Author's Note: This one-shot is my first attempt at a Les Miserables story. I wrote this months ago on my I-Pad and I decided to publish it. I ship Enjolras/Eponine, so just about every Les Mis that I write will have Enjolnine in it. I hope you enjoy! And please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything!
Shells of Life: But No More
The red-coated revolutionary jumped out of the window, dragging his only surviving friend behind him. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he jolted his semi-intoxicated friend with a kick and the two of them fled into the sewer tunnel – their only escape.
Whilst trying to find their way out, they encountered a man scouring the sewers for items that even they could not imagine. As soon as the red clothed man looked into his eyes, he knew who he was. His daughter had the same brown eyes, only while his were full of darkness, her's were full of hope…and love. The drunkard that accompanied the once man of stone had spotted a ring on the man's filthy fingers. The broken revolutionaries knew whose it was and knew that it was a sign of life. The intoxicated rebel ripped the ring off of the man's hand and the pair quickly made their way through the sewers and then disappeared into the shadows of the streets. Yet, they had nowhere to go, no one to turn to but each other.
The pair moved through the alleyways of Paris, determined to find refuge. They only time they stopped was to tend to their injuries in a quiet area down by the Seine, after that it was straight to their chosen destination; the convent. Upon arrival, the two war-torn men were welcomed graciously by the Priest and promised care, safety, and God's love. 'If God loves us, then why did he take away our friends, why did he take her away?' the blond haired revolutionary thought as he and his friend were led to a small room to recuperate. However, the pair could not rest. As they looked into each other's eyes, they saw the same thing: emptiness. They were no longer whole, just shells of the men they once were.
The intoxicated man was called Grantaire, or just R for short. He was the comedic one. He was also nihilistic, the cynic of the group of friends. They only one of them who knew this was a bad idea from the first time the man across from him opened his mouth. And they only reason he stayed in the group was because of that man. Alcohol, what was once considered to be his salvation, his reason for existing, was now depressing to him. It reminded him of all of times he had spent with his friends, and thus he vowed to never taste it again.
The man in red, the once fearless leader was now a shadow of what he used to be. Enjolras, as he was called, still had no clue why he ran and why he dragged the only surviving member of the Les Amis Del' ABC with him. Life clearly had nothing left for him. He should have died facing his foes and joined his friends as well as the peasant girl that he realized he loved more than his Patria. He also questioned the ring that now sat between he and the man, who was once a burden now also broken. The ring bore the Pontmercy Crest, it was only possession of and link Marius had to his father. Marius was wounded in the battle last night, Enjolras saw it himself. 'Did his friend run like a coward or did someone, such as their new recruit, save his life?' He thought, now toying with the ring. Nevertheless, he had to return it. Not now though, he was still too broken to do anything. The Marble Man had cracked, now in many pieces, he was just a shell of his former self, lost in a world of no hope and…no love.