"Don't Waste Your Money on Mimi me me..."
Mar. 2nd, 2004 09:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psalm_onethirtyoneSam.
Samuel stopped by at Combeferre's to return the clothes a few days later. He stood in front of the door, waiting for Combeferre to open it, and making - though he didn't know it - a rather adorable picture. He held Combeferre's clothes folded over his arms, and his hands clasped in front, and he was standing with his back slightly curved in. He was also rubbing the back of his leg with his other foot. It made him look rather younger than he was.
Combeferre came to the door in a moment, and pulled it wide.
"Enjolras! Please come in."
Samuel ducked in, and stood in the centre of the small room, suddenly feeling acutely nervous. He and Combeferre had only met in public for the last four days. Of course that meant they hadn't spoken about It, which he hadn't managed to find a name for. He'd called It Samuel for a long time, but after Combeferre knew, he'd found himself continually slipping back into Samuel when he was alone, so much so that it seemed like there were two of him. Dimitri when people were around, and pathetic Samuel when he was by himself. So really, he hadn't the first idea what to call It anymore. And really, he didn't know what would happen if Combeferre decided he wanted them to talk about it.
He startled when Combeferre laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Enjolras? Are you all right?"
Samuel smiled quickly, making a short nervous laugh with his throat. "Yes, of course I am. I brought back the clothes I borrowed." He held them out.
Combeferre took them, and set them on the single chair. Samuel could tell by the way he did it that he only wanted to get rid of them so that he could address something else.
"Enjolras-- May I call you Samuel?" Combeferre tipped his head to one side.
"No," said Samuel quietly. "Please don't. I'm Dimitri."
"No, you're not."
"What?"
"You're not." Combeferre put his hands on Samuel's shoulders. "You can't keep pretending."
Samuel stared at him, blinking. He'd been about to say he wasn't pretending. But what was he doing? He knew he wasn't Dimitri. He was just taking on Dimitri's name so that everything Dimitri had wanted to do would be done. He had begun doing it without even thinking about it, but he did know what he was doing now. He knew he wasn't Dimitri, so being Dimitri was not pretending. "I--" He continued to stare at Combeferre, without the first idea of what to say in his defence. That was proof he was being Samuel right now, he thought. Dimitri would know how to argue, so beautifully that Combeferre would know he was completely wrong, and wonder why he'd even suggested something so absurd in the first place.
He realised suddenly that Samuel didn't want Combeferre to be proved wrong. Samuel wanted for them both to win arguments.
Combeferre made him stop thinking by pulling him close and hugging him. Samuel buried his face in the soft material of Combeferre's shirt, and didn't know what he'd do next. Combeferre was holding him tightly, and he realised he didn't really like it. It was too hot, and Combeferre's cufflinks were marking into his skin.
"Don't," he whispered, and disentangled himself. Even after he did, however, he felt too hot.
"Sam--Enjolras? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just please don't do that."
"What should I do?"
"I don't know."
"We're not getting anywhere. I tell you, you can't keep pretending to be Dimitri."
"Why not? I want to do what Dimitri would have done. No one would ever follow me, but anyone'll follow Dimitri!"
"You've never given anyone a chance to know you enough to know if he'd follow you."
Samuel looked at him sullenly. "I let you. Would you follow me?"
"No--"
"There!"
"--I wouldn't follow you. But I couldn't care for Dimitri. The perfect leader wouldn't let anything get in the way of his purpose. He would have known that. But Samuel, you are human. You're not perfect. Why should you be?"
"Because I should be. Because Dimitri was."
"How do you know that?"
"I-- what? No--"
"Samuel."
"What? I need to go home."
"All right," said Combeferre softly. "But think about it? I won't ask more of you. Just think about what I've said, please."
Samuel sighed. Of course, that was a reasonable suggestion. Combeferre was terribly reasonable. But he did feel a little tired, and unhappy, so he nodded docilely. "I will."
Combeferre smiled for him - because when Combeferre smiled, it was always just for the person he was smiling at - and Samuel felt rather dizzy. "Good. I'll see you, then, Enjolras."
"You as well, Combeferre." Samuel couldn't help but give a hopeful little smile of his own before he slipped out the door.
Samuel stopped by at Combeferre's to return the clothes a few days later. He stood in front of the door, waiting for Combeferre to open it, and making - though he didn't know it - a rather adorable picture. He held Combeferre's clothes folded over his arms, and his hands clasped in front, and he was standing with his back slightly curved in. He was also rubbing the back of his leg with his other foot. It made him look rather younger than he was.
Combeferre came to the door in a moment, and pulled it wide.
"Enjolras! Please come in."
Samuel ducked in, and stood in the centre of the small room, suddenly feeling acutely nervous. He and Combeferre had only met in public for the last four days. Of course that meant they hadn't spoken about It, which he hadn't managed to find a name for. He'd called It Samuel for a long time, but after Combeferre knew, he'd found himself continually slipping back into Samuel when he was alone, so much so that it seemed like there were two of him. Dimitri when people were around, and pathetic Samuel when he was by himself. So really, he hadn't the first idea what to call It anymore. And really, he didn't know what would happen if Combeferre decided he wanted them to talk about it.
He startled when Combeferre laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Enjolras? Are you all right?"
Samuel smiled quickly, making a short nervous laugh with his throat. "Yes, of course I am. I brought back the clothes I borrowed." He held them out.
Combeferre took them, and set them on the single chair. Samuel could tell by the way he did it that he only wanted to get rid of them so that he could address something else.
"Enjolras-- May I call you Samuel?" Combeferre tipped his head to one side.
"No," said Samuel quietly. "Please don't. I'm Dimitri."
"No, you're not."
"What?"
"You're not." Combeferre put his hands on Samuel's shoulders. "You can't keep pretending."
Samuel stared at him, blinking. He'd been about to say he wasn't pretending. But what was he doing? He knew he wasn't Dimitri. He was just taking on Dimitri's name so that everything Dimitri had wanted to do would be done. He had begun doing it without even thinking about it, but he did know what he was doing now. He knew he wasn't Dimitri, so being Dimitri was not pretending. "I--" He continued to stare at Combeferre, without the first idea of what to say in his defence. That was proof he was being Samuel right now, he thought. Dimitri would know how to argue, so beautifully that Combeferre would know he was completely wrong, and wonder why he'd even suggested something so absurd in the first place.
He realised suddenly that Samuel didn't want Combeferre to be proved wrong. Samuel wanted for them both to win arguments.
Combeferre made him stop thinking by pulling him close and hugging him. Samuel buried his face in the soft material of Combeferre's shirt, and didn't know what he'd do next. Combeferre was holding him tightly, and he realised he didn't really like it. It was too hot, and Combeferre's cufflinks were marking into his skin.
"Don't," he whispered, and disentangled himself. Even after he did, however, he felt too hot.
"Sam--Enjolras? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just please don't do that."
"What should I do?"
"I don't know."
"We're not getting anywhere. I tell you, you can't keep pretending to be Dimitri."
"Why not? I want to do what Dimitri would have done. No one would ever follow me, but anyone'll follow Dimitri!"
"You've never given anyone a chance to know you enough to know if he'd follow you."
Samuel looked at him sullenly. "I let you. Would you follow me?"
"No--"
"There!"
"--I wouldn't follow you. But I couldn't care for Dimitri. The perfect leader wouldn't let anything get in the way of his purpose. He would have known that. But Samuel, you are human. You're not perfect. Why should you be?"
"Because I should be. Because Dimitri was."
"How do you know that?"
"I-- what? No--"
"Samuel."
"What? I need to go home."
"All right," said Combeferre softly. "But think about it? I won't ask more of you. Just think about what I've said, please."
Samuel sighed. Of course, that was a reasonable suggestion. Combeferre was terribly reasonable. But he did feel a little tired, and unhappy, so he nodded docilely. "I will."
Combeferre smiled for him - because when Combeferre smiled, it was always just for the person he was smiling at - and Samuel felt rather dizzy. "Good. I'll see you, then, Enjolras."
"You as well, Combeferre." Samuel couldn't help but give a hopeful little smile of his own before he slipped out the door.
