It was a perfect summer evening. The moon was shining through the cloudless sky lighting the deserted streets below. It was the calm before the storm. Paris was silent and still. Her citizens' split between those would hide and wait and those who would stand up and fight for their rights and those who would crush them strait back into the ground. The city was holding its breath, waiting for tomorrow to come. Waiting to see what tomorrow would bring.

The barricade was the home of those who would fight. Chair after chair, table after table had been thrown out of the surrounding windows, a symbol of everyone's dedication to the fight ahead. This intimidating wall had once been their strong point, with dozens of rebels eager to climb over and face the enemy. Now it seemed pathetic as the few men left hid behind it, beaten and awaiting their deaths. The barricade was like a game that little children play, but the boys of the ABC cafe were the little children in this game, and they were losing badly.

The boys of the ABC cafe were strewn around, unsure of what to do. Some were trying to sleep, eat or plan but everyone was so shaken that all they wanted was another chance to fight. Unsuccessful and demoralising, the previous fights had left everybody physically but mostly mentally weak. They had lost too many and they knew that more would be lost. The spark that had started their revolution of fire was starting to dwindle.

Enjolras was the leader. The one who should be calm, in control and strong. He wasn't. He sat up and looked around at his friends and fellow fighters, curled up in blankets, asleep for what they knew would be the last time. Asleep, they looked younger, like innocent children pretending to be adults. He knew that in a way it was his fault that they were here. Initially, he had come up with the idea, been the most enthusiastic and persuaded them to join. When the plans became serious, all the boys had made it clear to him that they were here at their free will and that they were willing to try and equally willing to die.

He lay back down and stared at the wall, trying to get some sleep, but all he could think about was how they were failing. The plans had gone completely wrong: they hardly had any weapons left; they would be outnumbered badly and didn't know anything about the enemy's plans. All they knew was that they would attack.

Through the darkness, he heard the slurred sound of singing coming from the piano in the centre of the barricade; he immediately knew who it was. He sighed, and with a slight smile walked over to his friend. Grantaire was sat at the piano with his head slumped over the keys, an empty beer bottle in hand, snoring and occasionally singing to himself. Enjolras took the blanket that was on top of the piano and tenderly wrapped it over Grantaire's shoulders, careful not to wake him, and carefully slid the beer bottle out of his hand. As he was turning around to leave, Grantaire opened his eyes and began to sob. Not a drunken over dramatic sob but an almost silent sniffle.

His eyes were full of tears,"Its my gun, I just cant look at it".

"Why? What's wrong?" Enjolras whispered, turning back around.

"Its covered in blood. I'm a murderer. I'm just as bad as them", he whimpered into the piano keys. Enjolras knelt down next to his friend and looked him in the eye. "You are not like them. You are fighting for a good reason" he promised, "They are cowardly murderers. Now, how about you sleep and I'll clean your gun, everything will seem better tomorrow".

"Ok, it's in the cupboard in the cafe" Grantaire sighed, his voice slowing down. "Ok, good night" Enjolras replied and walked towards the ABC cafe.

The ABC cafe was an old cafe were the poor young men of the area had been meeting for years. With warm candlelight, friends, wine and music it had been a welcoming place. Now it was ghostly, without any furniture, in the darkness, stripped of furniture and dirty, it was only a sad echo of the past. The one place that had been fun and warm had been touched with the same cold magic.

Enjolras walked in through the empty doorframe and opened the wooden cupboard that they used to store wine in. However, he was surprised when he saw that instead of one gun there were twelve. He considered that he may be dreaming, but he didn't recall falling asleep. He picked up the guns and inspected them; every singe one of them was perfect and fully loaded. Speechless and confused, he picked up the newfound guns and quickly hurried out of the cafe, trying not to question where they had come from.

Eponine's hat. Eponine's bloody hat had been saved from the barricade and was drowning in its own pool of blood. He could have done more, he should have done more, he couldn't face the thought of her yet…

Stepping quietly to make sure he didn't wake anybody, he returned to his blanket more optimistic than before. Although he knew that a dozen guns would not change the outcome of tomorrow, he still felt some more hope inside him. Maybe it was fate. Maybe someone was helping them. Maybe they had just miscounted them earlier. Wherever these guns had come from, he knew that they would need more luck the next day.

Later, he lay back onto the cold bricks of the pavement and stared up at the clouds. Now that Paris had switched of all her lights, the familiar heavens looked brighter. His eyelids felt so heavy; he knew that if he was to close them for even a second, he would sleep for days. Just to put his racing mind to rest, he closed his eyes.

When he first heard the mumbling, he thought it might be Grantaire again and tried to ignore it and carry on sleeping. Eventually, when he became concerned and curious, he tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes and find out where the noise was coming from. It was still dark but as he scanned the barricade, all he saw were the sleeping silhouettes of his friends. Suddenly he saw a figure staring at him from the front of the ABC cafe. Marius was sitting up and leaning against the wall, staring directly at him. His brown eyes glazed over, never looking away from Enjolras.

Enjolras shivered. Trying to look away from the empty eyes of his friend. He couldn't. He was paralysed with fear. It took him a few seconds for him to realise that Marius was speaking. In a strange monotone voice, he clearly said "They will come tomorrow at 5 o'clock. They will have cannons so it will not be a close combat fight. They will kill you from a distance. They will have men on the surrounding roofs and streets. DO NOT stay at they barricade, they will shoot you like fish in a barrel".

Enjolras' felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He couldn't breath. Couldn't move or think or scream. His breaths came out short and fast. That voice couldn't be Marius, maybe he was sleepwalking, people sleepwalk when they were stressed didn't they? Marius, still not breaking eye contact, began to get up to walk towards him. Enjolras felt the familiar sense of fear rising up in his chest, a hot bubbling volcano of panic waiting to explode. And then, when he could think of nothing else to do, Enjolras screamed with everything he had left in him.