#lesmisfic

[smallblueandloud]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier Characters: Cosette Fauchelevent, Marius Pontmercy, Éponine Thénardier Additional Tags: Polyamory, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Getting Together, i literally did not pay attention to ANY form of canon besides the OBCR, so uh. if that is something that bothers you?, This Relationship Has One Braincell And Her Name Is Cosette, Canon Rewrite, Éponine Thénardier Lives Summary:

“Cosette-” says Éponine. She’s got a hand over her ribs, like she’s in pain. Her clothing is filthy, like Cosette’s father’s, and she has a cap over her hair, and her eyes are wide like she wasn’t expecting this, even though she must have known whose house this is and she must have heard Cosette’s father call for Cosette just a few moments ago.

Cosette has never seen anything more beautiful.

(or, cosette's boyfriend turns out to be in love with her childhood sweetheart. everything is beautiful and nothing hurts)

[barefoot-pianist]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

How to fall in love and dodge Deustchlanders in Occupied France, a travel guide by René Enjolras and Jesús Grantaire with additional material by les shouty boys

The Howling Commandos you punk

Whatever you say, Barnes.

*

I was lucky enough to get to collaborate with @im-a-fucking-pretty-princess​ to do some stuff for the Les Mis Quarantine Big Bang! As per usual I wrote a monster with way too many AUs and Andrea did some really gorgeous art. It’s been a brilliantly fun if completely hectic month! Massive thanks to the mod team @thelesmisbigbang​ for organising it and being so great. I am unbelievably excited to read & see everyone’s work!!

*

(Andrea’s art :) )

[anthonyampersand]

Ficmas 2k14: Aire

merry fixmas to aire ablogofadifferentcolor! i wasn't really sure what to write you bc i don't know you exceptionally well yet - we'll work on that in the coming year, i'm sure - so i figured exr was a safe bet

-

It happens every week like clockwork, after he admits late one night – and perhaps more tipsy than he’d meant to be, at least in public – that he is not the angelic, infinite pillar of justice and fairness and damnable goodness that everyone thinks.

Grantaire, with his shit-eating grin and his shot glass raised mockingly in a toast, doesn’t seem too disturbed.

He supposes that if anyone were to find out about his faults, he’d want it to be Grantaire. Combeferre has always known about him – his impatience, his subtle prejudices that he just can’t be rid of, or can’t be assed to try hard enough to be rid of. Grantaire understands what it is to disappoint. To fear disappointment. He may want everyone to think otherwise, but Enjolras knows.

Grantaire doesn’t try because he fears failure. Enjolras tries because he fears the disappointment of the people who will look at him if he doesn’t, shaking their heads.

They understand each other that way, and that’s that.

So, somehow – somehow, he’s still not entirely sure what had possessed him, although he’s obscenely glad that it had – he ends up inviting Grantaire back to his apartment on New Years Eve.

He wants to be away from the noise and from everyone he knows. From the celebration. Enjolras has always had trouble celebrating this particular holiday, mostly because of the uncomfortable, insidious expectation that came with it – resolutions. Enjolras couldn’t make a good enough resolution to save his life. No matter what he did, what he accomplished, he would still at the end of the year feel that he could have done it better, or more, or...

And then Grantaire would interrupt his hopeless rambling with a snort, and chuck a balled up piece of paper from the floor at his “insufferable, blond” head.

That was another thing he liked about having Grantaire around. He never hesitated to call him out when he was being… what did he call it? Ridiculous, self-pitying, sullen, privileged –

The list went on.

He wonders what the hell he finds charming about being insulted, and then wonders that he just called R charming, even if it was in his head.

So now, every Saturday night, instead of studying or planning or writing a speech, Enjolras opens his door and lets R in with a six pack and a grin, and they sprawl across his living room together and…

Well, talk shit, basically.

It starts out with some thoughtless comment. “Courf needs a fucking attitude check.” He goes bright red, when he realizes he’s said it out loud, but Grantaire has choked on his beer and there’s no going back.

As it turns out, though, Grantaire has plenty of dirty secrets of his own.

Apparently sharing does have some appeal.

And that’s how it starts. It ranges from things as petty and pathetic as “I cheated on my calculus final” to “I used to have a humongous crush on Combeferre”, and Grantaire watches him with huge, dark eyes, as if he’s seeing something amazing – unfathomable – the crumbling of some ancient statue that Enjolras never wanted to be, anyways.

“I didn’t come to the beach last week because of my scars,” he offers suddenly, knocking Enjolras straight out of his reverie. He blinks, narrowing his eyes, but doesn’t argue.

Scars can only refer to one thing. He doesn’t know how to feel.

“No one would have said anything,” he tells him, although when he thinks about it, Jehan probably would have. “You know none of us would judge you for that, Grantaire.”

“And risk a party of you coming to my house in the middle of the night to steal all of my pointy objects?” He snorts and clinks their bottles together, and Enjolras is hard pressed to contain a smile. This doesn’t seem like a smiling occasion – but then again, it doesn’t seem like something that should be an occasion in the first place, and it is. “No thanks. I need my kitchen knives, you know. How else am I supposed to cook for you?”

There was another of Grantaire’s hidden talents. Enjolras regrets, the first time he bites into one of R’s cookies, never bothering to get to know him like this before.

He’s going to fix that.

He does seem to have fixed that by now, though. It’s New Year’s Eve, and probably Grantaire’s fiftieth visit, and he knows his favorite color and his favorite drink and which of his professors he stares dreamily at in class when he bothers to show up.

And Grantaire knows all of that about him.

And he doesn’t know what the hell this feeling is in the pit of his stomach but he doesn’t know if he ever wants it to end.

They’re tipsy, but not too much. The drink of choice tonight is champagne and they haven’t really gotten into it yet, just waiting for the ball to drop. The t.v. is on mute, but the celebration in Times Square looks as crowded and extravagant as ever.

“Bahorel knows, and he’s never stolen your utensils,” he points out, instead of acknowledging the fluttering tremor in his throat. It’s easier. Grantaire is watching him oddly now, not in a bad way, but…

“He wouldn’t. He knows I could kick his ass. We used to box,” he says without even a smirk. Forever refusing to be proud of his own accomplishments. Enjolras tries to contain a frown, but from the curious look on R’s face, he’s not entirely successful.

He chooses that moment to slip off of the couch cushion that he’s been perched on all evening and fall gracelessly to the floor, half in Grantaire’s lap. The flush he can feel climbing his neck is worth the way Grantaire’s hand comes to rest at the small of his back.

“Sorry,” he manages, but he doesn’t try to pull away. The discussion is already fleeing his mind in favor of all of those pleasant, trembly little signals. “Um.”

The countdown flashes on the screen, but neither of them pay any attention.

Grantaire is looking at him, in that way he used to sometimes catch him doing at the café. Except this time it’s more human, and he understands it without really understanding it, and their faces are incredibly, uncomfortably close.

He swallows, wide-eyed, wondering if he should pull back.

“Don’t you dare,” R breathes, and his eyes are just as wide, and Enjolras leans in that extra inch and a half and their lips are nearly brushing now.

Grantaire shifts slightly as if to make room in his lap, and the t.v. suddenly bursts into sound. “Damn it!” he curses, fumbling for the remote under his ass. Enjolras can’t stop laughing, almost hysterical, and it doesn’t even cross his mind that the moment might be ruined.

Even if it were, there was always next week. The week after that.

“Where were we,” Grantaire mutters, half-smiling sheepishly when he’s managed to find the mute button again. Enjolras reaches up and hooks his arms around his neck, smiling lazily the way he only ever dares to in Grantaire’s company.

He could definitely get used to this – this – having a best friend thing, or whatever it was.

In fact, he already has.

[drinkupthesunrise]

Course Corrections - Deleted Scene

Part of Course Corrections, in which Les Amis are a protest group and Éponine and Grantaire are protest singers. This scene got chucked I think straight after I wrote it because it didn't fit with the mood for the rest of the fic, but it's a little insight into Combeferre & Enjolras's relationship in the verse, and giving Courf a chance to actually say something. If by some miracle you haven't heard Bastille's Pompeii, which is the featured song, there's a nice acoustic version here to listen along to.

(Enjolras wonders though, if Combeferre is similarly haunted by memories of dark hair and that beating chant. He'd seemed transfixed enough at the time. Neither of them mention it.)

They're curled up on the sofa together. Enjolras enjoys the comfort Combeferre's arms bring after a long day. Combeferre's hand is loosely tangled in Enjolras's blonde curls when suddenly Courfeyrac bursts into their shared living room.

“Have you seen how many hits we've got?”

Enjolras furrows his eyebrows. He spends a lot of time checking their website stats, but Combeferre has a strict no looking out them outside the office policy. It should apply to Courfeyrac as well, but Combeferre fights different battles with Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac's dragging a laptop with him, and he deposits it on the coffee table. Enjolras pulls himself up, moving his legs so there is space for Courfeyrac to sit down.

“What's this about?” Combeferre asks briefly. He's doing inventory in his head about what they've put up recently. As far as he knows they haven't posted anything too controversial this week, though it's difficult to predict what'll go viral.

“R and Nina,” Courfeyrac says, as if he expects them to know who they are. Combeferre notices that Courf hasn't got their usual stats page open, he's on youtube instead.

He's doing better than Enjolras though, who just looks at Courfeyrac and goes, “Why are you on youtube?” Enjolras frequently forgets that they also have a youtube channel. Combeferre just spends most of his time wishing it didn't exist.

“Because-” Courf is drawing this out, clearly enjoying himself. “You remember last week? Those two lovely protest singers? Well, it turns out that they have quite a following online.” This is the point where he switches tabs and brings up their statistics page. The spike is noticeable. “No one knows who they are, but their fans call them R and Nina and they've never disputed it so...”

Courf pulls the laptop over to him and switches the tabs again, hitting play. The audio isn't great quality and it's even worse over Courf's shitty laptop speakers.

The view is clear though, and Courfeyrac's put in full screen mode. The boy with dark curls has drumsticks this time, whacking out a harsh beat. “This was at one of the student rallies, about a month ago,” Courf explains.

Nina's voice is low as she begins the eh eh o eh o which starts the song. Enjolras has heard it half a dozen times on the radio, but he's never paid it much attention. She sings out we were left to our own devices which he doesn't think are actually the words, but he's not sure.

Enjolras doesn't quite see why Courf's chosen to show them this song. As far as he knows, there's no real value in it. The lyrics seem nonsensical at best. Nina's voice is good, but he knew that already. But there's no clever wit here, and she doesn't seem as bitter as she sings out and if we close our eyes, does it almost feel like we've been here before?

Combeferre's still watching her intently, so Enjolras guesses that there must be something to her performance.

Then she launches into how are we going to be optimists about this and there's something more to that. But what draws Enjolras in is R's voice, in counterpoint to hers, barely audible but Enjolras can see the bitterness and cynicism in his face as he sings I'm not going to be an optimist about this.

They continue to trade lines, change words. R sings a bridge line of oh where can I begin, the rubble or my sins as Nina sings over him loud and clear. The watching crowd has now joined them, singing and clapping along. For Enjolras, who's watching R become more bitter and resigned as the song goes on, it's extremely disjointing.

Even Nina seems raw by the end. Her voice scrapes low over the lyrics, compared to its clear sweetness at the beginning of the song. They don't pull a vanishing act at the end of this song, but the camera shuts off and the video ends.

“So what did you think?” Courf asks. “I'm gonna try and track them down, see if they'll come to one of our protests.”

Enjolras jumps off the sofa at that moment, uttering a short “no.”

Courfeyrac looks to Combeferre. Combeferre considers going after his friend, but there isn't much he can do. “Just leave it, Courf,” Combeferre mutters. “He'll have to deal with it eventually.”

[drinkupthesunrise]

Course Corrections (I'm running after you) - ao3

No one notices when they turn up, the girl with the sleek dark hair and the boy with the dark curls. But the moment they open their mouths, everyone's eyes are on them. They have a knack for striking right at the heart of the problem, but tact is certainly not their strong point.

Five times protest singers Éponine and Grantaire interrupted a Les Amis event with a song, and one time they sing just for Enjolras.

[modernlesamisfics]

Chapter 11: Behind the Scary Mask

Modern AU about Les Amis

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. All changes made in the characters and/or the story line are all works of my imagination and everything is fictional.

Joly

Joly did just as Enjolras asked. He immediately went out of his room, which happened to be in front of Enjolras’ room, and proceeded to Grantaire’s room, which is located beside Enjoras’. He hesitated for a while before he knocked slowly, twice. When there was no reply, he leaned his ear on the door, trying to hear if Margaux is still awake. Indeed, he heard her sobbing softly.

He knocked again. “Margaux?” he called in a soft voice. The sobbing stopped suddenly. There was a pause, then he heard footsteps towards the door. He took a step backward, so as not to startle her. Then the doorknob turned, and the door was opened ajar.

The face of a girl peeked slowly. She has long black waves that hang loosely around her waist. The red streaks near her face are recognizable even in the dark. This girl could be Margaux, except that she doesn’t look like Margaux at all, and Joly almost believed that there was another girl in the room.

He stared at her, open-mouthed. Then after a moment’s confusion, he said in a high-pitched whisper, “Margaux?”

Margaux smiled. Her face looks so different. There is a natural tinge of pink on her cheeks, and her lips are thin and light, like the color of very pale rosewood. Her eyes, they are round, red, and puffy. It’s obvious that she had been crying. But the dark eyeshadows and thick eyeliners were gone. And her naturally long lashes framed her eyes wonderfully. Joly would have thought this was another girl had he not looked closely at those big curious brown eyes. Even without eye-makeup, there was no mistaking that those eyes belong to Margaux.

Joly exhaled silently, feeling amazed at how different she actually looked without her usual goth makeup. He almost didn’t recognize her!

“Joly?” she asked, equally amazed. “What brings you here at,” she paused to check her cellphone, “almost one o’clock in the morning?”

Joly gave her a hesitant smile. “Actually… Enj… err, I mean, I heard you sobbing. I just want to make sure you’re alright…” he trailed off. He should have told her the truth: that it was Enjolras who had heard her crying, and it was Enjolras who asked him to check on her. But he thought otherwise, because he had a feeling that Enjolras wouldn’t want her to know.

Margaux blushed a little, then she said silently, “I am fine.”

Joly gave her a scrutinizing stare. Then he sighed and shook his head. “No you’re not,” he said. “Your eyes are puffy,” he explained. “May I come in?” He didn’t really know what he was going to do, but he knew that Margaux needed a friend whom she could talk to, and he is willing to be that friend.

Margaux gave him a tentative stare for a moment before she nodded and opened the door wider to let him in. “I’m sorry, the room’s quite a mess.”

Joly entered, and true enough, the room is quite a mess, though not as messy as when Grantaire stayed in there. The room though is obvious that someone who stays in there is in distress. The pillows were on the floor, as if Margaux had thrown them away in desperation. Her laptop is open on top of the bed; it looks as if she had received an email or something.

Joly took a deep breath in, and glanced at Margaux, not knowing what to say. She had closed the door but left it ajar. She gave him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry if I had bothered you somehow,” she began. “I didn’t mean to be so loud —”

Joly raised a hand to stop her while shaking his head. “Shhh… You didn’t bother no one, OK?” he assured her. Then he took a hesitant step closer towards her and stared at her eyes. “There is something wrong, isn’t there? This is NOT just homesickness, is it?” he asked.

Margaux lifted her chin to look at his eyes. Her own eyes were pooled with unshed tears. She shook her head and looked down shyly. “No Joly, everything’s fine,” she choked. Then without warning, she burst into tears and sobbed hardly.

Joly was shocked at her sudden show of emotion, but without any hesitation, he immediately took her small body into his arms, without saying a word. He just let her cry in his arms, silently hoping that somehow, he could provide some comfort. He realized how small she was — she was so different from the woman who had single-handedly defeated Enjolras at the Mussain.

After a couple of minutes standing like that, with Margaux in his arms, sobbing unstoppably, fragile as a child, Joly said carefully, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Margaux gently squirmed away from his embrace and looked up at him. He involuntarily wiped the tears away from her face with his palms. Margaux blushed slightly and forced a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry,” she started, “it’s so silly of me to break down like that.” She laughed shortly. Then glanced up at Joly, looking embarrassed. “Joly — thank you for being here. I really appreciate your presence and concern…”

Joly returned the smile. “We are your friends here, of course we are concerned!” he told her. “Are you sure you don’t like to talk about it?”

Margaux sighed. She gestured towards her laptop. “It’s my sister. She emailed me, asking where I am. Said I broke my parents’ hearts, as always, and she told me she’s getting married so… She demands that I return,” she explained quickly. When Joly did not answer, she added, “I’m just so pissed, I guess.” Then she forced a smile.

Joly felt there is something she is not telling. “Are you sure that’s all?” he asked, trying not to sound too inquisitive. When Margaux nodded, he returned the smile. “Come, I’ll put you to bed,” he said.

Margaux laughed at this. “Put me to bed?” she repeated. “But Joly I’m not a child!” she protested with a giggle.

“Well, you are to me — just for tonight.” Joly sneered, leading her to bed. He stayed with her until she fell asleep.

[modernlesamisfics]

Chapter 9: The Friends

Modern AU about Les Amis

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. All changes made in the characters and/or the story line are all works of my imagination and everything is fictional.

Margaux

She was really embarrassed with what had happened. She didn’t expect that it would be Enjolras, OF ALL PEOPLE, whom she would offend on her very first morning in Paris. This was all Grantaire’s fault! Her childhood best friend had already filled her in with what had truly transpired, and he was also able to convince her that had she not interfered, Enjolras might have already had let go of him after pinning him on the wall.

Grantaire was the one who convinced Enjolras for a show-case fight, after all. And Combeferre also told Margaux that it was not new to them anymore. “Enjolras and Grantaire are like cat and dog, if you know what I mean,” Combeferre had said with a wink.

She was very quiet during the entire meeting of The Friends. Even though she was seated at the very rear end of the room with Eponine, she couldn’t help but notice how effective a speaker Enjolras is. Even a person as sinister as Grantaire could actually keep quiet and become attentive to him. She herself became quickly engaged to his cause, andjust by hearing him talk like that, she could feel the purpose that he is trying to imply etch through her heart, and she wants to give her full support — only that she doesn’t want to make another wrong impression again, so she tried to stay passive and quiet the whole time.

After the meeting, she got a chance to get to know the rest of The Friends. Jehan turned out to be a cute, romantic lad who happened to recite a poem for her the moment he was introduced. Margaux couldn’t help but giggle.

Feuilly was overly amazed and happy when he got the chance to shake Margaux’s hand. “Congratulations, angel!” he said. “You just pissed Enjolras off!” He laughed with the rest of the group. “NO ONE could actually do THAT to HIM! You’re just the FIRST!”

“And for that, you just won the Most Amazing Les Ami Award!” Joly yelled happily, at which Margaux shot him a warning look and a grin. She felt amazed to hear it, coming from Joly.

Grantaire gave Feuilly a mock glare. “What’s this I’ve heard? You’re not calling my baby angel, are you?” he asked sternly.

Feuilly rolled his eyes. “You absolutely heard me correctly, ‘Taire!” he replied. “She really is an angel! In fact, I am VERY CERTAIN now that she is Charlie’s missing angel! With those moves! Heaven knows who can survive those high-and-low kicks alive!” he chuckled.

Grantaire offered each of them a glass of Absinthe, to which Bahorel raised a glass and said, “To Margaux, Charlie’s missing angel!” And everyone raised their glasses and drank, except for the ladies.

[modernlesamisfics]

Chapter 8.2: The Newcomer

Modern AU about Les Amis

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. Changes made in the story line and characters are all works of my imagination. Everything is fictional.

Enjolras

The Musain is a full-house and I am glad that everybody’s present. I need to discuss to them what I have discussed with the businessman who is willing to sponsor our upcoming projects. Though I know that most of these guys were just here not because they are interested with my updates, but because they are just too excited to meet Grantaire’s guest. Oh sometimes I couldn’t understand how some of these men can be so shallow. It’s just too pathetic.

I was working on my report while the rest of the gang go about their own business: Courfeyrac and Jehan strumming on their guitars and jotting down notes on a piece of paper, clearly composing another song; Joly discussing his stomach spasms with Bahorel and Feuilly, who are listening with interest to his theory that perhaps Margaux had poisoned him because he unintentionally slammed the door on her when she arrived at the apartment yesterday; Eponine gloriously chatting to Marius about what she thinks of Margaux, who constantly ignored her because he was too busy texting; Bossuet and Grantaire taking turns on shots of brandy; and Combeferre silently reading a book while guarding the door.

“Hey Enjolras!” Grantaire called. At this very early hour of the day, he already smelled of alcohol. Pathetic. I glanced up at him. “What?” I snapped.

“I have learned a new self-defense move!” he announced proudly, eyes drooping with drunkenness. “Wanna try me?”

I scoffed. “Save it.” Then returned to what I was doing.

“C’mon, Enjy!” he pleaded insistently. “I just want to show it to you, c’mon! Who knows this time I’m gonna beat you!” His eyes are so full of anticipation.

I sighed in exasperation. “Grantaire, you’re almost drunk,” I reminded him. “The last thing I want to happen is to knock you out before the meeting has even started!” I tried to sound stern so he would let go of me.

But of course, this is Grantaire I’m talking about, and he never let go of me. “Please Enj… Or else I would think you’re scared of me! Yes?” He insisted.

I dropped my pen silently and glared at him. Then without further ado, I moved back my chair to stand. “Scared, Grantaire?!?” I growled, and Grantaire smirked. That little demon! He always gets into my nerves.

“That’s the spirit, Enjy!” He teased.

I rolled my eyes. “So what now?!” I yelled, getting into action. “Show me the moves!” At this, the rest of the Friends become suddenly interested, all eyes were fixed on me and Grantaire, who already stood to assume his position.

Grantaire quickly attempted a punch but I was quick enough to move aside. I locked his elbow into mine and turned him around, my other hand grabbing his collar. “Is this what you are sooo proud of?!” I mocked with a cold voice. “COME ON! MOVE!” I roared.

He attempted to get off but my grip on him was just too tight. “COME ON GRANTAIRE!” I repeated, trying to get him to move. He opened his mouth and bit my arm and I howled in pain. But before he could go I snatched his collar once again and successfully pinned him on the wall.

“Biting?” I whispered sarcastically. “BITING!” I roared. “Is this your new self-defense trick that you were so proud of?” There is no mistaking the anger in my voice. Grantaire is such a waste of time, as always.

Grantaire struggled to take a breath in, and choked, “No seriously I’m just kidding…”

There was a moment’s worth of silence and I was about to let Grantaire go, when somebody suddenly roared “GEROFF HIM!”. A woman’s voice. I could feel everybody in the room froze in silence, and I turned around to face her, my other hand still clutching Grantaire’s collar.

Oh. My. God. I hope my jaw did not drop. This woman — she has the word REVOLUTION written all over her. Dark eyeshadow, red lips… Black hair pulled up in a messy bun with bright red streaks visible… And when I looked into her eyes, her big hazel brown eyes, they are filled with passion and desire. Or was it rage?

She stubbornly held my gaze as if she’ll never let go. Her big, enraged hazel eyes are piercing through my soul. And for one very brief moment I felt something different, like my soul has somehow recognized the soul in her. But it was TOO brief that it had gone before I could even breathe the sense of recognition in. I suddenly remembered that this girl had just yelled at me. What did she say again? Why does she look so mad? I was at a loss, and I don’t know what to say. I took a deep breath in and managed to whisper “What?”, feeling silly and confused.

I had somehow said something wrong because she immediately run towards me and elbowed my hand off Grantaire’s collar, which I had honestly forgotten that I’ve been holding.

GRANTAIRE! Now it dawns on me. Was this Grantaire’s friend? And as if to answer my question, I heard Grantaire murmured in panic and desperation, “Oh no darling… No no…” I did not have the slightest chance to say something before the girl rushed towards me, grabbing my wrists with both her hands, and I didn’t know how she did it but Grantaire was literally thrown aside. And before I knew it, my back is pinned on the wall.

She held her glare right through my eyes, then a sudden white-hot pain crushed through me which was coming from my groin. I winced and groan in pain… WHAT THE — this girl just kicked me down there! I heard my friends gasped — in horror or in amazement, I couldn’t tell. WHY THE FUCK DO THEY JUST SIT THERE AND WATCH THIS GIRL TORTURE ME TO SHAME? WHY?! I made a mental note to deal with them later. I stared at her, and she’s staring back at me — first at my eyes, then at my lips. And for one fraction of a second I felt like she was about to kiss me. But of course the kiss didn’t come. Oh what am I thinking?! I must be going crazy!

Before I could react furthermore, and before I could register that what happened to my groin really happened, the full length of the girl’s leg is suddenly on top of my torso. HOW CAN SHE BE SOOOO FLEXIBLE?! Perhaps if we were in a different situation, I would say the sight of it might be sexy, but now is NOT the time to think of anything sexy because this girl is just TORTURING me.

HECK! What is really happening with me? I NEVER even thought of the word sexy before! Darn! Before I knew it, the girl is crushing her foot on my chest! She let go of my wrists and I quickly grabbed her lifted shin bone, and at the same time she clutched the collar of my shirt violently. Her leg is so small yet sooo STRONG. “Wha — D — HELL?” I managed to gasped despite the pressure on my neck.

“NO — ” She said through gritted teeth, crushing my chest even harder. “—ONE —” She continued to tighten her grip on my collar. “—HURTS —” I winced in pain as she stamped her other foot on my right foot. “—MY —” She put more pressure on my chest with her lifted leg… “—GRANTAIRE.” She growled finally and I could see the wrath in her eyes, the rage, the passion. I suddenly realized that this girl’s eyes reflect my own — and the fire in her is screaming REVOLUTION! She stands up for her friends, just as what I need… Just as what I WANT. Then for one CRAZY moment I knew she is the one that I have long been looking for!

“MARGAUX!” Grantaire’s panicked yell brought me back to my senses. He ran towards us. “Margaux baby… Let him go,” he pleaded sweetly. BABY? What the fuck? Since when Grantaire had a “baby”? His voice is filled with concern, shame, and fear, but I could also hear the sound of amazement and pride in it. Is he proud that his friend almost knocked me out? Heck!

Margaux’s hazel brown eyes kept holding mine, and I tried to hold her gaze and maintain my composure. “Not until he makes a promise never to touch you again!” she whispered threateningly.

“No seriously honey, you’ve got to let go of him!” The panic in Grantaire’s voice is very obvious. “We were NOT fighting! We,” he glanced around helplessly, “were just practicing SELF-DEFENCE! Oh honestly! And that’s ENJOLRAS you have just TORTURED!”

Oh I’m sure going to kill Grantaire for this! Damn that self-defence showcase! This was his idea, after all, and now I get all the pain! The girl looked suddenly shocked. She briefly stared at Grantaire in disbelief before she gazed back at me. Now her eyes look terrified. Good. Now she knows who she’s dealing with. But wait… Why do I suddenly felt pity on her, just seeing those terrified eyes? She suddenly looked different, she seemed to have suddenly transformed into a small child afraid of being beaten up to death. Is my name really that terrifying?

Blushing with embarrassment, she slowly loosened her grip on my collar and gently lifted her leg even higher — JUST HOW HIGH COULD SHE GO? — and she hit my jaw with the hill of her boots when she removed her leg off my body! “OUCH!” I yelped, startled, and placed a hand on my jaw. Did she just do it on purpose?

“Gosh Monsieur! I AM SO SORRY I — ” she didn’t finish what she was about to say. Before I knew it, her hand removed mine from the spot where she had just hit me, and she silently examined the graze on my skin with her thumb. Her eyes are filled with horror, and before I could react, she gently pressed her lips on my jaw. WHAT THE — did she just kiss me? I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and I’m sure I blushed like hell. Seeing her face, it also burns hot red. I could see the horror in her eyes when she stared into mine. Oh god she is just piercing my soul.

“Uhm, Enjy?” It was Grantaire. I must be just dreaming… This is just a dream! “Meet Margaux, my childhood best friend,” Grantaire said tentatively. “Margaux,” he added, throwing a warning glance at the girl, “this is Enjolras.” He gestured towards me.

Margaux’s cheeks are still red like scarlet. She looked as if she was about to cry. Slowly, she extended an arm towards me, and moved the muscles in her cheeks for an attempt of a smile which turned out to be more like a wince. “Please to meet you, Monsieur,” she said, sounding unexpectedly casual. I stared at her hand and had to fight the urge to touch it. No, I won’t take it. She just bruised my ego, and I won’t show any sign of weakness now. Instead, I turned to Grantaire. “I’ll deal with this later,” I threatened before turning back.

I could hear the blood pumping in my chest, and part of me wanted to turn back again and take her hand into mine, or even give it a light kiss. Oh Mademoiselle! What have you just done? What was wrong with me?

“Please to meet you, Margaux!” My indecision was interrupted by Courfeyrac’s voice. Damn, not Courfeyrac! “That. Was. Amazing! ‘Taire didn’t tell us you could be scary! HOT,” he paused for more drama, “but SCARY!” I gathered all my self-control not to turn around to kick Courfeyrac’s groin! The guy is doing his thing again! “Uhm, I’m just wondering… Would you go out on a date with me?” Oh bless me, I really wanted to turn around to punch Courfeyrac in the face. I paused in silence, feeling the blood rush to my head again. Oh why does Courfeyrac’s antics suddenly enraged me?

Then I heard her voice. “Hmmm… Let me guess, you’re Courfeyrac, right?” And Courfeyrac’s voice, “Why yes!” Oh that little bastard! He sounded so enthusiastic! “Margaux! You’re brilliant! Will you go out on a date with me?”

I could feel my heart pumping. I clenched my fists and clenched my jaw.

“No.” Margaux’s voice.

I let go of the breath that I didn’t know I was holding. Then involuntarily, my hands and jaw relaxed. My face broke into a grin which none of my friends could see, thankfully.