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It is not usual for Courfeyrac to sit himself in the back corner of the Musain, but today he needs a moment. He closes his eyes as he waits for his drink, knowing that when he reopens them he will be ready to face the world with a smile again. He's the Centre. What else can he do?
He doubts that anyone noticed him slip in; he was so much quieter than his usual self, and Enjolras' speeches always capture the attention of the entire group. So he does not expect to meet Combeferre's steady gaze when next he looks up. The Guide tilts his head, just slightly; a gesture that only years of friendship could interpret. The only problem with the years of friendship is that Combeferre can see through the silent reassurances Courfeyrac sends back.
The evening passes, and if perhaps the Guide and Centre are more tactile than normal, nobody seems to notice. The hand on his shoulder is an anchor, tying Courfeyrac to this reality, allowing him to keep his smiles genuine.
The walk home to the triumvirate's flat is quieter than usual, but the three are surprisingly comfortable with silence, given the amount of time they spend speaking. Sometimes they discuss the meeting until late into the night, but today Courfeyrac excuses himself within moments of their return, claiming exhaustion. He doesn't look back to see his friends' worried stares.
"What happened?" Enjolras asks.
"I don't know." There's a wrinkle of worry on Combeferre's forehead. "But I think we'd better find out."
Enjolras nods. "You go talk to him, I'll go find some comfort food?"
"Sounds good." He replies, but his face is still serious.
"He'll be okay, 'Ferre."
The taller man forces a smile. "I know."
Enjolras leaves. Combeferre waits a while before going to knock gently on Courfeyrac's door. There's no response, but he hadn't really been expecting one.
He walks in.
"Hey, Courf." He says quietly. For all intents and purposes, his friend looks asleep. 'Ferre doubts that that's the truth. "I know you're not asleep. But I'll go away in a minute if you don't want to talk." He pauses. Courfeyrac doesn't respond. "'Jol went to get ice cream..." He tries.
"What type?" Ah. He'd thought that would get a response. Courf still hasn't looked up though, his face and voice muffled by his pillow.
"Mint choc chip."
"And chocolate sauce?"
Combeferre pulls out his phone and texts Enjolras. "And chocolate sauce. But - only if you tell us what's wrong."
Courf huffs a sigh into the pillows. "That's blackmail."
"I know." He replies, going over to sit on the bed. "But we're worried Courf. We want to help."
"I'm fine, 'Ferre. I just-" He breaks off. Combeferre reaches a hand over to play with the curls on the back of his friend's head.
"You don't have to pretend for me, Courf." He says softly.
The next few minutes pass in silence, the only movement Combeferre's fingers running through the other boy's hair.
"I failed another exam, 'Ferre." He says, rolling over to watch his friend's reaction. "I failed another exam, and they said that if I don't pick things up then they'll have to kick me off the course, and then I'll lose my grant, and I won't be able to live here anymore, and, and - there's all the stuff for Les Amis which I'm so behind on but I can't bear to let them down, and-"
He stops, eyes unfocussed, and lets out a sudden sneeze.
"Bless you." Combeferre says, but Courfeyrac is already talking again.
"And that's the fifth time I've sneezed today and if this is the start of a cold then I don't know what I'm going to do because I just can't right now 'Ferre." He sneezes again. "Goddammit!"
It's as much a sob as a cry, and Combeferre pulls him into his arms, murmuring comforts as best he can as the younger boy breaks down into tears.
"I just can't do it, 'Ferre. I can't keep everything together."
He presses kisses into the top of his head, trying desperately to work out the appropriate response. He is saved, however, by a new voice joining the mix.
"You don't have to hold everything together, Courf. And you definitely don't have to do it by yourself." How Enjolras had gotten into the room without either of them noticing might possibly have been cause for concern, but they all had better things to worry about just then. Combeferre throws him a grateful glance as the blonde comes round to hug Courfeyrac from the other side.
"Courfeyrac sandwich." He whispers, and the childhood joke is enough to elicit the tiniest of smiles from his friend.
Even the two of them together can’t distract him properly, though. "How much did you hear, 'Jol?" He asks.
"Just the very last bit, I promise." Courfeyrac doesn't quite manage to conceal his relief.
"We don't have to talk about it any more tonight, if you don't want to. It's up to you. But I believe some ice cream is in order?"
"You know what," says Courf with a laugh which is too close to a sob for anyone's liking, "I think it really is."
***
They lie in a tangle of arms and legs and blankets until Courfeyrac finally falls asleep. Combeferre enjoys the peace for a while, listening to the slow sounds of his friends’ breathing, before extracting himself and walking back to the kitchen. He's not sure how long he's been sitting there when Enjolras finds him.
"Isn't it a little early for coffee?"
"It's decaf."
"And it's normally me answering that question to you. What's wrong?" He comes to stand behind Combeferre, slowly massaging his shoulders. 'Ferre lets his head fall back onto his friend's chest.
"Why didn't I notice earlier?" Enjolras' hands pause, and the leader knows immediately what his guide means.
"Because he didn't want us to notice. He didn't want us to worry, and he didn't want you to feel like this about it."
"But I do. I should have seen he was struggling, I should have-"
"You're not his only friend, 'Ferre, and none of us noticed. He's good at people. He knows how to hide things and how to change subjects and how best to not let you suspect. He might have been even more upset if you’d noticed before he let you."
"True, I guess. But it doesn't make me feel any better about it."
"I know. But you couldn't have done any more."
"I guess not.” He sighs. “Thanks, 'Jol."
"Of course. I-” He hesitates. “I guess we're going to have to tone down Les Amis for a while. We all need a rest, not just Courf."
"Well. I never thought I'd hear you say that willingly."
"It's two a.m. and you're sat up here drinking coffee whilst I try to talk you round. There's no way it's just Courf who needs a break."
Combeferre smiles, and intertwines his fingers with Enjolras'. "I guess it is an uncommon turn of events."
Courfeyrac appears at the door.
"I'm upset and you're supposed to be comforting me and that means cuddles. Why are you not in my bed?" He asks, looking for all the world like a petulant six year old.
Combeferre looks up at Enjolras with a smile. "Sorry Courf. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Courfeyrac pads away, and Enjolras smiles at Combeferre before disentangling his fingers and traipsing back too. Combeferre sits for a moment longer before finishing his drink, leaving the mug in the sink. He hears a quiet huff of a laugh from Courfeyrac, and knows it’s time to join them again.
He pauses in the doorway to look over his friends, vowing to himself that he'll pay them more attention in the future. Courfeyrac seems to sense him there, and pats the bed beside him. He slides in behind him with a smile, kissing the unruly curls in lieu of saying goodnight. Courf snuggles closer, and Enjolras’ hand finds his.
The nighttime sounds outside help Combeferre drift off, and the three friends sleep soundly for the whole night - the best rest any of them have had in a long time. They'll have to talk about it, come morning light. But snuggled here, warm and looked-after by his two best friends, Courfeyrac feels like things might just be okay again, after all.