Note: Hi everyone! I'm just getting back into writing so I apologize if this is too short and not so great. Just something I thought of while I was listening to music. I guess you could say it was half inspired by Sleeping at Last, Ed Sheeran, and the Swell Season. Anyway, I suppose this could be considered modern au, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any constructive criticism and things of the like and thanks, in advance.
In These Arms
Enjolras' thought mornings might be his favorite. Sure, he liked the early morning light peeking through the window, the stillness of the air, and the peace of it all, but he couldn't fully decide why. He glanced at Èponine, still asleep next to him.
The sun still drifted through the window, but the way it outlined her was particularly entrancing, tracing her skin and making her glow. Then there was the way she slept, curled on her side and under the sheets that clung to the contours of her body. She slept so peacefully, a small smile playing on her lips. Perhaps that was why he liked the mornings, the way it painted her like a masterpiece.
Or better yet, maybe it was the way her hair trailed down her back and around her shoulders. A few strands fell across her face, and he wanted to brush them back, but the way that they fell had framed the curve of her jaw added to the perfection of her.
He enjoyed being able to study her. His friends had poked fun every time his stare had lingered on her for too long. Times like this, he no longer had to steal glances at her. He was free to pour over every curve, every line, and every detail. He wanted to memorize it all, to take in as much of her as he could.
He absent-mindedly began drawing shapes on her exposed arm, circling over the warm parts where the sun had kissed her skin. She began to stir under his light touch and that's when he had decided. Mornings were his favorite because she was there, and she was beautiful and wonderful and she was there with him.
Èponine lay awake that night, Enjolras already asleep next to her, as usual. It's not that she had trouble sleeping; she just loved that time of night, everything quiet and peaceful. The thing she loved most though was being able to openly stare at him. During the day she looked at him, yes, but now she could really take her time and look at him, drink in every detail.
She liked to start with his face, studying the curve of his lips to the bridge of his nose and even the slight flutter of his eyes down to his eyelashes. She enjoyed the way his hair fell across his forehead too, because it was bit messy and she liked it that way. She would then look at his whole face, delighting in the way the moonlight could actually make him look marble.
Next, she would concentrate on his neck down to his chest and his shoulders. Sometimes she would lightly trace the contour of his shoulder to his neck, and he would sigh contentedly and she would smile.
After she committed every feature to memory, she liked to curl into him. This might be her favorite thing to do, she decides, because she fits against him perfectly. She would bury her head in his chest and just lay there, listening to his deep, even breaths. While laying there, eyes closed, she ran over every detail again, and thought about the color of his eyes and the quiet voice he used when it was just the two of them. She thought about the careful ways he would touch her during the day, a light touch to the elbow or the slight brush of fingertips against hers.
Eventually, she would fall asleep, a small smile playing on her lips.