A/N- Hello wonderful people! So this kinda popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone and then this happened, so we'll see how it goes. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic (it could be a two-shot, could be longer I'm not sure yet) so constructive critism would be greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer- I don't own them, they belong to the wonderful Victor Hugo. If I did the Barricade Boys would've survived the Revolution
TRIGGER WARNING- THIS STORY DOES DEAL WITH SUICIDE SO IF THAT TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LOOK AWAY
Julien Enjolras had had enough.
He'd had enough of the insults, of the abuse, of constantly being told that everything that had happened was because of him.
He was done with it all.
Enjolras walked quickly down the long dirt road, his chest heaving and his hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop his father's words from repeating over and over again in his head. Haunting him. Stalking him. Eating away at his thoughts until the only thing he could hear were his father's malicious, hate-filled words that cut him like a knife.
He passed few people. Those he did pass paid him no mind, either not noticing the young man frantically trying to escape from his home, or simply choosing to ignore him. Most everyone knew about the Enjolras family. They knew about it. They knew about his M. Enjolras's temper. And they also knew not to get involved in the family's personal business if they valued their reputation and standing in the community. So, when they saw the young Enjolras rushing down the street, obviously distraught and obviously hurt, judging by the bruise blossoming on his jaw, they knew not to get involved. Most of them did anyway.
One person took notice of Enjolras. A young man, around seventeen-years-old, not much older than Enjolras himself. He was new to the area, and had not yet heard of the dangers associated with getting involved in the Enjolras family's business. Even if he had had known it would not have made a difference. The man had a kind heart, and always went out of his way to help others in distress, even if they were complete strangers.
So when he saw the bruised, distressed young man hurrying away, he didn't even need to think before he made to follow him. Before he could get very farm though, he felt a hand reach out and grab his upper arm, forcing him to stop. He turned around and was met with the face of an old woman, with white hair and nice clothes. "You don't want to get involved in that one, young man," she said.
The man squinted his eyes, perplexedly. He didn't understand why no one would help the boy. Isn't that what you're supposed to do for people? Help? "And why is that, madame?"
"That's the Enjolras boy," she said, as if it was glaringly obvious. "You don't want to get involved in their business if you know what's good for you."
This did little to weaken the man's resolve. He didn't see how a boy such as that could cause him any trouble, especially in the state he was in. "Thank you for your concern, madame," he said, placing his hand on the fragile one still resting on his arm, "but I think I will be fine." He held her hand between his own, bowed his head in thanks, and, again, began walking in the direction of the boy.
Enjolras did not know for how long he had been walking, only that he needed to get as far away from that house as possible. He couldn't deal with it anymore. He was never going back.
When he knew he was alone he started running, faster than he thought himself capable, and he kept running until his lungs began screaming for air. Only then did he stop, his legs giving out and collapsing to the ground.
Enjolras buried his face in his hands, pulling at the golden curls that fell in his face, and screamed. He took all of the frustration, and the pain, and the anger and the sadness that he had been hiding for so long behind his marble mask, and he let it out in the form of a long, drawn out scream. He screamed until he ran out of breath, and then he sat there, feeling empty, and allowing one, single tear to fall down his marble cheek.
After sitting there for what felt, to him, like an eternity, he climbed, unsteadily, to his feet. He took a long, shaky breath, and began surveying his surroundings.
He didn't know where he was. The dirt road he had been following had narrowed out, and was now only wide enough to allow two people to walk side-by-side. He was surrounded by trees, and there was not another human being in sight. The sound of running water could be heard up ahead, and he followed it, hoping to get a bearing on where he was.
After a minute, Enjolras emerged from the trees and found himself standing on a tall, metal bridge. He walked to the middle and peered over the edge. He watched the water rush downstream, as it knocked and lapped against the sharp-looking rocks poking out of the water. The drop was long, about fifty feet, definitely enough to kill somebody, and, for the first time in his life, he thought about jumping.
He thought about all that he went through on a daily basis- all the grief, all the mental and physical abuse, and about how no one had ever tried to help him. In all the years that this had been going on, not once had anybody stepped in and tried to get him out, not once had anybody cared. So what reason did he really have for sticking around?
He thought about his mother, then. How disappointed she would be, were she still around, for even considering this. Though, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to talk himself out of it. So, slowly, Enjolras climbed over the railing. He stood, perched precariously on the ledge, looking down at the rushing river below.
Enjolras took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly. He leaned forward, and slowly began to loosen his grip on the railing. A moment later, he was hanging on, only by the grasp of his left hand, the only thing keeping him from falling to his death. Enjolras took one final, shaky breath, and began loosening his grip.
But, just as he was about to let go, he felt a hand cover his own, locking it to the railing, and a desperate cry of "no!" come from behind him. Surprised, Enjolras turned quickly to see who it was that had snuck up on him, but he lost his footing and, to the horror of the stranger, fell from the top of the bridge.