Chapter 12

Joly stared at Jehan for a full minute after re-entering his apartment. Despite Bossuet nudging him, the medical student studied the red-eyed poet from across the room. Finally, Jehan broke the awkward silence. "How's Valentin?"

"Huh … oh … Val … yeah, he's fine. I got him to rest for an hour or so. I think he is getting ready to take a shower." Joly decided to leave out the fact that Courfeyrac woke up screaming ten minutes ago. He also ignored the fact that Jehan whimpered slightly at the mention of the shower.

The poet seemed to be lost for words. He cleared his throat for a few minutes, before he finally spoke. "Well, I guess I'll go check on him." Jehan stated, in a voice about an octave higher than normal. "If you'll excuse me." Not waiting for a response, he nearly bolted to the bedroom.

~oOo~

Courfeyrac froze when he heard the bedroom door slam, followed by a quick knock on the bathroom door. "Val, love, may I come in?"

Sighing in relief, the brunette wrapped a towel around his waist. "Sure Jehan, come on in! Are you feeling any better, sweetie? You left so fast …" Courfeyrac cut himself off when he turned around and saw the poet's pale face.

Alarmed, Courfeyrac motioned for Jehan to close the door behind him, before grasping the poet's arm, causing the latter to flinch violently. "Jean? Sweetheart? What's wrong? Come here, sit down."

After shoving his fiancée onto the closed toilet seat, the brunette took his partner's hand in both of his and rubbed it soothingly. Jehan looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Jean, darling, you're scaring me. Please, talk to me, I'm begging you."

Slowly, Jehan placed his free hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Valentin, there's something I … we have to … there's something you should know." The more the poet struggled to string his words together, the tighter his grip became on the other man's shoulder. "I … I … I don't know how to say this."

Tears rolled down the strawberry blonde's face as he shook his head frantically, as if he were trying to shake the troubling thoughts from his skull. Courfeyrac moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub and pulled the poet as close as the tight space would allow him. Jehan's braid had come unraveled at some point and the brunette began running his fingers through the wavy, shoulder length locks. "Sweetheart, don't worry. We can talk later if you would like. Why don't you lie down while I take a shower?"

Jehan thought for a moment. On the plus side, he was getting a chance to stall the inevitable unpleasant conversation; but on the negative side, he wasn't ready to be away from Courfeyrac, even if only a door separated them. "Um … I have to take a shower, too. Would it be okay if I … uh … took a shower at the same time?"

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. An odd way to ask if they could shower together, but he would take it. The brunette shyly smiled and dropped his towel. Jehan returned the smile and began to strip.

Soon, both men were naked and in the shower. The poet was pressed against the wall, scrubbing vigorously with the soap despite the fact that he wasn't even being touched by the water. Courfeyrac studied him as he washed his hair (there was only the one bar of soap and Jehan was hogging it.) After a moment, the brunette took the poet's hand and gently led him within reach of the warm water. Taking a rag, Courfeyrac slowly began to rub Jehan's body.

The poet tensed at first, but soon relaxed and let his fiancée wash the soap from his body. Slowly, Jehan pulled away and gently rubbed the soap over Courfeyrac's chest. The brunette smiled down at the smaller man. "Thanks, love. That feels nice." The poet slowly looked up and grinned back. Courfeyrac took this moment to press a gentle and loving kiss to the ginger's lips.

Jehan was shocked momentarily, before moaning in a mixture of pleasure and relief. After all those hellish memories, it was nice to be in the arms of someone who would never harm him in that way. The poet snuggled into his lover's arms, seeking the warmth and safety only the brunette could provide.

Courfeyrac slowly began to deepen the kiss when he felt Jehan begin to pull on his hair. As his tongue stroked the roof of the other man's mouth, the brunette felt his body soften; except for a certain part. For the first time in two weeks, Courfeyrac felt ready to take things further.

Gently, the older man moved the younger one until his back was pressed against the cool tiles. Jehan gasped in shock as the brunette's hands moved down his body. "Val?"

Courfeyrac misinterpreted the poet's questioning tone. Thinking that Jehan was asking if he was truly ready for this, the brunette gave his fiancée a coy smile. "Don't worry love. I'm ready."

The older man was completely powerless to the needs of his body. He was having the time of his life (compared to the last two weeks.) He was completely unaware that Jehan had stopped breathing and was trying to pull away. It wasn't until he pressed his hardened penis against the poet's placid one that his eyes snapped opened and he stared at Jehan in shock.

The young man pulled away the first chance he got and curled into a ball. Jehan whimpered softly, facing away from the stunned brunette. A full minute passed before Courfeyrac snapped out of his trance and turned off the shower. Kneeling beside the trembling poet, Courfeyrac gently touched his shoulder. Jehan flinched away from the touch and slammed his head hard into the tiled wall. The brunette winced sympathetically while the poet barely reacted, which only added to Courfeyrac's concern.

"Jean." Courfeyrac said firmly. He knew that he shouldn't be raising his voice at Jehan while the latter was in such a state, but he didn't know what else to do. "Jean, you have to stand up now. Don't worry, I have a towel for you right here. Would you like me to help you stand?"

The poet lifted his head slightly. With his eyes fixed on the wall somewhere near Courfeyrac's left shoulder, Jehan stated in a drained voice, "Yes, sir."

The brunette felt a chill run down his spine. He had no idea why, but Jehan's last statement frightened him more than his recent behavior. Courfeyrac quickly wrapped Jehan in the towel and nearly dragged him to the bed, whispering words of comfort into his ear. "Okay, Jean. You just relax. I'm going to talk to Joly about … something. Just stay here, love." Courfeyrac whispered as he tucked the poet into bed.

"Yes, sir," came the reply from under the covers. Courfeyrac's stomach churned as he raced out the door.

~oOo~

Upon finding the apartment empty, Courfeyrac threw opened the door and looked down the hallway. From the stairway, he heard Bossuet's laughter, followed by Joly's. He hasn't left his apartment alone for weeks, but that didn't stop him from racing down the stairs. "Joly! Joly! Wait, please!"

The medical student whipped around while Bossuet stumbled on the stairs at the sudden shouting. "Courfeyrac? What are you doing? What's wrong?"

"It's Jean! I don't know what happened. We were in the shower and he just started to flip out! You have to help me, please!" Courfeyrac practically bellowed in the medical student's face. It wasn't until Bossuet handed him his sweatshirt that the brunette realized he was naked.

"It's okay. Don't worry. Tie the hoodie around your waist and we will go upstairs. Bossuet, Combeferre texted me a few minutes ago, telling me that they are back. Can you let him know that I will call him in an hour and to be alone?" Bossuet nearly bolted down the stairs while Joly was dragged to the top floor.

~oOo~

The two men entered the bedroom to find Jehan just as Courfeyrac left him; curled into himself and silently weeping. Joly wasted no time in checking the poet's pulse while the brunette rubbed his fiancée's shoulders and whispered encouragements to him. It didn't take long for Joly to confirm that Jehan's problem was psychological. Relieved that Combeferre was at least in the country to help with this one, Joly helped Courfeyrac pull the poet into a sitting position. The medical student paused to think about how to address the issue when Courfeyrac beat him to it. "I think now is a good time to talk, sweetheart."

Jehan sniffled and buried his face into the brunette's bare chest; pulling the towel his body was wrapped in tighter, as if he were cold. Joly grabbed a thick blanket from the closet and covered the ginger. Jehan didn't glance at the medical student, he never even move his head away from Courfeyrac's body. Instead, he took a deep breath and began his story.

The other men listened patiently as the poet struggled to tell them about 7 years of hell. The only sound besides Jehan's voice and the occasional reassurance from Courfeyrac, was the scratching of Joly's pen on a sheet of paper; he was taking note of what the poet said so he could pass it on the Combeferre, who again, could handle the emotional stuff better than he could. Courfeyrac felt his stomach churn at the recounts of the various assaults the love of his life faced at the hands of his uncle. There was something in Jehan's voice, the brunette didn't know what, but something told him that this was related to his own assault. He listened to Jehan tell them how he learnt that he wasn't the only child his uncle abused and how his sister shouted out his secret during an argument with their father.

Out of nowhere, Courfeyrac realized the reason Jehan wanted to tell him. He finally connected the two horrific storied. He didn't need Jehan to tell him what happened, but he still did. "Valentin. I am so sorry. I don't know how he found me, or if he even knew I was so close. But … I-I think it was my uncle who … who …"

Tears welled in the brunette's eyes as he finished his partners thought. "Who raped me."

As the lovers held each other, Joly slowly stood and silently left the room. He boiled some water for coffee and sat at the kitchen table. Pulling out his phone, Joly texted Musichetta, letting her know that he was spending the night. Taking a deep breathe, he glanced at his notes, then at the bedroom door, where he could hear muffled sobs. The medical student dialed a number and waited impatiently for Combeferre to pick up. "Hello?" he heard after the third ring.

"'Ferre, you have to come down to Courfeyrac and Jehan's apartment ASAP. This whole situation has gone to shit."

A/N: Hey. Hope you enjoyed this depressing chapter. Sorry if it kind of sucks, I am so sick right now and I might be getting a migraine. The chapter was half typed already and I had some free time, so here you go. Next chapter might include either some fluff or Eponine and Gavroche finding out about what happened. I don't know yet but I do know how I want it to end. Until next time.

~Zie