A not-so-happy New Year's Eve for some.
It had been with only a ghost of hope that Enjolras had returned to his room to see if Michael and his...friend had finished their activities, whether to depart again or sleep, leaving him free to do the same. Even that small hope had been dashed within a dozen paces of the curtained door, for the sounds coming from inside were as unmistakeable as they were unwelcome.
So he'd had little choice but to return to the party yet again, the roomful of revelers who were still drinking and laughing, noisy and boisterous and exuberant as only the dreams of a free and egalitarian republic could make Enjolras himself. He slipped inside the door and leant against the wall, eyes narrowed and expression vaguely distasteful as his gaze wandered the room aimlessly.
He made a noise of vague irritation and began moving through the partygoers toward the bookshelf, having to press his way past people, uncaring and unapologetic about trod-upon toes and jostled drinks alike. He simply hoped to find a tolerable book and then, less likely, a quiet spot to read it until the party died down and he could return to his peace and solitude.
The bookshelf's offerings were disappointing at the least: most of the books were about drinking, hosting of parties, more drinking. Wine guides, bartender recipe books, party cookbooks, guides to 'theme' parties, whatever they were...with a sigh that was mingled relief and exasperation he found a book that was not actually about bacon, thankfully, but was a copy of The New Atlantis, Sir Francis Bacon's novel about his idea of utopia. Enjolras' reading preferences generally didn't run toward novels, but it appeared to be the best he would get tonight.
He tucked the book beneath his arm with a sigh and turned from the bookshelf just in time to witness a man jumping onto a table and shouting to the room, "ALRIGHT, PEOPLE! We've got twenty seconds! Grab your ladies, grab your gents, grab someone who looks lonely - but only if they want it - and let's ring in an awesome new year!" He rolled his eyes and began moving toward the door again with a faint shake of his head, ignoring the pairing up going on all around him--until his gaze fell on one couple in particular.
Combeferre was holding hands with the young woman he had been dancing with earlier. His jaw clenched, eyes glued to the two of them as the crowd counted down all around him, a frown creasing his brow. “Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Cheers and shouts went up all around him, but he barely noticed anything else as Combeferre smiled at the woman, cupped her cheek and kissed her.
He wanted to look away. He wanted to be anywhere else, as his chest tightened, his jaw clenched and his stomach flipped over sickeningly. The two of them kissed again, and then stood smiling at each other as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist around them. Had he truly thought he’d banished his feelings toward Combeferre save friendship? What a fool he was, an utter, utter fool. They had still been there, simmering beneath the surface, hoping in a small part of him that didn’t see the light of day that things might change, that Combeferre’s heart might change.
And change it had, clearly. A change wrought not by Enjolras, but by the slip of a girl standing so intimately close to him now, the words they were speaking hopelessly lost in the noise of the party. Not that the words mattered. Even Enjolras was not so ignorant of human emotion that he could not plainly see what was happening between the two of them.
He tore his gaze away as they moved toward the tables bearing food and drink, the book slipping unnoticed from his arm as he edged along the wall toward the door, wishing for nothing more than an escape from the scene he had just witnessed. But even as he reached his goal, ducking through the doorway and walking briskly toward the stairs with no clear destination, his own mind betrayed him further, tautning him with vivid memories of those few endless moments, making his chest ache and his throat burn.
Damn Combeferre, damn the woman, and damn love. The last above all.