The City That We Loved

Obsession

Enjolras sat in class, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his desk. He yawned and looked at the time. There was still forty-five minutes to go.

His professor was giving them a spiel about...something. Enjolras slouched down in his chair and rested his head on the back of it.

"M. Enjolras," the professor said. "If you're going to be distracting to everyone else, you can leave."

"I would but my dad would probably hear about it somehow and...I'm not threatening you or anything but he'd probably find a way to get you fired," Enjolras said. Enjolras felt like a rich brat when he finished saying it. It wasn't a threat he was just saying...that's what happened to half of his math teachers in lycée.

"Sit up straight," the professor said. Enjolras did so and the professor continued his spiel. Enjolras blocked out the professor's voice from his brain and began to write a speech for no reason at all. Just something about revolution and the free France. Nothing new.

"M. Enjolras!" Enjolras' head snapped up. He didn't realize he'd been called. The professor looked extremely annoyed. "You're dismissed."

"What?" he asked. "I wasn't doing--"

"The office just dismissed you," the professor said. "Go, before they change their minds. You can get the notes from someone later." Enjolras gathered his stuff quickly and went out the door. He left the building.

Sitting in the parking lot was a red convertible.

"Mom?" Enjolras asked. He ran over to the car. His mom was waiting for him. "What are you doing here?"

"Your father is in Paris on business and I came with him," Mme. Enjolras said. "I thought you might want to spend the day together."

"Y-Yeah," Enjolras said. "Yeah, sure! Um, do you mind if we drop my bag off at my flat?"

"Of course," she said. "We can do whatever you want." Enjolras got into the car, trying to hide his smile. Mme. Enjolras got into the driver's side. He directed her to his flat. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Enjolras said. He walked the door and held it open for his mother. She walked through. The elevator ride up was quiet and a little awkward. Enjolras walked down the hall and unlocked his front door.

"'Ferre?" Enjolras called. Combeferre came around the corner and saw his friend and Mme. Enjolras.

"Madame," Combeferre said, removing his baseball cap. "It's been a long time." Combeferre had always been weirdly attracted to Enjolras' mother. It grossed him out.

"Yes, it has, Roland," Christine said. "But it is good too see you." She had a smile on her face. She knew. But it was pretty obvious. If Enjolras could pick up on it, anyone could.

"Why aren't you at the university?" Combeferre asked Enjolras.

"My mom and I are going to have a mother-son day," Enjolras explained. "I'm just dropping off my stuff." He walked into the living room and plopped his books and bag on the couch.

"I'm surprised," Mme. Enjolras said, looking around. "It's not too messy."

"That's Combeferre's doing," Enjolras explained. "If it were just me, you probably wouldn't be able to see the couch."

"It's a nice couch," Christine said. She ran her hand along the soft fabric. "No family photos?"

Enjolras shook his head.

"You'll learn today that Enjolras doesn't like personal things," Combeferre explained. "He likes to leave everything...plain, if you will."

"Why's that, darling?" Christine asked.