Feuilly shook his head. He’d not even thought about if anyone would check his rooms for them. His name was on lists of the group, if they’d found those- but otherwise he lived so far away from his friends, he’d forgotten he might be a target. “I haven’t been that way I- I went to Bahorel’s place first even though-” He shook his head again. “but my place is out of the way enough it might be safe for just a bit?” It wasn’t much, just one room a poor excuse of a bed in the corner a table and a chair in the other corner. But it had become home.
Feuilly followed Courfeyrac though the alley listening to him give a run down on their friends. He hadn’t dared think about Enjolras, and couldn’t believe that his place was anything close to safe. It took him a moment to realize that he was waiting to hear about Bahorel and Prouvaire, before it hit him that there was nothing to be heard about them. They’d all heard Prouvaire’s last words, they’d all seen Bahorel’s death. He choked back a sob, trying to stay quite, focusing on the fact that Courfeyrac had said nothing of Combeferre or Enjolras. Had they been lost the same way Bahorel and Prouvaire had been? That could explain why Courfeyrac had not heard from Grantaire.
When they made it though the alley Feuilly blinked, hoping his near sobs had been hidden well enough. He pointed Courfeyrac towards his place, walking slow, not only to accommodate Courfeyrac’s injury, but also, hopefully, keeping them from attracting notice. Still he couldn’t help but pull the brim of his hat down. “It’s a bit of a walk from here.” Feuilly said, “but opposite the directions of those soldiers so, hopefully-” he let his sentence die, hopefully we won’t run in to any more, hopefully we can breath. It seemed like everything they would do for a while would need a bit of hope.
Courfeyrac reached out a hand and gently squeezed Feuilly’s. They had all lost friends, brothers really. But Courfeyrac also know that some had lost more than that, though he hadn’t dared to ever share those thoughts with anyone before. “Oui. If they’re just now getting to my place, yours should be alright for now.” He said quietly.
Courfeyrac heard the slight hitch in Feuilly’s voice and could guess he was experiencing his own grief. He didn’t say anything though. There would be time for that later. Courfeyrac had always feared death. Of course he supported Enjolras and knew he would die for their cause. Courfeyrac had always supported the cause, but the thought of dying had always caused some hesitance. But this, he was starting think this was worse. Not knowing what had become of all his friends. Watching some of his brothers die before his own eyes. Courfeyrac blinked and tore himself away from those thoughts. He needed to stay focused. He had to.
Courfeyrac glanced around the quiet street and let out a quiet breath. He fell into step beside Feuilly and let him lead the way. Courfeyrac reached a hand out and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s alright. Lead the way. It seems pretty quiet. Let’s just seem like we’re on our way home from work. We just need to blend in.” He said, just above a whisper. He did his best to hide the limp. The less people could point out specifically about them the better. Every now and then, Courfeyrac would glance around to be sure they were alright. Thankfully, for the moment, they seemed to be attracting little attention
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