Jehan’s face was buried in his chest, shoulders shaking with sobs. Courfeyrac held him close, pressing their bodies together, letting him cry. He’d been so brave. They’d taken him away, held him down, showed him the gun that would take his life. He’d fought and he’d yelled and he’d been so brave. It was over now, for all of them, over and done. But not quite forgotten. So Jehan cried, safe now and held by gentle arms and no longer alone, and Courfeyrac turned his face into Jehan’s hair.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”