Montparnasse walked down the road one chilly April night. He pulled his hat down over his eyes so no passerby would notice him. After all, he had a criminal record to keep and he didn't want to get caught.
Down the road aways, there was a bench. A perfect spot for a criminal mastermind to rest. He sat down on the end of the seat, and closed his eyes. A voice startled him a few minutes later. Standing next to the bench was a young man, probably a little older than Montparnasse, say twenty-two or twenty-three. He looked like the kind of man who is intoxicated in love. He had flowers all around his face, a big dreamy smile, and pockets overflowing with papers and booklets.
"Hello, sir, do you mind if I sit here?" he sounded floaty, like someone who's had a few too many drinks. He seemed like the perfect person for Montparnasse to rob money from, but for some reason he couldn't make himself do it.
"Uh, sure, I guess," he mumbled, shifting slightly away from this strange man. Even he, who carried a knife on him at all times, was a bit disturbed. The strange man started humming softly and rocking back and forth.
"You good?" Montparnasse asked, getting a little concerned.
The man snapped to attention as if he'd been asleep. "Oh, yes! Thank you for asking!" he turned toward Montparnasse, and offered him a flower. "I'm Jehan Prouvaire."
Montparnasse took the flower awkwardly, because what else could he do? "I-- I'm Montparnasse."
"Oh, that's a pretty name! It's so poetic," Jehan's voice was twittering like a bird, and filling Montparnasse's head. He wasn't sure if he hated it or loved it.
"Not really," he responded, examining the flower that had been handed to him a few moments before. It was tiny and white, with several blooms up and down the stem.
"Oh, Lily of the Valley symbolizes the return of happiness. You seemed like the right person to give it to. I've been looking for someone all day," Jehan explained, gesturing to the flower.
"What, are you a poet or something?" Montparnasse asked him sarcastically, turning the flower over in his hand. It hardly felt like anything.
"Yes, actually," Jehan replied, "I do read and write poems. They're just so light and carefree."
"Ok...ay?" Montparnasse was getting confused at Jehan's willingness to talk to him. He pulled out his pipe and put it in his mouth. "Are there any that are dark and not-light?"
Jehan nodded, and started ruffling through his pockets. "I have a booklet of them somewhere-ah, here it is." he pulled out a small, worn, leather-bound book and opened it. "Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe."
"From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I loved, I loved alone
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still
From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff of the mountain
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by
From the thunder and the storm
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view. "
As he read, Montparnasse started feeling like he was floating away, into this story, feeling his whole being possessed in this one poem, away from this bench. Once the poem ended, Jehan broke the silence by saying, "Well, that wasn't really the most famous example. Poe did write some famous ones, though."
"Like what?" As hard as Montparnasse tried, he couldn't help getting pulled into this conversation. He was already floating away, like a boat that had been tied but now wasn't.
Jehan thumbed through the booklet again and read, "Annabel Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe."
"It was many and many a year ago
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived
Whom you may know
by the name of Annabel Lee
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me
I was a child and she was a child
In this kingdom by the sea
But we loved with a love that was more than love -- I and my Annabel Lee
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me/ And this was the reason that, long ago
In this kingdom by the sea
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling/ My beautiful Annabel Lee
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea
The angels, not half so happy in heaven
Went envying her and me - Yes! - that was the reason (as all men know
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we - Of many far wiser than w e- And neither the angels in heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride
In the sepulchre there by the sea
In her tomb by the sounding sea."
Jehan sat back in his seat, hugging the book to his chest, looking up at the night sky with a sigh.
After a silence, Montparnasse said, "Wow."
Jehan looked at him with a slight grin on his face. "He wrote that for his late wife. Who was also his thirteen- year-old cousin." Montparnasse had no response to that. His pipe fell out of his mouth, into his lap. His companion sighed happily. "I hope I'll get to be in love like that. Not my cousin, but just somebody."
Montparnasse replaced his pipe, and took a side glance at Jehan's happy daydreaming, even though it was nighttime. His whole face was lit up with the moon, and his eyes seemed to be glowing. "You've never been in love?"
"No," Jehan replied, reviving from his daze.
"Never kissed anybody?" Montparnasse asked him. He himself couldn't remember a time when he didn't kiss anybody. Jehan shook his head shyly. "It'd certainly be hard to write poetry without knowledge of these things, Jehan."
"Well, I'd want to be the right person, right? And I'd need to be able to describe it, and such things like-" Jehan didn't get to finish his sentence, because right at that moment, Montparnasse leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
When he pulled away, he was startled to find Jehan with his eyes wide open, both hands over his mouth, and staring at Montparnasse in shock. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, then Montparnasse said, "So, describe it."
"What?"
"I said describe it, you know, the kiss. What it was like, how it felt, doesn't need to sound like a poem yet, just think about it how it is." he was trying not to laugh at the absolutely blank expression on Jehan's face.
Jehan sat forward again, looking like he wasn't sure what to do in this situation. "Do you normally do that? Just... kiss random strangers?"
"Usually I get to know them a bit, but we've gotten to know each other a bit, so I figure it's not that bad," Montparnasse said casually, tipping his hat forward over his eyebrows again.
"But I still barely know you," Jehan squeaked, fidgeting with his pocket. He was avoiding Montparnasse's eyes.
"Well, would you like to? Besides, you still haven't described it to me."
"Uh... well..." Jehan looked around, then, seeing as the trees weren't going to give him any words to use, he pressed on with, "It was... warm. Kind of wet, but not really wet. Gentle-ish. I don't remember any more." Jehan shrugged.
Montparnasse leaned forward. "Can you even remember your name or occupation?" A small nod from Jehan. "Would you like me to remind you what it's like?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, it's okay, it was... strangely enjoyable? I mean, I don't know if anyone comes out of that with a bad experience, right?"
Montparnasse shook his head. "There are definitely experiences to be had where it's either too wet, too dry, or the person you're kissing gets cold feet."
Jehan giggled a bit at this. "Well, why don't you tell me what it's like?"
He thought for a moment, then responded, "Not bad, probably the best I've had in awhile." He didn't add that it was probably the best in his life. Even his short-lived steady girlfriend Eponine wasn't that enjoyable. "So, did you enjoy it yourself, as an experience as a whole?"
"Uh..." Jehan blushed red as he stared down at his poetry book in his lap. "Well... it wasn't awful. I guess I did..." he was grinning slightly goofy. He changed the subject quickly. "So, do you think I could see you again sometime? Not exactly to do... that, but just talk and stuff?"
Montparnasse shrugged, "If you really want to see me again. Not everyone does," he said with warning in his voice. He didn't mean to try to scare Jehan away, he liked him quite a lot, he just thought it would be gentlemanly for once to let him know what he was getting into.
"Why wouldn't they? Or are you talking about those people who get cold feet?" Jehan replied, smirking at Montparnasse's hat-shadowed face.
"This is why." Montparnasse shoved his hat back, revealing the dark eyes and hair of which he was so recognized for. The moonlight would let this man next to him see him perfectly, though it would make him appear more pale than usual.
Jehan reached out and pushed a flop of hair that had fallen in Montparnasse's eyes, squinting at him. "And why on earth would I not want to see this beautiful face again?" That wasn't the answer he was expecting.
"I'm a well-known criminal," Montparnasse pushed on, not really knowing why, "I've robbed, and mugged, and even killed a couple people. Why would someone like you want to be around someone like me?"
"Why not? Makes life more exciting." Jehan stopped looking at him as he pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbled on it, then handed it to Montparnasse.
"This is your address. And some other addre-wait, this is the bar on the next street over!" Montparnasse squinted down at the paper to make sure he read right. "You didn't seem like the kind of fellow who'd drink."
"And you don't look like the kind of fellow who'd kill people. Anyway, I don't go for the drinks. I know one of my friends does, but he's also checking out the ladies just to make a certain man jealous." Jehan saw the confusion on Montparnasse's face, and lowered his voice. "We're all planning a rebellion, if you'd like to join. Working to make France a republic."
"So I should meet you there at night or something?"
"Yes." Jehan's eyes darted around to make sure no one was listening, even though the street was empty. "I should warn you, though, this backroom affair at times appears to double as a man-to-man courting center." he blushed again as he said this.
"So I can flirt with you whenever?" Montparnasse grinned mischievously. Jehan shrugged coyly. "So I guess I will see you there," he responded, standing up and beginning to walk away.
"Wait," Jehan called, and Montparnasse turned around. He had gone to a flowering bush, and picked out a flower from the middle, where no one would notice. He slid the flower into his companion's buttonhole. "Gloxinia," he said quietly, then waved good-bye.
Montparnasse waved back, then hurried to a book-shop, the last place he expected he'd be going tonight. The book-keeper let him in, and finally he found the Book Of Flower Meanings. "Gloxinia, means love at first sight." Montparnasse found his face to be feeling quite warm, and looking at his reflection in the mirror, his entire face was red, and for whatever reason he couldn't stop smiling.