the three things he would never forget
I. he would never forget the first time he saw her
"It has to be tomorrow."
"Why can't it wait a week? We've got finals coming up, Feuilly has his expo…" Combeferre started listing off the reasons to postpone the sit in, but Enjolras held up a hand.
"Tomorrow." At that point, the Amis knew that Enjolras was firm, and resolute in his decision. There was no changing his mind once he had set it on something.
"Anyway," Enjolras said, clearing his throat. "Back to what we were saying. We're going to have to print things out, and make sure everything gets – "
"You know what? No." Combeferre's voice cut off the leader, and for a moment, no one moved. Enjolras slowly turned his head to his friend – his best friend – a confused, but neutral expression on his face.
"No?"
"No." Combeferre repeated. "I'm sorry, but I have exams I need to pass to get into medical school, and the rally could get in the way of that. I can't do it tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is really no good for me, either." Courfeyrac said slowly, his fingers twisting around his coffee mug. "The class I'm the TA for is winding down, and the students want to do a study session before the final."
Enjolras listened as his friends dropped out of the rally, one by one. After only a couple minutes, he was the only one left set to participate.
"Sorry, again." Combeferre said sincerely. He was the only one brave enough to approach Enjolras; the rest of the amis had already begun to leave. "Nothing personal, but we should have voted on a date or something."
He clapped Enjolras on the shoulder, before turning to leave.
That night, Enjolras had an urge he never thought he would experience: he needed to get roaring drunk. Preferably for days. Maybe weeks.
He sat at the local bar, vodka in hand, for hours. He continuously requested refills, even though the ghastly liquid burned his throat with each sip. He contemplated everything: was he not a good leader? Was he a bad friend? Was his tendency for control driving a wedge in the society that he had founded?
"It's last call." The bartender's voice rang through Enjolras's head, and he looked up, eyes watering. His head felt heavy, his lips were fuzzy, and he had a strong suspicion that his dinner was due to make a reappearance.
"Last…call?"
"Yeah. Last call. Want anything else? We're closing in twenty."
Enjolras blinked, his eyes dropping to his half empty glass. How many had he consumed? Five? Six? He had lost count.
"How…many did…I have?"
"Uh…maybe five?" the bartender said, shrugging as she wiped at a spill on the bar. Enjolras laughed as though this was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
"This is the first time I've been drunk!" He announced proudly, a sloppy grin adorning his face. The bartender suppressed a smile, her eyebrows rising in mock surprise.
"Really! I had no idea!"
"Crazy, right? And all my by myself." Enjolras added as an afterthought, his smile dropping into a deep frown.
"Why's that?" The bartender asked, her curiosity only slightly piqued. Surely, a man as handsome as he would have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or whatever.
"Well…" Enjolras dragged the word out, before huffing a large breath. "I'm a bad friend."
"I'm sure you're not," The bartender said automatically; she did not need a mental breakdown in the middle of the bar.
"I am though!" Enjolras said earnestly, his hand digging into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "I even wrote a list of all the reasons I'm a bad friend. Number one, I yell at Grantaire too much, number two, I do things without asking others first, number three, I – "
"Those are all fixable." The bartender interrupted, waving a hand toward Enjolras. "Don't yell at your friends, consult them, and it sounds like you'll be just fine."
Enjolras looked at her as though she had solved all the problems in the universe.
"Wow." He said, his body slumping in his seat. "That's…brilliant."
The bartender laughed in amusement. For the next few minutes, she continued to clean the bar, as Enjolras sat in contemplation. When she was done, she turned back to Enjolras.
"Do you have a way home?"
"I live around the corner, I'll walk." He said distractedly. "Wait."
"Yes?" She had turned around to turn off the beer taps. At his word, she twisted back to face him.
"I know you don't know me, or anything. But what if…what if it's too late?" Enjolras asked nervously, his teeth gnashing his lower lip. He had never felt this way; aside from being heavily intoxicated, he felt vulnerable, and weak. As if he couldn't solve his own problems.
"Too late for…"
"To fix things with my friends…what if I end up with no friends?"
"I doubt that will happen." The bartender said, a small smile adorning her lips. The sheer fact that he was so worried about his friends confirmed that they would continue to be his friends for a long time.
"I don't know." Enjolras said dejectedly.
"Well, listen. If they won't forgive you, I'll be your friend, deal?"
Enjolras looked up at the girl to consider. "Okay." He said simply.
"Okay." She said in response, before turning back around.
"I should probably know your name." Enjolras said smartly. "If we're going to be friends."
"You first."
"Enjolras, at your service."
"Is that your last name?"
"Might be."
"Do you have a first name?"
"I hate it."
"Fair enough."
"What about you?"
"I don't hate my first name."
"Okay," Enjolras said, a hint of a smile on his features. "So what is it?"
The bartender turned around. "Éponine." She said. "My name is Éponine."
II. he would never forget how he loved her
"Hi, if you could answer your phone sometime, that would be great."
"HELLO? It's me, you know, your only friend Éponine? Just kidding, but remember that night? Hilarious. Anyway, give me a call."
"What are you DOING, anyway? Jesus CHRIST Enjolras."
"Alright! I can't hold it in anymore! I got in!"
Enjolras grinned as he listened to Éponine's last voicemail on his phone. Her excitement was infectious, especially to Enjolras, who had developed a certain…interest in her (an interest that he was trying to hide from all parties, Éponine especially). Though she sounded impatient, in truth, she had left the four messages all within ten minutes of each other, but with such exciting news, he understood her impatience.
She had gotten into college.
Since they had become friends (after that fateful night at the bar, Enjolras's friends had forgiven him, but he was still interested in befriending the bartender that had listened to him the one and only night he had gotten drunk), Enjolras had been gently pushing Éponine toward higher education. One night – while intoxicated – she had admitted her big secret to him: she had not finished high school. She had dropped out to work, and had never been able to go back. Since she turned 18, she had been working at the bar.
Enjolras had been floored, but with a lot of research, he had found the solution: the high school equivalency test, and then maybe, just maybe, college. Éponine argued she didn't have the money for college, but agreed to get her GED.
She passed with flying colors, and Enjolras couldn't have been more proud. It was around that time he started to look into college programs that offered full scholarships. He didn't have to look for long: there was a program at a local school that with an essay, exceptional GPA and outstanding interview, an applicant could receive a full ride, including room and board.
He tried to drop hints about college, even though he knew Éponine was happy with her high school degree. Enjolras knew that Éponine – one of the smartest people he knew – would excel in college, if only she could believe in herself. Aside from the money (which he had gotten around), she had no reason not to go.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and one night during her shift at the bar (he sat with her, only ever drinking water) he came out with it. "I found a college program."
"Oh yeah?" Éponine asked nonchalantly, one hand stirring a glass while the other picked up fruit to add to a drink. "You're almost done with college."
"Yes." Enjolras said slowly. "But you're not."
"Astute assessment, tell me, how much did you pay to go to college to come up with that?" Éponine laughed, as she slid the drink toward a girl on the bar. "On the tab?" She questioned, and the girl nodded.
"If you did this program, you wouldn't have to pay anything." Enjolras said quickly, and he saw an almost imperceptible pause of her hand as she entered the drink into the computer.
"What do you mean?" She was trying to keep her tone neutral, but Enjolras had known her long enough at that point to pick up on her slight excitement.
"A scholarship program. You write an essay, submit your GED scores, and then go on an interview, and they consider you for a full ride."
"And what if I don't get it?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Enjolras…" Éponine trailed off, and cast a look around the bar before turning to face him. "Listen. I'm really happy with my GED, and I know that's hard for you to understand…"
"Éponine, I think you're one of the smartest people I know. You're…you could do anything you wanted. This program…it's for social work, and I think you'd be great at it."
"Why, because I was poor and my parents were shitheads?" Éponine challenged, to which Enjolras shook his head vigorously.
"No, that's not what I mean. You'd be great at it because you're strong. Not everyone can deal with that kind of work, Éponine, and you're one of those people who not only could deal with it, but would be amazing at it."
Éponine was quiet for a moment, before heaving a sigh. "Enjolras…what if I don't get the scholarship? I don't want to get excited about this and then have it not work out and be disappointed." She turned away from him, her teeth gnashing on her bottom lip as she considered.
"You're never going to know if you don't try." Enjolras said logically, before picking up his glass of water and taking a sip. "You're going to do great things, Éponine, no matter what you decide. I just think that with this opportunity, you could do even greater things." Enjolras flushed at his own words, and wondered how obvious his growing affection for Éponine actually was.
She turned back, a small smile on her face. "I'll think about it."
A month later, she left the four voicemails on his phone to tell him that she had gotten the scholarship. She was bound for college a few months later, with four years of classes, internships and case studies ahead of her, before she was a certified social worker. She would select her concentration later on, but both she and Enjolras knew what it would be: children.
Enjolras played her last message again, grinning as he heard her excitement. He quickly dialed her back, and on the second ring, she picked up.
"Took you long enough!" She said cheerfully. He smiled to himself.
"I was in class."
"What a bore. Guess what?"
"What?"
"Soon, I'll be in class sometimes too. What do you think about THAT?"
Enjolras laughed loudly, and rolled his eyes at her. "I think that's great."
"Dinner at that little Italian place around the corner from the bar?"
"Meet you there."
Twenty minutes later, Enjolras was enveloping an excited Éponine in a hug. "I won't say I told you so." He mumbled against her hair. She leaned away from him, and lightly smacked him on the arm.
"Don't be a jerk." She chastised, before her expression became serious. "In all fairness, though, it is because of you that I got this."
"No, Éponine!" Enjolras said firmly, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "This is entirely on you. I may have found the information and encouraged you to apply, but you got it all on your own. I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks," Éponine said, the grin popping back onto her face. "I appreciate it."
"Only for you." Enjolras said, his face reddening slightly.
"Just for me, huh?" Éponine teased, before poking him in the stomach. "Just for your bestest friend in the entire world?"
"No," Enjolras said, heart racing. It was now or never, really. Well…hopefully. Hopefully she would still want to be his friend after this. "Uhm. What I mean is…" He trailed off, the blush on his face and neck deepening. Éponine's smile was dropping off her face, and in its wake appeared an expression of utter confusion.
"Éponine, I know I'm usually pretty good with words, but…uh…shit." This was certainly not going to plan. Not that he had planned it. But her excitement…how proud he was of her, and how beautiful she looked, and how wonderful a person she was…it had caught him in a whirlwind, and now the affections that he had tried to bury were finally coming out.
"God, Enjolras, spit it out." Éponine said, a laugh escaping her mouth. When Enjolras did not laugh, her expression turned serious again. "God, are you in love with me?"
Enjolras's eyes widened. He gulped, and tried to ignore the beads of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. "I might be."
"Well, that's a relief." Éponine said, her shoulders sagging. "Because I am most definitely in love with you."
"I'm sorry I…wait, what?" Enjolras asked in confusion. "You…love me?"
"Well, yeah." Éponine said nonchalantly. "I thought it was fairly obvious."
"But…"
"But what, Enj? You come and sit with me every night for my shift at the bar, you're invested in my future, we talk on the phone every day…I think about you all the time, and every time something exciting happens to me, I want to tell you first, and I know you do the same with me. I sort of…assumed…that this was an inevitability."
Enjolras stared blankly at her before bursting into laughter, the sound echoing through the street. Éponine look at him, unsure if the laughter was a good sign or not.
"What on earth is so funny?"
"I was wrong." Enjolras said, his laughs dying down to a smile on his face. "I don't maybe love you. I absolutely love you."
And finally, after months of trying to deny feelings for the bartender, his best friend, Enjolras leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
III. he would never forget the moment it fell apart
When the phone rang on a normal Tuesday afternoon, Enjolras thought nothing of it. He glanced at the caller ID, noting that it was Combeferre, before picking it up cheerfully. "Hello!"
He had been with Éponine for two years to the day, and what a two years it had been. She was halfway through her sophomore year, and things could not have been better. She was enjoying her coursework, and excelling in every class. Enjolras had graduated, and was working at a law firm close to the university.
They had plans that night to go out to dinner, at least, Enjolras had plans. Fancy dinners out weren't really their thing; they preferred small Italian restaurants and cafes over big, expensive restaurants. Their two years anniversary, however, was different. Enjolras had pulled out all the stops; they would dine at one of the finest French restaurants in town, before taking a boat ride down the river. It was all a surprise of course.
He had a gift for her as well. It was a ring, and, though not an engagement ring, it was close. Enjolras knew (and had known) that when Éponine was done with school, and settled in a career, that they would marry. They had talked about it, and even discussed children and places to find their forever home.
The whole concept made Enjolras a bit dizzy, but he had changed a lot in the past couple years. He was no longer the man who made plans without the consult of his friends; no longer the leader that forgot who he was leading. He had become a better friend, a better confidant, and a better person, and it was all because of Éponine.
"Enjolras?" Combeferre's usual sunny demeanor was muted. His voice sounded strained, and far away.
"What's wrong?"
"Have you…have you turned on the news lately?"
Enjolras shook his head distractedly, his hands reaching blindly into his desk drawer for the remote to the small television he kept in the corner. He flipped it on, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.
Instantly, he knew what was wrong. There had been a shooting at a local University, and when Enjolras got up to read the fine print on the headline, he was filled with fear.
"Éponine's university." He breathed, and Combeferre said something, but Enjolras was already hanging up and grabbing his jacket. He dashed out of the office, running down the street as fast as he could. He continuously tried to call Éponine's phone, to no avail; her voicemail kept picking up.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
Enjolras kept running. When he could see the school, his pace slowed. There were four helicopters, and an uncountable number of police cars. Barricades were set up in the street; no one could get in, or out of the University. As he got closer, he heard bits of conversation.
"Random, not sure who it was – "
"Heard it was more than one – "
"…started maybe in the library, they're not sure."
"I heard fourteen dead, and over a hundred injured."
Enjolras's blood ran cold. There were thousands of students at the University, so what were the chances that one of the dead was Éponine? Low, he would think. He pulled out his phone again, dialing Éponine's number.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
With a frustrated grunt, Enjolras hung up the call.
"…bringing in an ambulance to take a couple of the bodies to the coroner. Detectives already have their photos."
Enjolras followed the voice to an officer, who was standing near the barricade.
"Excuse me?" He questioned, and the man turned to him. "My girlfriend goes here, and I haven't been able to get her on her cellphone…what would I do to find her?"
"They've got identification on all the bodies, so they'll be looking at their records shortly to alert the next of kin." He said this gruffly, and with little emotion.
"Thank you." Enjolras said, his shaking fingers dialing Éponine's number again.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
"Fuck." Enjolras swore, before calling Combeferre back.
"Have you found her?"
"She won't answer her damn phone, 'Ferre, I…"
"Don't panic." Combeferre commanded. "I'm on my way right now, okay?"
Combeferre hung up, leaving Enjolras alone again. He dialed Éponine's number again.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
The ten minutes it took Combeferre to reach the University were agony for Enjolras. When he finally arrived, Enjolras pulled him into a rough hug; he hadn't realized how much he needed someone at that moment.
"I'm sure everything is okay. Knowing Éponine, she probably let her phone die."
Enjolras nodded distractedly. "Does everyone else know?"
"I called everyone." Combeferre confirmed. "I figured we should keep your phone line open for when Éponine called, so if anyone needs anything, they should call me."
"Thank you." Enjolras said, his fingers dialing Éponine again.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
"Gotta tell her to change that voicemail." Enjolras said distractedly. Combeferre opened his mouth to reply, but the wail of a siren cut him off.
"Move, move, everyone move." Several police officers commanded, and Enjolras and Combeferre retreated to a sidewalk, in order to allow another ambulance into the University area.
"Have they caught – " Combeferre started, but was cut off by a ringing. Enjolras looked down to his hand, where his phone was buzzing, and the standard iPhone ringtone was sounding from.
"Is it?" Combeferre asked, his eyes moving from the phone to Enjolras in rapid succession.
Enjolras flipped it over, hoping to see Éponine's name on the ID. When he only saw a Paris area code number, he felt his stomach drop to the ground, his world shatter, and his heart implode.
"What's…" Combeferre asked. Enjolras was white, shaking, and very nearly ready to fall to the ground.
"I'm her next of kin."
That night, Enjolras had an urge that he didn't think he'd experience for a second time: he needed to get roaring drunk. Preferably for the rest of his life.
He stumbled blindly into the bar, the one Éponine had worked at until she started school, the one they had met in, and the one where he had spent most of his nights falling in love with her.
Vodka in hand, he stared blankly at the television screen above the bar, which laid out the University shooting in neat detail. Names and pictures flashed across the screen: in all, seventeen were dead, and more than 150 wounded, but as selfish as it was, Enjolras didn't care about them. He only cared about one.
He knew it wasn't his fault, but he felt responsible. If he had never walked into the bar, the same one he was currently sitting in, this never would have happened. Éponine never would have gotten her GED, let alone gone on to college. She never would have been in the classroom that an armed man had walked into, and fired upon.
Enjolras pulled out his phone, and dialed.
"Hi, you've reached Éponine, sorry I'm not here right now, but leave me a message, and…well, I'll return it when I feel like it."
That night, as Enjolras got drunk for the second – and probably not the last – time, he felt his life falling apart. Only this time, there was no bartender to save him.
wowww I'm sorry. Sometimes I like to write really sad things. Thanks for reading! xoxo Brittany