Phantom_Bugsy
So hot he's on fire.
(A/N: More insight into my Joly, oh yey.)
Snowballing
I will give you that I used to be beautiful. Soft, auburn hair...eyes that seemed to glow a gentle emerald green...the creamiest, smoothest pale skin that France had ever seen...
And then, the revolution.
When I joined up with Les Amis de l'ABC, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It was true that I believed in the cause. I still do. But when the meetings and the planning suddenly began to butt heads with my schooling and my work, I found myself spending entire nights studying in order to catch up. There would be days, weeks even, that I would not sleep for fear of missing valuable study time. It took a toll on my body, and this I should have seen beforehand. What kind of a medical student was I to not know the health risks this might bring? There were times during meetings at the Musain when my body itself decided to stage its own revolution and shut down completely. Often I would wake up on the floor with familiar faces looking down at me, worried faces, and a damp cloth across my forehead.
I was so ignorant...I didn't even obey those obvious warning signs. As time went on, my absurd sleep patterns caused me to tremble a great deal of the time. There were moments when I could barely hold my quill, could barely write, and it frustrated me. It would get so bad that often times I would hand my assignments over to Combeferre and tell him what to write down.
I became sicker still, and things like colds and coughs became more familiar. Even pneumonia found itself a common visitor. My immune system was shot, but I still would not take it easy like I was told. I thought I could do it all. I thought that I was above such things...and it all came crashing down.
I failed my exams. The very exams I had studied so hard and so lang to pass...I failed them. I could not concentrate, I could barely even write. Even Grantaire began to pity me after a while. I wasn't beautiful anymore; there were dark circles under my eyes...eyes that, if they shone at all anymore, shone with tears. My frail body shook violently like a drunk in the throes of withdrawal, and it seemed as though I always had some kind of ailment.
After failing my exams, shooting down my chances at pursuing the medical career I'd worked so hard for, I'd taken to spending most of my time in the cafe. I got to know Feuilly pretty well, another unfortunate soul like myself who was simply floating around and living day-to-day. I told him that I wished I was still beautiful...he told me I was.
He began taking care of me. Every day he would bring me some kind of fruit or bread or some other thing that he stole off of a market cart, and he bade me to eat it. When meeting were adjourned, he would accompany me back to my apartment to ensure that I slept, often times crawling into my bed with me to spend the night there. I will not speak of some of the things that came to pass there, for they are no one's business but ours.
Slowly, very slowly, my health began to return. I tried to ask him what I could do to repay him, but he simply smiled and told me that my being healthy was enough for him and that as long as I was okay, he would be happy. The trembling stopped, at least until I was in his presence again. I have an inkling, though, that the reason for this trembling could not be explained by what it was before.
This sort of trembling I liked.
(Yeah, it's a one-shot again. D: I write one-shots best.)
Snowballing
I will give you that I used to be beautiful. Soft, auburn hair...eyes that seemed to glow a gentle emerald green...the creamiest, smoothest pale skin that France had ever seen...
And then, the revolution.
When I joined up with Les Amis de l'ABC, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It was true that I believed in the cause. I still do. But when the meetings and the planning suddenly began to butt heads with my schooling and my work, I found myself spending entire nights studying in order to catch up. There would be days, weeks even, that I would not sleep for fear of missing valuable study time. It took a toll on my body, and this I should have seen beforehand. What kind of a medical student was I to not know the health risks this might bring? There were times during meetings at the Musain when my body itself decided to stage its own revolution and shut down completely. Often I would wake up on the floor with familiar faces looking down at me, worried faces, and a damp cloth across my forehead.
I was so ignorant...I didn't even obey those obvious warning signs. As time went on, my absurd sleep patterns caused me to tremble a great deal of the time. There were moments when I could barely hold my quill, could barely write, and it frustrated me. It would get so bad that often times I would hand my assignments over to Combeferre and tell him what to write down.
I became sicker still, and things like colds and coughs became more familiar. Even pneumonia found itself a common visitor. My immune system was shot, but I still would not take it easy like I was told. I thought I could do it all. I thought that I was above such things...and it all came crashing down.
I failed my exams. The very exams I had studied so hard and so lang to pass...I failed them. I could not concentrate, I could barely even write. Even Grantaire began to pity me after a while. I wasn't beautiful anymore; there were dark circles under my eyes...eyes that, if they shone at all anymore, shone with tears. My frail body shook violently like a drunk in the throes of withdrawal, and it seemed as though I always had some kind of ailment.
After failing my exams, shooting down my chances at pursuing the medical career I'd worked so hard for, I'd taken to spending most of my time in the cafe. I got to know Feuilly pretty well, another unfortunate soul like myself who was simply floating around and living day-to-day. I told him that I wished I was still beautiful...he told me I was.
He began taking care of me. Every day he would bring me some kind of fruit or bread or some other thing that he stole off of a market cart, and he bade me to eat it. When meeting were adjourned, he would accompany me back to my apartment to ensure that I slept, often times crawling into my bed with me to spend the night there. I will not speak of some of the things that came to pass there, for they are no one's business but ours.
Slowly, very slowly, my health began to return. I tried to ask him what I could do to repay him, but he simply smiled and told me that my being healthy was enough for him and that as long as I was okay, he would be happy. The trembling stopped, at least until I was in his presence again. I have an inkling, though, that the reason for this trembling could not be explained by what it was before.
This sort of trembling I liked.
(Yeah, it's a one-shot again. D: I write one-shots best.)