Before you start reading, I would like to make it known that I wrote this at 3am and it seemed like a good idea at the time, for some reason that doesn't make sense to me now. Thanks for reading, or at least attempting to read, this terrible oneshot.
She's drunk. That's something she knows for certain. And the handsome man who keeps winking at her from across the room is also drunk, judging from how he stumbles as he walks, clumsily bumping into people.
They're in somebody's apartment-one of her friends, she assumes- and it's stupidly dark and cramped and she feels slightly more tired with each drink she takes from the table. She thinks that the food table was once highly organised, but it has slowly turned into chaos, and she stares at it in confusion for a while as she leans on the wall beside it.
It takes her a few moments to realise that the man is actually walking towards her, and that tells her that she is more drunk than she initially thought. She takes another swig of her bottle, but she places it down on the table beside her when she sees him nearing. The party is dark, so she can barely see him, but he looks vaguely familiar. She would probably be able to put a name to his face if she hadn't drank so much with Grantaire-she thinks it was Grantaire, she can't remember the names of all her friends right now, there's a lot of boys with similar names, okay?!- before the party, yet here she was.
"Well, hello there."
His voice is deep and his words are slurred, and she thinks his eyes are blurry and red, but she can't really make it out because she feels a bit light headed. "Bonjour." She tries to whisper it seductively, but the music kind of drowns her out, so she ends up just speaking normally. Well, as normal as one can in her condition. "Hey."
His hair is messed up and he's grinning at her, his red shirt unbuttoned at the top, a wet stain at the top from where he must have spilled his drink. It almost matches the beer stain on her black dress, except she somehow managed to get it in her hair too.
"You're looking very sexy tonight." He leans in closer to her, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath, his position slightly wobbling as he tries to stay steady.
Wow. This man was so subtle. Had he never flirted before?
"Thank you. You look very fuckable too."
He grins at her, his hands resting on her waist. "Oh, baby, I would rock your world."
She usually doesn't go home with strangers after having less than one conversation with them, but for some reason, probably the alcohol that has taken control of her brain, it seems like a great idea.
"Care to show me?" She winks at him and places her hands on his chest. He grins at her, and slightly stumbles into her as he lowers his head towards hers. She doesn't even care how disgusting their combined breath smells like, because his hands are really big and steady as he pulls her closer to him. It feels a little bit familiar, but then he pulls back and winks at her, and all sense of normality leaves her body and is replaced by the need to get this man into her bed.
He puts his arm behind her waist and they both hazily walk past people she doesn't think she has ever met before in her life. She bumps into a tall man with glasses, who just smiles and nods at her, and she thinks she probably does know him, but she's too far gone to care. A man with ginger hair taps her on the shoulder and she spins around to counter him, the alcohol in her system making her feel a bit dizzy for a second and stumble a bit.
"Ép', are you two going home already?"
Wow, had this ginger man- oh my god, she knew his name, but she just didn't know it, ugh- been watching her and the blond guy all night, just waiting for them to leave together? The ginger man- she thinks it starts with an M, but she isn't too sure- raises a confused eyebrow as she just stares at him.
For some reason, no words come to mind. She can't think of anything to say, so she just nods a little and turns around. She thinks she hears him say something along the lines of 'see you tomorrow' or 'thanks for coming', but she isn't certain.
The last thing she remembers is the door slamming as they leave the ginger man's house, the loud party music making her head hurt already, the blond guy's arm squeezing her closer as they walk down the steps.
He's hungover. That is something he knows without a doubt. The thing is, though, he doesn't know how he got so drunk. He remembers doing a shot with Courfeyrac ("one shot, and that's it, I promise!" The brunet had said) but then after that it became a bit hazy. He was a light weight, and it was very well known around his friends, so they all used it to their advantage.
He groans as he scrunches his eyes up. How could he let himself get in such a state? He really doesn't recall ever feeling this bad. He must have drank a lot more than on the rare occasions that he lets himself get drunk.
It was Marius' birthday, and the ginger man had invited all of his friends around for a party. Granted, Enjolras didn't know a lot of them, as a lot of Marius' 'friends' were actually Cosette's friends, and Enjolras never really found himself around the dance department of the university.
The pain in his head deepens as he tries to open his eyes, so he shuts them immediately. He thinks it's a Saturday, so at least he doesn't have to be awake for another two days, if he needed to. Which, as he tries to remember what happened the night before, he thinks he might need to.
And then he feels it. His hand is on something warm. Something warm, smooth, and moving. Dread pools in his stomach immediately.
Fuck.
He racks his brain. He can't have. There was no way his friends would have let him leave with a girl, they all know his relationship status, he talks about it enough. His hangover becomes a lot worse.
His nakedness is somehow making him overheat, and he feels like he desperately just wants to go back to sleep and pretend it hasn't happened. But then his girlfriend would walk in and see him in this position, and that isn't something he particularly wants to live through.
He doesn't dare open his eyes. He can't work out whether the woman being a stranger or somebody he knows would be worse. The hand resting on the girl's narrow waist tenses, along with the rest of his body.
Should he wake her? Tell her that she needs to leave so he can promptly start calling his girlfriend, asking her where she is, and apologising? But, let's be fair, she was going to kill him whether he apologised or not. There was no hope for him. In fact, his girlfriend was probably still at Marius', devastated and angry after watching him leave with another girl under his arm. He was such a fucking idiot.
The girl in front of him tenses up as well, so he assumes she is awake. He still doesn't dare open his eyes.
The girl in front of him whispers to herself. "Shit."
He keeps his eyes closed. "I know." His voice comes out a lot deeper than he is used to, and it shocks himself.
He opens his eyes when she moves a bit, and he takes his arm off of the stranger. His eyes sting when he opens them, and he has to close them for a few seconds before opening them again. When they finally focus, he sees the almost black hair of the girl. It's a lot shorter than his girlfriend's hair, all messed up and knotted, and he feels shame and panic flood through him simultaneously.
After a few moments, he speaks. And, unfortunately, so does she.
"Look, you need to leave."
"You have to go."
He frowns. "Excuse me?"
She doesn't turn over, and her voice is raspy, probably from shouting at the party. "My boyfriend is going to be back any minute now and he will kill you if he finds you here."
He shakes his head in confused shock. "Um, no. You need to leave so I can find my girlfriend and beg her to not kill me." Was this girl insane?
They're both silent for a bit, and he watches as her head moves a bit. "Enjolras?"
She remembers his name? How the fuck could she remember his name?
"Yes?" He asks cautiously.
"Oh, thank fuck." She turns over then, her voice dripping with relief. As he takes her in, he sighs as well.
It was Éponine. The relief that floods his body is unbelievably welcome, and he wraps his arm further around her, pulling her towards him and kissing her forehead. "Oh my god, Ép', that was so scary." He practically whimpers it into her hair, feeling her chuckle lightly.
"I can't even remember anything from last night, can you?" She pulls back, smiling slightly at him.
"Nope. I don't even know how we got home." He shrugs, shaking his head. "I'm just so happy it's you. I thought you were going to kill me."
"Oh my god, me too. Thank fuck we are the worst cheaters ever, right?"
He laughs. "Yeah, I think we just cheated on each other with each other."
As they laugh, they silently agree to never speak of that night to their friends.
You see what I mean?