This couldn't be happening...

Enjolras shot up in a cold sweat for the third time this week, cursing himself with a particularly harsh rub of his hand over his face. How could he let this happen? Falling in love. And even worse.. with an aristocratic woman. Sleep had evaded him since he saw her, his every thought around her - he was barely able to focus on his tasks.

The anger he felt at himself was undeniable. But at the same time, he felt an odd sense of bliss. It was baffling to him. He couldn't grasp it. Rising from his bed, he pulled on his trousers and shirt. He needed some air - something to clear his head for at least a moment. Just a single moment of respite.

Even in his walk, his legs - as if with a mind of their own - carried him right to the place he last saw her.