poemsofsplendor:

Jehan waved to someone, not quite sure who it was but not wanting to leave someone hanging. They ate, happily enjoying their snacks, listening to the silly Halloween music and Enjolras’s voice.

“Hm, Bahorel as Santa. Should I make another innuendo?” they teased, elbowing their friend. Upon being looked at, they struck a pose before cracking up into giggles. They pulled off the hat and dropped it on Enjolras’s head once more. “I don’t know, you look pretty good with your costume.”

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

          Enjolras doesn’t gape– but it almost
       seems like he does, an olive between his
       fingers as he blinks at Jehan, this time
       truly uncomprehending. He only has one
       thing to say and that’s a confused “How?”

          But maybe he doesn’t want to know. 
       A second passes. Yeah, he definitely does
       not want to know. As he chews, his eyes
       flick up to the now jaunty style his bicorne
       is on and he swallows. Fixes them with a 
       dry look. “I hope not. I’m no monarchist.”

          “Rather, I’m my worst nightmare.” He
       feels rather proud of that. Fuck you, France.