Early January

[jaimemieux]

The snow still stands in high drifts when Combeferre makes his way through it towards home. The city has done its best to clear what paths they can, but lazy merchants and forgotten corners have left enough icy patches upon the pavement that one must walk with careful step. Combeferre should be weary from his days of making do in the stranded hotel - deep down he is - and he should be cold from the slushing snow - he must be, if he stops to think about - but neither tiredness nor weather trouble him today. In plenty of ways, his week with Sybil has not been what he planned for, but in the way that mattered most, it had been precisely right.

Leaving Sybil at her own apartment, he walks through snowdrifts to his building with a light and cheerful step despite what should be a miserable trek. When he arrives, he is glad to see his flat alight. Prouvaire will need to know that he has returned - and should be told his other news as well.

“Jehan? I’ve made it back."

Comments

[petit_poete]

It had been a stressful few days, fretting about the safety of his friends trapped in the snowbound Kagura, and Combeferre's voice was more welcome than Jehan could express. He'd been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee as he picked at a bit of bread and cheese and read, but his book and food were abandoned the moment the knob turned. "Oh, Dieu, I'm so glad to see you!" he cried, rising to his feet and crossing the room to embrace his friend firmly. "Are you well? And Courfeyrac? And Sybil?"