Éponine Thénardier would not have expected to find herself in this situation. While she had dearly hoped and wished for it, to expect it was something else entirely. And so, to see Enjolras, a man she had not seen in years, coming to her in the safety and security of her own bedroom, she was at a loss for words. Enjolras, though, had expected this moment—not in this exact scenario, however, but expected it nonetheless—because he would never allow himself to make such a drastic mistake, not again.
The curtains at her window billowed lightly with the wind like that of the ghost of her past that had just entered her room. What was he doing here, this man that she had thought hidden somewhere at the edge of the earth. What business did he have here, now, to return at the most inopportune of moments, when she's to wed another in a few short days. And what, now, after all this time, did he think of her?
Enjolras, as he stood before her, found himself adjusting to the new extravagance Éponine had slowly grown accustomed to. Dressed in a flowered gown of light hues of green and blue, she had come far from the permanent red velvet dress he had always seen and envisioned her in. But now, did she feel disgust for him, as unkempt as he was, dressed in his poorman's rags, having invaded the sanctuary of her bedroom fit for royalty. Was there no elation at the sight of him, as he felt for her? It was a relief and a joy to see her clean and porcelain face healthy, no longer sickly and starved from famine to distort her lovely features. And perhaps, it was his very presence that sparked the ire he saw in her expression, that he had interrupted the calm of her new life. He was a complication for her. He knew it. But he could not make himself a shadow, left to disappear in the light. He was flesh before her, and he would never move again.
"I should have known you would come." Éponine's voice was flat, almost emotionless, but there was a quiver that she could not shake. "I should have sensed it. Somehow, you found your way back."
"Éppie—" Enjolras took a step forward.
"How dare you." Her voice had grown softer as she struggled to contain herself, like a whisper. "How dare you invade my life now."
Enjolras swallowed, his tongue suddenly dry, his mind unable to think of words he yearned to share with her, envisioning it a thousand times over during their time apart, and he now he found himself at a complete loss for words. He did not lose sight of her eyes, the burning emotion in those lovely, dark orbs and he wondered what she thought too, in this moment as she stared at him. Did she miss him?
Éponine pressed her lips together into a line, reserving herself, hardening herself against the memories that threatened to breech. Hate him, do it. He abandoned you, deserted you. Despise him as you well and should. He looked so different now, the once marble man brought low by rejection and despair. How is it, to truly be of the wretched and down trodden? There should be a bit of satisfaction in this, to see the bourgeois that fled from her now standing in the shoes—or lack thereof—that she wore years ago. But her heart ached at the sight of him. What more had he been through in his exile?
"I had no choice." Enjolras said, finding himself, "As soon as I heard your engagement, I knew I could not wait any longer. I've risked everything to come here."
He paused, glancing at the floor and then back at her. "You remember that night. You haven't forgotten."
Éponine turned, folding her arms across her chest, glimpsing at the mirror across the room. Her reflection started back, somber and heavy, and the loveliness of the dress she wore made her feel ill.
"I haven't," she said softly.
She turned to him, her heart heavy as the memories she could not contain flooded her consciousness. The hate she hoped to arouse was nothing more than mourning.
Slowly, softly, as if testing his words as he watched her expression, he spoke. "Once there was a night beneath a moonless sky. Too dark to see a thing. Too dark to even try."
Her mouth opened, her eyes fixiated on the blue of his, her heart humming to life. "I stole to your side, afraid that you would go. I couldn't see your face, but sensed you even so."
She had found him in a hovel, tucked away in the very outskirts of Paris, as the National Guard searched and searched for the revolutionary that had caused so much death and destruction. The barricade had fallen hours ago, and she recognized the blessing that it was to have found him before he fled for good.
He was shaken. In the dark, his breathing was erratic, as she knew he would be and could only imagine how he was feeling, the loss of his dear friends and a city that had failed him. But what more could she do, than be there to comfort him before he left the city that destroyed any chance for hope and change.
"Enjolras?" She whispered into the black, feeling his presence and desperate to see his face.
He lit a candle, sparking the orange glow into life, and he breathed in a shuddered breath as he gazed upon her face. A beautiful gamine basked in candlelight, and they sat together in the middle of the barren room, the lonely candle between them.
No words were exchanged, and Enjolras was grateful for the silence, his hands and memory bloodied with a weight that made bile churn in his stomach. He'd rather not think of it, not now, not while she was here. She'd relieve him of his demons even if it was her presence alone. It would be enough. He'd be contented with that.
She gazed at him through the light of the candle, spying the dark splotches of blood that soaked his hair and garments. Her heart pounding, despair and affection burning her bosom, what more could she do than reach out and with a trembling hand, stroke his cheek.
And I touched you
He closed his eyes, his skin burning beneath her hand that somehow calmed the rapid thumping of his heart. He leaned into her gentle hand, sighing as he did.
And I felt you
They spoke no words, and Enjolras took his chance, taking her by the hand and standing to his feet. Éponine stood with him, and he pulled her to him, pressing her body against his and placing her hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath her hand and she wondered if he was afraid as she was. This was, perhaps the last they would see of each other, and the thought left her terrified. But upon staring up at him, as he brushed her ebony locks back, tucking them behind her ears, seeing the blue of his eyes, terror melted to something else, and she shuddered.
And I heard those ravishing refrains
The music of your pulse
The singing in your veins
She pressed herself into him, feeling as his arms wrapped around her. She could smell the blood, the sweat, and all that was his scent. Éponine breathed in deeply, intoxicated as she clawed at the fabric at his back. Enjolras, in turn, held her as if to crush her, as if such an embrace would make one body, one being. He buried his face into the black of her hair, feeling it between his fingers as he wrapped himself in her warmth, in the light of all that was Éponine.
And I held you
And I touched you
No words, no kisses were exchanged as they held each other, feeling every inch of their clothed bodies and taking time they knew they did not have. But they refused to rush, not in this moment, when all they had left was each other.
And embraced you
And I felt you
Much swifter than their embrace, they tore off articles of clothing, and finally, standing bare before each other, Enjolras took her in his arms, roaming over her skin with his hands. From her hand, his fingers ghosted over her skin, up her arm and to her shoulder, admiring the dips and swells of her bone and muscle, wrapping his hand about the base of her neck. His touch was gentle, kind, more so than anyone had ever granted to her person, and she relished his touch as he moved to grace down her collarbone, her chest, her breasts. He moved down, his fingers feeling the dips and ridges of her ribs, but she stopped him, taking his hand and placing it on her breast, cupping it. She looked at him and him at her as she held his hand at her breast. She then moved, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. He leaned down, and she thought he meant to kiss her but instead rested his forehead against hers, sighing.
And with every breath and every sigh
I felt no longer scared
I felt no longer shy
Éponine kissed him first, pressing her dry, chapped lips to his, tasting soot and blood. He hesitated at first, sudden fear clasping at his heart. He buried it though unable to forget it and returned her kiss with a fevered passion.
At last our feelings bared beneath a moonless sky
There was no bed in that decrepit room, so they made due with the clothes they had worn as she laid out her crimson dress, and he his red coat. Éponine, with her hand in his, pulled him down to lay with her on their clothes that protected them from the cold, hard wood. Raking her fingers through his hair, she kissed him again. He pulled away from her mouth to stare into the darkness of her eyes. He smiled at her despite his fear he fought so hard to bury. Stroking her cheek, he wondered if she felt as she did.
And blind in the dark as soul gazed into soul, I looked into your heart and saw you pure and whole
Cloaked under the night with nothing to suppress. A woman and a man, no more and yet no less
Éponine smiled back at him, a smile that reached her eyes, and for a moment, she felt whole and clean and pure, and all the feelings that love insights. And she thought then, that she could die like this.
Enjolras kissed her, and she thought she heard him speak as he pulled away, a low, soft whisper of words meant for only her. His mouth opened, his breathing on her lips, words in her ears. But in her ecstasy, she did not hear him. Oh, what was it he had said? What, oh, what? But his eyes were laden with a lust and a passion, and something she hadn't seen before, and she could not speak. He kissed her again, and she stroked his cheek before cupping his face and pulling him closer, deeper.
And I kissed you
And caressed you
In her arms, there was no more revolution. In her arms, he was no longer a fugitive. In her arms, there was a future, a hope, a desire. Burn the rest, and let him live in this moment with her forever.
And the world around us fell away
We said things in the dark we never dared to say
"Touch me," she rasped. "Ravish me."
Enjolras smiled, leaning in, his breath ghosting across her lips. "You've ruined me, Éppie."
She smiled at the affection of his words, of the adoration behind them.
His hands roamed, and her hands roamed, listening to each others' gasps and moans that they created together, of their own violation. Each heart swelled with each loving touch, the dampness of each other's skin, the musk of arousal.
And I caught you
And I kissed you
And I took you
And I bed you
He could not contain himself, and neither could she. As they were made one, he lifted her up, taking her into his lap. He held her close as their movements increased and heat intensified. She dug her nails into his back, leaving deep, angry lines that made him moan. She bit into his shoulder, shuddering, moaning, whimpering, and he laced his fingers through her hair, crushing her to him, her taste on his tongue, her name on his lips.
With a need too urgent to deny
Éponine was overcome and overwhelmed, a warmness at her deepest core that turned sparks into an unending flame. She clasped to him, his name like a prayer, and she knew that she would never give him up, would never let him go, not as long as she lived. This was no longer an unrequited love that made her half in love with death. No, this was something more, something she could not describe. Was it love? She hoped it was. And she hoped he felt it too.
And nothing mattered then, except for you and I
Again and then again beneath a moonless sky
When it was through, the candle extinguished and dawn had yet to creep, Enjolras despised the thought of leaving the warmth of Éponine's side. Curled on her side, Enjolras admired the curve of her spine, the deep black of her mangled hair, the gentle sound of her soft breathing. He wanted to touch her, one last time, but he feared waking her. Quietly, he rose to his feet and slipped into spare clothing he had stashed away. He watched her for as long as he could, taking in the form of his lover that he knew he may never see again. And in the darkness of the morning's night, he left.
When Éponine awoke to the dawn of the sun, she found herself cold and very much alone. Her heart shattered at this realization, and she curled into herself, hugging her knees.
"Enjolras," she whispered, her voice dripping with grief.
And then she spied an envelope addressed to her. Her heart swelling with hope, she took it. Perhaps it would tell her where he was headed. Anticipation fled with each word she read, and despair rendered her motionless. The morning birds sang songs outside the window of the room, and their cheerful tone mocked her. The promise of morning was a bitter, biting betrayal.
"'Éponine,'" she read aloud, holding the letter she had kept from so many years ago. She had had it hidden in a box within her trunk, buried beneath her summer silks, beneath his bloody coat and the rest of the garments Enjolras had left behind that night. "'By the time you read this, I will be gone. I cannot stay. And as much as I wish to take you with me, I cannot allow such selfish joy. Revolution was my choice, my duty, and I will not allow my actions to ruin your life. You don't deserve it, and I am unworthy of you. I know I cannot make amends for deserting you. I know I have hurt you with my actions, and I sincerely apologize. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
In the corner of the room, beneath the floor boards, I have hidden for you the last of my family's riches. It is yours. Take it. Purchase for yourself the security I would have happily assured you under different circumstances.
You will wake soon, and I'm afraid I cannot stay much longer. If I do, I'll never leave. Let me tell you this though, before I part from you. I cannot take back all that was said and done last night. Nor do I ever wish to. Please, dear Éppie, know that my heart is yours, my darling, and it always will be. Enjolras.'"
Éponine turned to him as she bit out the last few words of his letter, swallowing hard as anger wracked through her. Enjolras's eyes did not waver from hers, but there was a gloss over the blue. She wondered if tears would stain his cheeks. Perhaps then she would feel better.
"You leave me this," she hissed, "and your fortune and you except me to forgive you and take you back! I contemplated burning it all. I should have! But I needed the money. I would have starved without it."
"I know." Enjolras whispered.
"You don't." She spat, and it was her tears that breached first.
Enjolras watched as her fingers curled around the letter, crumpling it as her knuckles turned white, the sound echoing through him and leaving him hollow. He could feel himself breaking as he stared at the devastation in her face, the wrath, the sadness, the loss, all mixing with her tears. He wanted to destroy the space between them, to take her in his arms again as he had done those years ago. But she would never allow his touch.
"Éponine," he took a step forward, and she followed her arms over her chest. "You knew I could not stay. You knew why I couldn't take you with me."
"To protect me when I did not need it!" She gritted her teeth, and placed her hand over her mouth as she turned away from him.
His bones froze and his face whitened. "Éponine—"
She then looked back at him and dropped the letter. She rushed towards him, and Enjolras expected her to slap him. Instead, she grabbed him fiercely by the collar with both hands. Tears streaked her cheeks.
"I loved you, yes I loved you! I'd have followed anywhere you led. I woke to swear my love and found you gone instead!" Her face twisted with sorrow, her jaw tightening and a hard line forming at her brow. She shuddered as she breathed, struggling to keep herself from weeping entirely.
Enjolras took both of her hands, clutching them, his brows knitting together in overwhelming passion. "I loved you! And I left you. And I had to, both of us knew why."
Éponine shut her eyes and nodded. "We both knew why."
He took her face in his hands, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. She was warm against him, a welcome relief that did not stifle the underlying longing. She too felt it, and wondered how she had lasted so long without it.
"And yet I won't regret from now until I die, a night I can't forget beneath a moonless sky."
Enjolras stared down at her, his heart full of hope, but that familiar fear slithered through his mind. Here, he had her in his arms, but she could extinguish the flame of his dream with her decision to marry that unknown fiancé. But she mustn't, she wouldn't. Her true love was Enjolras, wasn't it?
"And now?" He asked, and his eyes pleaded "come away with me."
She stepped out his arms, her eyes shimmering again. Enjolras' heart leaped to his throat, pounding furiously, and he could not swallow it.
Éponine's lips curled into a small smile all the while she looked at him with anguish.
"Can we even talk of now?"
The stillness in the room loomed over them, their heartbeats echoing off the walls and never reaching one enough. Two hearts that may never meet again. And yet, perhaps…