VIOLET EYES | LES MISÉRABLES

chapter six

Sonnet and Sébastien found themselves wandering for half an hour more, before Sébastien remembered that he was due for an evening duty. So they briskly returned to Sonnet's house, where Sébastien kissed her cheek instead of her knuckles.

"I hope that we can do something again, Mademoiselle Sonnet." Sébastien smiled, resting a hand on her cheek.

"Oui, Monsieur. But please, call me Sonnet. There is no need for formalities." Sonnet said.

"Then you must call me Sébastien, Sonnet." Sébastien replied, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin of her cheek. Sonnet expected to feel her heart burst with every touch, but felt nothing. That did not surprise her, for her mind was clouded with thoughts of the boy.

"Au revoir, Sébastien." Sonnet said with an unintentionally dreamy smile. Sébastien grinned as he turned and walked down the street.

Sonnet quickly opened the gate and went to the front door, knocking in hopes that Javert would be home. There was no response, meaning he was on duty.

Sonnet sighed, although she did not mind. The sun was still shining and there was a calm breeze brushing her exposed skin. She sat on one of the chairs they had placed outside, and observed passer-bys through the gate. There were many, given the fact that they lived in such a busy area of Paris.

The sun slowly started to set, and Sonnet watched in awe as pink and red streaked across the sky. The melodic tolling of Notre-Dame's bells only added to the gentle ambience.

She pictured the boy's face in her mind, reliving the soft touches that made her heart flutter.

"Whomever you are," Sonnet whispered into the darkening night. "I thank you for setting my heart alight."

〰〰〰

"Jehan, snap out of it!"

"Seriously, what has gotten into the boy?"

"He's covered in ink as well, what was he doing last night?"

Jean Prouvaire snapped out of his dreamlike daze, smiling at the members of Les Amis de l'ABC that hovered above him. Combeferre looked at him concerned, but Courfeyrac and Feuilly were smirking. They ruffled his dark blonde hair before sitting beside him.

"Did you stay up all night writing poetry again?" Combeferre questioned, raising an eyebrow in worry. Jean, or Jehan, blushed shyly and nodded.

"I couldn't help it. She was so beautiful, I had to write it down before the little details disappeared from my mind completely." Jehan confessed, sighing as he thought of the girl he had been acquainted with the day before. He had shied away from approaching her or even bidding farewell once her officer friend Sébastien had returned, a motive he regretted immensely.

The fellow men raised their eyebrows, but were not surprised at Jehan. He was in love with the idea of love, which caused him to write hurried poetry of beautiful Parisian girls that passed him on the street.

"What did you do, fall for another bourgeoise that walked past you again? That would be what, the third this year?" Courfeyrac laughed, a booming laugh that either Enjolras or Alexandria would scowl at if they were here. Thankfully, the strict blonde leaders had not yet arrived at the Musain.

"It was not like that, not at all!" Jehan protested, waving his arms about before sighing happily. "We talked, and we were so close, and oh it was wonderful! But I never got her name."