For the gentle meme, Enjolras and Feuilly, whichever one you like, or 7. ^_^
Feuillystared up at the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. He had no idea why he evenused it â he knew full well he wasnât tall enough to reach it. So far he used achair to stand on, but lately it has started to creak dangerously, so he didnâtwant to risk putting too much weight on it. Which of course left awkwardlyclimbing up on the counter as his only option.
He sighed,resigned, and moved to start climbing - when the jar he was trying to reachwavered. It trembled a little, then slowly, oh so slowly started to slidetowards the edge of the shelf. Feuilly positioned himself under it and held outhis hands. The jar toppled over the edge and flopped right into his palms.
âThank you,Enjolras!â
The lampflickered â a friendly nod.
It tookFeuilly a couple of month to get used to the ghost that was haunting him andhis friends, but now he was an integral part of his life.
Noteveryone has taken to him so easily. Once they put the pieces together andconfirmed that the source of all the little anomalies and weird sensationssurrounding them was a ghost, most of Les Amis freaked out. Bahorel threatened theentity with an exorcist. Grantaire â after the spirit touched his hand â went intoa hysterical, crying breakdown. Neither of them experienced anything remotelyotherworldly ever since.
Joly,Lesgle and Courfeyrac were uneasy but didnât try to outright chase the ghostaway. In accordance, while he attempted to get their attention from time totime, he mostly stayed away and chose to linger around the only three peoplewho showed him more that reluctant tolerance: Combeferre, Prouvaire andFeuilly.
Prouvairewas of course over the moon, being haunted by an actual ghost and spent hourstrying to communicate with him. Thus he was the source of most of what theyknew of the entity: he was a young man called Enjolras who died at age 27, in1832. When Jehan asked why he chose them, specifically, to haunt the spiritsaid he had his reasons but wasnât ready to talk about them. Jehan did notpress the issue after that.
Combeferreâsinterest was largely scientific, at least at first. He was trying his best tocapture their ghost on camera and was overjoyed when he finally started to showup on recordings, even if only as a vague smudge.
As forFeuilly, he just wanted to help. Right from the beginning, it seemed to himthis poor spirit was begging for affection, doing everything in its meagrepowers to win their friendship. He found lost keys, he kept forgotten mugs oftea warm, draped blankets around those who passed out on a couch⊠He wasrubbing at their ankles like an attention-starved cat â metaphorically, butalso physically.
Oh yes,there was that â he seemed to love touching. Feuilly always thought ghosts werecold, but this one was not. Maybe he was just different, or maybe he had to puteffort into making his touch feel more pleasant, Feuilly could not tell.Anyhow, he often felt a patch of warmth pressed against his side, his shouldersor his back. He found it oddly reassuring. He was no stranger to loneliness andnow he had a companion he could always call upon whenever he wanted. All he hadto do was whisper his name and the ghost would come.
Also,recognition and, above all, affection seemed to give him power. When thehaunting first began, he could barely move particles of spilled sugar or flickthe lights on and off â nowadays he could even show himself, even if it wasonly in the form of a pair of luminous blue eyes and a faint outline.
There hewas again â Feuilly noted as he shook himself out of his musing â lingering inthe doorway. Feuilly gathered up the food he prepared and moved into thebedroom (which doubled as a living room). The blue spots bobbed in the air as theghost followed him. Feuilly took his place at his desk and watched as the coverdipped slightly on his bed. As he ate he told the ghost about his day,sometimes injecting simple yes or no questions his strange friend could answerby flicking the lamplight.
When hefinished his meal he saw the cover straighten, and felt a familiar warmth pressagainst his shin. The blue spots were floating mid-air, in level with hisknees.
âHold up, Ihave an idea!â
He reachedover the bed and grabbed a pillow.
âCan you possessthis?â
The glowingeyes turned up to look at him, tilted to the side in obvious confusion.
âCome on,give it a try!â
The eyesdisappeared and then, a fraction of a second later, the pillow twitched.Perfect.
Slowly,gently, Feuilly held it to his chest. The pillow shuddered and then flattened againsthis body, the spirit in it desperately trying to get even closer. Feuillyhugged him tightly. The pressed a hand to the upper side of the pillow, imaginingit was a head and ran his thumb over it again and again in a sweet caress.
Warmthexploded in his chest, he was overcome with emotions he knew werenât his own.Pain, loneliness, but also relief and desperate, deep love. Tears gathered inhis eyes and he pressed a kiss on to the pillow, cradling it close. He couldhave sworn that just around the edge of his perception he could hear someoneweeping. He leant back in the chair, the pillow still pressed flat against hischest.
âIâve gotyou. Itâs all right, Iâve got you. You donât have to be alone anymore. You areloved.â