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Joly was acting strangely, even more so than usual.
Instead of taking a seat with the rest of them, he had chosen to sit at a table in the corner near a window. He had brought some lengthy book with him, and he kept flipping through the pages and muttering to himself. He would occasionally pause in his reading to put a hand to his forehead or his wrist.
It was not uncommon at all for Joly to think he had come down with some illness and worry about it, but it was unlike him to be so quiet about it. The man Courfeyrac knew would normally be asking everyone if his eyes looked too red or if there was in fact a rash on his arms, not sitting alone worrying.
Courfeyrac did not know why Joly had chosen to leave the group, but he was going to find out.
Enjolras was in the middle of another fiery speech, so surely he wouldn’t notice if Courfeyrac slipped away for a minute. He slowly stood up, pushed his chair in, and made his way to a chair next to Joly’s seat.
Joly turned to him but then quickly glanced away, as if he was unsure of where to look. He put two fingers on his wrist and said, “It’s happening again.”
“What? What’s happening again?”
“These palpitations. They keep happening to me, and I can’t find a reasonable cause.”
Courfeyrac had picked up on some medical terminology from being around Joly, but “palpitations” was a word he did not know.
Joly must have noticed his confusion. “My heart is racing right now. I have episodes where my heart beats abnormally fast and I feel confused and nervous. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and see that my face has gone red. And there are other symptoms, too. Ones that point to delirium.”
Courfeyrac looked at the heavy book that sat open on the table. He picked it up, using a finger to keep Joly’s place, and read the title: Diseases of the Body and Mind, 3rd Edition. One of his many textbooks, probably. Laying the book back down, he saw that Joly had been studying a page with a long list of symptoms for delirium.
Joly pointed to one line. “Sleeplessness, see? I find myself lying awake at night unable to turn my thoughts from a single topic. My emotions change without warning and I become easily distracted. My thoughts make it hard to focus.”
Maybe Courfeyrac was misinterpreting things, but some of what Joly said was starting to seem familiar. He could remember being unable to sleep or pay attention because he’d fallen for someone. Even now, his mind was turning to one person in particular. The thought that Joly might be in love… he didn’t know exactly how he should feel about that.
“Can you tell me more about your, um…symptoms?” He needed to be sure before he jumped to conclusions.
“This isn’t listed as a sign of being delirious, but I get this feeling in my stomach that’s like…honestly, I don’t know how to describe it. Like dizziness and nervousness and happiness all in one. I can’t even place it as a good or bad feeling.” Joly kept his eyes on the page in front of him. “Maybe it’s both.”
That sealed any doubt left in Courfeyrac’s mind. He knew that feeling well, had felt it more times than he could ever count. And there was no denying to himself anymore who he felt it for.
He wondered who the lucky girl was. Did this girl have the same feelings for him? Did she know how she kept Joly awake at night with thoughts of her? Had he ever brought her home to spend a night with him? Maybe that’s why he couldn’t sleep; he was too busy with more important matters.
But it wasn’t his place to be jealous. He was here to help his friend.
“Joly, I can assure you that you are not suffering from delirium.” Courfeyrac said this with a smile to try to reassure him.
He looked up from his textbook. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve had many of the same ‘symptoms’ as you, and I am sure that I don’t have delirium.”
Joly’s face changed, as if an idea had occurred to him. He picked up the book again and started thumbing through pages. “I never considered the possibility that my condition is contagious! That might help me find a diagnosis.”
Well, that was not what Courfeyrac was expecting him to say. “What makes you think that it’s contagious?”
Joly sat the textbook down. “You must have passed the disease on to me, because I feel the symptoms whenever I’m near you.”
Courfeyrac froze as the meaning of those words hit him. There was that feeling Joly described, except it felt much stronger now than it ever had before. Surely this was a dream of some sort, he thought. But no, this was beyond any scenario he could have imagined.
He still couldn’t be sure how Joly would react, though. It was best to take this one step at a time.
“Okay, Joly,” he began, “what you have is not a disease. It’s called love.”
Joly was silent for a moment. “Love? How?” He said this as if the idea had never crossed his mind. “I mean, I’ve heard Marius’ tales of being struck to the bone, but this feels nothing like that. No one has ever told me that love feels like a sickness. Like this.”
Courfeyrac resisted the urge to laugh. “Yeah, the great poets always forget to mention the part of love where you feel like you’ve gone out of your mind.”
There was an awkward silence between them, and Courfeyrac knew that if he was going to confess his feelings, there was no better time than now to do it.
“Joly? Maybe you’re right and love is somewhat contagious. Because, as it turns out, we are both suffering from it.”
Joly smiled, looking like he’d been waiting for this. “That’s very poetic. Since when do you have such a way with words?”
Courfeyrac thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh God, I must be turning into Jehan.”
They both laughed at that, and any worries the two of them had soon disappeared as Courfeyrac leaned towards Joly for a kiss. Their first kiss was soft and warm, with both of them elated from each other’s confessions. Joly smiled against Courfeyrac’s lips, and he was happier than Courfeyrac had ever seen him before.
It seemed like only a moment later they had to pull away and return to their group of friends. Enjolras had not stopped in his speech, and Courfeyrac wondered if their exchange had gone unseen by them all.
He wondered about this no more when Jehan pulled him to the side on his way out of the Musain.
“I also never knew you had a way with words,” he said, “but I am glad I could be an inspiration for those words.”
With a wish of good luck to the new couple, he exited the café and left Courfeyrac standing there open mouthed.
Perhaps he and Joly should go to one of the back rooms next time.