An Enjolras/Eponine one-shot. Modern (sort of maybe?) AU.

Disclaimer: In an alternate universe, maybe. But in this one, I am not Victor Hugo.


je a non fois pour amoureux

"Enjolras!" a voice calls out from near the almost-empty shelves. Books are sprawled all over the floor, but everyone goes on as if nothing happened. They didn't care, anyways, since no one bothered to ever go to that section. Words of mythology and history are opened free on the tongues of their pages. The voice calls out again.

"Enjolras!"

He doesn't answer.

"Antoine!"

The blond 22-year old male flinches at the sound of his first name. He rips his gaze off his school textbook and exhales deeply. The dark circles around his eyes and the lines marked on his face hid his youth due to stress. Even his once-passionate eyes became duller. He stands up, almost stumbling, and then gathers himself as he walked over to the source of the voice.

"For God's sake, Grantaire, what is it?" he spat.

His friend only laughed, his dark curls bouncing. "You, my friend, must learn to lighten up someday! We are still young, we should enjoy life!" He laughed once more, then slowly stands up and brushing the collected dust off of his clothes. "Give me a hand?" he asks, placing a World Book Encyclopedia on a shelf. Antoine takes a few and does the same.

"Grantaire. What happened this time?"

"Oh, nothing, just some experiments," he responds with a light tone. He looks up to the ceiling.

"The truth, mon vieux," he commanded.

Grantaire springs his hands up behind his ears in defense. "Okay, okay, fine. So there was this girl-"

"On second thought, I don't want to hear it."

"But, mon vieux—," he begins, spitting the French out.

"The story is already predictable from this point," Enjolras interrupts, remembering the many failed romances of Grantaire. He picks up a book and carefully places it on a shelf. A stifled laugh is heard from a table not too far from the shelves.

"You two need help?" The source of the voice is a woman's, likely Enjolras's age or perhaps a year younger. Her brunette, wavy hair rests on her tanned shoulders. She looks at them with her warm brown eyes, waiting for a response.

Grantaire is the first to speak, noticing his friend's eyes on the girl. "Ah, yes. Assistance is always welcomed." One of Enjolras's eyebrows raise, and he looks back to Grantaire and then to the girl.

"Oh, I realize I haven't introduced you yet."

"...Is that the girl you were talking about?" he whispers.

"No, but if you only paid attention..."

"What's done is done."

The two look back at her, and Enjolras offers a handshake. "My name is Enjol-"

"Antoine," Grantaire interrupts, wearing a stupid grin on his face. "Antoine" only rolls his eyes.

"Eponine," the brunette says, her mouth also curved into a smile. She takes his hand, but he only winces and pulls back. "Well then. We have quite some work to do, don't we?"

"Yes," Enjolras almost coughs out. He returns to the books faster than the other two. Thoughts pile into his mind which he cannot answer. 'Who was that girl?' 'Probably another silly one like all those other ladies you've met who only speak of gossip and boys,' he tried arguing to himself. But somehow, she seemed different. It bothered him, and so he pushed his thoughts away. He would not be distracted as Marius is. He would not fill his mind with pointless romantic poetry scribbled onto wrinkled paper like Prouvaire. After all, why would someone like her be above the rest? He loves equality, had he forgotten? And most of all, the marble leader simply had no time for things of that sort.

But his bright red cheeks begged to differ with the thoughts he argued with.