Chapter Text
It was fairly cold out, and Montparnasse was not pleased. The uniforms enforced by his boarding school made it so that unfortunately, he had to suffer through bad weather. He pulled the thin material closer, trying to pull any warmth into himself that he could. In the five minutes it took to get from his lodging to the actual school building, his nose would probably freeze off. It was terrible.
He took out his phone and began rapidly texting his friend, Claquesous, who would be in the same class. He was about to put it away when suddenly, someone rammed directly into him, knocking him back into the snow beside the path.
“Hey! Watch it!” he hissed, glaring at the person who was laying on top of him, clearly flustered and slightly discombobulated.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” they quickly apologised, standing up and offering a hand to him. Montparnasse took it, but watched them carefully. In all honesty, they would be pretty if it weren’t for the uniform. It was probably three sizes too big, and it honestly didn’t look good on anyone. They had shoulder-length bright orange hair that resembled a pressed penny, and soft green eyes that reminded him of jade. Freckles were scattered over their face almost like paint splatters.
“Are you alright?” they asked, looking over him worriedly and brushing the snow from his sleeves.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, probably a little too harsh, given how offended they looked. Good. Didn’t want them to get any ideas about him being soft, or sweet. It would probably crush their heart. A singular flower was tucked behind their ear. A pansy.
“I would help you more, but I really must be getting to class,” they quickly said, “See you around uhh… What's your name?”
“Montparnasse,” he responded, “And yours?”
“Jehan Prouvaire,” they said with a smile, “Au revoir, monsieur Montparnasse.”
They left in the direction of the arts building, and Montparnasse noticed that they’d dropped their flower. He picked it up and gently rubbed the petals between two fingers. The flower was purple, with white fading into yellow around the centre. He tucked it in his pocket, planning to return it if he saw them again. For some reason, he was intrigued by them. Perhaps they would meet again.
When he reached his class, biology, Claquesous was already sitting at their shared desk. His greasy black hair was covering his face, as usual. Montparnasse sometimes wondered how he could even see.
He raised an eyebrow as the slightly shorter boy walked in, putting down a bag and sitting down.
“Why’re you so late, Hillary?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Shut up,” he snapped back, pulling out his notebook and when he did, the pansy fell out onto the desk. Claquesous snatched it before he could hide it again.
“Oh do tell me, what pretty girl gave you this?” he asked, holding the flower up and inspecting it.
“Nobody gave it to me! It fell out of someone’s hair when they bumped into me!” he tried to explain, reaching for the blossom. It was his only excuse to see them again.
“A girl?”
“I don’t know!”
Claquesous raised an eyebrow and barked out a laugh, “How could you not know? Wasn’t it obvious? Girls like flowers and have long hair, and boys hate flowers and have short hair!”
Montparnasse decided not to mention that he liked flowers, and his friend had long hair. It wouldn’t accomplish anything other than convincing him even more that he was secretly a girl, and earn him an even more feminine nickname than ‘Hillary’. He instead settled for rolling his eyes and snatching the bloom from his friend’s grasp.
“What about people in between or outside of girl and boy? Do they just hate everything and are bald?” he joked, tucking the flower in an inner pocket that he’d sewn into his uniform vest.
“They aren’t real, you know that, Hillary,” Claquesous scoffed, waving his hand. He leaned back in his chair, rocking back only on the back legs.
“Whatever, bigot,” he muttered as the teacher hit her desk three times with a metre stick, signalling the start of class. He bent over his books and prepared to take notes. Despite the rumors, Montparnasse was actually a diligent student. He enjoyed learning, it was something that he indulged in. Even if he didn’t like the actual process, the facts would be helpful later in life. Especially in biology.
The class dragged on though, as all Montparnasse could think about was the mysterious stranger who he had met. It was curiosity, a wish to dissect them and learn who they were. They seemed quite fascinating, and he couldn’t wait to see how they reacted to many things. He felt in his pocket for the flower, the petals soft under his gentle fingers.
When the bell finally rang, he bolted out of the building and scanned the courtyard for bright orange hair. He found it, nestled amongst a huge group of other people. So they were social, interesting. He sidled over, holding the flower in one hand. The cold permeating the air didn’t even bother him as he approached.
As he got closer, his heart sank. The people surrounding the red head were members of an activism group that resided on campus. The school was surprisingly tolerant of them, given how aggressive their tactics were for social justice. Montparnasse’s target was on the edge, seemingly tagging along. They appeared to be listening in on a conversation between a tall man with dark skin and a shorter man with similar fire-toned hair. Although, it seemed that his mane was more red than orange.
They startled slightly when Montparnasse tapped their shoulder, holding out the flower.
“Hello. Jehan, was it?” he asked smoothly, tucking the blossom into their hair gently and leaning down to look in their eyes. They seemed slightly flustered, stumbling over their words for a moment before responding.
“Yes, it was. You were Montparnasse, correct?” They finally got out.
“In the flesh,” he responded, walking beside them as they began lagging behind the rest of the group.
“You’re just returning my flower?” they asked, looking up at him. Their eyes were gorgeous in the winter light, Montparnasse would’ve sworn he could see gold shining in their depths.
“And asking a few questions, if you don’t mind,” he said, watching their reaction carefully. He was thoroughly intrigued with them. Their voice was soft, but he could feel the hard corners. It felt like a trap almost.
“Ask away, Montparnasse,” they responded with a grin. Their smile could light up a city, he noted.
“Well, first of all, my friend was wondering whether you were a girl or boy. He’s a little bigoted and assumed that you were a girl because you had a flower,” he asked.
Their brow furrowed slightly, possibly in annoyance, but quickly relaxed again, “Oh, yeah… Well, uh… I’m a boy, I guess. But like… not totally. If that makes sense? Does it?”
“Yeah, sure,” Montparnasse shrugged, “It’s a good answer. I don’t quite get it, but honestly whatever. It’s not my business really, it’s yours.”
“Oh, you’re the first person that hasn’t asked a whole bunch of questions,” they said with a laugh, “Thank you. I hate having to explain myself to people that don’t get it.”
“I won’t ask you to explain anything you don’t want to,” Montparnasse lied. He thought he was lying, at least.
“Well thank you very much,” they replied, squatting down and picking up a wrapper from the ground. That’s when he noticed the glittering scarf that was wrapped around their waist. It jingled with every movement, and he was pretty sure there were coins attached to the end.
Montparnasse watched as they looked up, only to see that the group was already pretty far ahead of them. Jehan stood up quickly and looked back apologetically.
“Sorry, we’re going to a meeting and… I really need to be there on time. Sorry, wanna talk sometime?” they asked, smiling sadly.
“I would love to,” Montparnasse responded, writing his phone number down on a small piece of paper and handing it to them. They beamed and pocketed it, running to catch up with their group. The coins on their scarf caught the sunlight and reflected it across the cobbled pavement. He watched them for a moment, curiosity not sated just yet. If anything, it had only become more intense. He couldn’t help but think of them as he went to his next class.
The next few days passed in a blur of going to different classes, sleeping suboptimally, and eating far too much macaroni and cheese from the school dining hall. Everywhere he went, however, he looked for copper hair. Every time his phone went off, he pulled it out to see if Jehan had finally texted. They never had.
Eventually, his friend Eponine noticed something was wrong. She was dropping off some notes at his room when she saw him staring at his phone.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, slipping in and sitting down beside him, glancing over at his screen.
“I gave some guy my number, but they haven’t texted yet. I’m a little worried that they hated me, and don’t want to talk,” he explained, “They’re just really interesting, and I’m curious about them.”
Montparnasse wasn’t usually open about his feelings, but with Eponine it always felt easier. They had known each other for years and shared almost everything.
“Ah. I see,” she mused quietly before falling back into silence, “Who is it?”
He considered not telling her, but then figured it wouldn’t hurt. She probably didn’t even know them.
“Their name is Jehan and they have red hair,” he finally answered.
Eponine looked up, soft brown eyes wide, “Oh! I know them. They go to those activism meetings that Marius does.”
“Wait really? Marius goes to those?” Montparnasse wrinkled his nose.
“Yeah I know,” she sighed, “But what’s important is that I could talk to them and ask them to text you. Or even bring you, and y’all could talk in person!”
She looked quite pleased with herself, and excited.
“Sure, when’s their next meeting?” he asked.
“Friday, I’ll come pick you up after I have music,” she answered brightly, jumping up. Her tightly wound dark curls bounced with the movement. Montparnasse watched as she walked out, texting rapidly and slamming the door behind her.
He groaned and fell back onto his bed. Three more days before he could finally figure out something about this boy, it was going to be torture.
Claquesous was the second one to notice something was off about him. He was a very observant person, and figured it out during math. The teacher was rambling on about algebra when he whipped his head over to see Montparnasse just doodling on his page rather than writing down notes. He was drawing Jehan, at least what he could remember of them. Their freckles, short hair that glinted in the sun. A flower tucked behind their ear. He was trying to figure out who they were, and he needed inspiration for a portrait assignment in art.
“You’ve found someone that caught your attention, didn’t you Hillary,” Claquesous stated bluntly, craning his neck to look at Montparnasse’s paper. He smirked slightly.
“Aww, do you have a little crush?” he teased, laughing quietly when his friend elbowed him under the desk.
“No, I don’t. They’re just… odd. I need to understand them,” he huffed, finishing up the last drawing and slamming the notebook shut. The teacher, an older man with a no-nonsense attitude, glared at him down a long, crooked nose. Montparnasse just watched back with an innocent expression. It was carefully crafted to make teachers always believe him, and it worked again. The teacher just sighed and went back to talking.
“Sure… ‘Just odd’,” Claquesous snickered, “I’m gonna quote you on that Hillary, when you’re married with a pet cat.”
“Maybe they’re a dog person,” Montparnasse hissed. Although, he personally thought they would like cats.
Friday came after much anticipation. After school, Montparnasse ran back to his room and got changed into something slightly more fashionable. It was a worn leather jacket, layered over a black t-shirt with faded floral patterns. For pants he wore a pair of jeans with a silver chain belt.
Eponine knocked on the door, letting herself in after a moment. She looked at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and laughing.
“Overdressed. Everyone else will just be in their school uniforms, you know that right?” she laughed, shoving him lightly.
He huffed and glared at her.
“Yeah, but I can at least make a good impression!” he defended himself as she dragged him out the door.
The meeting was held off school grounds, at a cafe only a few blocks away. Montparnasse had never been there before, as he had felt no need to. It looked vintage in a not-trendy way. It looked like a pub in England, with a wooden sign hanging out front. On it was written the name of the location: Le Cafe Musain. He could hear voices from inside spilling out onto the street as they entered. Eponine immediately sat down beside a lanky man with brown curls, Marius. He was enraptured by another girl who was talking animatedly, waving her hands as she spoke. Oh how Montparnasse pitied her.
He scanned the room slowly, searching every corner with his eyes for saffron hair. He found it sitting alone at a table, sipping quietly from a mug. Jehan had both slender hands wrapped around the warm ceramic as they drank, watching out the window. Montparnasse walked over quickly, ignoring the odd looks from the other students in the cafe.
“Hello, Jehan. Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair beside the boy, who quickly nodded.
“Oh of course! Sit, sit,” they quickly said, shifting over slightly to give him more room to move. He nodded in thanks and sat himself down. Jehan opened their mouth as if to speak, but was cut off by a bell ringing through the area. Montparnasse whipped around to glare at whoever had rung it, and was met with the sight of a blonde man with sharp blue eyes and softly muscled features. It wasn’t his particular cup of tea, but one couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. Jehan also looked a little annoyed and disappointed. They leaned in and whispered in Montparnasse’s ear.
“Talk after?”
The man nodded and turned to watch the speech that he was sure was soon to ensue.
The meeting’s political side was surprisingly short, but it dragged on. Montparnasse had never had a passion for social justice, so maybe that had something to do with it. After, however, the group dissolved into barely controlled chaos. Laughs and conversations filled the air, exploding through the space with vigor.
Montparnasse turned to Jehan, who was still drinking from the same mug. They were smiling softly, turning to look at him.
“What’s in there?” he finally asked, pointing to their drink.
“Lavender tea,” they answered smoothly, taking one last sip before putting it down and leaning on the table with their elbows, inspecting Montparnasse intently. Their green eyes darted all over him, and he felt slightly nervous under their scrutiny.
“So, why didn’t you text?” he asked, hoping to get out of this attention.
“I lost your number,” they admitted sheepishly, fiddling with the hair that had fallen out from behind their ear.
“Ah, I see. You’re forgetful I assume?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well not usually,” they sighed, “But my week was kinda busy.”
“Oh, okay.”
Montparnasse suddenly felt guilty that he hadn’t even considered that. They laughed before yawning.
“Anyways, here’s mine. Text when you can, and maybe we can talk!” they slide a card with numbers messily scrawled on it over to Montparnasse with a grin. They then waved and quickly left with their friends, who had exited just moments before.
Eponine sidled up to him with a smirk.
“I see that you finally talked to them,” she commented, “How was it?”
“It was good, thank you,” he said before leaving, pulling out his phone to put in their number.