A/N: I'm baaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaack! :D Missed me? I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, and that your 2014 is off to a great start!
I got the inspiration for this E/É fic from a really fantastic Tumblr blog, link below. Definitely check it out; the story will be following the pictures. I'll post the caption on each picture as part of the author's note for each chapter.
imthehero - ofthestory .tumblr post/44944111544/foldingpaperfigures-o-eponine-enjolras-o
You know the drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!
Prologue
She had always known how it would end, but she was never fully prepared for this.
His limp body lay at her feet, and she wept freely. This couldn't be the same man that had just loved her so well – no, the real him had to be around here somewhere…he couldn't be dead before her now. He would pop out of the shadows around the next corner any second, proud of his joke, and hold her when he saw she was upset with him…again.
Almost afraid, she reached out to touch his still form. The hair that had been soft, smooth and barely sweaty between her fingers a single passionate night ago was now tangled and matted with dried blood. There was no morning stubble lining his cheek now, only angry scratches that were dirty with the debris of the barricade. The blue eyes she had adored were closed for the last time. His clothes were ripped, patched with dirt and red from wounds that had long ceased oozing his life. She pulled back his shirt, and when she saw the eight bullet wounds in his chest, she cried again, more freely than before. His legs, too, were broken from the fall out the window. This couldn't be real. None of this could be. Her Marble Man had to be still intact, alive, somewhere nearby.
She stroked his hair back from his face, closed her eyes, and remembered their last night together – the way he had looked at her like she was a goddess the minute she walked in, the way his huge, warm hand had enveloped her tiny one, the way his lips had tasted against hers…and most of all, she remembered the feel of his body – flesh pressing against flesh, their sweat mingling in the bliss they could only find together. She heard his voice in her head again, crying out her name in a fervent ecstasy that she knew no revolution had ever given him – the kind that only came when he was with her. She remembered crying out his name in the same way, wanting nothing but him, and for those nights to never end.
Even though the sun would always come up on them still tangled in each other, she never wanted to leave his bed. She remembered lying next to him until he woke, listening to his even breathing and holding his hand, still sweaty from the night before, retracing the lines her fingernails had made in his back that had now faded to a raw pink. The memories were enough to push her heart over the edge again, and Éponine Thénardier burst into fresh tears for the Marble Man that would never love her again – for her Damien-Henri Enjolras.