Lonely Heart

An Les Misérables Fanfiction

Enjolras x OC

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables, it belongs to Victor Hugo.

Forgive me for some grammatical mistakes; English is not my mother language.

This fanfiction is a cross between the novel and the musical.

Chapter One

LONELY SOUL

Enjolras...was an only son and was rich. He was a charming young man, capable of being intimidating. He was angelically beautiful...A pontifical and warrior nature, strange in a youth. He was officiating and militant; from the immediate point of view, a soldier of democracy; above the movement of the time, a priest of the ideal. He had a deep eye, slightly red lids, thick underlip, readily disdainful, and a high forehead...Like certain young men...who become illustrious in early life, he had an exceedingly youthful look, as fresh as a young girl's, though he had moments of pallor. Already a man, he still seemed a child. His twenty-two years appeared as seventeen; he was serious, he did not seem to know that there was a being on earth called woman. He had one passion only, justice; one thought only, to remove all obstacles...Before anything but the Republic, he chastely dropped his eyes. He was the marble lover of liberty. His speech was roughly inspired and had the tremor of a hymn. He would spread his wings unexpectedly and astonish you by his soaring. Woe to the love affair that should venture to intrude on him! Had any grisette*...seeing this college boy's face, the body of a page, long fair lashes, blue eyes, that hair flying in the wind, rosy cheeks, pure lips, exquisite teeth, felt a desire to taste all this dawn, and tried her beauty on Enjolras, a surprising and terrible look would have suddenly shown her the great gulf, and taught her not to confuse Beaumarchais's dashing cherubino with this fearsome cherubim of Ezekiel.

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables, 1862

Paris, France

January 2nd, 1832

After other meeting of the Friends of ABC, only the closest members remained. They've left the back room of Café Musain and went to the wine shop for a drink. Grantaire drank a full glass of wine and stared at the serious Enjolras; the cold-blood leader of the ABC, who never drinks alcohol, because he prefers to remain sober and fully conscious. The blond young man noticed Grantaire' stare but remain severe, without saying a word.

"You are indeed a very lonely person, my friend.", Grantaire nodded.

"What?" Enjolras looked at him with perplexity, but didn't pay much attention because he knew Grantaire was drunk as usual.

"How can you manage to be so… cold all the time? Don't you ever have racing blood on your veins?"

"Grantaire, I'm not in the mode for your drunkard conversations."

"Comrade, mock my words: you need excitement in your life. You can't live only for the homecoming revolution. Why don't you find yourself a fine girl?"

Enjolras' grinned with scorn.

"I do not have time or patience for such things."

"Oi! Combeferre! Come here and enlighten us with your knowledge! You too, Prouvaire! Bring us your poetry and your words of love!" Grantaire called with a huge smile.

"Oh, please…" Enjolras murmured in disapproval.

"What's happening, my dear friends?" Joly asked with curiosity "Why the boredom looks on your face, my wise Enjolras?"

"Our leader over here needs to get his heart cured, good doctor." Grantaire joked.

"Do you want me to exam you, Enjolras?" the medical student asked with concern.

"He needs love to cure his heart." Grantaire laughed. "Love is the cure for his lonely soul."

"I'm afraid medicine can't do anything about it." Joly joined Grantaire' joke.

"Can't you stop talking about my lonely soul? Nobody cares about it. And there are bigger things right now for me and for all of us." Enjolras declared in a severe tone.

"But we do care about your lonely soul, Enjolras." Prouvaire said "Your love for France is an inspiration for us all, but a man has other needs. His heart needs to be fed with love and joy."

"The revolution will bring me joy!"

"Oh, but it will never bring you love, my friend…" Prouvaire said.

"Nor will warm your bed!" Grantaire laughed, drinking another glass of wine.

"Will you kiss France in her lips and whispered into her ear words of passion?" Prouvaire asked. "I believe that's not possible…"

"You all let the wine get to your brains!" Enjolras disdained.

"I'm quite sober." Combeferre declared "But I have to agree with your fellows here. You should enjoy life a bit. We never know which day can be our last."

"I'm not concern about these matters! I'm trying to make a change in this country. To give people what's them for right! My little life does not count at all."

"I find that very depressing…" Grantaire nodded "Your ideals are very poetic but lacks poetry in your life… You should drink more! And find a woman and make love to her every day."

"I agree with Grantaire. Except for the drinking..." Prouvaire said.

"What's happening here?", Marius asked, bringing a bottle of wine.

"Terrific! You brought wine, Marius!" Grantaire smiled "We are having a little chat with our leader here."

"I've noticed." Marius replied "What about?"

"Love! Passion! Delight!" Prouvaire said in a poetic tone.

"Don't tell me you are in love, Enjolras!" Marius laughed.

"Of course not!" Enjolras said in anger "Can you all stop this nonsense? Is this what we'll be discussing in the next reunion? My inexistent love life!? I've already said twice I have no interest in such matters. I only care for the People' Revolution!"

"You've always been an inflexible person about all matters that don't please you, Enjolras." Marius noticed.

"Are you now attacking me?" Enjolras rose from his seat "Your Bonapartist political views have no interest to me."

"I know." Marius said "You made that clear. But Napoleon Bonaparte is the greatest leader France ever had."

"An Imperialist! That's what he was!" Enjolras grinned "We had this discussion too many times and you remain with the same naïve opinion!"

"Do you know what I think?" Grantaire interrupted "You both need a woman! Too many politics are bad for your health! I am right, doctor?"

"Balance in every aspect of life." Joly spoke "That's the key for good health."

"Cheers to that!" Grantaire raised his glass of wine and drank it.

"Stop drowning in alcohol, Grantaire." Enjolras begged. "We need our heads concentrated in the things that matter. Well, it's late. I shall go home, now."

"Hope you found love one day, Enjolras." Prouvaire wished.

"Right… Right…" Enjolras didn't pay any attention to Prouvaire' wish "See you all tomorrow at the same time. Good night everyone."

"Sleep tight!" Grantaire said "Dream with some fine breasts!"

"Oh, please!" Enjolras rolled his eyes and went downstairs.

The air was cold and the streets were empty. Enjolras felt tired and annoyed with those conversations about love and passion and all things he doesn't understand and never had the impulse to discover nor to look for. As he walked home, alone, he couldn't stop feeling revolted with such impertinence from his fellows. He does not need such things to survive! Since his childhood he never has into Art or Nature or women… And now, in his twenties, the only subjects that matter to him were Politics and Laws.

He entered his small lonely apartment, as lonely as himself. Enjolras sat on his desk and wrote some words for tomorrow's speech at the Café. He wrote words of Revolution and hope in a brighter future for all the people, to encourage his fellow comrades.

He heard some laughs and whispers coming from outside and rose from his chair, looking to the street, where he saw a couple of lovers laughing and kissing each other. The young man looked at them and felt uncomfortable for he never had such experiences. He remembered Grantaire's words.

"Do I ever have racing blood in my veins?" Enjolras asked himself.

The lovers were kissing with passion, against a wall from an old house and Enjolras couldn't stop himself from staring at them: the young man's hand was caressing the young woman's waist while his lips were kissing her neck and finding their way down to her cleavage. In her face was an expression of endless delight and passion.

Enjolras had never seen a woman's face transfigured in that way before and there he was, like a voyeur, witnessing a passionate scene between two young lovers on the street, thought the window of his apartment. And, for the very first time, his solitude pierced him like a knife. He wanted to stop himself from staring at the lovers but he couldn't.

Then, the eyes of the young woman looked above and saw Enjolras staring from the window and, with horror, she warned her young lover to stop for there was someone watching them. Enjolras stepped aside from the window, terrorized for been discovered by the young lovers. His heartbeat was racing and cold sweat falling down his forehead.

"Oh, I'm being an idiot." Enjolras murmured "I don't even know these people… I should focus myself in what matters and not on some drunk couple on the streets! I should be sleeping… It's late and my classes start early."

Enjolras started to undress himself and lay down on the bed. It was a cold night and the loneliness was heavy on his naked chest. He tried to fall asleep but images of a naked woman without a face, caressing him and kissing him, don't left his mind. He tried to focus on his studies and in all the reasons why they were planning the revolution, he thought about poverty and people dying from hunger on the streets.

But it wasn't enough… The imaginary woman in his dreams didn't stop kissing him and her hands were soft and she smell like angels, whispering lovely words into his ear, Enjolras' hands were trailing her body and grabbing her bare breasts, while feeling her heavy breath in his skin, going mad with desire for her body.

Historical Facts:

*Grisette – In Victor Hugo's France there were two kinds of women in the Bohemian lifestyle, where the revolutionaries habited: the lorettes and grisettes. The lorettes were working-class, poor, women who had occupations such as sewing. The grisettes were a sort of prostitutes, who had an exaggerated physical appearance and lack of an occupation, being supported only by their lovers. Often, these two sorts of women were quite removed from each other, except on some specific occasions, such as masked balls. Other women were housekeepers for the bohemians, or employees of the cafes that they frequented; like Louison, the dish-washer of the Cafe Musain, in Les Misérables novel, who was the only women allowed to enter, from time to time, in the back room, where the Friends of the ABC meetings occur.

Hope you enjoyed it and it will be continued.

Let me know your opinion and if I've made some grammatical mistakes, please, let me know.

Thank you for the reading.