( * ☆ ♡ | — ON MY OWN

The Jondrette girl of the revolution.

[enjolrasvivelafrance]

Today was the day. The day he had been planning for ever since he got together with Les Amis. The day of the revolution. The day where they would make France a fair country, with equal chances for both the rich and the poor. Enjolras was ready and he hoped his friends were as well. He had warned them that it would be a hard battle and there would be some of them that wouldn’t be able to see the end of it, but he had promised them he would do anything in his power to make sure everyone would make it out alive. Even if that meant sacrificing his own life. It was a strange feeling, realising that this might be his last morning alive, but Enjolras convinced himself that this was all for a good cause.

After interrupting the funeral of General Lamarque, they all rushed back to the Musain, building a barricade with everything they could find. Once it was steady, Enjolras climbed up the barricade, the red flag in his hand. “Vive la France!” He shouted and planted the flag in between two chairs, the material waving because of the wind. There were no soldiers in sight yet, so he had given Joly the job to shout whenever their plan had to be brought into action. Enjolras himself walked around the café impatiently, making sure all the guns were loaded and remained in place. The café was empty, except for a few men sitting on the floor discussing the plan their leader had presented. Enjolras was not in the mood to discuss it once again, so he went off outside to see if there was anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there.

His blue eyes fell onto Eponine who was minding her own business. Seeing her made Enjolras think back about what had happened last night. She had kissed him and he had returned the favour. He still wasn’t sure why he had done it. There was something about the girl that made Enjolras feel…different. A good kind of different. As he stood daydreaming while watching Eponine, Grantaire made his way over and patted his shoulder. “Well done last night. Just go talk to her, she’s not afraid you see.” Enjolras waved him off before slowly making his way over to the Thénardier girl. “Bonjour Eponine.” He nodded in her direction, his blond hair all over the place. “About last night…” the leader cleared his throat and directed his gaze away from her. “I shouldn’t have gotten all upset at you. You were just trying to get me to calm down and I apologise for any harm I may have done.” Enjolras wasn’t one to apologise very easily, but after snapping at Eponine he thought she deserved his apology.

[jondrette-s-blog]

Other girls would have wanted to keep as much distance as possible, but Eponine had long since resoled to not be like ‘other girls’. Had there not been the revolution, she still would have faced Enjolras head on; except, of course, with all that was happening, her day’s plans hadn’t really involved conversing with him. She had a letter for Marius in one hand and a rusty pocket knife in the other. Gavroche hadn’t come home the night before, and Eponine intended to drag him off the battlefield by the ear. She’d tolerated his presence during the Amis’ meetings, but not for the war itself. 

Tucking her hair in to her cap, Eponine shifted uncomfortably around the rowdy barricade boys milling about outside the café. Enjolras had managed to get recruits beyond the Amis, but they were still all schoolboys. Too young to know how to fight, she thought bitterly as she avoided catching their gaze. She had shoved herself in to some men’s clothing, knowing that it would be far easier to look the part of a male street urchin than have to explain what a girl was doing at the barricade. Settling in to a far corner of the street, Eponine fiddled with a discarded chair, carving in to the splintered wood. Her mind was set: find Marius, give him the letter, find Gavroche, and take them to safety. 

She had been so intently focused on her nerves that when Enjolras spoke, she jumped quite a bit, knocking a broken table at the bottom most of the pile. “You don’t owe me an apology, monsieur,” Eponine said slowly, pulling herself to her full height. Even then, she was a head smaller than Enjolras, and it made her smile slightly. “We don’t have to talk about last night, if that gives you any peace of mind. We can... if we survive. But to do that, we first must fight.” she offered him up an assuring grin, their ‘moment’ broken by a flustered Joly rushing up to them. “I’d hate to interrupt- oh, hi, ‘Ponine!- but, uhm, Enjolras, I think you may want to see this...” Eponine cocked her head to one side, raising her eyebrow at the two boys. “Go.” she told Enjolras, tucking the letter in to her breast pocket. “I’ll be right behind.” she joked, although there was a decisiveness to her tone; and by her stance, it showed that she meant it. She would follow Enjolras to the end of the battlefield, at this point. 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

The sound of her chair moving over the wood made Enjolras’ eyes dart down to the floor. It was such an innocent move, yet Enjolras felt Eponine had a deeper meaning in her head. That was only confirmed when she took his hand in his. “There is something to be nervous about. Like you said, the world might be ending tomorrow. Who knows, maybe you and me won’t even be sitting here ever again.” The leader let out a soft sigh when Eponine took his hand in hers. He let her. He had nothing to lose anyway. Her hand was soft and warm, the complete opposite of his own hand.

His eyes moved back to hers, a warm feeling washing over him when their eyes met. “I know, he has been sitting there ever since I came up here.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, afraid that Grantaire would hear them. “What-” before Enjolras had the chance to ask Eponine what she meant, she had pressed her lips against his. He heard Grantaire making a sound of approval from the stairs before his heavy footsteps slowly disappeared. It now made sense to Enjolras. Grantaire had waited for this to happen, but one thing was still a mystery to the rebellion leader. How was Grantaire so sure that this was going to happen?

For some reason it didn’t feel weird. His hand even wrapped around hers to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere. His other hand moved up her arm and cupped her cheek as he slowly moved his lips against hers. After a while he pulled away, pulling his hands back to himself while shaking his head. “Ponine…we shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. You’re upset you don’t know what you’re doing.” Enjolras stood up from his chair and walked over to the window where he looked over the empty streets. “Merde.” He muttured, his hand running through his blonde curls.

When Enjolras pulled away, Eponine found herself at a loss. She had kissed other men before— why was it that Enjolras seemed to be the only one capable of taking her breath away? Instinctively, she leaned forward for more, stopping herself when he reasoned that she was upset. Eponine blinked confusedly. She had to remind herself of why she was there; why he was there; and everything only completely hit her again once Enjolras left his seat, distancing himself from her. Revolution. Marius.  

“Right.” Eponine said slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Right. You’re right.” she said louder before standing abruptly. She stumbled a bit, not because she was intoxicated; rather, she found herself reeling from the kiss. You kissed me back, monsieur, Eponine wanted to joke, but the blonde-haired boy seemed genuinely conflicted, mumbling to himself. “I apologize for... for it, monsieur. We’re all a little broken tonight, aren’t we?” she smiled humorlessly before grabbing the bottle Enjolras had meant to keep out of her reach. 

Her initial thought was to leave without another word, but she figured that Enjolras deserved more than that. With quick, quiet steps, Eponine walked over to him and, with his back turned to her, wrapped her arms around his waist in a brief hug. “I will be fighting on your side tomorrow. We’re going to give them hell.” she whispered before pulling away and bolting down the stairs. Grantaire called out after her as she slammed out of the Musain, but Eponine couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she was afraid she’d stay... and for all that was happening in the world, she couldn’t afford that just yet. 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

Enjolras was at loss, this was not a topic he knew much about. Revolution was his thing, not love. Love would be the last thing he wanted to talk about. “Marius is just ignorant. He doesn’t realize that sometimes true love is right in front of you.” When he spoke the last words, his blue eyes met Eponine’s darker ones. As if he was talking about her.

He shook his head. “Does girls swooning over me even matter if I’m not interested?” He had noticed it several times, groups of girl who were giggling whenever he walked past. But he didn’t pay attention to it. He wasn’t searching for a woman to spend his life with. He had better things to do, like planning a revolution. Enjolras didn’t comment any further. There was nothing to be commented on, because Eponine was right. Of course he knew that by remaining silent he was giving her an indication that she was right about it all, but right now he didn’t care.

“Grantaire says a lot of things. You’re forgetting that he’s drunk 90% percent of the time and doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Enjolras spat back, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at the girl in front of him. A disapproving sound came from the stairs, but Enjolras ignored it. “You’re asking me because of something Grantaire said? You shouldn’t believe everything he says, Ponine.” The leader wanted to defend himself, but he couldn’t. He had never been in love and couldn’t tell Eponine that she was wrong, because she wasn’t. His eyes darted away from the girl in front of him towards his fingers that were tapping onto the table.

Eponine shook her head, unable to hide her amusement of the school boy front of her. “You tell me that he doesn’t realize love in front of him, and yet you deny ever being in love. What a paradox you are, monsieur.” she taunted. He had looked her in the eye throughout the whole thing, nonetheless, and she had to give him props for that. “There’s no shame in never being in love. It does not mean the end of the world.” she laughed shortly, remembering their situation. “But, of course, the world as we know it might end tomorrow.” 

She could hear Grantaire shifting impatiently by the staircase, and there was a brand of recklessness that only an impending revolution and a broken heart could bring forth that compelled her to move her chair forward, the scratch of wood on wood compelling the drunkard’s head to pop up and peek at them. From Eponine’s peripheral, she could see him watching curiously. A small smirk tugged at her lips but she kept all her attention on Enjolras. “You’re nervous.” she observed quietly, reaching out to hold Enjolras’ fingers in her own hand. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, monsieur.“

Leaning forward and momentarily disguising their faces from Grantaire, Eponine looked up at Enjolras through her eyelashes, the smirk splayed across her face softening in to a smile. “We seem to have an audience,” she whispered. She gave a gentle jerk of her head towards the staircase, trying to keep Enjolras’ hands steady in her’s. “We ought to give him a show. If the world is to end tomorrow, monsieur, then you can have this consolation of all consolations.” With the last word, Eponine closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Enjolras’ in a gentle kiss. 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

“You shouldn’t drink it all in one go. One sip at a time.” Enjolras told the heartbroken girl in front of him. It was obvious she didn’t drink as much alcohol as Grantaire did, since she didn’t know that whiskey burned your throat if you drank too much in one go. If Grantaire had gone upstairs instead, things would have gone out of hand. He would have joined Eponine in drinking too much and encourage her to get wasted. Enjolras was glad that he had been the one to go after Eponine, so he could prevent her from doing stupid things and that included drinking too much.

As Eponine reached over her shoulder, Enjolras wondered what she was doing. He let out a soft sigh when he noticed the bottle in her hand. He gently shook his head. “I need to be focused, the revolution can happen anytime now and I don’t want to be like Grantaire when it comes down to it.” He heard a dissaproving sound coming from behind him, but he ignored it. He could have known Grantaire had followed him up the stairs. That man was too curious for his own good. He was probably waiting until something happened between Enjolras and Eponine. Grantaire had been the one convincing the others that something was going on between the rebellion leader and the Thénardier girl.

When she finally started to tell him what happened, Enjolras leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. Marius, it was Marius’ fault. The man started to worry about his friend. She was too deep in love with Marius while he had his eyes set on someone else. “Ponine…” he said quietly, pulling his chair closer to the girl. “You shouldn’t get drunk. You might do or say things you will regret. And Marius….he’s not worth it if he can’t see how wonderful you are.” Enjolras carefully took the bottle of wine from Eponine’s hand and placed it down next to him so she couldn’t reach it. “Wine isn’t going to make him fall for you. It’s not going to solve anything, you’ll only feel worse.” Enjolras took his responsibility over the others very seriously. “Eat something instead, I’m positive there’s some bread left.”

Eponine merely nodded when Enjolras told her of the focus he needed for the impending revolution. She could imagine Grantaire sleeping through the whole thing, probably in one corner of the Musain, only to wake when they had won the battle. The image put an unwelcome smile on her lips that was instantly wiped off when Enjolras mentioned how wine wouldn’t have Marius reciprocate her feelings. She tried to protest when Enjolras took her wine bottle, making feeble grabs for the alcohol; eventually, she slumped in to her seat, pulling her feet up on to the chair and sitting cross legged. 

“Wonderful! If I were, he would have looked my way.” Eponine barked. “There’s nothing remarkable about me, monsieur. It’s easy for you. Girls swoon when you pass, boys look up to you as some form of hero. The poor see you as salvation. You don’t know what it’s like to be invisible to the one you love. You don’t know what it’s like to not be loved back.” Throughout her whole tirade, Eponine kept her eyes straight at the boy, almost challenging him. She knew that he had good intentions- his offer of food almost had her give in- but she was tired, and she was heartbroken, and Enjolras was in her line of fire. 

“Merde. I bet you’ve never even been in love.” she said cuttingly, her laugh harsh and callous. “‘Taire said so himself. The marble man, they call you. Always thinking you’re above everyone, above love!” Eponine was startled at the anger of her own tone, how she was near to screaming. Looking up at the ceiling, Eponine wrapped her arms around herself, lowering her voice to a softer pitch. She found herself asking the same question she had asked Enjolras at their first proper conversation on the Musain stair case: “Have you, monsieur? Have you ever loved anyone so much?” 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

He was surprised when Eponine bluntly ignored his hand and wandered off to the café without even shooting him a glance. He thought they had grown closer over the past few weeks, but apparently he was wrong. It only confirmed that Enjolras didn’t understand a thing about girls. One moment they were all over you and the next they wouldn’t even say a word to you. Right now Eponine was keeping her distance and even ignored Grantaire’s protests as she took his alcohol away from him. That was nothing like her. Not at all.

“What’s got into her?” The leader asked his friend who just shrugged and leaned back against the wall. “Probably Marius and his girl. I believe Eponine had to show him where she lived. The poor thing.” Grantaire pulled Enjolras closer by the collar of his soaked shirt. “You must go to her. Drinking isn’t going to solve it.” He slurred, Enjolras pulling a face of disgust when he could smell the alcohol coming from Grantaire’s lips. He pulled himself away from his tipsy friend, handing him a new bottle to keep him busy. “You worry about your beer. Let me do the talking.” Enjolras patted his friend on his shoulder before he stepped onto the stairs.

What he didn’t know was that Grantaire crawled after him, just high enough so he could keep an eye on Enjolras and Eponine. “‘Ponine..” the man spoke softly as he took a seat in front of her. His eyes fell onto a small bottle of whiskey that was standing in the corner of the window. “Let me make you feel better.” The leader leaned closer towards the girl and Grantaire held his breath from his spot on the stairs, a bottle of beer in his hand. Enjolras’ face was close to Eponine’s, but he moved past her at the last moment, reaching for the bottle. He sat back in his seat and offered it to her. “Here, this might help.” Grantaire let out a quiet grunt, that was not what he was expecting to happen.

Eponine was sure that Enjolras hadn’t meant to lure Grantaire as their one-man audience; after all, Grantaire had always been too curious and persistent for his own good; which is why she chose not to address the mess of black curls peeking from one of the higher steps. When Enjolras had leaned towards her and reached for a bottle, she could feel the palatable disappointment in the air— not from her, no. Despite herself, Eponine chuckled at the small sound of dejection she heard from the staircase. “Merci, monsieur.” she sing-songed, raising the bottle of whiskey to no one in particular before bringing it to her lips. The liquor was down her throat in one guzzle. 

“Merde.” Eponine cussed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “That was vile.” A crooked smile tugged at her lips as she reached over Enjolras’ shoulder, grabbing the bottle of wine she had nicked from Grantaire. “You deserve some spirits as well, what with everything you’ve planned about to come to life tomorrow.” A slight wave of guilt came over Eponine. Enjolras had more right to wallow than her. She held her bottle of wine by the neck, averting her gaze from the boy. She figured that he deserved an explanation, in the very least. 

“We found her tonight. Somewhere near The Field of the Lark.” she mumbled. She wanted to take more swigs of liquor, but was already nearing a drunken stupor. Besides, wine never bid well with her whenever she had an empty stomach. “The girl Marius has been pining over.” Eponine added, knowing that Enjolras was quite daft when it came to matters of the heart. “Babet assigned me their house without knowing who owned it. I led Marius there tonight, and he talked to her through the gate. She seems to reciprocate his feelings.” Eponine laughed an empty laugh, uncorking the wine. Fuck being sober. She took a long swig before ducking her head to hide her face from Enjolras. She had just finished crying. She didn’t want to break down again. “If he asked,” Eponine rasped, mostly to herself. “I’d be his.” 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

General Lamarque had passed away and Enjolras knew his time had come to start the rebellion. Lamarque’s funeral was taking place tomorrow and Enjolras had made it clear to his men that they would all be present as the coffin travelled throughout the city. Their meeting had taken place in the early morning, since that’s when they found out Lamarque had passed away. Marius had seemed distracted by something, but Enjolras didn’t dare to ask. He was probably daydreaming about the Cosette girl he wouldn’t stop speaking about.

When the rebellion leader was on his way to the Café Musain to let them know there would be no meeting tonight, he spotted a figure sitting down in front of the café’s entrance. As he came closer, he noticed it was Eponine sitting there in the pouring rain. His own clothes were soaked through, but when he saw the miserable looking girl sitting there he only felt sorry for her. There had to be a reason she was sitting here and not taking shelter in Grantaire’s place. Enjolras decided not to ask and stood in front of her, waiting for her to notice him.

“Eponine.” The man greeted her with a nod, noticing how miserable she looked. “Let’s get you inside, you must be cold.” He offered the girl his hand, his hair wet and messy due to the pouring rain. The same rain he had walked through for hours, trying to figure out a plan to get the rebellion on its feet. His friends were nowhere in sight and that genuinely surprised him since most of them hung around the café the whole day, but this night was different.

Eponine found it quite funny, the fact that Enjolras was dripping from head to toe as well and was still insisting the she, Eponine, must have been the one who was cold. She was still knee-deep in her misery, though, so she merely stood on her own, ignoring Enjolras’ hand. She felt like a bomb about to explode. She granted Enjolras, however, the company; with the impending revolution, he surely had worse nerves than her. 

“Let’s go, then.” she said curtly. The Café Musain had left its door open just the slightest, and she pulled at it as quietly as she could. Lounging in one corner was Grantaire, much to her surprise. “I thought you went home.” Eponine asked coolly as she waltzed up to him. “I’m not getting any sleep if I’m going to fight in a war.” Grantaire shot back, his eyes flickering towards Enjolras who stood in plain sight. An amused look came over the drunkard’s face, one Eponine was quick to erase. She grabbed the half-full jug of gin from his hand, as well as another bottle of wine at his side, before wordlessly climbing to the second floor of the Musain and ignoring his calls of protest. 

Eponine didn’t care if Enjolras followed her up. All she had set in her mind was to drink her sorrow away. Leaving the wine on one of the tables, she sat by the window and uncorked the gin, downing as much as she could in one swig. The liquid burned in her throat and she was thrown in to a vigorous coughing fit at the vile taste. “Christ.” the girl cursed under her breath, setting aside the drink. Perhaps getting drunk should not be that night’s agenda. Instead, Eponine leaned her back against the glass pane of the window and waited as heavy footsteps made the floorboards creak. It could either be Grantaire or Enjolras ascending the flight of stairs, and she as not quite sure which one of them she’d rather see. 

[jondrette-s-blog]

Of all the cliches in Eponine’s life, this one had to be the clincher. The drizzle glistened off the Parisian sidewalk, unearthing the post-rain smell that Eponine actually adored. Not tonight, though. She was chilled to the bone, hungry beyond belief, and heartbroken. She thought herself to be a pathetic sight— sitting on the cobblestone in front of the Musain with her knees pulled up to her chest— but honestly couldn’t care less. 

The look on Marius’ face when she had told him she had found Cosette’s home was nothing short of elation. When he had insisted on paying her, pressing a five-franc coin in to her hand, Eponine let the coin roll on to the asphalt and insisted that she wanted a different kind of payment. Marius had merely promised to disburse her before teetering towards the lark’s house, the perfect image of a Shakespearean tragedy. 

The memory of Cosette and Marius whispering sweet nothings to each other through the bars of Cosette’s gate burned in to Eponine’s mind. Frustrated, she picked up a pebble and sent it skidding down the boulevard. She was so wrapped up in her agony that Lamarque’s death was a doused down idea in her head. She only remembered its possible repercussions when she looked up, spotting a familiar face. “Monsieur Enjolras.” she greeted, cold and callous without intending to be. “A lovely evening.” 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

Eponine was right, they were his friends and around the same age as he was. Of course they would be preoccupied with girls and gossip. Just because he wasn’t interested in those two things didn’t mean the other men weren’t. Enjolras wanted to slap himself for not thinking it through. They had been with him since the beginning of planning the rebellion. He couldn’t just kick them out right before things were going to change. Even he wasn’t that cold-hearted. The only concern he still had was them not being into it as much as he was, but knowing they came back every day probably meant they did.

Enjolras wanted to protect the men and keep them safe, but that would be impossible with his plans of the rebellion. He realised how stupid he had sounded, losing his calm over nothing. "Right.” The man nodded and took Eponine’s hand before standing up from his chair. “Thank you, Eponine.” He showed her a quick smile as he dropped her hand, turning to walk down the stairs of the café. How she had managed to make him realise that he was wrong, was still a mystery to him. But, he was glad she did.

When his men had finally all gathered around him, Enjolras spoke up. “I owe you an apology. I should not have lost my mind because of such a small thing. I do hope you will respect Eponine joining us from now on. And no, there is nothing going on between the two of us. We’re….friends.” Grantaire smirked at Eponine while some men carefully patted Enjolras’ shoulders and told him it was okay. The leader couldn’t help but steal a quick glance of Eponine, nodding towards her with a small smile playing on his lips. This time it was her who had saved him.

Eponine quite admired Enjolras’ capability to command a crowd, even if said crowd was their small litter of barricade boys. The night went on with lighter spirits, and Eponine did her best to keep out of trouble by sipping on the beer that had been passed around earlier. It was the warmest thing her stomach had had in the past week; she savored it while she could. She remained a shadow until Grantaire stumbled her way, supported by Courfeyarc and Marius.

“I’ve got him.” The girl said exasperatedly, grunting a bit as Grantaire leaned his full weight on her. He brandished his mug like a sword, sloshing his whiskey all over the floor. “Eponine!” he roared. He suddenly turned serious, and for a moment, Eponine was terrified he might start babbling about her night out with Enjolras. Instead, he pointed towards the men and slurred “They have made worms meat out of me” before promptly passing out. “And soundly, too.” Eponine said affectionately as Marius took Grantaire’s other arm over his own shoulder. “Let’s bring him home.” he offered, and Eponine was almost giddy at the thought of catching more time with the previous. 

On their way out, however, she found herself peeking over her shoulder. Enjolras stood among his men, no sign of his earlier loss of composure. It was odd, the urge Eponine had to want to be at his side. Perhaps it was her protectiveness kicking in; the older sister instinct she reserved for Gavroche and the more irresponsible of the lot... “Ep.” Marius said, sounding slightly amused. She snapped out of her daydream and turned back to him guiltily. “Right.” she mumbled, and the three of them set out in to the night with not another glance backwards.

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

“Do you know how frustrating it is? It seems like I’m the only one here who cares about what’s happening on the streets.” Enjolras held his back towards Eponine, watching some of his mean leave as he looked out of the window. He had been feeling this way ever since he first began telling his friends about the plan. They laughed at him at first and just when Enjolras thought they were in it as much as he was, they destroyed his trust in them. It was like Eponine was the only one who stood by his side.

“And all these….boys, the only thing they care for is gossip. They’re acting like a bunch of teenagers figuring out what it is like to be in love.” The leader turned around slowly, knowing he had to remain as calm as possible otherwise he would scare off Eponine. “I don’t even care what they think is going on between you and me. What I do care about is them finding gossip more important than a revolution. They don’t even pay attention to what I’m saying.” He let out a defeated sigh, slumping down onto one of the chairs.

Enjolras shook his head. “Please, do not apologise. It’s not your fault, ‘Ponine.” His voice was soft as he spoke to her, running a hand through his curly hair. “There’s no need for you to keep your distance. If they can’t even accept the fact that a woman is joining the revolution…then maybe it’s them who don’t belong here.” Ever since their first real conversation in the stairway, the two of them had gotten closer. Especially after the unfortunate night in the slums of Paris.

Eponine watched and listened cautiously to Enjolras, her sunken in face breaking out in to a smirk when he finished. "They are still only just boys, monsieur," she reminded him before settling in to one of the empty seats. "You have to remember that they are no younger than you and I, than your old mates from your old university, than the street rats you wish to give freedom to." Pausing, Eponine listened to the sounds of the café below. She could hear Grantaire's guffaws and Courfeyarc's sways to keep his friend silent. "They are your friends." Eponine decided. 

She glanced at the side profile of Enjolras, wondering what was going on in his head. He wasn't as transparent or verbal as the rest of the boys, but he was still one of them. "And I know you are scared of their blood on your hands, but this is a war. You and I can't fight it with just the two of us." She laughed, then winced. Laughing hurt now. The streets were getting more brutal; her trade, harder to do. She had spent a day or two in jail with Azelma after her night out with Enjolras for attempting to snatch a stranger's wallet. Food was scarce and authorities were much more vigilant with the impending revolution in the air. 

Snapping back to the present, Eponine pushed herself off her chair and held out her hand to him. She figured they were friends now, at the very least. He did not flinch away from her touch, and he acted kindly towards her, even going as far as defending her. Eponine appreciated that. It was rare to find friends nowadays. "Go apologize to your boys." she commanded, keeping her voice gentle and joking in case he might think her to be too domineering. "You've got a rebellion to plan, monsieur." 

[jondrette-s-blog]

  enjolrasvivelafrance:  

  Enjolras noticed something was off as he stood in front of Les Amis and gave them the same rant he had been giving them for weeks if not months. Still, he went on as always. Ignoring the looks he was receiving from the men, including Marius who seemed a bit thrown off by Enjolras standing up for Eponine. Enjolras couldn’t help but steal a few glances from Eponine, hoping she had appreciated him standing up for her once again. He knew that Les Amis had the same opinion about Eponine than he had had himself a few days earlier, but after everything that had happened last night he had changed his mind.  

  The thing that did go past him was Marius handing the note to Eponine. When Enjolras was near the end of his rant, the woman spoke up. The leader was a bit confused at first, not understanding what she meant. However, when she mentioned Les Amis thinking she and Enjolras were having a romance, it all clicked. They saw him standing up for her as an act of romance. Which it most definitely wasn’t. “Unbelievable.” The man muttured again. “You men are unbelievable.” 

  He placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room. “How do you expect to win this revolution when all you seem to think about is how me and Eponine are involved in a romance? Which is not true by the way.” His friends were acting like a bunch of schoolboys, gossiping about everything and anything. “Please leave. All of you. Now!” Enjolras had lost it. He had put so much work in all of this and yet, nobody seemed to care. “I said, leave!” His voice was loud and full of anger. Joly, Combeferre and Feuilly left as soon as they could, not wanting to upset their leader even more. Enjolras walked over to a window and rested his forehead against his, trying to even out his breathing. 

  Eponine had been on her way out when Courfeyarc grabbed her by the collar, making sure she would not disappear in to the night. “This was your fault,” Grantaire pointed out in a hiss. Marius, even if it was looking against his will, nodded and gestured towards Enjolras. The three boys departed with the remaining Les Amis, leaving the room empty save for Eponine and Enjolras. Truth be told, she had not expected him to explode; she was aiming for a laugh, and, at worst, a scolding; but for him to burst at the boys was not her rationale.

“Monsieur,” she began warily. Enjolras’ back was turned to her, and she had been reaching to put her hand on his shoulder when she pulled her fingers back. She was not sure if her touch was welcome. Opting instead to wrap her arms around herself, she watched the blonde-haired boy for signs of any further outbursts. She forced her tone to level on her next words. “I’m sorry if I offended you, monsieur. I understand tensions are high and the revolution is nearing, and perhaps my timing was… not the best.”

“Please do not blame your boys for their curiosity.” she added, tearing her gaze away from Enjolras’ figure to look at the floor. “I will be sure to quench any other possible rumors, and be more careful of my actions so that there may be less assumptions, and if deemed necessary, keep my distance.” Eponine swallowed the lump in her throat. She was a prideful person, admittedly, but her respect for Enjolras propelled her to sincerity. “I apologize again, monsieur. I promise it will never happen again.”

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

Enjolras was growing tired of hearing the men complaining about Eponine wanting to fight with them. She had more passion about this than all the men together, except they didn’t see it that way. “You should all be carefully about your next words, because I am not afraid to kick you out of here.” He spat, his eyes burning with fire. “This is a revolution for better lives, for God’s sake! And here you are, downgrading Eponine because she is a woman. How can you go this low?” Enjolras knew he had thought the exact same a few days earlier, but somehow Eponine had managed to convince him that she could handle this.

“Listen, all of you.” He knew better than to direct his anger to one person in particular. “Eponine has more passion about this revolution than all of you together.” Grantaire smirked. “That’s not the only thing she has passion for.” He muttured under his breath, receiving a death glare from Enjolras. “Did you want to say anything, Grantaire?” The leader challenged him. “No, monsieur.” Grantaire wisely shook his head, focusing on his beer instead of on Enjolras who appeared to be furious. Last named calmed down his breathing when Eponine looked into his blue eyes. Her stare alone seemed to calm him down and Enjolras quickly directed his gaze towards the group in case they grew even more suspicious.

“Now, if anyone is still against Eponine joining us. Then I suggest they leave.” Enjolras said calmly, folding his arms in front of his chest. It was no surprise to him that nobody stood up to leave. “That’s what I thought.” He gently placed his hand onto Eponine’s shoulder and nodded. “Take a seat, Eponine. You’re not going anywhere but to the battle with all of us.” He spoke softly, ignoring the whispers that went around the room. “Now that we’ve got that settled. Any more complaints or questions before we start?” His blue eyes roamed around the room, seeing if anyone had the guts to say anything else.

Eponine obliged to Enjolras’ words, finding a bit of comfort in his touch. She gave a curt nod to both Bahorel and Feuilly who wouldn’t look her way; inside of her was the slightest of triumph, something she ignored as she crossed her arms and waited for any other possible comment. “Should I ask if he’s in love with you?” Grantaire giddily whispered to Eponine, earning him an elbow in the ribs. He concealed his exclamation of pain with a cough and a swig of beer. 

The meeting began without any more squabbles, and Eponine could feel the uneasiness. Eyes would shift in her direction, and the boys would whisper among themselves when Enjolras was rattling off. At first, she thought it to be the pre-meeting quarrel that had them all apprehensive, but when Marius passed her a piece of paper with a hastily drawn heart and a question mark, she realized in horror what the Les Amis were assuming; they all thought Enjolras was defending her for some romantic reason, and had perhaps assumed it in lieu of their staircase conversation and street escapade.

She tore the paper without glancing at Marius, waiting for Enjolras’ discussion to slow until what he was saying was not too relevant. She raised her hand, keeping her gaze straight at the person at the head of the table. She spoke breezily once she was acknowledged. “It seems that the Les Amis are quite skittish, and are gossiping among themselves like the women they bash for rebelling,” she said, voice slightly raised so that everyone at the table could hear. The reactions were priceless: Grantaire’s snort of laughter, Joly’s smirk, Marius’ guilty sputter. Suppressing a smile, Eponine tilted her head to one side and implored Enjolras to humor her. “Monsieur, perhaps you would like to assure your men that you and I have no romantic affiliation whatsoever,” she delicately told him, realizing that she was treading on the thin ice of their friendship. “So that they may pay more attention to your speeches rather than speculate about what you and I do behind their backs.” 

[enjolrasvivelafrance]

It had been a few days since the eventful night in the slums of Paris. The situation regarding General Lamarque had not changed, so Enjolras had cancelled a few meetings of Les Amis. Not only did they deserve some time off, he wasn’t really too keen on seeing Marius and Eponine in the same room again and have Marius ask about their date. He didn’t know if Eponine had mentioned anything about it to Marius, but he would soon discover.

Les Amis were sitting in their usual upstairs spot in the café, waiting for Marius and Eponine to arrive. Enjolras stood by the window, tapping his fingers on the glass and letting out a sigh as he finally saw the pair approaching the café. He could have known they would arrive together, they were almost inseparable. Enjolras greeted the two of them with a polite nod and then took his usual spot at the head of the table. “Excuse me, Monsieur.” Feuilly spoke up, raising his hand to get his leader’s attention. “Yes?” Enjolras replied, his hands resting onto the table as he stood.

“Why is Eponine here? I thought we had agreed on no girls.” At the question, Enjolras slammed his fist onto the table. “Really, Feuilly?” He let out a sarcastic chuckle and shook his head. “Let me tell you this. Eponine here seems to be the only one who doesn’t care about drinking when at a meeting. She actually wants to help the poor and you guys….it seems like you’re only here for the beer.” His fist slammed onto the table once again and Enjolras kept shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” He muttured under his breath. Meanwhile, Grantaire carefully kicked Eponine’s shin under the table trying to get her attention as he wiggled both of his eyebrows.

[jondrette-s-blog]

Marius had requested Eponine if he could tag along on her address-searching expedition before that day’s Les Amis meeting, and she was happy to oblige. The boy had originally attempted to bring up her ‘date’ with Enjolras, but realized a few questions in that he wasn’t getting anywhere with her vague answers. “I thought we promised no secrets,” was Marius’ complaint, the faux hurt in his voice still putting butterflies in her stomach. Nonetheless, after an afternoon’s worth of an unprofitable search, the two set off to the Cafe Musain for that evening meeting together. 

Once they got in to the room, Enjolras gave them both a nod, which Eponine was careful to return. She was pulling up a seat between Grantaire and Marius when Feuilly questioned her presence. Similar to the rest of the boys, she jumped a bit at Enjolras’ sudden outburst. Once it was done, Grantaire’s nudging was persistent no matter how venomous Eponine’s glares at him were. “Feuilly is right, though, don’t you think?” Bahorel said nervously, his eyes flickering between their leader and the rest of the boys. “I mean, no offense to you, Eponine.” the idler followed up, to which Eponine shot back a sarcastic “None taken.” 

“It’s just, I hardly think a barricade is a place for a girl.” Bahorel reasoned. The other boys stirred, unsure if whether they should affirm their masculinity, stand by their friendship with Eponine, or await their chief’s response. “I think I am quite capable of defending myself,” Eponine said in a low voice, her words carefully weighed. Feuilly raised an eyebrow at her and Bahorel let out a concealed scoff, which only further riled up Eponine. “If monsieur Enjolras does not deem me equip, then I will leave this meeting.” she challenged, turning to look at Enjolras in the eye. “But I will still defend these streets, need it be single-handedly, whether it wounds your fragile egos or not. So, monsieur,” Eponine glared in to Enjolras’ startling eyes, the very same that had seen her passion a few nights prior. “What will it be?” 

[jondrette-s-blog]

“ Enjolras is capable of being h o r r i b l e , if he wishes. ”

     Eponine watched as Enjolras shuffled in to his apartment and waited to make sure he was safely in. Once she was sure that he was, she set off once more on the Parisian streets, the path to Grantaire's loft a familiar once.

    Eponine knew not why Grantaire was so calm about her random appearances. It began a little over a year ago, when Monsieur Thénardier had brandished a knife at Gavroche and her; the two siblings fled out in to the night, bumping in to Grantaire who, despite his drunken stupor, ushered the two in to his home and let them sleep on the couch.

    Grantaire's apartment became Eponine and Gavroche's safe house. Eponine had tried bugging the man on why he always let them in; wouldn't bringing a lady in to his house ruin his reputation to society?; but Grantaire would merely shrug and offer her some wine. 

    When Eponine knocked softly on Grantaire's door, the standard slurred "Come in" from the other side did not come. Instead, the door swung wide open, and Grantaire— for the first time in as long as Eponine could remember— was sober.

    "I was expecting you." Grantaire sing-songed, pulling Eponine in to the flat. "Jesus, what is it with everybody and pulling today?" she grumbled. Grantaire's teasing response caught Eponine by surprise: "Ah, so pulling occurred between you and Enj? How early in to your relationship for that to happen!"

    "Excuse me?" Eponine sputtered, reeling around to face Grantaire. He gave her a toothy grin before taking the few steps across the room to his couch. The old piece of furniture creaked under Grantaire's weight. "Don't act all innocent, missy," he shot back, pointing a lazy finger at Eponine. Alright, perhaps he wasn't sober; but he was significantly less drunk than usual. "Marius told us about it!"

    "Marius?" Eponine exclaimed, practically scrambling to be at Grantaire's feet. "What did Marius say?" 

    And so it went. While a handful of the Les Amis- namely Grantaire, Courfeyarc and Joly- had been sharing drinks at the local bar, Marius had walked in looking as if he were in deep thought. The Pontmercy then recounted the interaction between Eponine, Enjolras and him at the Musain to the trio, and asked them if it was anything significant; the three had laughed, proceeding to place bets and demanded that the bartended keep the whiskey coming. "If I'm going to think Enjolras in love with anything other than his Patria," Courfeyarc had supposedly said while taking another swig. "I will need to be drunk beyond belief!" 

    "Enjolras is not in love with me." Eponine interjected. She barely knew Enjolras. Save for that eventful night, and their brief conversation on the staircase, Enjolras was a mystery to her, just as much as she was to him. "And neither are you in love with him, I suppose?" Grantaire questioned, the slightest indication of being upset lingering in his words. A frustrated Eponine practically laid herself on the wooden floorboards in exasperation.     "I'm in love with Marius!" she half-yelled. Her companion shushed her, so she lowered her tone just the slightest. "I'm in love with a daft, oblivious boy who adores someone else!" Eponine hissed, and even though she was not looking at him, she could hear the taunt in Grantaire's voice when he said his next words. 

"There's nothing wrong with Enjolras." (Taunting.) "I didn't say there was!" (Defensive.) "Well? Is it because of something that happened tonight?" (Demanding.) "I..." (Hesitant.) 

    Deciding he had a right to know, Eponine gave Grantaire her account: the streets, her father, the fight, the gun. Throughout her story-telling, Grantaire stared at her with rapt attention, silent for a few minutes after she finished. "Enjolras is capable of being horrible, if he wishes." he finally said, echoing what the Les Amis often whispered behind their leader's back. Eponine did nothing but nod. Grantaire let out a groan, slumping in a heap on to his couch and staring absently at the ceiling.

    "Take my bed for tonight." Grantaire commanded quietly. When Eponine began to deny his offer, Grantaire glared her in to silence. "You've had a longer night than I could imagine. By God. I wish I had taken more of that wine Joly was offering." he said, giving Eponine a smile that she imagined would come from an older brother, if she had one. 

    She nodded and stood, taking silent steps towards Grantaire's bedroom. When he called her name, she dared herself to not look back. 

    "You know," Grantaire's sleepy voice drawled from behind her. "Enjolras? He has never loved a girl in his life. If he were, we would not mind if you were the first." 

    Eponine waited for more, but all that came next was Grantaire's soft snores. The Thenardier girl decided that was tired. She was not in the mood to deal with Grantaire's cryptic advice. She retreated in to Grantaire's room and buried herself in his covers that smelled of booze and whiskey, and fell asleep in to dreams of Marius and dark alleyways, 

    and blue eyes telling her to r u n.

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

He smiled weakly when she took his hand, glad that she appeared to be okay. This night was only the beginning of many more eventful nights to come. Nights that would be filled with more violence and more blood. Nights in which they would barely get any sleep because a few people had to remain awake to make sure things were going as planned. Enjolras was ready for it and glad that Eponine had taken him on the small tour to show him what he was doing it all for. He dropped her hand as soon as she stood up straight, running it through his own messy hair instead.

“The only thing I get for free is the room. The drinks are all paid for, I don’t think they would let us in otherwise.” The deal with the owner had been a great deal in his eyes. Each member paid at least part of their drinks, Grantaire being the one who paid the most since drinking was basically his hobby. “Right okay. He probably won’t notice you’re there anyway.” He was offended in a way. Not necessarily by Eponine, but by Grantaire. One of his closest friends had never even mentioned Eponine was staying with him every once in a while. It wasn’t really any of Enjolras’ business anyway.

He let Eponine pull him by his arms, walking with her at a slow pace. It was growing colder as the night progressed and the two of them wandered around the dark streets of Paris. “I’m sorry about drawing my gun…at your father. But I never….I never wanted to actually fire it.” The male glanced briefly at the young woman beside him. Her face looked beautiful as the moonlight shone on her gentle features. “Are you sure about staying with Grantaire? My offer still stands..” Enjolras looked around them, making sure that nobody was following the two of them.

It was nothing short of a relief, walking then with Enjolras in the muted silence of their little city. An odd pair they would have looked to an outsider: Eponine, in her grimy rag of a dress, and Enjolras, carrying himself with affluence despite the complete disarray of his overall appearance. Away from the filth of her neighborhood, Paris’ cobblestone sidewalks were actually quite peaceful. She could see why Enjolras was so insistent to keep the whole place safe. “It’s quite alright, with the gun,” she assured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. She wasn’t sure what else of him hurt. “Thank you for protecting me.” 

“I’m certain about Graintare. He wouldn’t mind in the very least.” she responded. Her laugh tinkled down the boulevard, softened after the night’s action. The way Enjolras’ eyes darted around the street made something ache inside of her; she did not want him to feel any more unsafe than he already did, running a revolution of students, but part of her knew that he needed to know the real brutality happening beyond the walls of the Musain. “Monsieur,” Eponine said with a sudden urgency, stopping in her tracks to grasp her companion’s hands. She was caught off guard for a moment- Enjolras’ eyes were a brilliant shade of blue- but she barreled on once she found the words. 

“What you’ve seen tonight is not even the entirety of the scum there really is. Scoundrels, and thieves, and gutter-born kids.” Eponine paused, realizing she was part of the population she was warning him against. Unbashed, she persisted. “If you succeed in your rebellion- no, let’s say when- when you succeed, I cannot promise that it will be any better. Perhaps it will be worse, even. We will have more freedom and it will be easier to commit crime. I know I am one of them, but I implore that you don’t see me as part of their crowd.” Her voice hardened. Suddenly, she felt a flash of passion; the very same she was sure Enjolras felt for his cause. “You have to fight.” she told him, voice shaking with ferociousness. She was fiery, all of a sudden, vehemently staring in to Enjolras’ eyes and looking for any sliver of a doubt he could ever have. “You have to fight, and let me fight alongside you. I want a chance to escape this system just as much as you wish to change it. Oh, won’t you let me, monsieur?” 

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

While Enjolras was exhausted, Eponine seemed to be quite okay and not out of breath at all. When he had asked his question he hadn’t expected the girl to wrap her arms around him and hug him to show her gratefulness. Enjolras sat still at first, but eventually carefully placed his hands on her back, letting go as soon as he felt her pulling away. She had never hugged him before and even though he knew not to get his hopes up, it did feel surprisingly good to have her embracing him.

He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, his eyesbrows raising as he noticed that his white shirt had turned red from the blood. He pressed his shirt against the corner of his mouth and watched the girl settle down in front of him. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault he has a temper.” Enjolras told her. “They must think I’m your boyfriend now…” he chuckled quietly to lighten the mood a bit and rolled his sleeves up, not wanting her to see the blood and have her worry about him.

“You can’t go back tonight,” he said quietly. “If you want…you can sleep in the café. I can bring you a mattress.” Enjolras would have invited her over to his small bedroom near the café, but that was a bit too much. The leader stood up slowly and held his hand out to Eponine to help her stand back up. They had to leave this area as soon as possible in case Thénardier’s gang would track them down again. “Are you sure you’re okay though?” He wondered out loud, his eyes roaming over his face to make sure there was no blood.

“I pity the fellow who would have the misfortune of being my actual boyfriend.” Eponine joked in return. She recognized his careful, calculated movements for the front that it was, but after the eventful night, she was not in the business of riling him up for an argument on his stoic nature. Instead, she took his hand and got up from the ground, mulling over his offer. It seemed cozier than the pavement, or even Grantiare’s dingy little couch, but she couldn’t bare to weigh down her companion any more, after he had defended her and everything.

“I dare not trespass on the Café Musain’s generosity,” she decided, eyes glittering with amusement. “You, monsieur, should also put that in to consideration. With the Les Amis and you causing a racket every night, I doubt that that café has had a quiet moment in months.” Eponine chuckled before running a hand through her hair. “I won’t return tonight. I’ll set out for Grantaire. He is fine with me staying awhile whenever father acts up.” The girl faltered towards the end of her sentence, realizing the indication of her words: this was not the first time. She had no idea why she was so damn honest around Enjolras. Perhaps she really was now beginning to consider him as a friend.

When Enjolras asked if she was okay, she shot him a lopsided grin and banished all thoughts of her father. “I’m alright,” she assured him. “We’re alright.” she added, her tone fierce and defiant and confident. Once again, Eponine looped her arm in to his; it felt comfortable, for some reason, and she had a tendency for increased affections in the presence of comfort; before giving him a gentle, encouraging pull. “Let’s get going, monsieur. To safer streets than these.”

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance :

Enjolras’ hand shook as he pointed the gun at the group of men in front of him. He couldn’t pull the trigger, not in front of Eponine. Last named held onto his shirt and a hand onto his shoulder. Her voice softened him, but he held the gun tightly. Sweat formed onto his forehead as held the gun. This was not what he imagined that would happen when he and Eponine strolled through Paris earlier. Enjolras wasn’t a fan of using guns, but Eponine was in danger and he would do anything to protect her. He would do the same for any of the other Les Amis, but most of them knew how to handle situations like this.

When the Thénardier came closer, Enjolras aimed for him, but when he heard Eponine’s voice whispering his name he lowered his gun. “Go, now. Run as far away as you can.” He whispered, the gun still in his hands but aiming for the ground. Enjolras didn’t want her to be treated this way. She was not a whore, yet all these men, including her father, referred to her as one. The rebellion leader put the gun back into his waistband before slowly backing away from the group, Eponine still behind him. “Go, Eponine. Do it now.” He said quietly, glaring at the men in front of him.

Hopefully, they now knew not to mess with him since he was carrying a gun. Guns had always showed some sort of authority and even managed to scare the worst kind of criminals off. Enjolras was silently thanking himself for taking a gun with him. If not, he and Eponine would probably be in an even worse situation. When the young girl finally ran off, Enjolras ran after her, his curly hair bouncing with every step he took. When the group was out of sight, he reached for her hand and pulled her into a dark alley. His chest rose quickly as he tried to catch his bread, slumping down onto the ground. “You okay?” He asked the other, glancing at her.

The reason why Eponine hesitated to run was because she knew it would be easier- far easier- just to tell Enjolras to leave. She would go with her father and possibly receive a fierce beating, but it would spare Enjolras the trouble. There was a defiance in his tone, though; a thin veneer of calm that she didn’t want to test; so she did as she was told. “Follow,” she said. Not a command as much as it was a plead. With that, Eponine ran.

Eponine was good at running. One had to get used to it, with all the stealing and conning. After what seemed like hours of running, she felt Enjolras’ gentle tug. They retreated in to a deserted alley and Eponine watched as Enjolras collapsed on to the pavement. You okay?, he asked, despite the trickle of blood near his mouth and the fact that he was out of breath, and Eponine was filled with so much appreciation for him in that moment that she got to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as fiercely as she could without hurting him. “Thank you, monsieur,” she muttered. There were other words to express her gratitude, but none seemed to fit for that moment of breathless delight. “Thank you.”

After a heartbeat, she let go and sit across from him, her ankles touching his as they sat there in silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think my father would be there tonight.” she confessed, glancing up at the sky. The pollution of Paris did not dim the stars above, and she was thankful. They were lovely companions. “I’m sure he will be over it in a few days. I merely have to steer clear of those streets for the time being.” she resolved, glancing at Enjolras with a small smile. In her head, she was already figuring out the safest sidewalks to sleep on, or perhaps which of the Les Amis would let her stay in for a day or two.

[jondrette-s-blog]

enjolrasvivelafrance:

“It’s none of your business where I’m from.” The young man spat back, eyeing Thénardier just as much as he was doing to him. Before Enjolras even had the time to wrap his head around the fact that this man in front of him was Eponine’s father, he and the girl were surrounded by drunk and gross men. Because of Enjolras only paying attention to her father, he hadn’t noticed the other men sneaking up, but when he heard a scream behind him he quickly turned around.

All eyes were on him when the word boyfriend was mentioned and just as Enjolras was about to argue he was not her boyfriend, Eponine was violently pulled back against the man that had his arm around her. His fists clenched as he punched her in the gut and Enjolras had a hard time not reaching for the gun that he had hidden in his clothes. That would only make this situation worse. Instead, he launched himself at Montparnasse, kicking him hard against his shin. He let go of the young woman, reaching for his leg as he let out a scream of pain. One down.

Next up was Babet who received a punch against his nose. Two down. Just as Enjolras was about to do the same to Claquesous, the strongest of the gang pushed him against the wall and punched him in the gut. The rebellion leader took a sharp breath and tried his best not to fall to the ground. It took him a few moments to recover, his vision blurry as he leaned against a brick wall. Realising he could never win this, he reached for the gun and held it out in front of him. “Let us go. I’m not afraid to shoot.” Enjolras said in a low voice, positioning himself back in front of Eponine to protect her from the men.

For the second time in that hour, Eponine froze. She hated it. But the pain in her stomach was burning, and she watched, defenseless, as Enjolras made a go at everyone. She let out a small scream when Montparnasse got back on his feet and swung at Enjolras. She surged forward, only to watch in horror as the revolutionist pulled out his gun and stood infront of her. 

Eponine was sure that the boys had seen worse than the gun Enjolras held in his hand yet they collectively backed up when he pointed it at them. They were rowdy, but they were smart; Enjolras had a weapon and they didn’t. Simple as that. “Monsieur,” Eponine said softly. A warning. She let her fingers linger on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. Many of the girls off the streets often swooned over Enjolras, but the rumors she overheard from the Les Amis proved that there was more to their leader than his looks. Enjolras was charming, but he was also capable of being terrible; that capacity scared Eponine as she stood there behind him, one hand on his shoulder and the other clutching to the back of his shirt like a child. 

“Looks like the lil’ bitch got ‘erself a fighter, eh?” Babet sneered, clutching his nose. “The whore’s brought home a bourgeois! Ye can practically smell the money in his blood.” Claquesos shot back as he edged around their group. Montparnasse and Monsieur Thénardier shared a look before her father turned to look once more at the couple, warily eyeing Enjolras’ gun as he took a few steps forward. “Now, ‘Ponine, my love,” her father pleaded. “Tell your... er... friend to put down his gun, and come on home with your papa.” Eponine took in a sharp intake of breath, her grip on Enjolras tightening ever so slightly. She buried her face in to his back and whispered his name— just his name, without its formality— and waited.