Work Text:
"Are you married?", little Émilia asked Courfeyrac, instead of working on her worksheet. The man had been working as an intern at the local elementary school for the past three weeks.
He laughed. "No, I am not, Émilia", he said, "are you done with your work?"
"Yes?", she said. He leaned to look over her shoulder.
"I wouldn't call that done, Mademoiselle." He raised his eyebrow.
She giggled. "Do you have a girlfriend? If you tell me, I'll work on it."
Courfeyrac sighed dramatically as he realized the whole class of six and seven year olds was staring at him in not at all concealed interest.
"I'll tell you, buuuut then you have to do your exercise, no talking, okay?", he bargained, knowing there was no graceful way out of it. And when would he not take an opportunity to declare his love to his amazing and hot boyfriend?
"Yes", they squealed.
"Okay, I'll tell you my secret", he stage-whispered, "I have an amazing boyfriend!"
"But you are a boy?", Sebastián said in wonder, "can boys have boyfriends?"
"Of course, they can! Not everybody is happy with it, but love is love, you know? And I love him very much!"
"What's his name, Monsieur Courf?", Remy asked. Courfeyrac had to smile at the nickname. Like Enjolras and especially Combeferre, when they were their age, the young students had trouble pronouncing his full name. But instead of "'Fey", they had taken to calling him "Monsieur Courf".
"Well, his first name is Étienne, but I call him 'Ferre, because his last name is Combeferre", he explained.
"Are you going to marry him?", Émilia asked cheekily. Courfeyrac spluttered for a moment.
"I sure hope so", he answered finally.
Then he had a realisation. "You little devils, you tried very hard to get out of your work, didn't you?" He had to work hard to surpress a smile. Little Enjolras and he himself had used similar tactics years ago. How he had fallen victim to his own ideas...
The class giggled, but grumbily turned to their worksheets again.
A knock startled them all. "Enter", Courfeyrac called and Marie, who was volunteering at the school after she had finished her BAC, stuck her head inside.
"Monsieur Courfeyrac, Headmistress Toulouse asked you to come to her office. I'm supposed to watch over the class for you", she said.
Confused, Courfeyrac nodded. Why would he be called to the office? If it was something good, she would have waited till after class was done.
However, he didn't know what he could have done to upset the headmistress. She had a wife herself, so it wasn't his sexual orientation she could have an issue with. He hadn't been arrested at a protest recently. He was well-liked by students, parents and his collegues, so he didn't know what the hell was going on.
He knocked on the door and waited for the headmistress to call him in. It didn't take long.
The woman looked quite unhappy and Courfeyrac's heart dropped into his stomach.
"Sit down, Réne", she said curtly and he quickly followed her instruction. Before he could ask what was going on, she started to talk.
"I just got a call from the hospital, a certain Doctor Joly."
Courfeyrac went very white. If it had been Combeferre, he wouldn't have been very worried, but if it was Joly... Surely something happened to Combeferre.
"He asked you to come. He seemed very upset. Do you know him?"
Courfeyrac nodded. "Uh, yeah. He's a friend, and a coworker of my boyfriend."
The headmistress pierced him with her glance over the rim of her glasses.
"I'll let you go there. But this is an exception. I can't let all my teachers just leave, because something came up."
"Of course, thank you, Madame Toulouse."
He practically ran out of her office to his classroom, where he had left his jacket and bag. He knew he told Marie to keep the class in check, but he wasn't very aware of that.
Once he had left the school building he pulled out his phone from his pocket. It was on mute of course, but he was shocked at seeing five missed calls from Joly. Quickly he called Joly with a shaking hand.
"Courfeyrac?", the medical students voice asked. "Thank god, you finally called me back."
"What's going on, Joly? Is 'Ferre alright?", Courfeyrac begged.
"He... no. We're not quite sure what really happened. But well, he made a mistake and a patient nearly died. Doctor Martin is furious with him and practically threw him out. 'Ferre hasn't reacted to anything I've said since then."
"Oh god", Courfeyrac breathed. He had been worried about Combeferre lately. The doctor had spent a lot of time in the hospital, working impossibly long and odd hours, so that they had ended up not seeing each other for five consecutive days. When he had been home, he barely talked and had no energy left to work on anything les amis related, if he wasn't nursing a headache. Enjolras had been throwing the last few meetings on his own. Additionally Combeferre had been ill a lot, he stayed home close to a week this month alone, because he hadn't been feeling well. Now he had made a grave mistake. He knew Combeferre would be feeling horrible about it and it would take a long time for him to forgive himself, if he ever could.
"I'll be there in 30 minutes, can you keep him company till then?", Courfeyrac asked as he stepped into the metro station.
"I... yes", Joly said tense. "Hurry up, will you?" He ended the call.
The next half hour seemed to be the longest Courfeyrac had ever experienced and he had sat through a lot of physics classes with their old and very boring teacher in high school.
He didn't even need to enter the hospital, he found Combeferre sitting on a bench with his head in his hands next to the parking spaces, Joly standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Combeferre was wearing his street clothes, while Joly was still in his scrubs and white coat. He ran over towards them and dropped to his knees infront of his boyfriend.
"'Ferre?", he asked gently, silently begging the other man to look at him. He had no luck. The blond didn't even seem to register his presence. Tenderly, like he was working with one of his scared first graders, he distangled Combeferre's hands from his hair and took them in his. He wasn't even surprised with what he saw. His boyfriend was pale, eyes red, though not wet with tears. His glasses were missing, but with a glance upward he noticed them in Joly's pocket. The brown-haired medical student seemed relieved to see him here.
He placed one hand against Combeferre's face and ran his thumb across the other man's cheek. Slowly Combeferre looked up at him.
"Hey", Courfeyrac breathed, overjoyed in seeing some clarity in his boyfriend's glance.
"'Fey?", Combeferre asked, clearly confused. "What happened? Why are you here?"
Courfeyrac swore his heart stopped in his chest. Seeing his normally so put together boyfriend so out of sorts, confused with what had happened, was a shock. But then again, was it?
Just a few days ago Combeferre had clearly been unable to follow their conversation. He had chalked it up to exhaustion, like the zoning out, which Combeferre had jolted out only after he had talked to him for a few minutes. Often he had seemed to have forgotten what had been going on.
He had been losing his keys and his phone a lot in the past weeks, as well. And added with his recent bouts of headaches and colds, Courfeyrac should have noticed much sooner that something was obviously very wrong.
Joly sat down next to Combeferre, his hand never leaving the others shoulder.
"What is the last thing you remember?", he asked.
"I... uh, I was... I was in the pediactrics ward, I think? With Josie? No, wait. Josie went home. Uh, I was with Monsieur Lebrux, right? The guy with the broken pelvis?"
Joly looked at them in barely concealed horror. "We're going back inside and you are having some tests done, 'Ferre." He stood up and pulled at Combeferre's arm.
"Joly, what is going on?", Courfeyrac asked, scared.
"What he just said, happened like last week. I don't know what is wrong, but we need to check him out."
"Last week?", Combeferre asked, however his voice was flat like he didn't care.
They pulled Combeferre to his feet and moved inside the hospital towards the ER. Doctor Martin, who clearly was in charge and in a very foul mood stalked over to them the moment they came through the doors.
"Doctor Combeferre, I told you to not show your face here for the next week", she said, voice dripping with anger. Combeferre gaped at her, mouth opening and closing without words leaving his lips. Right, till today he had been the star pupil, being yelled at by his supervisors was his worst nightmare. Alone the fact that she adressed him by title and not his first name, made her anger at him very obvious.
"Doctor Martin", Joly began. "Something is wrong with Combeferre. I think we need a MRI and an EEG. He is confused and can't remember what happened the past week. I'm afraid this might be something serious."
At once her glance softened and she nodded. "Bring him over to a room and do the usual tests."
Joly showed them to a small doctor's office, where he motioned for them to sit down on the gurney. Courfeyrac didn't let go of Combeferre's hand till they sat down, then wrapped an arm around his boyfriend.
"Let me take your blood pressure, pulse, temperature and so on, 'Ferre?", Joly asked, already reaching for his stethoscope where it hung over his neck. Combeferre didn't react. With a sigh Joly began his examination, frowing a bit at the results.
"Temperature is fine. Blood pressure could be higher, pulse should be slower. Okay, 'Ferre, I am going to draw some blood, alright? I'll order an MRI and an EEG. We'll see where we'll go from there."
The blond didn't react. The other medical student approached him with care and took his arm in his, starting the preparations, then drew a few syringes of blood. Courfeyrac pointely looked away. Combeferre still seemed dazed, like he wasn't there mentally. He watched on in interest, but showed no sign of recognizing that what was going on was happening to him.
Joly labeled the syringes and checked the computer. "Okay, you can go to the EEG in 10 minutes. Before that, I want to ask you a few questions, okay?"
Combeferre nodded. He was fiddeling with his cross necklace, head resting on Courfeyrac's shoulder.
"Have you been having headaches a lot in the past few weeks?"
A nod.
"Have you felt nauseous due to them?"
A nod.
"Have you been physically sick due to them?"
A shake.
"Have you had memory problems?"
A nod.
Joly, who had been only checking off boxes on his questionaire tilted his head slightly, biting his lip.
"Can you elaborate, please?"
Combeferre didn't react.
"He, uh, he forgot where he placed things, like his phone or his keys. He had trouble following conversations and kept zoning put. I chalked it up to exhaustion then, it isn't completely unusal," Courfeyrac supplied for him.
Joly nodded and made a few notes.
"Have you hit your head recently?"
A shake.
Joly didn't look pleased with the answer.
"Have you felt weak or paralysed? Like in a physical way?"
A shake.
"Have you had vision or speech problems?"
A shrug.
"More than usual?", Joly amended.
A shake.
"Okay, thank you, 'Ferre. Since I've admitted you, somebody will be by with a wheelchair. Protocol, sorry. They will bring you up to the EEG."
"Have you got any idea what is going on?", Courfeyrac asked, desperate for an answer. He added an afterthought. "Can I come with him?"
Joly ran his hand through his hair.
"I don't know yet, we'll have to wait for the test results. It could be anything from head trauma to a brain tumor." He stocked, clearly struggling not to freak out. His hypochondria had gotten better over time with lots of theraphy, but sometimes he still couldn't help it. Yet it was very clear that his fears were within reason. "Uh, yes, I think so. Since he has been confused, they will appreciate somebody with him."
A knock on the door and a man rolled a wheelchair in. His eyes widened as he recognized the man he knew as a doctor was the patient, but thankfully refrained from commenting on it.
Combeferre sat down in it, clearly uncaring who saw what. With a nod at Joly the man wheeled Combeferre out, Courfeyrac close on his heels. He grabbed Combeferre's hand on their way up.
When they reached the waiting room for the EEG the man left and Courfeyrac crouched down infront of Combeferre, running his thumb across the back of his hand.
"How are you feeling, love?", Courfeyrac asked quietly.
Combeferre shrugged. "Tired", he finally answered, voice rough. "Mentally and physically. But apart from that? Nothing." Courfeyrac nodded slowly. While Combeferre was not as carefree as himself or as passionate as Enjolras he still always seemed to have energy for everything. Right now he seemed like a shell of himself.
"Do you remember now what happened today?"
Combeferre nodded slightly, emabrassed, shoulders shaking. He seemed so tiny sitting in the hospital wheelchair, folded into himself. His hair was in complete disarray and his glasses were still in Jolys pocket. They had completly forgotten about that.
"Will you tell me?" Courfeyrac wasn't sure if he should have asked the question but he wanted to know how to help Combeferre and a tiny part of him was just curious.
Combeferre stared down at their interlinked hands. "I ... I ordered the wrong medication for a patient. I don't know how it happened, I didn't even realise it. Maybe I was unfocused or something. They administered it, then she started to seize. She was allergic to what I gave her. Joly realized what happened and he was able to save her. Hadn't he recognized what was wrong she would have died and it would have been my fault. No wonder Doctor Martin is angry with me." He was stuttering as badly as he had been when they were in kindergarden and in elementary school.
Courfeyrac didn't even try to talk to him, he wasn't as good with comforting words as his boyfriend. What he could do better than him were comfort hugs, so he went all in. Combeferre, who had been extremely tense, melted against him, shaking with sobs.
They only pulled away from each other when somebody politely coughed next to them. Courfeyrac blushed as he looked up at the nurse, while Combeferre seemed to shrink under her gaze.
"Let's get this over with, Doctor Combeferre", she said and moved towards the wheelchair. "Let me", Courfeyrac said and grasped the handles. He was well aware how uncomfortable Combeferre was being seen like this by collegues in normal circumstances. He needed a bit of his dignity intact, he would appreciate it later on. Courfeyrac followed her inside a room and parked the wheelchair in a corner. Combeferre sat down in the chair the nurse directed him to and leaned back. Courfeyrac watched as she placed multiple electrodes along his scalp, till he looked like Professor X in X-Men First Class when they first build Cerebro. It was an unsettling sight.
"Just breathe, Doctor", the nurse said, "you have to stay still for about twenty minutes."
He nodded and reached for Courfeyrac's hand, who tightly grasped Combeferre's in his own.
Half an hour later they sat in the waiting room for the MRI, Combeferre resting his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder. They weren't talking, but rather taking comfort in touching and feeling each other. The nurse had seemed happy about the EEG readings, but still worry was overwhelming their thoughts.
Once Courfeyrac had filled out all the forms for the MRI, Combeferre took out his hearing aid and handed it to Courfeyrac. He wasn't allowed any metal inside, and neither a person accompanying him.
All too soon a nurse took Combeferre inside, leaving Courfeyrac on his own, Combeferre's hearing aid heavy in his pocket.
For a few minutes he just sat on the chair, trying to sort himself, but when he realised he was shaking he knew he needed a distraction for now. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Unlocking it, he saw he had a few missed messages.
From Jojo (10:12):
Is Combeferre picking us up after his shift? I haven't heard from him?
From Jojo (10:56):
Fey?
From Jojo (11:20):
Dude, I know you check your phone in your breaks. You better not be sexting C at work and ignoring me.
From Poet (11:34):
Are we still on tonight?
From Jojo (11:56):
Great, apparently it's "Don't talk to Jojo Day". Your boyfriend isn't answering me either.
From Jojo (12:02):
Nevermind, R is driving me home. I hate you and C a bit right now.
From Joly (12:27):
What did the EEG say? When is the MRI?
From Dumbass (12:45):
Cosette n I aren't comin 2 z meetn. Plz don't let E kill us!
From Enjolras (12:58):
Aren't you supposed to be home?
For a moment he contemplated who to answer first, then he fired off a few texts.
To Joly (13:03):
Nurse looked happy. He's in the MRI rite now
To Poet (13:03):
No, sorry. C is in hospital. Dunno yet what's wrong
To Dumbass (13:04):
Tell him urself. C is in hospital, I don't care bout ur plans 2nit
He wiped a hand across his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he hit speed dial number two.
"'Fey? Where the hell are you?" Enjolras voice came through, slightly worried.
"Oh, god, Jojo, I'm at the hospital. Combeferre, he... I don't know. Something's wrong and I ... I can't..." Suddenly the tears that had threatened to fall since he first got called into Madame Toulouse's office this morning were running down Courfeyrac's face.
"Take a deep breath, 'Fey", Enjolras encouraged him. Courfeyrac could hear through the phone that Enjolras was already running through their flat, most likely putting on his shoes and jacket. He did as he was instructed.
"Tell me what happened? R, yeah, you need to drive us to the hospital. Something's going on with 'Ferre." Enjolras was at his best - multitasking.
"He ... well, he made a grave mistake with a patient. Doctor Martin threw him out. Joly called me 'cause 'Ferre wasn't talking to him and when I arrived he was sort of dissociating, if you can call it that? He was confused about what was happening and where he was. Uh, they did an EEG and he's having an MRI right now."
"Shit, okay. I'm sure it's going to be alright. Maybe it's just shock."
"You didn't see him, Jojo. It was like it wasn't Combeferre who was sitting infront of me. Oh, god, what if it is a brain tumor or something?" He was crying in earnest now. Just thinking of his boyfriend's beautiful and knowledgable brain reduced to a heap of what it was, made his blood turn to ice in his veins.
"Shh, don't worry about what may be. Even if it is something serious, which I doubt it is, we will get through it, okay?"
Courfeyrac nodded and belately realized that Enjolras obviously couldn't see him.
"Yeah, okay. See you soon?"
"Always. Hang on, hon."
If Enjolras started using terms of endearment he must be really worried. He swallowed and hung up.
With a last glance at his phone he put it back into his pocket.
From Dumbass (13:06):
C works there?
From Dumbass (13:06):
Oh. Oh shit.
That moment the nurse wheeled Combeferre back into the waiting room. "Somebody will direct him to a room, okay?"
"Hey", Courfeyrac greeted Combeferre and kissed his knuckles. Combeferre smiled weakly at him.
Twenty minutes later Combeferre was laying in a hospital room in the neurology department, Courfeyrac sitting at his head while Joly (who should have been on break but somehow got his fingers onto Combeferre's case) was reviewing the test results.
Suddenly the door opened and Enjolras and Grantaire tumbled inside, both looking a bit flushed.
"Sorry, we tried to not be seen by a nurse", Grantaire said apologetically, breathing heavily from maybe running.
Enjolras meanwhile went over towards Combeferre's bed and sat down on his other side.
"How are you feeling?", he asked gently, interlocking his hand with Combeferre's.
"Tired", Combeferre mumbled, "but like, restless?" Enjolras smiled at him, but Courfeyrac saw that it never reached his eyes.
Joly walked over, leaning his hip against the foot end of the bed, absently handing Courfeyrac Combeferre's glasses. They were placed on the night stand, along with the hearing aid. "Well, without the results of the MRI I can't say anything for sure. They should arrive within the hour. The bloodwork and the EEG results look good though. I'll check your pulse and blood pressure again. Then you can rest."
Combeferre nodded and closed his eyes while Joly redid his earlier tests. "Still not ideal", Joly muttered, "let him sleep, if he is tired. R, Enjolras, you really should go outside and come back through the right channels, ideally without running from the staff. Courfeyrac, you can stay. I'll be back with the results."
Grumbling, but seeing the sense in Joly's words, Enjolras and Grantaire trudged out after the doctor. Courfeyrac ran his hand through Combeferre's hair, occasionally pressing kisses on his boyfriend's brow, while Combeferre slept.
Fourty-five minutes later a knock sounded at the door and a doctor entered the room. Grantaire and Enjolras were sitting at the table, having taken the right steps to come, while Courfeyrac was still perched on the bed. Carefully he shook Combeferre awake.
"Good day, my name is Doctor Alaine", she said, once Combeferre was blarely looking up. "I have got your MRI and other test results, Doctor Combeferre. If you'll wait outside..." She beckoned at Grantaire, Enjolras and Courfeyrac. Before the elementary school teacher student could even think about getting up, Combeferre had hastily grabbed his hand. Enjolras and Grantaire filed out of the room without complaint.
"Alright", Doctor Alaine started, smiling knowingly at their interlocked fingers, "the MRI and the EEG came back clear. Your bloodwork is good as well. You don't have a head trauma or any tumor. Physically speaking there is nothing wrong with you." She didn't seem to know that they already knew some of that and it dawned on Courfeyrac that Joly had probably snagged the results to check them without being allowed to. He seriously considered kissing Joly at the moment.
"That is definitely good news", the Doctor continued, "I spoke to your supervisor, Doctor Martin. There are a few things I'd like to ask you privately. Maybe it's better if your boyfriend steps outside as well."
Courfeyrac tried to protest, but Combeferre smiled at him weakily and motioned at the door. He wasn't sure what the other doctor wanted to ask, but normally they didn't send family members or friends away if the patient seemed more comfortable with them around. He didn't want to scare Courfeyrac anymore, if she decided to ask anything more invasive. With a kiss to Combeferre's forehead, Courfeyrac left.
The doctor pulled one of the chairs up and sat down next to him. Combeferre saw the irony of being on the other side of the conversation for once, but he didn't care too much.
"As I said I spoke with Doctor Martin. She said, you have been under a lot of stress lately and also were ill a few times this month."
Combeferre nodded.
"I don't want to push you, but have you ever stayed home because you couldn't make yourself come or entertained thoughts of quitting the job?" Her voice was impossible gentle and Combeferre wasn't sure how he felt about that. Then the question dawned on him and he tensed in panic.
The other doctor lifted her hands in a calming motion. "Whatever you say stays between us, alright? Neither Doctor Martin nor any other of your supervisors will hear your answers, okay?"
The medical student looked down at his hands, not daring to meet her eyes. It was true, he had been having a few head colds the past month, but the last two times he had stayed home because he couldn't make himself face the stress of the day. It was so much easier to stay under the covers than to deal with ungrateful patients, short-tempered co-workers and the suffering atmosphere whenever a patient died. He hadn't thought about quitting, not really. He knew there were easier jobs out there, but he was too far into his studies to waste the time he had already spent on the degree and he liked how he could help other people. Even if it sometimes seemed like he couldn't do anything at all.
Shyly he nodded, not looking at her.
"Thank you for your honesty, Doctor", Doctor Alaine said. She paused for a moment. "I'll get right to the point. I don't want to put a label on you and don't misunderstand this as judgement. But do you think that you may be burned out?"
He looked up sharply at her, shaking his head violently. No, that couldn't be it?
"Let me explain. You sometimes feel overwhelmed with your work, like you can't make a change, so you stay home. You get sick easily. You are forgetful and lose your train of thought in conversations. You've lost focus, which caused you to make a mistake. The fear that you accidentally harmed a patient shook you so much, that you got confused and were unable to recognize your surroundings, started dissociating. But physically speaking there is nothing wrong with you. That all are symptoms of burnout, especially in our job. And it sounds a lot like me a few years ago."
Combeferre swallowed. What the other doctor said sounded sensible, especially if she had first hand experience. But he wasn't burned out, at least he didn't think so.
"May I ask you a few questions? They are part of the PHQ-9, a common questionaire to determine if a patient is depressed, after all burn-out is a form of depression."
The medical student appreciated her asking for his consent. It was a lot to take in. He nodded, needing to find out what was wrong with him.
"Okay, these questions are all for determining your symptoms for the past two weeks. The answer choices are always: not at all, several days, more than half the days and nearly every day. Alright?"
He nodded again.
"How often have you been bothered by little interest or pleasure in doing things?"
"Uh, several days?"
"How often have you been bothered by feeling hopeless or just down?"
He swallowed and thought back. He didn't really remember when he had felt good, now that he thought of it.
"Several days?", he tried. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't comment on his answer.
"How often have you been bothered by trouble falling or staying asleep, or sleeping too much?"
"Kind of every day? I often feel so restless that I can't sleep, but when I fall asleep I sleep too much."
She nodded and ticked off another box.
"How often have you been bothered by feeling tired or having little energy?"
"I don't know when I wasn't tired last, comes with the job, I guess."
"It does, but not to this extreme. You're still supposed to have energy. How often have you been bothered by no appetite or eating too much?"
"Not at all, I think. I've been having headaches that made me nauseous, but that's it."
"How often have you been bothered by feeling bad about yourself, that you are a failure?"
Combeferre suddenly felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He had been feeling like he came up short, like he was failing his patients and his supervisors, his friends. He started to shake, clutching at the bedcovers, trying to find a hold. Doctor Alaine ticked off the "nearly every day" box off.
"One last question for now, alright? I need to know. Have you had thoughts of harming yourself or that you would be better off dead?"
He shook his head. She sighed in relief. "That's good to hear, Doctor. I'm very glad. I'll take my leave. Do you want be to alone or should I sent your friends back in?"
"'Fey", he ground out, trying to stifle the sobs that were threathening to overcome him. She nodded and he vaguely heared the door open then close. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around him and he started to cry for what felt like the hundred time that day. All the fear and the emotional-rollercoaster of the day crashed over him. He had sprung from not caring at all to caring too much in what seemed like only second intervalls.
After a few minutes he was able to catch his breath and stop the tears from falling, while a hand was rubbing circles on his back.
"Better?", Courfeyrac asked and Combeferre pulled back to look at his boyfriend, who was glancing at him in concern. He shrugged.
"What happened?", Courfeyrac asked, holding onto his hands. Combeferre swallowed hard. He knew he shouldn't be embarassed by what was not even a diagnosis, but he still felt to raw to share his downfall. For weeks he had surpressed his feelings, shoved them down till he was gagging on them. He had tried to hide how awful he had been feeling and it had worked for the most part, but now it felt like the plaster was ripped from the wound without any care. Still he owed Courfeyrac, sweet and caring Courfeyrac, who had dropped everything for him today, who had been his only constant in his drowing, an explanation. So he swallowed down his pride. He knew he was too exhausted to hold up the charade of being mentally healthy for long.
"She... she suggested that I might be burned out", he finally stuttered out.
"Do you think you are?", Courfeyrac inquiered and Combeferre felt like crying again at his soft words. The way Courfeyrac asked, without any judgement and letting him decide how much he shared, was like a balm on his wounded soul.
He gave a small nod. Courfeyrac just leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"We'll get through this, alright? Together."
Combeferre nodded again and closed his eyes. He was so drained that he felt like sleeping once more. Courfeyrac realised that and pushed him to lie back down, holding onto his hands.
Courfeyrac sighed and once he knew Combeferre was asleep again, put his head into his hands, trying to stifle his tears. The day wasn't even close to an end and his whole world had turned upside down. Of course he knew Combeferre was working in a job that was at risk for burnout and he had a heavy workload, but seeing evidence of it was terrible. Grantaire and occasionally Enjolras (who had inherited his mother's disposition to depression) both struggled with their mental health, but seeing Combeferre like this shook him to the bone. He had no idea how this would go on. Would Combeferre have to go to a clinic, like Enjolras had to in high school? Would he just stay home, maybe see a therapist? Would he ignore this and just go on until he literally couldn't go on?
He needed some fresh air. Pressing a kiss to Combeferre's hair he got up and walked out the door. Enjolras, Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet were leaning against the wall, talking quietly. Bossuet looked like he wanted to kiss Joly, who looked so worried and stressed out, but refrained from doing so. Unlike Combeferre Joly wasn't out to his collegues and so they didn't openly show affection in the area of the hospital.
"How is he? What is going on?", Enjolras asked as soon Courfeyrac exited the room, shutting the door quietly. He was clutching Grantaire's hand and looked like he was about a second away from panicking.
"He's asleep", Courfeyrac answered, running a hand over his face. "I think he should tell you what is going on himself."
Enjolras opened his mouth to argue, but Grantaire pressed a kiss to his cheek to shut him up.
"May I go inside?", the social work student asked after a moment. Courfeyrac nodded and made his way outside.
Enjolras sat down next to Combeferre' bed, taking in the sight of the sleeping medical student. He was scared as hell, not knowing what was wrong with his best friend. What could be so bad that Courfeyrac didn't want to talk about it? Joly had filled him in about what he knew, so he knew that Combeferre was physically mostly fine.
However he had been concerned for Combeferre for some time now. He had of course noticed how swamped Combeferre had been with work in the past few months, but he only realized that it was very bad when Combeferre had corned him one evening in their apartment, when Courfeyrac had been out. He had looked so apologetic and nearly afraid when he had asked if it would be okay if he stepped down from his duties to the ABC for the time being. Enjolras had agreed, what kind of friend would he be if he hadn't? But now he was sitting in a hospital room afraid for his friend of twenty years.
After a few minutes Grantaire stepped into the room and let Enjolras cuddle up to him. It was good timing, he had started to feel the beginnings of anxiety flood him. Half an hour later Courfeyrac returned and they sat in silence till Enjolras and Grantaire had to leave to go to the meeting.
When they arrived to the Musain everybody else was there already and in an uproar. None of the triumvirate had answered their phones for hours and Courfeyrac had let Jehan know that Combeferre was in hospital, so now everybody knew. Speculations were flying around, only overshadowed by worry when Joly refused to say anything on the matter. He really didn't want to get in legal trouble and he basically knew nothing as well. Briefly Enjolras wondered where Marius and Cosette were, but then he moved to the front and told them what he knew. Which again, was nothing. Originally they had wanted to plan for their next rally, but nobody was in the right headspace for that, so they went over to Jehan, Feuilly and Grantaire's apartment putting on a movie which nobody was able to tell what it was about after it ended. It was a somber affair.
When Enjolras returned to their apartment, Courfeyrac was already there, staring at nothing. In mutual agreement they slept curled around each other in Combeferre's huge bed, though neither was well rested come morning.
The next day Enjolras technically had classes, but screw them. Courfeyrac called out sick. Together they went to the hospital, where Combeferre was already waiting for them, discharge papers in hand. Enjolras drove them home, Courfeyrac and Combeferre in the backseat of Combeferre's car which had been left at the hospital overnight.
Once they entered their apartment Combeferre walked to the bathroom, locking himself in to take a shower and wash of the feeling of being in hospital.
Courfeyrac and Enjolras made tea and found some of Combeferre's favorite coffee cookies. The medical student sat down on the couch, hair still dripping wet and wearing an assortment of Courfeyrac's clothes. If Enjolras' clothes would fit him, he would have worn some of his too.
Courfeyrac let Combeferre curl up against him, resting his chin on his boyfriends head. Enjolras sat down at Combeferre's feet, resting one hand on his ankle. After a few minutes of silence Combeferre took in a deep breath and started to talk.
"I have burnout." Enjolras looked up at that, but didn't seem surprised. He rather seemed relieved, like he had expected something way worse. Which he had.
"I have burnout. It's sort of like depression, I guess. Officially it's a depression diagnosis, since burnout is not a recognized disease." At that Enjolras averted his gaze, but squeezed Combeferre's foot in support. Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre's hair.
"Doctor Alaine, uhm, she recommended I get treatment at a clinic. It will slow down my life, let me pick up the pieces, I guess. So that I can wind down without having to worry about work or patients or classes anymore. I'll get help from a psychatrist there, to find strategies to cope with stress." He was shaking and Courfeyrac held him tighter. Enjolras nodded, though he looked troubled.
"Do you want to go?", the blond asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. I don't want to fall behind in my studies, but I know I can't go on like this. It's Thursday, right? I will think about it, but before Monday I don't think I'll go. Doctor Martin came by earlier and we talked for a long time. She told me to take all the time I need."
Courfeyrac nodded and kissed Combeferre's hair again.
"We'll be with you, whatever you decide", he said.
"What do you think?", Combeferre asked, fidgeting with his necklace.
"It's your decision, 'Ferre", Enjolras answered, "but I think you should consider going. Your job isn't easy and I don't want you to get worse. It's scary, how the mind works, when it's injured. The doctors and therapists in these clinics can help you before it is too late. I don't think I can survive that again."
Tears were trailing down Enjolras' face once he had finished his speech.
Combeferre was brutally reminded of a long time ago, when they were in elementary school. Enjolras had been looking forward to learning everything, so it was strange when he didn't come to meet him and Courfeyrac to walk with them to school. Courfeyrac's maman had seemed really sad that morning as she told them that Enjolras wouldn't come with them that week. He had thought it was really weird that day, but later on Enjolras' tante, his mamans sister, had brought over the little blond boy to his house. She had to take care of a stuff, she had said, sounding sad as well. Enjolras hadn't talked that afternoon, hadn't reacted to anything, there were only tears falling down his face. Combeferre's maman had held the little boy and made hot chocolate, till he fell asleep on the couch. Enjolras hadn't spoken at all for over four months. Combeferre had begged him to talk in the beginning, as had Courfeyrac, but they had understood when they were forced in long black clothes on a hot summer day and went to a church where they talked about Enjolras' maman the whole service. Then they had put a wooden bowl in the ground and Enjolras' père had broken down sobbing, while Enjolras' tante had held the little boy. Enjolras never talked about it, but every year around the same time it got hard for him to find his words, till he didn't talk at all. Selective mutism, Combeferre's maman had called it, and why somebody would choose not to talk was a mystery to Combeferre for a long time. Enjolras normally was so vocal about everything. Combeferre only got it, after his own maman had told him when he was sixteen how six year old Enjolras had found his mère in a pool of her own blood.
His mouth felt dry suddenly and he swallowed heavily. He didn't doubt the truth in his best friends words. Combeferre couldn't and didn't want to fathom how it would feel to find a loved one's body.
The medical student sat up and put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. The blond was still crying silently and Combeferre pulled him close. "You won't lose me, Jojo, I promise", he whispered into his ear. Enjolras choked on a sob and nodded. Then he pulled away.
"I need some time", he mumbled, standing up on shaking legs, "I'm going over to Grantaire's."
Courfeyrac nodded. "Text me when you arrive there, please."
Then Enjolras was gone. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stayed together on the couch for hours, just drinking each other in.
Friday Combeferre called his maman, asking for her advice. He nearly cried when he heard her voice and he did cry at her soft words ("I love you so much, baby, and I am so proud of you. Papa and I will come to Paris soon, to visit you, okay?") He cried again when Enjolras didn't come home for the second night in a row. He made his decision.
Saturday Combeferre invited all of the amis to their apartment and told them. Their reactions varied, but they all were very understanding. Joly nodded knowingly, sadly. Musichetta and Cosette hugged him tightly and told him how much they loved him. Bossuet squeezed his shoulder, Bahorel told him it wasn't weak to struggle. Feuilly promised he would be there whenever he needed him. Éponine didn't say anything but brought him tea and washed their dishes that had sat in their sink for days. Jehan hugged him so tightly that Combeferre feared for his ribs, but he felt like he could continue to breathe now. Marius seemed awkward, but he noticed when it was too much for him and put on Combeferre's favorite musical, Jesus Christ Superstar, which never failed to calm him down. Grantaire and Enjolras never showed up.
Sunday Courfeyrac helped him pack, after they had spent the morning just holding each other in bed. They listened to their favorite songs and never strayed too far from each other.
In the evening Enjolras finally came home, when they were already in bed. He carefully opened the door to Combeferre's room and laid down next to them, so that Courfeyrac was lying against the wall and Combeferre was sandwiched in the middle. They didn't speak, but they never needed to.
Monday Grantaire arrived with lots of Combeferre's favorite chocolate and drove them to the clinic at the outskirts in Paris, the triumvirate cuddled up in the back. The whole way Grantaire blasted the soundtrack of "Dear Evan Hansen" and none of them hid their tears when "You will be found" came on. Courfeyrac brought him to the registration desk and helped him settle in the room. Then he had to go, as the nurses gently informed them that friends and family weren't allowed in the rooms for the privacy of the other patients.
Over the time the amis visited him regularily, Courfeyrac and Enjolras came nearly every day. The two weeks his parents were in Paris they mostly spent with him. He spoke to a therapist twice a week, had breathing theraphy regularily and he found he quite enjoyed ergotherapy. The nurses were very kind and he grew close with some of his fellow patients. After some trial and error the psychatrists found some very well working anti-depressants and he learned to smile again.
Four months after that day in the hospital Combeferre walked into the ER, wearing his scrubs and when Doctor Martin spotted him, she gently pulled him into her arms, eventhough she didn't even reach his shoulders. "It's good to have you back, Doctor."