I'm Not Jean Prouvaire
Many, many apologies to Victor Hugo for torturing his characters from "Les Miserables" so. I promise to give them back, relatively unharmed. Warning: This story contains elements of slash. If you're offended about that sort of thing, I suggest you choose another story to read.
I�m not Jean Prouvaire. I don�t sit at a table in the Musain, scribbling sheet after sheet of poetry praising Love, that fine ideal. I�m not a poet. I�m a drunken cynic who has no place among idealistic revolutionaries. At least, that�s what He tells me.
I may be a drunk. I may be a cynic. I am amused when Les Amis spout their visions of a better world. I snatch any opportunity to throw Enjolras off guard.
His blue eyes are lit with an inner fire
His sculptured hands trace the air
as he outlines an important tenet
The marble statue is animated
I suppose Apollo is right when he says that I don�t belong there. I�m not truly one of them. I�m not willing to give my life up for some high-flown ideals. I refuse to water the proverbial meadows of France with my life-blood in order to liberate it. I don�t believe in throwing what passes for my life away.
Eloquent phrases flow from his lips
One can almost see the future he predicts
All that�s needed is an insurrection
and the support of the people of France
There is only one thing that is absolute. Only one ideal to be sought after and cherished. His name is Andre Enjolras. The thought that, in this sordid time, there remains one person who has not touched nor scarred amazes me. And in the guise of a sun god, no less. Without him, I would cease to exist. He possesses the virtue I lack.
His blond hair glistens in the light
His shoulders bear the weight of the world
without a murmur or trace of defiance
He is Liberty deified.
I�m not in love with him. I only tease him because I wonder if such a statue as he has any cracks. I go to his meetings because I wish to understand how he can cling to his glorious idealism. I tolerate his insults and angry words, well, just because.
His beauty captivates me
His faith draws me near
But no mortal can approach a god
without being consumed in flames
I�m not Jean Prouvaire. I don�t write poetry. I don�t desire someone that I will never have.
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