Bonjour, bonjour! I want to apologize for not updating Misunderstandings this week. I'm not sure I will do it next week either because of school work. So take this little thing as an "I'm-so-sorry" gift. I had it stuck in my head for a while and well... it's not really great, not really long either. Hopefully, you won't hate it. If I'm lucky, you will even like it a little bit.
She was gone. She came, disguised as a boy, for him and his revolution. She fought with him and she was gone now. Her body wouldn't warm his cold one at the darkest hours of the night. Her smile wouldn't lighten his rainy days. Not anymore. Because she was gone. Because she gave her life away to save Marius'.
It happened in a blur. Since they had built up the barricade, he had always kept an eyes on her. She was there for him, he knew that. Once, in the secrecy of his tiny apartment, Éponine had told him she would follow him until the end, no matter what. She had been deadly serious that night, telling him these words of trust and faith. Oh, the irony! And he had beeged her to stay away to survive, to remember him and his friends. "Nobody will forget you, bourgeois boy. Ever" she had whispered with a smile, as if she was sure of it. Who was she to say that? Who was she to take his heart and then die? He was meant to remain true to Patria, not to fell in love with the shadow of Paris. Yet she had stolen his heart. Slowly, easily.
And she was gone now. She left him with no choice but to fight alone. He had knew since he and his friends had begun to plan the revolution, that he would die but he could have try to survive. For her. They could have try, together. But she was gone. She left him behind, with a smile. Always with a smile.
He had fall to the ground when he had understood what was happening. His strength had left him, his courage had suddenly disappeared and he could see was blood, deep red blood flooding out of her stomach. Enjolras had not screamed, he had not cried. Not even a single tear. He had joined her, held her. And Éponine had smiled. Silence had fall when she released her last breath, her hand falling from his cheek. No word, no tear, only her smile.
She was gone. Her rough little hand was cold in his larger one. It felt heavy. Dead. One of his friends, Combeferre probably, had gently take her away from his arms earlier, to lay her down on the ground of the Musain. Then Courfeyrac and Pontmercy had got him on his feet. "I'm sorry" Marius had said. "I'm so sorry Enjolras…" His apologies had been left unanswered. Not even acknowledged. The fierce leader had disappear for a minute, replaced by a man, just a quiet man who had lost the woman he loved. She was gone.
The dawn was coming and there were corpses everywhere in the back of the café, laid side by side. They were all so young they looked like they were sleeping, only resting for a moment. Combeferre and Joly had close their eyes with a shaking hand, tears rolling down their cheeks. They knew their own death was close. How they would fall was now up to them but Enjolras couldn't bring himself to think about it. He was still holding her hand, had since Feuilly told him to take a break from the watch. The only thing he knew was that he would her soon, one way or another.
"Chief?" Bahorel called. Enjolras looked up. His friends, or at least what was left of them, were standing in front of him, guns in hand. "We'll make them pay" the boxer said firmly. He held out a weapon for the leader who stood up. He was pale his curls were sticking to his forehead, yet he looked fiercely determined.
Ready to die, they got out of the Musain in the morning sun. Looking like heroes, some would have said but they were just mean fighting for a better world. A world they wouldn't see.