The boy was a mystery.
Enjolras had made it his business to know the face of every citizen, every soul whom had dedicated their mind and body and spirit to the cause, but the little gamin who was busy hefting a large wooden bench onto the side of the barricade was completely foreign to him.
He supposed he should find comfort in this - that the desire for revolution had reached so many hearts that even hewould be stunned by the influx of new recruits - but beneath that was an intrigue to know this particular citizen, whose inelegant movements and rasp of a voice still merged into a delicate sort of roughness that stirred something inside of him, frustrating as much in its unfamiliarity as in how it unsettled him so.
There was not much to look at, true - it was a plain face, capped by a shock of black hair covered with a threadbare cap. The boy should have stuck out no more than any other gamin on the street. And yet, there was something intangible, faintly bobbing beneath the surface yet almost heady in its intoxication, made evident most clearly in the boldness of that stare, the proud jut of the chin.
Many had remarked upon his own countenance, in the past – its resemblance to a fair maiden's, the pale cast to his cheeks, eyes resembling a storm at sea – and he accepted all comments with equal disdain and annoyance; not because he liked nor disliked these parts of himself, but rather, because of all the components which made up a man, he found physical appearance to be as high in importance as one's favorite meal. To exalt something so frivolous as revealing the true nature of a man would be to do a disservice to the mind resting behind one's gaze, the heart beating beneath one's breast.
Still, a strange kind of heat began to rise within him, thrumming in his veins and settling low in his belly as he watched the boy, tanned face flushed darker with exertion and teeth tearing into his bottom lip as he and Bahorel hauled a large wooden beam to the heart of the barricade.
It is nothing, he told himself. You are simply overcome by finally seeing the beginnings of a new republic.
That reassurance should have been enough, given him presence of mind enough to continue overseeing construction of the barricade. Yet when the gamin turned to retrieve more materials, he found himself following.
"Boy!" he called after him.
When he turned to face Enjolras, the words carefully laid at the edge of his lips crumbled and turned to dust. That odd warmth burning inside of him was now akin to a pleasant sort of fever, and he cursed his tongue's sudden betrayal.
"I—" he swallowed, licking his lips. "My associates and I only wanted for you to know that your assistance here today has been… much appreciated."
The boy said nothing, only grinned, flashing eyes and chipped front tooth and smooth skin bronzed by more than just the Parisian sun, and Enjolras suppressed a faint shiver at the sight of his own face reflected boldly inside those dark, dark eyes.