#illumiinet

☮ = waking them up after a nightmare . 

Courfeyrac didn’t even realize he’d woken up at first, to him the only difference is in the awareness-

Actually, it’s more for the loss of what he’d seen, there weren’t vibrant images of what he thought it looked like, what his mind could still pull together. Their friends, people he didn’t even remember meeting but all dawn there by the same vision, the same hope. The sounds, of course, were supplied by memory, the gunshots, shouts, the slight break in Enjolras’ voice as he told them to get out of there, Combeferre being taken away from him...

But right now, there was Combeferre’s hands on his face, the sound of someone’s breathing seemingly echoing in the quiet of the room. Which was his own, the quiet sobs escaping his own lips. He pulled away, only to immediately burrow into the other’s chest. 

He grins like an idiot, tackling him so he can pepper ‘Ferre’s face with kisses all over the place. 

“Well what do you want from me, ‘Ferre! Do you need my...my blessing or something?” Courfeyrac countered, glad that Cosette and Marius had taken Aimee for the evening because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold it together, not after this. Because she couldn’t just say that now, not when they both knew there couldn’t be anything, when she’d made a very strict line he wasn’t allowed to cross for their daughter’s sake-except she really was just her daughter, he was ‘Uncle Courf’ now, and wasn’t that just great?

“Don’t say that, ‘Ferre, don’t you fucking dare.” Courfeyrac had to struggle to keep his voice level, reaching up to cup Combeferre’s cheeks, terrified that he would pull away. The day had been enough stress as it was, every single moment in that court room had made his heart race, his mouth felt dry and his hands still hadn’t quite fallen still. Seeing the man who had done those awful things, to hear the detailed accounts of everything that had happened, see the smug smile on his face when he’d turned to look at Courfeyrac. Because sure, they knew the odds were against them, but he’d built a solid case, he’d poured every waking moment into this, for him.

Combeferre couldn’t hate him for this, couldn’t resent him for putting him through all the stress, having to remember every single thing the bastard had done to him, say it in front of a room of people. The thought of it absolutely terrified him, more than anything else, and the words had felt like a hot right to his chest. 

He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t, he couldn’t do this now. He pulled him in a little closer, looking up into his eyes.

“It’ll be warm!” Jehan cheered, tightening their jacket around their body. They were practically bouncing as they turned to Combeferre, grinning with a nose red from the cold.

The two were planning to travel to Combeferre’s family in India, a welcomed trip as the weather channels promised a snow storm was brewing. Jehan was excited, as they were missing the sun.

@illumiinet

“Shh, don’t talk, ‘Ferre, you’ll only make it worse.” Courfeyrac scolded gently, although there was a slight tremble to his voice as he kept his hand pressed to the injury. Everyone else had moved off, and he didn’t blame them, nobody could risk lingering behind and they figured anyone who was injured didn’t have much of a chance anyway. But he wasn’t just going to leave him there, if nothing else he was going to protect him from the Grounders if he had to because he’d be damned if he let him just die out here in the woods.

At least, not alone. 

He bit his lip and glanced around when he heard the snapping of branches nearby and he scrambled for the gun he’d dropped when the arrow had struck Combeferre. His hands were shaking, though, and he couldn’t even see them. He looked back down at him,