"I Love You"
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Les Misérables.I just love them. They all belong solely to Victor Hugo, the most wonderful author to ever exist.
Author's Note: I picture my Enjolras like Michael Maguire, as you will see in future chapters. This is my first fic; please don't kill me.
Eponine entered Le Café Musain quietly, so as not to be noticed by the sea of young men, the loud purr of their mixed voices rising and falling as randomly as the crashing of waves on the ocean. None of them mattered to her--none of them except Marius.
And there he was at a table in the corner, his lovely dark hair rippling, a thick, shiny lock cascading over one of his warm navy eyes. His flawless white teeth showed ever so slightly when he parted his rosy lips to speak to Grantaire, who was drinking himself into a stupor.
Eponine ducked behind a small cluster of boys and sat herself down at a deserted table adjacent to the one at which her love sat. From there, she could watch his every movement, each one making him more and more endearing.
With seemingly every sentence, Marius convulsively moved his hands in some sort of excited gesture, as though words alone could not express his passion for whatever he spoke of. Eponine couldn't help but smile inwardly.
Unnoticed for a good ten minutes more, her heart fluttered when Marius caught her eye at last. He rose from his chair elegantly, giving a polite nod to Grantaire, though as the poor drunkard was nearly asleep, he took no notice of the courteous gesture. Eponine knew her face must have been crimson, for she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks with each step Marius took toward her. The smile upon his delicate lips could have given radiant luminosity to even the darkest, coldest winter night.
"Eponine," he breathed. "I'm so glad you're here!"
His words struck her with sudden bliss. This beautiful boy, this god, took pleasure in her presence.
"Hello, M'sieur Marius," she stammered feebly, unable to find her proper voice. All reason seemed to disappear from her mind when she spoke to him.
"I've been meaning to ask you-" he did not finish. His euphoria apparently overwhelmed him. Could it be? Could he finally return her undying affection?
"Yes?" she prodded. An inevitable smile curled upon her lips.
"Have you.have you yet received a reply from Cosette?"
Just as quickly as the ecstasy had entered Eponine's soul, it vanished again. Her face fell as the stab of grief pierced her heart. Oh, how happy he was! Of course he did not come to see her; he only cared for Cosette. Cosette, with her magnificent features, her sparkling personality. Cosette, who possessed a beauty with which Eponine could not compete. Cosette, Cosette, Cosette. How could she not envy Marius' beloved Cosette?
Eponine, with her worn, tattered clothes and rough hands could never compare with the loveliness of that girl. But unbeknownst to her was her own splendor. Though she was wretched with poverty and her eyes always hid beneath a shroud of sadness, she held a kind of exquisiteness, which could only be attained through misery. Her hair was tousled, but underneath her hat it was shiny and healthy nonetheless; her hands were scarred and torn from the weather and wear of the streets, but they were just as gentle and tender as any other woman's; her eyes were weary from constant lack of sleep, but somewhere inside a light shone, brilliant and hopeful.
Alas, in her own mind, she was only a dejected street girl.
Remembering with regret the note Cosette had given her, Eponine reached into her pocket. Just the day before, she had tucked her hair into her hat and gone to the Rue Plumet disguised as a messenger boy to retrieve that accursed letter. With a sigh, she reluctantly handed it to the gorgeous young man, wishing with all her heart that she could tear the evil paper to shreds.
"Oh thank you, 'Ponine," beamed Marius, hurriedly snatching it into his own hands and reading it. A long pause followed, in which Eponine wished to disappear off the face of the earth and Marius wished more than ever to be with his dearest Cosette as he read her neat handwriting. Upon finishing, the boy tucked the letter safely into the pocket of his overcoat while Eponine stared into the distance.
Finally, the silence became unbearable. Feeling an urge to flee, Marius guiltily rummaged through his pockets for some change. At last, he pulled out three sous and thrust them at Eponine.
"Here," he pressed. "Thank you so much, 'Ponine. I-I don't know what I'd do without you as my dearest friend."
Friend. Nothing more.
"No, Marius," replied Eponine softly, gently pushing his hand away. "I cannot accept payment. Seeing your smile is the only compensation I need."
"'Ponine," Marius sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're a dream come true. I-I-Thank you!"
And with that, he hurried off to wake Grantaire, as the daylight had faded away and it was at last time to return home.
Eponine sighed and sat back down at her table, where she stayed until all the boys were gone except Enjolras, the political leader of Les Amis de l'ABC.
It was then that Eponine drew a brilliant, beautiful idea from the sudden lucidity in her lonely mind. At last, she found one advantage against Cosette: the meetings at Le Café Musain. Cosette never attended these gatherings, a fact which gave Eponine the upper hand. If she joined Les Amis de l'ABC, she would have nearly every night with her dear Marius. With any luck, she might win his heart in their time alone. What a heavenly boon! Her previously forsaken grin returned to her lips.
"Monsieur Enjolras," she called to the young man, who still sat at a table, working feverishly on a battle plan. He lifted his head with difficulty, seemingly lost in his labor.
"Yes, Mademoiselle?" his voice was hoarse with fatigue and tight with reluctance to abandon his work, but he was still quite charming.
"I would like to join your cause."
It was then that Eponine's smile was returned.
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Les Misérables.I just love them. They all belong solely to Victor Hugo, the most wonderful author to ever exist.
Author's Note: I picture my Enjolras like Michael Maguire, as you will see in future chapters. This is my first fic; please don't kill me.
Eponine entered Le Café Musain quietly, so as not to be noticed by the sea of young men, the loud purr of their mixed voices rising and falling as randomly as the crashing of waves on the ocean. None of them mattered to her--none of them except Marius.
And there he was at a table in the corner, his lovely dark hair rippling, a thick, shiny lock cascading over one of his warm navy eyes. His flawless white teeth showed ever so slightly when he parted his rosy lips to speak to Grantaire, who was drinking himself into a stupor.
Eponine ducked behind a small cluster of boys and sat herself down at a deserted table adjacent to the one at which her love sat. From there, she could watch his every movement, each one making him more and more endearing.
With seemingly every sentence, Marius convulsively moved his hands in some sort of excited gesture, as though words alone could not express his passion for whatever he spoke of. Eponine couldn't help but smile inwardly.
Unnoticed for a good ten minutes more, her heart fluttered when Marius caught her eye at last. He rose from his chair elegantly, giving a polite nod to Grantaire, though as the poor drunkard was nearly asleep, he took no notice of the courteous gesture. Eponine knew her face must have been crimson, for she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks with each step Marius took toward her. The smile upon his delicate lips could have given radiant luminosity to even the darkest, coldest winter night.
"Eponine," he breathed. "I'm so glad you're here!"
His words struck her with sudden bliss. This beautiful boy, this god, took pleasure in her presence.
"Hello, M'sieur Marius," she stammered feebly, unable to find her proper voice. All reason seemed to disappear from her mind when she spoke to him.
"I've been meaning to ask you-" he did not finish. His euphoria apparently overwhelmed him. Could it be? Could he finally return her undying affection?
"Yes?" she prodded. An inevitable smile curled upon her lips.
"Have you.have you yet received a reply from Cosette?"
Just as quickly as the ecstasy had entered Eponine's soul, it vanished again. Her face fell as the stab of grief pierced her heart. Oh, how happy he was! Of course he did not come to see her; he only cared for Cosette. Cosette, with her magnificent features, her sparkling personality. Cosette, who possessed a beauty with which Eponine could not compete. Cosette, Cosette, Cosette. How could she not envy Marius' beloved Cosette?
Eponine, with her worn, tattered clothes and rough hands could never compare with the loveliness of that girl. But unbeknownst to her was her own splendor. Though she was wretched with poverty and her eyes always hid beneath a shroud of sadness, she held a kind of exquisiteness, which could only be attained through misery. Her hair was tousled, but underneath her hat it was shiny and healthy nonetheless; her hands were scarred and torn from the weather and wear of the streets, but they were just as gentle and tender as any other woman's; her eyes were weary from constant lack of sleep, but somewhere inside a light shone, brilliant and hopeful.
Alas, in her own mind, she was only a dejected street girl.
Remembering with regret the note Cosette had given her, Eponine reached into her pocket. Just the day before, she had tucked her hair into her hat and gone to the Rue Plumet disguised as a messenger boy to retrieve that accursed letter. With a sigh, she reluctantly handed it to the gorgeous young man, wishing with all her heart that she could tear the evil paper to shreds.
"Oh thank you, 'Ponine," beamed Marius, hurriedly snatching it into his own hands and reading it. A long pause followed, in which Eponine wished to disappear off the face of the earth and Marius wished more than ever to be with his dearest Cosette as he read her neat handwriting. Upon finishing, the boy tucked the letter safely into the pocket of his overcoat while Eponine stared into the distance.
Finally, the silence became unbearable. Feeling an urge to flee, Marius guiltily rummaged through his pockets for some change. At last, he pulled out three sous and thrust them at Eponine.
"Here," he pressed. "Thank you so much, 'Ponine. I-I don't know what I'd do without you as my dearest friend."
Friend. Nothing more.
"No, Marius," replied Eponine softly, gently pushing his hand away. "I cannot accept payment. Seeing your smile is the only compensation I need."
"'Ponine," Marius sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're a dream come true. I-I-Thank you!"
And with that, he hurried off to wake Grantaire, as the daylight had faded away and it was at last time to return home.
Eponine sighed and sat back down at her table, where she stayed until all the boys were gone except Enjolras, the political leader of Les Amis de l'ABC.
It was then that Eponine drew a brilliant, beautiful idea from the sudden lucidity in her lonely mind. At last, she found one advantage against Cosette: the meetings at Le Café Musain. Cosette never attended these gatherings, a fact which gave Eponine the upper hand. If she joined Les Amis de l'ABC, she would have nearly every night with her dear Marius. With any luck, she might win his heart in their time alone. What a heavenly boon! Her previously forsaken grin returned to her lips.
"Monsieur Enjolras," she called to the young man, who still sat at a table, working feverishly on a battle plan. He lifted his head with difficulty, seemingly lost in his labor.
"Yes, Mademoiselle?" his voice was hoarse with fatigue and tight with reluctance to abandon his work, but he was still quite charming.
"I would like to join your cause."
It was then that Eponine's smile was returned.