnasse would have loved to see his best friend try to wrestle them down a flight of stairs and inside a car. Especially since said best friend was built like a handful of twigs and not that energetic on the best of days. The idea of him trying to drag Gueulemer anywhere was hilarious. Sadly, Claquesous didn’t have to drag anything anywhere, because ‘Mer decided that it was a grand idea. And once ‘Mer decided that something was worth doing it, you better shaped up and follow, or he’d pile everyone on his shoulder and carry them there anyway.
And lo and behold, Claquesous managed to drag the whole of Patron-Minette to the most awful place in town, bar only a few pubs, the police station, and some very selected parties that Montparnasse had buried at the very bottom of his mind. And even then, he wasn’t that sold on the police station. No, really. What could have gone through Claquesous’ mind ? The question was still in the air. A second question, almost as important, was hidden behind the first : what had been going through their minds, that they didn’t tell him where he could stick his idea when he stopped in front of the building, and watched them with a wide smile ? Madness. Fondness. Somethingness. Maybe Claquesous’ fantastic hypnotic powers. Maybe they should look into that.
Montparnasse glanced above the wall he was currently hiding behind. The room was very large, and strewn with a lot of ledges, boxes and other catwalks that were trying to mimic a cityscape. And between the fake building, and up on the bridges and in the tunnels, there were at least twenty idiots running around and playing war. Twenty idiots way too old to be dressed with body armor made of molded plastic, wearing helmets that made them look like giant bugs. But the worst were the guns they were carrying, horrors painted in gaudy colors that they were barely able to aim in the right direction. They looked like overgrown children. And they were making as much noise as overgrown children. More, even. Couldn’t they at least show a little bit of dignity ? Maybe it was written in the rules that they had to behave like a bunch of baboons.
In other words, Montparnasse was having a very bad time at the laser tag club.
How much time was left ? Whatever it was, it was too long. Montparnasse didn’t know how much more time he could spend up there before doing something very stupid. Like starting to chew on his nails, or going on instagram to write some acidic comments on his exes’ pictures. No, wait, he couldn’t even do that, because of course, of course, this place without honor was also a place without smartphones. Without smartphones ! Montparnasse was going to have some words with Claquesous. A lot of words. A lot that he had probably never heard. Claquesous would surely gain a lot of vocabulary this day. No smartphone. And how was he supposed to pass the time ? Should he have brought a book, like the one he’d seen earlier, sitting in a corner, his gun on his lap ? Who did he think he was ? A bookworm ? Montparnasse would have preferred been seen without make-up than… wait, no, maybe not. But he would have preferred having to clean all his shirt collars with a tiny brush than be seen reading in such a place. Luckily, if one could call this luck, there was a clock in the room, a hideous thing that bathed everything near in neon red. And it said that Montparnasse still had twenty minutes to go. And nothing to do to keep his mind off this place.
Since he didn’t have anything better to do, Montparnasse leaned on the railway and let his eyes wander. At least he had a good vantage point, on the highest ledge. Not that there was anything worth staring at, not in a place like this, but it was still better than look at his nails for the next twenty minutes, or worry about the state of his hair. Okay… to be fair, some of the ones running under him weren’t that bad. If someone was feeling charitable, of course. The big one, in the corner, trying to hide behind a few crates… A lost cause, he would have needed at least a dozen of them to manage to conceal such arms and shoulders. Nice, if one was into lumberjacks. Handsome, in a way. Too bad he had opted to cover such a chest with a shirt so flashy Montparnasse had to avert his eyes every time he moved.
On the other side of the room, two of them had taken residence behind a low wall, as Montparnasse was currently doing, and they were… cuddling ? Were they serious ? No, they were. Holding hands, head on the shoulder, the whole thing. To be fair, Montparnasse didn’t know how they could be playing, what with the giant scarf that was currently wrapped around both of us. They didn’t seem to realize that they were not in a park, but in a laser tag room. But they could afford to be as disgustingly cute as they wanted, because they were covered by a woman who could be the personification of war, if war was sporting a colorful dress, bright pink hair, and using a gun like she was born with one in her hand. No one could go pass her to shoot the lovebirds.
Montparnasse bent a little more over the railing, trying to spot the other players. Patron-Minette were lucky, because they had to share with only one other group. Which meant only a dozen people to watch for. Not that Montparnasse was scared, of course. As agitated and monkey-ish as they were, they were only a bunch of students. And if you didn’t account for the Goddess of War with her pink hair and deadly accuracy (Montparnasse saw her shoot one of the others in the split second they took to dive for cover) and the giant lumberjack in neon spandex, they had never held a gun in their life, laser or otherwise.
Wait a minute, was that…? Montparnasse dived behind his ledge and counted until ten before risking a glance. Yes. Yes, that was, that absolutely was Eponine down there, having the time of her life shooting down the others. She must have been part of the group since he didn’t see her arrive on her own. Which meant the others were… Montparnasse swore up and down, and up again. The students. Of course. Of fucking course. Count on his fucking luck to go one fucking time to the laser tag game and have to share the fucking session with the fucking student group that seemed to always cross his path. At least they haven’t yet noticed him up there, and no one had recognized him, or he wouldn’t have heard the end of it.
Now that he knew, it was extremely easy to see which one was Enjolras. Not a feat, seeing the mass of curls sticking out of his visor in every direction, and the red hoodie he never seemed to get out of. Montparnasse had already wondered if he had several of the same, or if he just kept wearing that one, but to be fair, he didn’t give a fuck. Enjolras could wear that ratty thing until it fell apart, Montparnasse was more interested in how he could get into those jeans. They seemed painted on. Probably needed some help taking them off. Not that Montparnasse cared, of course, but he’d heard so much about those pants and the legs and ass in them from Grantaire, that he couldn’t help but wonder the same thing.
Speaking of… wasn’t that Grantaire, trying to sneak on Blondie ? Probably. If Blondie was there, then Grantaire had to be around. Montparnasse couldn’t see them under the blaring lights, but he was sure his clothes were covered with paint stains.
Claquesous suddenly appeared round a corner and shot one of the students, who fell over in an overly dramatic fashion, waving arms and guns around. Montparnasse was absolutely sure he had screamed something equally dramatic or ridiculous. Or both. His friend didn’t even flinch, and shot back, barely missing Claquesous who ducked behind a wall. Good luck catching him. He may have been a twig, but he was the fastest this side of the Seine. Whatever side you were on. The other one shot again a few times, then picked his dramatic friend up. The dramatic one wrapped his arms around the other, and Montparnasse could almost hear him say something stupid and sappy. Idiots, all of them.
But where was Claquesous now ? Montparnasse searched for the long, pale hair and the mask he had managed to stuck under the visor, but there was no trace of him. Which was good, of course. As he didn’t seen any trace of Babet, or even Gueulemer. They might have done the same as him, find a good hiding place and wait for the timer to go off. Or they were hunting students on the other side of the room, go figure.
Ah, there he was, hiding behind the same crates the giant lumberjack had used earlier. He was surveilling one of the alleys, gun ready. But another one of those weirdos was trying to sneak on him. Montparnasse looked for a way to warn him, anything, but of course, there was no other way than…. With a sigh, he grabbed the gun, put it on the railing, and stared into the lens. Ah, that was probably Eponine’s weird girlfriend, the one she couldn’t shut up about. Well, girlfriend of a friend or not, she couldn’t just shoot Claquesous and get away with it. Montparnasse aimed, and shoot. He was ready for the recoil, but there was none, and he almost dropped the gun. Claquesous took advantage of it to disappear, and the girl glared around for her attacker. Montparnasse ducked again. He counted to ten, slowly, then glanced down. The girl had disappeared. There was another student, a smaller one wearing an ugly shirt, and Montparnasse shot him too, ducking a third time as soon as he saw the light indicating a good shot.
This was… fun. Okay, not as fun as everything he had planned to do today, but it wasn’t that terrible. If nothing else, it made time go faster, judging by the neon clock. Montparnasse had already nailed two other students, and stopped one from getting after Gueulemer. ‘Mer seemed to have fun, at least, judging by the way he was charging the tiny students and scattering them left and right. From up there, it was very easy for Montparnasse to nail them as they ran away. Easy as...
Something cold touched his neck, and a voice whispered in his ear.
– I found you, my pretty bird.
Montparnasse’s reflexes kicked in before he could even register what was happening. He grabbed the offending gun against his neck, pushed it back sharply, and elbowed his attacker in the ribs. But his elbow connected with nothing. The other had already moved away, grabbing Montparnasse by his collar and pulling back. A thought barely crossed Montparnasse’s mind – What the fuck ? Do you have any idea how much it’s worth ? – before he grabbed what he could, a large, knitted sleeve and tried to drag him – her ? – to him. There was a yelp, and the hold on his collar relented. Montparnasse took advantage of it to spin around and kick low. This time, he got his target, and the other stepped back with a hiss. Montparnasse’s hand jumped at his hip, and found nothing. No knives, he remembered too late. Forbidden here, and now he was at the mercy of the other. The gun hit him on the chest, pushed him against the wall. He tried to push back, but it was suprisingly hard.
Montparnasse looked up, expecting Gueulemer because he was the only one strong enough to smack him up like that. Or Claquesous because he knew how to sneak up on him. Or maybe the lumberjack. But that one was certainly no lumberjack, and absolutely no Claquesous. He may have been as tall as Gueulemer or the buff student, but he was built like a scarecrow. And dressed like a scarecrow. Montparnasse blessed the neon lights that bathed everything in the same uniform red-ish light, because it diluted the horror that his plaid shirt must have been. Scratch that, plaid shirts. Because he – was he even a he ? – was wearing two of them at the same time. And a tie-dye shirt. And overalls. Overalls ! Montparnasse didn’t know what was worse, but he knew that if he looked at those clothes for too long, he would go blind. Or, even more horrible, lose his fashion sense. A fate worse than death. He couldn’t allow that, and he closed his eyes to protect himself.
– Oh, you’re not Feuilly !
The pressure on his chest suddenly disappeared, and the other stepped back. A part of Montparnasse, a large part, wanted to take advantage of the distraction to jump on him and get some form of revenge, but the rest of him was stuck staring at the other’s face. And what a face it was, all in sharp angles and soft planes, with a dusting of freckles. The nose was upturned in the most disgustingly cute fashion, and the smile was horribly endearing. The hair was a cloud of copper curls dancing in the faint breeze of the fans overhead. But the eyes were the most stunning part by far. Montparnasse couldn’t see their color through the visor, but one was way lighter than the other. And they were both staring at him in a way that was… so gentle ? This didn’t make the slightest hint of sense. It was probably a dream, a stupid dream brought by an excess of neon lights and boredom.
– No, he managed to croak, I’m not.
He didn’t even know what a Feuilly was, but that seemed to do the trick, both for the other one and for him. The spell weighting on him seemed to disappear, leaving him facing a tall idiot with horrible shirts. And freckles. And a nice smile. Do not forget the nice smile, because it was doing things to his heart.
– Sorry, the other answered. I thought you were. Since he likes to hide on ledges and shoot from up there. It may be part of why Bahorel likes to call him a squirrel.
And now he – Montparnasse was 80% sure he was a he – was babbling. Fantastic. Even better. Next thing Montparnasse would know, he would be invited to a tea party with that strange hippie child, Eponine, and a Mad Hatter or two.
– Well, I’m not Feuilly so, sorry, but…
– But you’re playing, right ? the other cut him.
Montparnasse looked down at the gun he had dropped, understood too late that it was a trap. As he looked back up, Flowerchild shot him, then waved at him and disappeared as fast as he had come. Leaving Montparnasse stunned. What…. what was that, exactly ? What did just happen ? What in the seven circles of Hell did just happen ? Someone…. not just someone, some kind of weirdo fresh out of the eighties had managed to get the drop on him, crowd him against the wall, and shoot him, and he just stood there like a gaping idiot. And now he was still standing like a gaping idiot while the other was merrily skipping away.
Oh, but this wouldn’t do. Who did he think he was, getting the upper hand on Montparnasse and leaving ? He would not get away with it, Montparnasse would make sure of that ! He grabbed the fallen rifle and glanced above the railing again. No trace of the hippie. Montparnasse took the time to shoot Enjolras on the back, but he couldn’t see the other one anywhere. Which meant that, if he wanted to get his revenge, he would need to get down from his perch and engage with the students. Dreadful prospect, but the need to make the other pay was too strong to pass.
And so, Montparnasse abandoned his perch and joined the game. It was harder to play on the ground. He was more exposed than upstairs, especially with his black clothes that stood out against the walls. He needed to find a corner full of shadows to hide in, and wait for the hippie to come to him, without being seen by the other students. Especially Enjolras. And knowing his luck, they would find themselves face to face at one point.
Lady Luck must have been on his side, because he ran into two people only. Students or not, he managed to shoot one in the chest and escape the other before they could get him. He found himself behind some kind of tower that was currently unoccupied. Perfect. He thought about climbing up there and waiting for the hippie to come, but that wouldn’t do. He wanted to get him, he wanted to catch him like Flowerchild had caught him, and he wanted to make him pay. Pay for the hit, and pay for making him feel stupid. Oh, he would see !
But for him to see, Montparnasse needed to find him first. Come on, it shouldn’t be that hard ! The boy was tall and dressed like he just escaped kindergarten, it shouldn’t have been difficult ! Montparnasse should have been able to spot him a mile away, even with walls and the like between them ! And still, no hippie. Montparnasse could see Grantaire (and shot him in the back before hiding behind a wall) and the dramatic one (got him in the head, a very nice shot if he could say so), but no hippie. Meaning that Montparnasse would have to do what he vowed not to do : he would have to play the game, fully and entirely.
For a minute, Montparnasse stayed hidden, but no one was coming his way anymore, and it was getting boring again. He stepped out of his hideout, half-crouching in a position that was certainly extremely ridiculous, but right now, he couldn’t care less. He wanted nothing more than grab Flowerchild like he had been grabbed, shove him against the wall, and make that damned smile disappear. See the fear in those eyes. Those strange eyes…
Something moved beside him, and Montparnasse aimed, but it was only Claquesous who waved him to his side. Montparnasse obeyed, and they hid in a narrow alley between two blocks.
– How are you ? Claquesous asked while scanning the area.
He seemed to have the time of his life. His hair was sticking out of his ponytail, he was out of breath and he was smiling. Smiling ! A real smile, not a smirk. Montparnasse wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him that exalted, and changed his opinion on coming to that wretched place. If it made ‘Sous that happy, maybe it was worth enduring.
– Fine, Montparnasse muttered – he wasn’t going to show him how much he enjoyed it ! –, what about you ? How many did you get ?
– Four at least. And Babet twice. He’s not even trying.
– No fun. And the students ?
– One of them is a rotten bastard. Look out for him.
– Which one ?
Did he meet the hippie too ? Did he get him ? That would teach him ! Even if Montparnasse would have loved to get him. To shoot him, of course.
– The tall one with glasses. He’s an asshole, he’ll shoot you full of… well, lasers, but you know what I mean.
Montparnasse nodded. Yes, he’d seen him, the one with the dramatic one. He didn’t see that terrible, but Claquesous had seen him up close.
– Okay, fine, not the one with the glasses.
– The big one with the neon shirt is fast, but you can hear him coming.
– The others ?
– A bunch of kittens.
Montparnasse snickered. Yeah, right. A bunch of little children. They would eat them alive. Of course, he didn’t mention to Claquesous that one of the kittens had managed to get the upper hand on him. He wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of his life and even in the afterlife.
– We should move, he said. They will find us.
Claquesous muttered something that sounded like “let them come”, but he followed the alley to the end, and glanced left and right.
– Nothing. Let’s go.
They crossed the empty space between two “buildings”. Montparnasse was reaching the corner when he heard the unmistakable sound of a laser gun being shot. He dived to safety, turned around and shot. He could barely see a long braid and an awful shirt disappear behind a crate. Flowerchild had found him again. Oh, but he wasn’t going to get away with it !
– Gab, cover me !
Claquesous didn’t even blink at the nickname he only heard in moments of hardship. He aimed in the given direction and started shooting, sending lasers in a wide arc. Montparnasse took advantage of it, crouching to run across the wall. One of the students barged from the alley he had left a few minutes earlier, but he didn’t even stop, just swerving out of the way. He could hear a shot, then a swear, then three more. Claquesous was looking after him.
And there was Flowerchild, in all his plaid glory ! Montparnasse shot him, but he was too fast. So fast that he was at the other end of the street in a second. He took the time to wave at Montparnasse – wave !! – before vanishing. Montparnasse wanted nothing more than teach him to taunt him like that, but another one of those kids appeared above him and he rushed to cover. Damn kids. Now he had lost Flowerchild in this maze. He looked around, but there was no one. Claquesous had disappeared, probably to keep the hunt going. He needed to do the same. Whoever the student was, he or she knew he was here, and would come gunning (ha !) for him in a second. He had to move, and to find Flowerchild.
He managed to leave his hiding place without being seen, or at least shot, but he was running in circles. And he was almost out of time. Any minute now, the buzzer would ring, and he wouldn’t be able to get his revenge on Flowerchild. He could always try to get him in the lobby, but that wouldn’t have been the same. And someone could have objected. For what little he knew about that group of students, they were awfully protective of each other. Montparnasse didn’t want to know what would become of him if he fell into Lumberjack’s hands. If he were to get revenge, it would be right now.
He followed the outer wall, looking out for any sign of anything dangerous. But the students seemed to have vanished into thin air. Was it already over ? Was he the only one still playing while everyone else was already gone and having pretentious drinks at the coffee shop in the lobby ? No, there was something moving at the edge of the room. Something red and blond, and probably very angry. Montparnasse slipped on the other side, silent as a cat. The less he saw of the Blond Leader, the better. He didn’t need a lecture on fair trade coffee, unions, or whatever his latest fight was about. Beside, he had something better to do. Then again, everything was better than that. Taxes were better than that !
Montparnasse had to duck twice more. The Lumberjack was on the prowl and he didn’t want to be trampled. As for Eponine, he didn’t want to be subjected to her endless mockery. He already got enough of it as he was. If she saw him having fun like that, with a bunch of idiots, she would probably do something stupid, like take a picture and blow it poster-size. And he couldn’t be seen like that, especially not now. His cheeks were burning, his shirt was sticking out in the back, and he was sure his hair was an absolute mess. No picture material, never. If she managed to get him, he would probably change his name and leave for another country.
There !! He’d seen the awful plaid between two barrel-shaped things. And even better, Flowerchild wasn’t looking in his direction. Montparnasse stepped closer, careful not to make the slightest sound. From this angle, the shirts didn’t look any better, but he now had a perfect view of Flowerchild’s back – nothing to write home about – and hair – a lot to write home about. Montparnasse wouldn’t have thought that it would be that long. The braid was reaching the small of his back, which meant it was even longer than that. And it shone under the light. It was probably gold, or light brown, or…
Flowerchild turned around, and Montparnasse quickly aimed at him.
– Seems like I win this round.
Flowerchild stared at him for one second, enough for Montparnasse to regret not having found something cooler to say. “The hunter becomes the hunted”. No. “Beware the bird of prey”. Even worse. And then, Flowerchild smiled. Smiled ! The same smile than before. Not a smirk, like Claquesous, or a light quirk of the lips like Enjolras on the rare occasions that he deigned not frown. No. A large, friendly smile. So sunny that Montparnasse wanted to hit him just to make it disappear. Instead, he just stared at it like an idiot.
– So ?
Montparnasse had to kick himself to regain his bearing.
– So ? How should I get my revenge ?
– Revenge ? Flowerchild asked, puzzled. Oh, for before ?
– Yes. Do you think you can just sneak on me like this ?
Flowerchild shrugged, maybe to say that yes, he could, since he just did.
– No, Montparnasse quickly amended. You can’t. And I will shoot you now.
He was expecting some scramble to get his weapon, maybe a fight. Or would he beg for his… well, not his life, because as enraged as Montparnasse was, it was only a game. But no, Flowerchild just stared at him. Not in a puppy-dog-eyes way to get him to have pity on him, but in a… gentle way ? Montparnasse could have gotten past a normal stare, but that one was oddly… strange. In a strange way. The word “endearing” was trying to fight its way to the front of his mind, and he did his best to push it back. No, we wasn’t going to find a grown man endearing, even a grown man wearing overalls. But there was something in those eyes, something that cut the words right inside his throat. Maybe a simple trick of the mismatched irises, the twin sparks stabbing at his heart through the colored visor. Montparnasse would have given one of his silk shirts to know their true colors. Would they shine under the sun, would the light go through them and turn them into pieces of stained glass ? Would they look like the most precious gemstones in the world ?
– So, what are you going to do ?
Montparnasse had to shake himself to go back to the situation at hand. What had gone through his mind just now ? Where did that come from ? Certainly not himself. There must have been something in the air to turn his brain into mush and make him spout such trite and corny lines ? But it was true that Flowerchild had beautiful eyes, even through the visor. And that the smile wasn’t bad either. And that they had a lot of freckles that looked like a galaxy…
– So ?
This time, Montparnasse managed to answer – or rather croak :
– I’m going to shoot you. Maybe twice, just because I can.
But could he ? Flowerchild was still staring at him, and it was still making his heart aflutter. Montparnasse lifted his gun again and aimed it at the chest plate, but he didn’t press the trigger. One minute passed, then two, and still, he didn’t. What kind of spell was that, that he couldn’t even do that small thing ? Small thing he’d already done, and on Flowerchild, no less. But now, he was frozen in place by those weird eyes.
Flowerchild finally moved, getting up slowly, hands up. He was so tall, taller even than Montparnasse, and Montparnasse was wearing his highest heels. But still, Flowerchild was taller for at least two inches. He brushed aside the curly strands falling around his face. His hand was long, and devoid of rings, but the nails were painted, and a lot of bracelets dangled around his wrists. The little beads caught the lights overhead, and Montparnasse had to blink several times. So that was the origin of the spell ? Or did it just add to his power ?
Flowerchild stepped forwards, and Montparnasse tensed at having him so close. There was one foot of space between them, maybe even less. Way to little. It would take only one thrust of his hand to stick a knife between his ribs. Or a flick of the wrist, the blade going under the lower ribs, cutting the diaphragm, and he would be left to suffocate… Unless the lung… He needed to go, right now, before Flowerchild…
Before Flowerchild lifted his hand and slowly, gently, stroked his cheek. His fingers were a little rough on Montparnasse’s skin, but the gesture was so soft he couldn’t help but let a little sigh out. How stupid must he have been to think that such a cute boy could have wanted to kill him ? He was a fairy, a nymph, a creature of the woods sent there to… he didn’t know. His brain was slowly going into overload, and it was entirely due to Flowerchild’s hand on his cheek.
– You’re quite a mysterious bird, Flowerchild sighed, so close that Montparnasse could feel it on his lips.
– And what would that make you ? he managed to answer.
– The birdcatcher, maybe ?
Montparnasse saw too late that Flowerchild had his gun in his hand again, and that he was aiming it at him. A buzz, a bright light, and the laser hit his chest plate. Flowerchild waved at him and jumped over the railing, disappearing with a small laugh. Two seconds later, the clock gave the final signal. Montparnasse threw the gun on the floor, and spouted a few swears for good measure. He thought about running after him and doing something stupid like strangling him with his own hair. But already, the clerks were making the rounds to throw everyone out, and he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of having to explain to the police why he decided to attack a harmless student. “Because he charmed me with his strange eyes” didn’t seem quite a valid reason. And so, he left the gun where he had thrown it and followed the last ones to the equipment room.
Claquesous was already there, putting everything away, but contrary to what Montparnasse would have expected, he wasn’t waiting for him. No, he was… chatting ? With one of the students ? The smaller one with the ugly shirt. Montparnasse had seen him earlier, and he didn’t think twice about it. But now they were talking, and they even seemed to be… friends ? Montparnasse couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Not only did Claquesous had a friend he didn’t know about – and he knew absolutely everything about Claquesous, including all the embarrassing little stories he didn’t want anyone else to know –, but it was a student, and one of Enjolras’ friends at that ! They needed to have a conversation, a long conversation about a few things. Later, when all of those pesky kids had left.
A voice rang through the room and Montparnasse ducked behind a row of lockers before he could even recognize it.
– Feuilly ? Are you coming ?
Ah, so that was the weird word Flowerchild had been using. Probably the name of the badly-dressed student. Well, the other badly-dressed student. Montparnasse only emerged from his hiding place when the steps had died down. To find himself facing Claquesous’ sharkish grin. Oh, he wasn’t going to hear the last of this for a long, very long time. He tried to pass him, but ‘Sous wasn’t having any of it.
– So, he drawled, you still don’t want to talk to Blondie ?
– Why would I ?
– Because you could benefit from his drive, his fire, and make something of your worthless existence by turning into an enemy of capitalism ?
He stopped when he heard Montparnasse’s teeth grinding together, and gave him his most charming smile.
– No ?
– No, Montparnasse growled. And if you say anything about it, I’ll throw all your sweaters away and dye your hair blond. We’ll see how you like it.
Claquesous closed his lips with an imaginary zipper. Montparnasse wanted to drill it in his mind that he would do better never to mention Enjolras is front of him ever again, but Claquesous’ eyes flickered to his left. Before he could turn around and check what was more interesting than him, something touched his hand, and it took all his strength not to jump away and punch. Something bright passed him, and he could see that he had been right : even under normal lights, those two shirts were an eyesore. If he had to stare at it more than five seconds, he’d surely go blind.
He looked down, but not soon enough that he couldn’t see Flowerchild glance at him above his shoulder and throw him his infuriating smile. Montparnasse thought for a second that he would stop and talk to him, but no, he didn’t even break stride. When he looked up, it was to see Flowerchild disappear through the exit door. His braid was dancing down his back, swaying back and forth with his step. It really was as long as Montparnasse has thought, and a shiny copper that was almost shocking under the ceiling lights.
Claquesous chuckled, and Montparnasse realized he was gaping. Well, no need to try and disguise it as a yawn or anything. Claquesous had seen everything.
– Just shut up, Montparnasse warned with a raised finger.
Instead of nodding and disappearing in a puff of smoke, Claquesous just smiled wider.
– Oh, I’m not saying anything.
– You are.
– Do you want to have this argument ? Or do you want this ?
Claquesous held out his hand. In it was a little piece of paper, carefully folded in four.
– What’s that ? Montparnasse asked in the most disinterested tone he could muster.
Claquesous’ smile only grew wider, so wide that it wouldn’t take much for his head to fall over and roll away.
– This, my dear Alistair, is a message from your very own, very special, very plaid-wearing fairy. Do you want it, or not ?
Motnparnasse was very tempted to grab the paper and make him eat it, or something as stupid. Instead, he snatched it, trying not to ignore the snicker that came with, and unfolded it. On the inside, in purple pen – purple ! –, two lines had been scribbled. A phone number, and more important, a name : Jehan Prouvaire.
Montparnasse stared at the paper for at least two minutes, focusing on the curls of the P, the swish of the 5s, and… was it a little circle on the i ? Yes. Yes, it was. Flowerchild – Jehan ? What was that, was it even a name ? – dotted his i with a circle. It was stupid and childish and so… so… cute.
Claquesous’ arm fell on his shoulders and Montparnasse almost elbowed him in the ribs. He should have, that would have taught him to make fun of him during such a time of hardship. But no, it wasn’t his fault. Okay, it was, in that he was making fun of him, but the rest wasn’t. Except that…
– Gab, tell me, and be perfectly honest with me : did you plan that ?
Claquesous didn’t flinch, but it was kind of hard to see with the mask covering part of his face.
– No.
– Liar.
– Bold words, Alistair, especially for someone in poking distance.
Montparnasse rolled his eyes.
– Come on. You were talking to the one, the short one. And both of you seemed very friendly. You didn’t tell me you knew one of them.
– Well, I don’t tell you everything.
– You should.
– As if !
Claquesous snickered again.
– We just thought it would be fun to see what would happen if we met at the laser tag. It didn’t have anything to do with Enjolras, and double-nothing to do with you and you strange little fairy.
Montparnasse hoped Claquesous couldn’t read his mind, because it would become very weird very fast.
– He’s not…
– Oh, c’mon. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. It’s alright. He’s quite nice-looking, and he has nice hair. Of course, there’s always the question of his fashion sense…
Montparnasse groaned, but he let himself be led to the exit, where Babet and Gueulemer were already waiting for them. The small bit of paper had ended in his pocket, where it was burning the tip of his fingers. He wasn’t going to call, certainly not ! Who did Flowerchild think he was ? Oh no, Montparnasse would certainly not come crawling to him !
As they neared the door, Claquesous suddenly turned to him.
– You’re not going to call, are you ?
– Never.
– Then you probably don’t need me to tell you that he collects skulls, has more tattoos than you and has already been banned from three cemeteries in town.
Gueulemer waved them forwards, effectively cutting off Montparnasse’s answer. As they made their way back to their lair, Babet ranting against loud noises, bright lights, and stupid kids who never held guns before, he mulled over Claquesous’ last words. Banned from more cemeteries than Montparnasse ? Maybe he could text Flowerchild – never call ! – and see where it would lead him. It wouldn’t be that fun, of course, and he’d have to be careful not to let out anything that could go back to Enjolras. But it could be… entertaining.
(Montparnasse learned a lot of things that evening. One, that Jehan’s hair was as soft and beautiful as he had thought. Two, that his eyes were even more beautiful up close. Three, that he was reckless and, yes, didn’t even think twice about breaking into a cemetery at night (earning Montparnasse two very unsightly bruises in some very uncomfortable places). And four, that Montparnasse now owed Claquesous a new pair of boots to have made it possible to have such a fascinating creature in his arms and in his life.)