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[daringwaistcoats]

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[but_civilization]

Bahorel.

[Combeferre's voice is calm enough, seemingly, to one who does not know him well, and he would not dream of raising his voice, even in anger, but the tone is serious, and stern enough regardless as he starts the message.]

There is a problem I believe requires your assistance near immediately, if you might manage it. I would speak to you regarding Jehan and what truly fascinating revelations between the two of you that he is hiding. Soon.

[daringwaistcoats]

[Bahorel cringes at the sound of That Tone, and he doesn't like it one bit. Regardless, being who he is, he holds his ground and responds gruffly.]

Surely you could speak to him about such matters, that he would tell you anything.

[Okay, so that was a little more petulant than he had been hoping for.]

I have made my apologies and he has done with them as he has pleased. I have nothing else to say on the matter.

[but_civilization]

We have spoken and I have learned very little from Jehan of what occurred, merely that it was between you both.

[And that tone? Really? The petulance in it? Oh that is NOT appreciated, thank you. Though the next part is giving Combeferre pause, and his tone softens to less scolding and more simply serious.]

You apologized then. What did you ... No perhaps that is best left to the two of you. I need not dredge worse things up again. What I do know is that he is upset. Extremely so.

[And there is a deep sigh there.]

It must not seem it now, Bahorel, but Jehan loves you a great deal. He missed you most of any of us, it seems. Perhaps another apology would not be amiss here. Or to attempt to speak to him now that some time has passed.

Whatever this is...it is clear it has hurt him whether you intended it or no. Perhaps this needs more than apology to restore.

You know that we will help you both in that?

[daringwaistcoats]

[Bahorel does not reply for some time. When finally his voice has returned to him again, it comes out a little choked, though he hides it just barely with sad frustration.]

You do not understand; he does not easily forgive. There isn't much more that can be said at a certain point, and I am not wont to push for something he has no intention of doing.

[A pause, then mumbled,] And he seems to be enjoying himself enough now, in any case, that I would do wrong to disrupt his cheer.

[but_civilization]

[It is starting to occur to Combeferre that this is perhaps best resolved by getting the two of them face to face. Perhaps faced with each other, a stubborn Jehan will be better able to forgive Bahorel whatever has happened, or they might speak and come to some resolution. Whatever the case, his mind is starting to work on possibilities.]

Is our poet so stubborn as all that then? [And that is a faint hint of amusement in Combeferre's tone there.] I ought not to be surprised he is as fierce as that, particularly if the cause of this is something he is passionate about.

And yet...this can hardly go ON, Bahorel. I think that he hides missing you better than you think. Would you consent to speak with him again, with more of us present if he might be convinced to?

I think it would be better for us all if so.

[daringwaistcoats]

[Ugh, speaking to him again, when the outcome is already known? An audience is probably the least of Bahorel's preferred methods of sorting this out, though it may be the for the best...

He sighed loudly, and the words began to spill out. If anyone could help fix this, it must be Combeferre.]

I implied that he was childish, that we could not understand one another. Or something. I'm no longer certain; it was during that period when sleep refused to come, and I said some things that I did not mean, at least not in the way they came out.

I did not intend to...! It was late, I wasn't myself, and he was the nearest target at the time. I even apologized, that he would understand, but I--

[He rubs his face with his hand, holding the microphone further away from him as his other hand drops to his lap. Those are not excuses, nor are they valid reasons. Bahorel, of all people, must know that Jehan is not one to spew stream-of-consciousness at when said words are only half-formed and not fully explained or refined as they should be.

Words are important to him, and Bahorel had used them meanly. So he had done the one thing he would never do without ever meaning it: he had apologized, and Jehan still does not believe him.

His voice is soft.] I apologized. Is that not enough?

[vivelavenir]

[Slipped under the door on a carefully creased and folded bit of paper, in Jehan's looped handwriting, because he cannot quite bear to talk about it face to face:]

Ambrose,
I do not know for certain that you had the pleasure of meeting M. Lupin, but surely you knew notre cher Albert.
On the first hand, it is a pity of fate that you will not have the pleasure, and on the other, a pity to have been robbed of it.

Both have disappeared from the ship, in the manner that Marius once did.

I thought to inform you.

-J.

[daringwaistcoats]

[Bahorel notices the note after returning from showering after training, and promptly finishes toweling off and changing before he's right out the door again.

It is a hastily scribbled note that gets shoved back under Jehan's door after a knock and call produces neither poete nor response:]

Jehan,

I was acquainted with both that I understand at least in part. You know to find me in my quarters, for when you are ready to speak.

- A.

[vivelavenir]

[On that same note, below Bahorel's hand, a bit later;]

Ambrose,

We all mourn our losses differently. I, separately.

(There is no need to coddle.)

I will find you on a brighter day, with warm intents.

With dearest sentiments,
-J.

{Text}

[vivelavenir]

Were that you might apologize in a manner befitting your manly nature, it would be that he would forgive you, in his gentle nature.

Come, Bahorel, please; it is enough, between brothers, as to drive the youngest child here mad.

Be the greater gentlemen, and pray do say some nicety to him. Must I beseech further?

[text]

[daringwaistcoats]

As though he has something to forgive! I insist that the trespass was done upon me, instead, that he is quite so flippant in pursuing only his own interests.

[Text]

[vivelavenir]

You clutched at him as a bourgeoisie clutches their purse in the outer androssiments! And said such things as turned him colours, and none of those colours rosy, and were so protective in your rage as you turned my stomach and it was nothing to do with colours, that.

Ambrose. I love you with all my heart, and I love him the same.

Please keep the peace and apologize, for it is owed, and you are gentleman enough and brave enough to do it. I know so.

[daringwaistcoats]

I am brave enough to hold by my words, just as I am gentleman enough to take insult for it, for I, too, love you with my whole being, Jehan, and you will know it in my contrariness. Little good comes of a lack of it, after all!

However, I cannot say that I can love that dandy with quite the same fervour as I do my friends if he insists on this baffling state in such unfounded obstinance. Reynaud is selfish, and I will not have his shortsightedness taking you down with him.

He is lucky to know that an apology would suffice to mend this, that my respect may yet still be regained.

[vivelavenir]

Is that so? Love is shown best by being contrary?

I see you call me 'Jehan' now.

[Let that sink in, hot-headed friend. Not the literal of it, but the implication, and how that contrariness once held much back before, when you heckled at such a monicker.]

Reynaud is neither selfish nor short-sighted and I wonder that you think so of he who stood with our friends longer than we did on that fateful day, and thus fought harder in time and sweat and in loyalty than we fought in honour, bleeding it out early as we did.

If he were to apologize to you, then, would you be willing to dissipate your affront, and do him the same? Would you promise that to me, who cannot help but love you both, and be driven to excessive wonder by your lack of courting friendship so recently?

[daringwaistcoats]

[The face he's making right now. You don't even know. Mostly because this icon doesn't show his face. Jehan's mean. :(]

And we have overcome our differences since. You will forever be Jehan to me, my dearest friend, and my brother for even longer, that I worry for you more than I do myself.

[Especially in light of finding out that the other had followed so shortly after him the last time, that he had not been there to protect him.]

But though one can say that Reynaud loves his friends, his sisters, even his many mistresses of the past, I know that that is not the love you intend for him, yourself.

I am sorry to you for having turned your stomach, but I have nothing to apologize to him for, for I have done nothing but praise and beseech that he keep his head more firmly in check; I see nothing wrong with impressing that reminder upon his conscience.

Handwritten note left for him shortly after the jump

[lecentre]

My friend And I do not use such a term loosely

I have searched as far as one can this jump for our chief... Still I find his living space remarkably empty and have found myself unable to reach him. Have you any luck in finding him, please let us know at the soonest possible convenience.

Courfeyrac

A text message sent in return

[daringwaistcoats]

My experience has been the same thus far. I will be sure to address you promptly as it changes.

- B

And one right back

[lecentre]

Many thanks. Here's to the hope that it will change sooner rather than later.

-Courfeyrac

{A Letter, Handwritten, Left on Bahorel's Door.}

[vivelavenir]

Bahorel,

It has come to my attention that we have been too far at odds, lately!

Thus, I extend to you to a manly invitation, and challenge you- if you would- to a friendly match at fencing in the gym.

I will be there all tomorrow giving lessons and getting back into form.

Where words fail us, let us bridge the gap in exerting ourselves, my friend!

I look forward to besting you, if indeed I might! Bring your finest will.

With Cheer,
-Courfeyrac

[vivelavenir]

[A note, left beside the door to his room, atop a small box. Upon opening the letter, between the folds are pressed, yellow roses. It reads as follows:]

Dear Bahorel,

It has taken seeing Feuilly's face, exactly as I last recall it, to remind me that we are not so young as we once were. How many years might have passed here, in this equipoise of time and being? How long have you been with us? For one cycle, at least, surely?

You must thank Mademoiselle Seraphim, if anyone at all, for she is much more accomplished than I in wisdom of the kitchen, and without her great help, I cannot have made this small gift to you.

Accept it as a token of gratefulness that you are among us and well. (May it also stand-in, a poorly substitute, for the festivities your vivacious lady might have insisted upon for you, in warmer rooms on sunnier days.)

Long ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, “Come and play with me!”

But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height
I was fain to climb before the night;
So, half-impatient, I answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play.”

Long, long after, in Autumn time—
My limbs were grown too old to climb—
I passed a child on a pleasant lea,
And I called to her, “Come and play with me!”

But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book;
And scarce she lifted a wondering look,
As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play!”
-F.W. Bourdillon

A Happy Birthday.

Bien à vous,
-Jehan


[Inside the box the note sits upon, find one small, rosewater cake.]

[action -> video]

[daringwaistcoats]

[Bahorel leaned against the wall beside his door, hair still damp from his post-workout shower and plastered against his forehead where it had gotten a touch too long and unruly. His jumpsuit clung to his freshly-cleaned skin in much the same manner, that the humidity of a nice, hot shower adhered all to oneself, regardless as to how desirable that feeling was.

In the same way, there was a different sort of dampness that clung to his lashes, adhered them to one another, that Bahorel would be wont to find as troublesome, that it obscured the carefully crafted cake, the weight of those beautifully inscribed words.

Yet the soft smile on his lips would indicate it was not sadness or even nostalgia which gripped at his heart, and that, rather, such an overflowing burst of emotion was the excess of joy and love with regard to the friends whom he cherished so deeply that there was no restraining barely an ounce of it.

Bahorel drew a quick wrist across his cheek, sniffled loudly in the pointed manner of a man who had only breathed in some dust, perhaps a potent combination of spices, as it were, and let himself into his room, setting the cake down on his table, and the note next to it.

Clearing his throat a little, Bahorel would be ringing up Jehan immediately thereafter. If there would be no answer, he would leave a message; regardless, the image would show a somewhat sobered expression, a slightly wry twist to the grin, the vaguest tinge of colour about his eyes, a combination of grateful and doting and amused, all at once.]

Mon petit, it is greater than what my lady has ever done for me, that she is only my lady, and not my dearest and greatest friend. Thank you.

[Video]

[vivelavenir]

It is nothing, but well-deserved.

[Insisted at the call, pleased in part by that red rimming to his eyes.

A small bow of the head.]

You flatter me considerably.

[video]

[daringwaistcoats]

To say you deserve even greater, though here I sit, too dumbstruck even to speak properly!

[Leaning forward onto his arms on the desk, a puff of a laugh that was rough around the edges for all of its moisture had previously found its way to his gaze, instead.]

Only because you are too modest, Jehan. It is your downfall as much as it is your virtue.

[Video]

[vivelavenir]

You have a very sweet countenance, when it is flush and merry like that.

[He meant it entirely in barefaced honesty, for the tears against his eyes were thanks enough, and showed the sentiment sweetest of all.

He was quite satisfied with the entire event, therefore.]

If you would say I stumble on virtue, I would say you have come up with the kindest way of explaining why I am clumsy.

[daringwaistcoats]

[Bahorel snorted, more to hide the deep sniffle than in response to Jehan's words.]

And you prove yourself even kinder than my mistress with such words; were you not quite so enamoured by that dandy of yours, I'd wonder at your intentions.

[Gruffly only because of his current physiological state, but hopefully clear enough in his jesting. A bit of a grin, as he pinched at and wiped his nose a bit, before settling back again in his seat.]

You are clumsy because your limbs are always askew, that you are a fawn in a man's body, with too much here and too little there that everything flops about everywhere! Le petit faon, who grows into the majestic stag, but has a few years yet.