Le plus grand faible des hommes, c'est l'amour qu'ils ont de la vie.
Man's greatest weakness is the love of his life.
Molière.
We begin in Paris in 1832 where just as a young man and a young woman were falling in love at first sight another pair were doing the exact opposite…
"If I have to tell you one time I have to tell you a hundred, women have no place putting themselves at risk!" He said sternly walking at his quickest pace in the hope that she would run out of breath so he could leave her behind but no such luck, she was much faster than him as she always had been.
"And my good sir, may I remind you in the current situation you need every person you can get no matter what their gender?" Not only was she faster than him but she was always a match for him in an argument too, he hated that, he was hardly ever argued with, not even by the brassiest of the students.
"The answer is the same as it was yesterday and it will be tomorrow, you are not joining and that is final." He told her, the look in his eyes passionate and his stance angry, he nodded goodbye to her and disappeared off into the early afternoon as she stood in the middle of the market, frustrated with him as ever.
He was the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC (The Friends of the ABC) known as Enjolras among all of his comrades and the young Thenardier boy, Gavroche who followed them; Enjolras was somewhat of an idol to Gavroche which Enjolras himself never minded because the boy's parents were thieves, the worst type of criminals you could imagine, if anything he was glad he wasn't getting into trouble because over time Enjolras had come to find Gavroche valuable to the Friends of the ABC and even started to care for him as if he were his own younger brother. Enjolras' most distinctive trait was his determination, in all of his 20 years if he said he was going to make something happen it was happening no matter what, some would call it being stubborn but he preferred determined and passionate. While a lot of the young women in Paris found him attractive, he had no interest, fighting for his country was more important to him than anything and he was never letting anything, least of all romantic entanglements get in the way. The young women would swoon over his deep blue eyes and his blonde curls that barely left his shoulder and his strong arms that often carried muskets or other weapons whereas he would pass by without a clue and his mind firmly set on the greater good of his country and his people.
Though there was one girl in his life and he had no attraction to her whatsoever, in fact, she irked him whenever they met, he could never comprehend why someone could be so persistent. Like Gavroche, she followed the Friends of the ABC around; always demanding Enjolras let her join with him declining every time becoming more and more aggressive with his reply and he wasn't a naturally angry man, unless it was a revolutionary matter of course but she really brought it out of him, she was the only person in the world that could.
She was Victoire Bellrose, an 18 year old orphan who had lost her parents when she was younger and was fighting to stay alive, not that anyone knew, no one knew her at all really. No one knew about her parents, no one knew that she slept in alleyways, no one knew she had to steal food to eat, all anyone knew was she wanted to join the students and thought a girl joining the group of boys was absurd although she thought otherwise. Victoire never understood why girls weren't treated the same as boys were, why when her country and its people were at risk she had to resist fighting it, if she was going to die she wasn't go to do it alone and without honour and being a Friend of the ABC was the only way she could see fit to do that, to make her parents proud. She had inherited her father's green eyes and her mother's straight raven hair and strong will, she never took no for an answer and didn't plan to no matter who the no came from.
That night at the ABC café as Enjolras was rallying all of his fellow students to find out the latest happenings, his good friend, Marius Pontmercy came in noticeably later than everyone else, Combeferre, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and even Grantaire were present, Marius was never late, something had to be going on. "Marius, you're late." Enjolras glared at him slightly, still welcoming him to the table as always.
Enjolras noticed Marius had a completely vacant look on his face, despite the fact he was there he could tell Marius might not exactly want to be and Joly had noticed too "Marius, what's wrong today, you look as if you've seen a ghost." He laughed, patting Marius' back.
"Some wine and say what's going on." Grantaire chimed in, brandishing his ever present bottle of wine.
"A ghost you say, a ghost maybe, she was just like a ghost to me. One minute there then she was gone." Marius explained, swooning slightly all the while. Enjolras sighed internally, it had happened, his friend's poetic, romantic side had taken over and the poor boy was infatuated by a woman, it couldn't have happened at a worse time. Enjolras swore to himself from then that he would never fall in love, seeing his friend in such a state made the idea nearly disgusting to him, love is a fool's game, he thought.