All the Children


Joly watches Prouvaire on the barricades, frowning a little, aware of something wrong in the face of the boy. His hair is caught by a late breeze, tossed back, and he stands staring up at the sky, and all in all, it seems like a stance that Enjolras might have taken on, save that it's incorrectly sad.

He steps forward and rests a hand on Prouvaire's shoulder, feeling the poet turn beneath it.

"Joly?"

"Jehan..." he pauses, "how old are you really?"

Prouvaire looks frightened, almost; his face looks younger. "Why?"

"Just tell me."

"Eighteen."

"Go back home, Jehan."

"No."


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