The day they met, the sky cried. The winds howled and the trees shook madly in protest. Fate, it seems, was not on their sides. Not then, not now.
The girl gently tucked a stray brown curl away from her delicate pixie face and looked at the dusty ground. Her aunt clenched her arm gently as the girl, Sophie, tried to look away from his serious gaze.
The boy, or rather Man, looked at the girl with his blue eyes penetrating her soul. His friend, a dark haired man stared at him as he stared at the girl. His fist was raised in the air as he rallied. The people needed to see that the King was wrong. It was equality or nothing.
"The people must come together! Where is the King that supposedly cares for us? The fat cats look at us like we're scum! We must come together!" The man spoke strongly, and passionately. His words were almost a love letter to France, every word caressing the earth gently. As soon as he was done speaking, the man walked toward the girl. Her long brown hair was tucked away in a soft red velvet hat. Her red dress was cinched tightly at her small waist. Her own blue eyes took in the sight of the tall blonde man walking towards her.
"Mademoiselle..." He began, kissing her hand. Sophie's aunt had long wandered off in the marketplace. The girl blushed, a faint shade of pink tinging the porcelain face.
"Monsieur. You're quite a public speaker." She mused. The man pushed a blonde curl away from his brow, his gaze piercing her.
"You are not from here, where are you from?" He asked, towering over her petite frame.
"Monsieur, I'm English. My father was French though." She replied. The man nodded. He took off the tricolor cockade from his jacket and delicately pinned it to her dress. "Mademoiselle, I'm afraid that your escort is returning, but I'd love to see you again. I'm at the Cafe Musain..."
Sophie turned around and saw her aunt approaching. She smiled coquettishly. "Monsieur, I don't even know your name. And it is most improper."
"Come to the cafe tonight, and I shall walk with you in the moonlight." He promised. Sophie's aunt smiled at the man as she approached.
"Vive le France! Thank you for listening." He covered quickly, winking at her subtly and walked away.
Sophie watched as he walked away. She was quite unsure as to how she felt. Angry, he assumed that she would be so willing to meet him that night. Flattered, that he approached her, a handsome man. Confused, why would he pick her out of a crowd? And most of all, elated, for her meeting that night.
~
"So..."
"What?" The man, Enjolras, asked looking to his friend. The man next to him nursed his second or third bottle of wine.
"That young lady...has she, piqued your interest?" His friend, Grantaire, asked with a cheeky grin. Enjolras turned his face down so Grantaire could not see his face flush with embarrassment. "Of course not. She was just a simple Englishwoman. I couldn't let her pass without making sure she had heard the words of our struggle."
"Oh, so now she's a 'simple Englishwoman', huh? How did you even find that out?" Grantaire asked. The two were seated in the cafe Musain, their other friends spread out doing various things. Enjolras believed that they truly weren't doing anything productive, but being so distracted by the girl, didn't say anything.
"She and I did talk for a few moments." Enjolras replied sourly. He tried to shake the girl off of his mind, just for a bit, so he could finish his work. He was trying to start a revolution after all.
"Yes, and I believe that you'd want to talk to her for more than a few moments. C'mon Enjolras, I saw the look. You were smitten." Grantaire stated, quite astutely.
"Grantaire, I'm busy. Can't you bother someone else with your ridiculous theories? My mistress is France." Enjolras snapped unpleasantly. He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to his papers. Grantaire nodded, irritated.
"Joly, come here for a moment." He called over to his dear hypochondriac friend. The medical student nodded and approached the two.
"Okay, a friend of ours. You don't know him. He sees a woman in the marketplace. And I saw his heart beating damn near out of his chest. He began to sweat and flush. What d'you reckon is wrong with him?" Grantaire asked, causing Enjolras to turn and pay attention to the conversation.
Joly pondered for a moment, and pondered. He meticulously wiped at his fingernails with a handkerchief as he pondered. "Well. I'd say that our anonymous friend has been bitten."
"Bitten?" Enjolras and Grantaire asked together. This was clearly not what Grantaire was hoping for.
"Yes, bitten. By the love bug. Seems like he's intoxicated by the sweet mademoiselle's presence." Joly nodded as he answered. Enjolras rolled his eyes and returned to his work. He wasn't convinced. But he was worried about how he was going to be able to sneak away long enough to meet this mysterious woman. What would they talk about, he wondered. How would he even know if she would come?
"So. If you're not intrigued by the lady then..." Grantaire trailed off, sipping his bottle of wine.
"I'm not!" Enjolras snapped angrily.
"Where's your cockade?" Grantaire asked smugly. Enjolras stood up in anger, his chair scraping violently against the floor. The sound was so jarring, it shook everyone else in the room into silence. Even the mischievous, scheming Thenardiers were quiet. Enjolras threw his jacket on and stormed out of the cafe.
"Damn R...what'd you do to him?" A fellow friend, Courfeyrac, questioned him. Grantaire shrugged boredly. "I just simply asked him to tell the truth."