Montfermeil is a very small and peaceful suburb located only half an hour away from the center of Paris. It is a very forested zone and a beautiful place were the Enjolras family had one of their many properties: a not so humble villa with all the imaginable commodities and more. Anyhow, regardless of how fantastic the place was, it was abandoned almost all year round. The family, composed of only three members, would only use it on very especial occasions.
Madame Enjolras was almost always unavailable. The grueling life of a socialite was certainly time consuming. Monsieur Enjolras, a very rich but simple man, preferred to please his wife, staying with her and accompanying her to every event. Regardless of the hysterical ways that drove him and his son mad, Monsieur Enjolras father could only see the good in her. The son, who everyone simply called Enjolras, cherished the peace of Montfermeil with a burning passion. He loved the silence, the absence of social events, the serenity with which he could seat down to read or think, the way he could clearly look at the stars at night, the freedom to horse ride alone. He adored Paris but hated the phoniness and agitation around him.
That's why, for his fifteenth birthday, he asked his parents to let him go with his best friends, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Marius, to his personal heaven. The mother stayed behind, preferring to go to Milan Fashion Week instead. His father, for the first time disappointed with his wife, acceded to his son's request. Soon, the man drove the four kids in his Ferrari through miles and miles of forest, passing through the streets of village were people stared in awe.
On June fifth, Enjolras' birthday, his father appeared with a new horse for him, an splendid creature of black and terse skin brought directly from the Arabian Peninsula. The boy was not exactly the materialistic type, but he was certainly excited to have a new companion for his rides, which he would use to escape from his mother and her comments, his father and his eternal patience with her and a loneliness buried in his heart. As he peacefully covered the vast extension of his property and its immediate surroundings, he would reflect upon many different things, like the hurting fact that the servants were secretly afraid of him or the way he felt that he, along with his friends and everyone around him, was awkwardly changing.
In the evening, after they had all eaten enough cake, played with almost every video game they had brought and talked about their different questions and dilemmas, Enjolras challenged his friends to a horse race. Everyone agreed, but shivered when their friend asked for his saddle to be put on his new stallion.
"Son, this horse is not completely tamed," Émile, the old man that worked on the stables, alerted him, "the next time you come, I'll have it ready for you."
"Monsieur Émile, just today! It's my birthday!" The boy pleaded but the man refused, bringing up the topic of security.
"What would Monsieur Enjolras do to me if his only and beloved son fell from this wild beast and killed himself? Siberia wouldn't be far enough to hide my sorry self!" The man commented with humor as he helped the boy to his french horse, who got older and slower with every passing season.
"Horses are not toys," Monsieur Émile reminded his young boss. Enjolras sighed loudly as to prove he had renounced to his purposes. Anyhow, he waited until the stableman's scrawny figure disappeared on the back of the stable. The boy, who was too headstrong, jumped from his horse and took the saddle away from it, putting it on the new Arab equine, which neighed in response.
"Enjolras you should listen to Monsieur Émile," Combeferre advised.
"It might be dangerous," Courfeyrac reasoned.
"You don't know how it might react. What if you fall?," Marius added.
The blond boy didn't reply and finished adjusting the saddle, taking the reins of his new magnificent animal.
"On your marks," he said.
Marius swallowed hard.
"Get set," he continued.
Combeferre sent him a reproving glance.
"GO!" he shouted as he pulled the reins.
The horse galloped quickly out of the stables, taking Enjolras almost by surprise. His three friends followed behind, calling him out, warning him in fear. They were soon left behind as the animal jumped the low fence that separated the property and the forest, taking the young horseman into the unknown. Enjolras didn't know how to stop him, trying every trick he knew. He cursed under his breath for his stupidity and hoped that the animal got tired soon.
When the colt finally picked up a slower pace, Enjolras didn't know how to go back to the villa. He was lost and alone. Although he wouldn't admit it later, he was starting to feel scared. He realized how little he knew about his surroundings. All of this made him feel foolish. And oh! How did he hate to feel foolish.
Suddenly, he heard a voice in the distance, a song, a very beautiful song that he had never heard but called his attention immediately.
At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
He followed the voice, finally taking the lead of the horse. He saw two girls leaning against the trunk of a big a fir. One of them, the youngest one, was a mess of tangled auburn ringlets who pressed her face on the oldest girl's shoulder. The oldest girl, a charming brunette of bright brown eyes and freckles, happened to be the owner of the voice. She stopped singing as soon as she felt someones presence, revealed by certain horse's constant bellows.
Enjolras tried to be polite and smile at her. However, his good intentions were interrupted when his horse reared violently several times. The brunette and her redhead companion stared wide eyed as Enjolras took a tight grip on the reins, trying to calm the beast and not to fall.
The animal continued kicking and rearing until Enjolras was sent flying from his seat. He fell on his back, managing to put a hand on the back of his neck. He could barely opened his eyes to see the blurry figure of his wild black horse disappearing in the distance.
"Stupid horse," he thought, closing his eyes again. He didn't want to move, sensing that he had broken at least a couple of bones. The penetrating smell of blood made him expect the worst. As Monsieur Émile's words rushed back to his mind, his pride prohibited him from facing the consequences of his stubbornness.
He heard two people whispering and felt the warmness of another body very near him. His eyes fluttered open, this time facing the worried expression of the brunette whose voice had captivated him. As soon as she realized he had reacted, she looked away, addressing someone out of Enjolras' line of vision.
"Azelma, stay with him while I go for help," she commanded in a quivering voice. She was about to stand up when he, in a painful reflex action, grabbed her wrist.
"S...ing. Sing to me," he managed to whisper, feeling ridiculous a few seconds later. The girl thought for a second.
"Azelma, you go and find help," she told, once again, to the figure he couldn't see. Anyhow, he imagined the small auburn haired gal that accompanied the singer.
"Éponine! It will take me forever to go to the inn," she whined.
Éponine seemed to be thinking hard again. "Do you remember that pretty house I showed you last week? The villa with horses and a swimming pool?"
The other girl, Azelma, nodded, a response that Enjolras couldn't see.
"Can you get there?"
Azelma nodded once again, making a mental map of the way to the breath taking house.
"Go there and ask for help. Tell them what you saw and they'll come with you," she instructed.
Enjolras heard some quick steps moving away.
"DON'T TAKE LONG!" Éponine shouted.
"I WON'T. I PROMISE!" The girl's shrieking voice was almost inaudible.
Soon they were alone. Éponine's every instinct told her to move away from him, to wait until Azelma came with help. Anyhow, her heart prohibited from doing so, making her worry with the helplessness of his demeanor.
"Are you alright?" she asked, thinking it was the stupidest question she could've asked at the moment.
"Sure...falling of a horse is just a particular hobby," he joked, making her giggle.
She sat down by his side and took off the light blue cardigan she was wearing, breaking a piece of the sleeve to clean the blood from his face. The boy smiled at her and she beamed right back, revealing an adorable dimple on either side of her wide smile. She sighed in relief upon realizing that the bleeding came from a very small opening in his forehead.
"It'll heal fast," she reassured him while tying the rest of her carding around his head.
"I'm glad," he said. "My name is Enjolras, by the way."
She snorted loudly. "Your name is Enjolras?"
The boy rolled his eyes. "That's my last name and nickname because I hate my given name."
"I'm not judging," she answered amusedly, "I'm Éponine."
"Éponine," he tried, instantly liking the sound of it.
"How old are you?" she asked him.
"Turned 15 today," he answered, "What about you?"
"I'm 14."
That's how it started. Enjolras described his friends to her. He told her about the ways in which they would sabotage the classes of the most tyrant teachers, recalling anecdotes and memories from great laughs, protests and, most of all, late afternoon punishments. He told her about life in Paris, trying to recall every little detail for her to draw a mental map of it.
"Walking through Trocadéro at night...is like arriving to the doors of heaven," he said, making her smile widely once again.
"If I go to Paris...will you show this to me?" she asked candidly. It was his turn to smile.
"I promise I will."
Éponine described her life at her parents' inn with a metaphor he wouldn't forget.
"In music, a bagatelle is a short, agile composition. It has no mayor pretenses, intricate trimmings or fixings. But it is still beautiful to play and to listen. My life at the is a daily bagatelle. Sure, I would like to have the newest computer or a better phone. I would love to travel, to visit places in which I could have better music lessons. But that doesn't mean my life is completely miserable," she said.
As the sun started to hide, Éponine laid by his side on the grass. "Azelma is taking long...are you sure you're okay? I can go and try to hurry them..."
"It's better if you stay with me," he said while blushing.
Encouraged by Enjolras, she told him about her family. She described her father, who was a disorganized but loving man, although she was very brief in flattering him. She extended on talking about her mother, an upper class like him and an opera singer who had given everything up for love. He realized how much she loved her by the way she talked, the amount of adjectives she used, the way she added that she owed her biggest passion to her. She then told him about her sister, Azelma, and her newborn brother, Gabriel, who everyone called Gavroche.
Enjolras opened his heart to her, elaborating on the lonely life of a single child. He told her about his father, who he admired and criticized in unequal proportions. Then, he replayed for her the frustrating situation with his mother, who he described as a hysteric and a reincarnation of Marie Antoinette.
"Don't you think she has a good heart?" Éponine asked.
"I'm sure she does...buried miles deep under a pile of clothing from Milan Fashion Week," he answered. They both laughed loudly.
Enjolras almost forgot about the reason that had him there, thrown on the grass like a rag doll. He was instantly reminded of it when he tried to move closer to Éponine and winced with the pain. She grabbed his hand and they intertwined their fingers.
"I hope it's nothing too bad," she said sincerely.
To try to focus her attention on something else, Enjolras talked about his dreams and passions. He told her he wanted to help people, to be the voice for those who didn't have a voice. He expected a witty comment in response, but Éponine simply complemented the beauty of his project and also shared her dream with him.
"I want to be a singer but not one without a purpose. I want my voice to convey what people feel about life, about love, about... I don't know yet. Maman understand me and tells me to dream. Papa laughs."
"Who cares if he laughs? My mother also laughs at my dreams. She says that I'm a hippie, which wouldn't bother me if her connotation of hippie didn't mean weed smoker of unacceptable behavior."
He could almost hear her giggles on his head, which both pleased him and confused him.
"Hey Éponine," he said after a small comfortable silence.
"Yes?"
"You haven't sing for me," he almost reproached.
"What do you want me to sing?"
"I don't know, you're the singer".
I found a dream that I can speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill I've never known
Éponine's voice engulfed him. He closed his eyes and let himself go, imagining situations and scenarios. Éponine felt she now had a very special reason to sing that song, a jazz that referenced a new found love. She blushed while singing, especially when Enjolras started caressing her hand with his thumb.
"ÉPONINE!" a little voice said from a distance, making both Enjolras and Éponine open their eyes immediately. Éponine sat up, her hand still intertwined with Enjolras'.
"Azelma, you're finally back! Why did it take you so long?" Éponine asked.
"I got lost," she said sheepishly. Éponine sighed.
"But then I found the house and the servants sent me from one place to the other until we found a very elegant monsieur, who was like crazy. He started calling everywhere, fighting over the phone. There were also three boys who wanted to know what happened to you. I had to repeat the story many times and then the monsieur told me to wait for him because some medics were coming from Paris or something. We waited and now they're coming, they were just behind -" her story was interrupted by Enjolras father, who almost faints when he saw him lying on the floor.
"Son...Oh God! What happened to you? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, dad," Enjolras said, sighing.
"Don't believe him, sir, he winced while trying to move," Éponine said with a scolding gaze towards the blond boy.
"I fell from the horse," he tried to explain but was also interrupted by some paramedics who started checking up on him. Éponine was pushed away and was hugging her sister while watching from afar. Enjolras was looking directly at her with a very hurt expression. He missed holding her hand.
The paramedics, having taken away the tattered and bloodied cardigan and putting an orthopedic neck on him, placed him on top of an orange emergency stretcher they had brought and prepared to take him away. He demanded them to stop in desperation. He called Éponine, who kneeled by his side.
"Come closer, I'll tell you something," he whispered.
"I won't forget this evening," he said, making her blush. The girl kissed his cheek in response.
"I hope you get better soon".
As they took him away, Enjolras could see how his father thanked her and she smiled at him, that big smile he had enjoyed all afternoon. Then, she turned to look at him. Éponine realized in awe that, even with an orthopedic neck, a bandage on his head and his curls all crushed by dry blood, Enjolras was still the most handsome boy she had ever seen. She bit her lip and decided to say goodbye in her particular way.
My heart was wrapped up in clovers the night I looked at you.
Hello :) First of all, happy new year to everyone 3
I hope you like this new idea. It's going to have 10 chapters in total and it'll be full of surprises :) By the way, the song is called At Last by Etta James.
Thanks for reading.
Feel free to leave a review.
Love always,
Seahorse VS.