tushanshu | Verse 03 -- Video

[It is not a happy Jean Prouvaire who greets the world today.

Those who don't know Jehan might be able to tell that something's off. He almost looks sick, but not quite, and his clothes are in disarray. Those who do know Jehan?

They can tell right away that something is terribly wrong with the Romantic poet. He hasn't been out of his house in a few days--he hasn't left his house much at all since a few days before the snow day, actually, but in the last few days he's been a total recluse--and hasn't been seen on the network since Courfeyrac's last post. He's not looking at the feed like he normally does, his hands seem to be shaking a little, and he just seems off. Sleep has clearly been eluding the poet, too.

It takes a few minutes before he speaks. When he does, his voice is lacking his usual emotion. Still gentle, Jehan could never be anything but, but it's a bit flat]

I...I was wondering if someone...

[He bites his lip before trying again]

A-a flute. Does anyone know where I might--

[Another pause, this one longer. Jehan closes his eyes and shakes his head, reaching up to turn the feed off]

No, never mind.

[Just before he cuts the feed, the sounds of him starting to cry can be heard]

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[Grantaire is, arguably, one of the more observant members of their ragtag group of dead french friends. He spots it, but he doesn't do anything. This isn't his area of expertise, comfort. He's possibly the worst at it, unable to even comfort himself, much less someone as delicate as Jehan.

No, he doesn't know what's going on, and he doesn't want to. He's concerned, sure, but he's unsure what to do.

Eventually, after a few hours of thinking on it, he sends Jehan a text.]

when you're done pouring your heart out to someone, come over. I won't go out for a walk until you show up so show up.

Mon Dieu...

[Courfeyrac can tell right away that something's Not. Right. It took only a few seconds to tell, if that. And with every word from the poet's lips, he only grows more worried.

He'd been concerned before, when he hadn't heard from or seen Jehan since their conversation last. But now it reached a whole new level. And while he didn't feel like he could do much other than be there for the poet, well... He had to try something.]

Petit... I am coming over.

[It's not so much of a request rather than an outright statement of intent. At times like this he would not accept no for an answer. He couldn't leave a friend, especially Jehan, alone in a moment of need like this.]

[Bryn doesn't know Jehan well, but that she knows him at all makes her all the more inclined to speak up and offer help. Expression clearly worried, she starts a video feed and leans forward.]

I have one. I purchased at a music shop before the rationing began...I'm not very good yet but if you'd like to borrow it you can. I can bring it to you if you'd like.

[Alcuin is immediately concerned, of course. This is nothing like the Jehan that he has come to know!]

Elua, Jehan, you do not... you do not look well. Do you need a doctor?

Edited 2013-03-23 05:39 (UTC)

[By now, Jehan has calmed down, confessed everything, and feels brave enough to respond to everyone who responded to his disastrous post. He smiles when he sees Grantaire's; that's just like him, really. He's not the sort to get overly comforting and...well, sentimental over things. He's the type to be normal.

Jehan needs a little normal, he thinks. If nothing else, he needs to try for it.]

You will not go for a walk regardless of if I show up.

You can have one of my flutes, of course. [Dorian pitches his voice carefully, artfully, as if it is the instrument he offers. The light, soft notes work a gentle harmony.] When may I bring them to you?

[Courfeyrac's is the only person he responds to right away (unless Enjolras or Combeferre want to come over). He can't be seen like this, he can't cause them more trouble.]

N-no! Please, Courfeyrac, I'm...

[He trails off. He can't have Courfeyrac come over. He just can't. Not now.]

[When he responds, it's a bit later. He sounds better, though still tired]

Are you attempting to learn to play?

[This also comes later]

N-no. Combeferre has...he has tended to me.

[Still shaky, but a little better]

Dorian...

[Like most of his responses, this one comes some time later]

I can't accept your flute, Dorian. That is yours.

[His brow furrows.]

Jehan...

[He frowns, worry clearly written in his features.]

I don't want you to have to be alone right now. But I will not force you to let me in.

I am glad of that, for you looked as though you had dire need of a friend, at least.

[He is utterly sympathetic. Sometimes he feels close to breaking himself.]

I was, though I'm not sure I will master it as well as I did the piano. Please, it would be no problem to me to let you enjoy it.

[Times are hard, and he seems as if he could use something good, some kindness in his life.]

[Why does he have the best friends? What did he do to deserve these men? How did he repay them for their friendship?]

N-no, I swear I am fine.

[He's lying. You can hear his voice crack a little]

No, mademoiselle. You should keep it and learn. I haven't seen a piano yet, and the flute might be the only way you can make music.

I...

[Jehan trails off]

I did not mean to let everyone see that.

If you need a moment, I can wait.

[Even though he looks like he wants to bolt over there right this minute. He adds in a much lower voice, fumbling and switching the feed over to private.]

But I don't believe that you're fine and I want to help in any way possible.

I do not want to cause any more grief, Courfeyrac. I did not mean to let everyone see that, I don't know what I was thinking.

I can sing, I can use a pot for a drum if I like. I'd much rather hear someone who knows how to use the instrument. Please, I insist.

[Though gently. There's no steel to her tone, only a firmness that she hopes won't be lost on him.]

Pray do not feel ashamed that we did. My friendship for you is not diminished, nor my respect, if you are concerned with that- and any who call themselves your friend will surely feel likewise, or else they are not worthy of the name.

[He isn't sure if that's the right thing to say, but he knows that he would feel ashamed of letting his friends see that, and worry that they thought less of him... which he realizes is hypocritical.]

I--

[He won't. He can't. Not right now. Maybe not ever. But she's trying]

I will think on it. I will not be playing for a some time, not yet.

[Gently insistent, with a smile in his voice.] We should share the means of all production, including musical production, shouldn't we? [He complements playful twist on socialism with the decidedly individualist comment,] And as music is in my opinion the most perfect of all arts, it's a personal pleasure to facilitate it howsoever I can.

[That gets Jehan to smile a little, though Alcuin can't see]

I pray that you are right.

[Dorian...]

I...perhaps. I--

[Am not in any condition to play right now. He can't say it, though]

Please do.

[She will give the subject a rest for a moment.]

Until then, would you like some company?

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Verse 03 -- Video

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