Saint Michelle, Paris, October 21, 1831
"Jacquelyn! Jacquelyn wait!"
Jacquelyn groaned under their breath, "Enjolras, i've told you a million times just call me Jack!"
"Apologies, I just, had, uh, something to ask you."
They turned around, adjusting the stack of books in their arms, "Make it quick, I have to get to work."
He nodded, "So my family, they do this thing every year, on all hallows eve..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
"A thing?" They prompted.
"Like, a ball? I was wondering if you would accompany me?" Enjolras wrung his hands nervously.
"You want me? To accompany you?"
He sighed, "My parents, well, more my father than Maman, are traditional, they already, consider me less of a son, i- you don't have to go as my date, it, it would really help."
"Do I get any more details than that?"
"Well, Ferre and Courf should be there, possibly even Grantaire."
Jacquelyn groaned and started down the street again, hating themself from almost daring to hope, "Fine."
Enjolras breathed a breath of relief and scrambled after them, "Thank you so much! It's on all Hallows eve, as I said, I can accompany you from your lodgings?"
They rolled their eyes, "Just call them what they are, a shit ass hovel."
He nodded slowly, "Uh, well, you, well, Jacqu- Jack, well, you might not want to dress like that," He stopped as they side eyed him, "Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just-"
"Not traditional, yeah, I've been made aware quite a few times. You know, for a man who just practically begged me to go with him to a ball, you really are impolite." They snickered.
"I- uh- I just neve have seen you actually wear a dress."
Jacquelyn laughed, "I'm kidding, don't worry, I do manage to make myself presentable in a way you people consider acceptable."
Enjolras watched as they turned away with a flick of their braids and headed into the book store.
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A little filler for what's coming up. I'll upload the next chapter tomorrow, with the ball.
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The Darkest Night Will End
Fanfiction"There is a life, and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy in between." -Albert Camus In which three people, a marble man, a drunken cynic, and a tired soul, dragged through miserable lives tied together on some invisible string, f...
