Les Miserables Short Stories-An ongoing series written by pheelingmusical

Prom

"We can't let him see, we can't let anyone see." Enjolras arched his back to shield the sketchpad. "I've only been to two classes-my sketches are stick figures and bubble letters." he grumbled, flipping the pad closed and bending it to fit into his backpack. "I think it's soooo cute," Combeferre pinched Enjolras' cheek and looked over to Grantaire who sat at the bar. "What are you going to do with those anyways?" "Give the drawings to him once they improve...Maybe paint something. I don't know." Enjolras flushed with excitement at the thought of being as good as Grantaire-the look on his face when he sees the painting. He looked twice to both of his sides and whispered, "Do you think he likes me back?" Combeferre and Courf laughed. "Does Jehan like to write poems about braiding Courf's hair?" Comb jeered while Courf went red. "Okay, tomorrow is the day." Enjolras swiped his backpack off the table and headed out the cafe. "What do you think he's gonna do?" Comb asked. "I don't know, but I'm sure as hell it'll be funny." Courf sipped his coffee and went to pick up Jehan. "So what's the dish? Anything new?" Grantaire grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat in it backwards. "No-absolutely nothing." Comb lied. The next morning, Enjolras stood in front of Grantaire's house-ready to do what he planned all night. Grantaire would walk out to get the newspaper and the mail like he did every Thursday-and he would be standing there waiting for him. The doorknob turned, the alarm chirped, and Enjolras shoved the small canvas into the mailbox, ran away quickly, but having to go back to make sure the flag was up-all within time of not getting caught. Two stick figures, one in red, one in green with a large heart surrounding them. "Grantaire, will you go to prom with me? Signed, Enjolras." He read, smiling with his cup of coffee in his hand.

-

"Are you sure it's empty?" Grantaire inspected his doughnut before taking a cautious bite. His phone pressed up between his shoulder and his ear, he checked the time and grabbed his wallet. "It's fine, don't worry 'bout it, man. I got you." Courfeyrac said smoothly through the phone, Grantaire could almost imagine him leaning against the kitchen island, trying to sound and act cool. "What was that, sweetie?" Jehan's voice came faintly in the back of the call. "Nothing dear! Gotta go-Jehan's got a big poetry performance to get to." and Courf abruptly hung up the call. Grantaire grabbed his spray paints, and headed out the door. New York was a big place-graffiti filled the alleys-along with the homeless people. Grantaire had a homeless friend named Nathan-he always gave him food and a warm drink when he needed it. Now, he was gonna renovate the local alley he lived in. "Hey, R! The big man! How you doin'?" Nathan clapped Grantaire on the back and was given the whole box of doughnuts. "Here for little blonde?" Nathan asked, referring to Enjolras. Grantaire brought him here sometimes, but Enjolras didn't make a very good impression of himself. He accidentally walked all over Big Gabe's sleeping cot-and got a pretty good talking to that day."Yes sir, did Courf already ask you about this?" Grantaire pulled his coat around him tighter-it was the winter months. "Oh yeah, lady's man already stopped by and picked out a spot," Nathan pointed his finger down to the abandoned part of the alley. "I don't go down there-but sometimes the kids go down there to play tag. Knock yourself out, this place needs a little pep in its walls." Grantaire unzipped his duffel bag to pull out old Christmas lights, duct tape, and most importantly-spray paint. For the next six hours until dawn, and all you could see were the lights of Times Square and Nathan's adoptive family getting ready for dinner, Grantaire painted the stone brick wall with the most vibrant colors he had in his collection. The color he used the most? A shimmering red. "Ready?" Combeferre's voice barely heard through the static off the phone. "Ready." Grantaire said. Enjolras was being taken from his house by Jehan and Courf-who they claim they know a place with the best Butterbeers, something Enjolras had just discovered through reading Harry Potter, and would kill to have a taste of it. They rounded the next corner and stopped by the alley. "What are we doing here? You know Big Gabe is after me." Enjolras began to tense up, strapping himself into his seat tighter. "Come on tiger, go follow the trail." Courfeyrac opened his door, and gestured to the trail of Christmas lights that ran through the alleyway. Enjolras hurried to follow the trail-desperate to get to the end. He ran straight into Grantaire, who happened to be holding a sheet of paper-completely starstruck. He swallowed loudly and began reciting the words off his paper."Enjolras, the brave and mighty, the sweet and kind, the God of the sun, was so filled with anxiety. Was he going to permit it? Or was he going debar? What was R going to say, to your awfully quick proposition? No this poem doesn't rhyme, In fact it's barely a poem, but the answer to your question, Is behind this sober drunkard." Enjolras looked up at the wall in awe. Colors, everywhere, surrounding the colossal word painted so beautifully in red. He mouthed the word "yes" as he read it off the wall. Below was an exact replica of the stick figures he had painted on the canvas, but blown up to life size and somehow much more beautiful coming from Grantaire. "Yes?" Enjolras had tears in his eyes. "Yes." Grantaire said. Enjolras leapt into his arms, and stayed for a very long kiss. Everyone in the alley clapped-quite a large group had appeared. All of Nathan's family, Jehan, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Azelma, Marius, Cosette, Eponine, and even little Gavroche. "They're going to get cooties." A little homeless girl sassily said to Gavroche. "I know." he replied, nodding with the girl.