I haven't even finished "An Ode to Chances" and I'm already starting this. But in my defense, this is a three shot - so it isn't like I'm going to go ahead and attempt to recreate the brick's length with this story. Besides, this plot has not left my mind ever since I thought of it, so what's the point of ignoring the call, right?
The characters I've thought of for this story are all the same actors from the Les Miserables 2012, movie. So, Aaron is Enjolras, Sam as Eponine, Amanda as Cosette (I'm going for a blonde Cosette here...), Fra Fee as Courfeyrac, George as Grantaire, Eddie as Marius, Killian as Combeferre, Hugh as Joly etc...
LEAVE ME SOME LOVE IN THE FORM OF REVIEWS, OKAY?!
Anyway, let's roll into Chapter 1.
Chapter 1:
Where Serious Dog Owners Snaps Photos of Those Responsible
New York was a place for opportunity, for living a life amongst towering buildings, for finding love, for being happy, for - for...for...?
Eponine couldn't for the life of her, find another reason that really fit her situation in the foreign city. Maybe foreign was not the right word, for she has been living in the state for a good five years now, but it wasn't like she was living and lapping in a life of luxury or anything, it was really far from that. Eponine Thernadier, standing at a good five foot seven on a good day and five foot five on a bad one, attends college. Why is this such an important fact, you ask? Well, because Thernadier's don't really go to college. As a daughter of parents with less-than-stellar criminal backgrounds, it was difficult enough to carry on living with a sixteen year old and a twelve year old in tow, but Eponine, pride and stubbornness radiating from every dark curl that escaped from her unruly hair, managed to do just that.
Azelma, her sixteen year old little sister, was a quiet force of her own. Although she did not inherit the fierceness that Eponine's personality seemed to contain a good eighty percent of, she had her very own strengths. She was small, unlike her Amazonian-like sister, and instead of dark curls, she inherited rod-straight hair, with the color of wheat drenched in the midst of sunset. She is a proud and very loving second mother to Cillian, Cosette's loveable Border Collie. Gavroche, her little brother, loved Cillian all the same, for amongst the apartment they all were squeezed into, he is the only other boy that Gavroche could really hang out with past eight pm.
Eponine lived not with only Azelma and Gavroche, her little brother, but also with the fiery red head, Musichetta and her brave-at-heart, best friend, Cosette. These three girls have not been separated since their flight mishaps when they had all flown to New York a few years ago. (The three of their flights were confused with ones that were leading to Paris, and the three girls had luckily spent an entire week in the country, all expenses paid, till they were all flown back to New York.) All three were clashing personalities, yet they had bonded well over their accidental vacation in Paris and had caught on very well from then on.
The three girls, the prowess and wild-lionesses of New York, Eponine, Cosette and Musichetta are all part of the thriving youth that engulfs the city. Eponine is on a scholarship in NYU, where she studies literature with a minor in politics (In truth, she has been trying to find the chance to drop this particular minor, for her reasons of being there in the first place wasn't relevant any longer.) Musichetta, a junior, also studies in NYU. Unlike Eponine's interest in the field of English, Musichetta was there for a music scholarship, only. However, Cosette wasn't originally a student in NYU, but in her junior year, Eponine had finally convinced her to leave the private, all-girls institution and transferred into the more diverse, and largely NYU. To Eponine, this brought on a double-edged conclusion of her sophomore life in the university.
Eponine was minoring in politics for a reason. Not because she was a terribly passionate democrat, or an activist, or because she intended to be a governor in the near future. No, her reason came in the package of a six foot one man with endearing freckles marred on his handsome face.
Marius Pontmercy.
Eponine was a freshman when she had taken on her third job as a librarian in NYU. She kept a very tight schedule; resulting in a very colorful coordinated calendar Azelma had gifted her on her nineteenth birthday. In every week of each 365 days of the entire year, each date is coated in faded blue highlighter. This particular blue indicated her job as a morning-waitress in a local cafe which Musichetta was conveniently their main barista. Bright yellows were also plastered on Eponine's weekends. The yellows indicated her schedule as a lounge singer on Jean's, a French-themed sports pub. Third, in a very dramatic hue of red, indicated her days, specifically Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, where she had her shift as a librarian in NYU.
When she had met Marius Pontmercy, it was during one of the days where Eponine felt as if she would fall over in exhaustion and into the shelves of books she was currently stacking. Other than one would safely assume, Eponine meets the infamous Marius through circumstances that weren't so terribly charming to say in the very least. In that afternoon, Eponine squeezed in between mahogany and the smell of tattered and new textbooks, the heavy medical text book she had been currently attempting to slide into place fell from her grip. With the absolutely, unavoidable effect of gravity, this textbook conveniently found aim on the head of said, freckled Marius Pontmercy. Through the same medical text book did Eponine find ways on how to relieve the goose-egg the fallen textbook had given him and from then on she had been charmed. Marius, unlike the many wealthy students of NYU did not attempt to take her to court, but instead, he had smiled at her and told her "that this was actually the book I was looking for; my friend Joly needs it." She was flustered of course, she had really thought she was in for a law suit, but Marius proved her wrong, which Eponine was never truly accustomed to being. In the months where she had gotten to know Marius, she had enrolled herself into some of his classes in politics and had gone as far as to actually minoring in the subject, for she was surprisingly good at it. Marius had also introduced her to his friends, Courfeyrac and Joly; whom, through only a few weeks, she began to bond with in a speedy rate. In fact, it was these exact two men that lived across the complex from the girls' apartment.
It was in the eve of the end of Eponine's sophomore year when Gavroche turned ten. That same night, he groveled to her that he wanted to spend his birthday in Jean's, where she sang at in the weekends. Not one to want to say no to her brother who really, did not grovel at all, Eponine reluctantly agreed. Though quite honestly, she was glad that she had a discount there, for she really did not have much funds to spare when she practically had two "children" to support. Courfeyrac, Joly and Marius tagged along, which both Eponine and Gavroche Thernadier was all too glad for. Eponine, for she will be seeing Marius, Gavroche, because he had found a camaraderie in Courfeyrac's easy-going presence.
Earlier that same day, Cosette bursts in to their apartment with a bright smile on her face, an excited glee from her mouth announcing that her father and mother had indeed supported Cosette's decision of transferring into NYU. In which resulted in Musichetta and Eponine deciding that this should also be something they could also celebrate alongside Gavroche's birthday. Nothing a few drinks can do to relax the three hard-working girls, right?
Later on that night, when Eponine, clad in a soft blue dress Cosette had lent her, she had gotten on the stage with a brave and happy heart. She sang renditions of songs ranging from Edith Piaf to Radiohead and then a particular one for her little Gavroche. The obligatory "Happy Birthday, you smell like a monkey and you look like one too" line coming out of her with as much love as she can muster without wanting to tear at her throat at the sickening affection. But by the time she ended the song and Gavroche hugged her with his cheeks smeared of remnants of sauce from the ribs he so furiously munched on Eponine decides that all of it was really worth it, if only she could get Gavroche to smile at her more like this. During her last set, where she prepared to go into the first lyrics of "Samson" did Eponine only came to notice that Marius did not watch her with his bright green eyes and full smiles, as he usually did, but instead his entire head was turned to a blushing Cosette who he was conversing with very intimately.
The lines, "I loved you first..." had never been sung so honestly before.
Her entire junior year is full of her flawless grades in her classes and her shifts in her three jobs. Eponine did not suffer from heart break like she really had wanted to do, which was to: curl in bed, eat the entirety of Musichetta's Ben and Jerry's (that she of course, tried to hide to the bottom of their fridge in vain)as well as to try to take Cosette down like the catty girls in the movies that Musichetta loved to watch. But Eponine could not do any of these tasks, for first, Eponine could not afford to sleep for any longer than four hours at best (she did have two siblings to support and a scholarship to hold), second, she could not indulge in sweets for she sang for a living and third, because Cosette remained to be her best friend and as much as she wanted to throw her out of their complex window, Eponine remains to be fiercely loyal. Besides, she couldn't really blame Cosette for being in love.
Eponine in her true nature, tried to, of course. But she was unsuccessful.
Not attempting to eat her weight and vocal cords out with ice cream, slacking on her school work and tossing Cosette out of a window had proved to be a great decision that benefitted her for the days to come. For it surprisingly took Eponine only months before her aching at seeing Marius happy with Cosette had faded into a dull ache; and then, a full year before that very same ache had turned into one of cheeky-disgust, instead. It was not like she hated the entirety of their relationship, in fact, she had learned to be nonchalant about the entire ordeal; but it was because the two were so sickly sweet that if Musichetta's cheese cake did not prove to clog her entire blood stream out with its sugar, then the sweet affection that Marius and Cosette had for each other was enough to send her into becoming a properly diagnosed patient of Diabetes by the time she turns twenty one.
Over all, the year had done her well. Eponine supposes that since she was to begin her final year in NYU, she could finally be able to fulfill the one year where all will go smoothly, where she could finally run an entire lap around central park without having to change as quickly as possible to make it to her next shift, where she could in fact, have enough time to help Azelma out with giving Gavroche makeovers and thus turning him into a Gabriella (these moments with them were her favorite) and Eponine could finally, finally be able to only spend another year pouring more of her time over social facts and systems instead of finding reasons behinds Thoreau's words. (Eponine, as much as she excelled in her political part of her degree in NYU, did not find herself enjoying it as much as those in her class did.)
Of course Eponine's dreams of a perfect, smooth sailing senior year in NYU would prove to be a total shit-specle. (Courfeyrac told her that if you were to combine "spectacle" and "shit" in one word, it would get her meaning out very clearly. She thought this was utter crap though, but the word stuck to her since he and Joly used it frequently and honestly, Eponine could only take so much of it before it began to rub off on her too.)
First of all, her first day into her senior year, Eponine had managed to switch a sugar packet and a salt packet to a gentleman with a very difficult name to spell (Grantgir? Granear?) and although it did not bug him at all, in fact he sent her a cheeky smile and a flirty wink in turn, it did seem to bother his company who was, for a lack of better terms, more handsome than even Marius himself. (And Marius was godly-handsome to her when they had first met.) The man whose name she could not fully spell had taken his handsome companion's sugar instead and when Eponine had ran back to Musichetta to retrieve the appropriate packet for the man, she had instead walked back to the same table just to be the bare, awful witness of seeing that same, gorgeous blonde man take a sip of his black coffee just to quickly groan out in a stream of colorful curses a second later. His companion, the curly-haired man whose name she really, still could not spell in her head (why did Eponine find his name so difficult, anyway?) was doubled over in a fit of laughter, where he thumped his fist on their table so violently that she feared that his cup of coffee would fall over and spill over the blonde man's macbook. Eponine would have laughed too, for she is no stranger to the humor that the curly-haired man seemed to posses, if the blonde man had not in fact turned his steely blue gaze on hers. Before she could hand him the sugar packets, a frustrated stream of words escaped his pretty lips:
"Merde, what kind of coffee is this? Did you do this on purpose?"
So much for him being angelically handsome and perfect, she supposes.
The second most horrible thing happened to her last class of the day, which was at two p.m. with Professor Muriel. This class in particular, had everything to do with her minor in politics, and they started out with a project consisting of a dissertation on the social and political evolution of the new world versus the old world. Professor Muriel had a slight limp to his left leg, which he had injured on his camping trip with his sons out at Washington, he explained, so his aide was to pass around a hat that contained the topics they were to choose from.
And by god, did heaven and hell seemed to struck Eponine with lighting when that same arrogant, blonde man strode into the hall with a hat in hand and a perfectly indifferent visage to boot. The girls and that one guy who sat behind her immediately straightened to attention, giggles escaping them as they awaited that arrogant sack of shit to come down near them with that stupid, dumb hat on his stupid, pretty hands.
"Are you shitting me?" Eponine hissed out, watching as his purposeful and powerful swagger seemed to inveigle the entirety of the female and male population of the class to sigh out in a pathetic stream of love struck delight.
"I know, isn't he gorgeous!" Jacob Hoffler, who she knew to own one of those ugly, hairless felines whispered beside her. Eponine was a little startled to be quite honest, Jacob didn't really talk to her, she supposes it was because she wasn't particularly chic enough to be in his presence (last week she had seen Jacob with five large Dior homme bags on his walk back to his dormitory) but she supposes that he found it okay to bond with her through some guy that Eponine swears she probably wanted to punch in the mouth right at the very second.
"He also doesn't like salt that much." Eponine's dry reply confused Jacob greatly.
"Oh."
Well, there goes her chance of ever being friends with someone that frequently shops in those luxury boutiques. Though if Eponine were to be honest, it wasn't like Jacob and her would fit anyway. She thinks her band tee collection would probably offend him so much that he'd drop out of NYU just to be rid of the presence of her wardrobe.
While Eponine entertained the idea of repulsing Jacob with a slow exhibit of her ratty, flea shopped band tee-shirts, she had failed to notice that the giggling band of trio from behind her had ceased. Shaking the stupor she was in, she looked behind her just to have their eyes stare right back at hers, as if they were contemplating whether she was mentally challenged or not. Confused and with a quick spark of words that was slowly rising from her mouth, Eponine almost had the glorious retort leaving her and thus, exploding at the giggly bunch before another, deep vocal cut through her speech.
"Are you going to pick your topic or what?" His words were accompanied with the impatient shaking of the hat right under her nose.
Holy fucking shit.
"Calm down, Napoleon." She retorted, her brown eyes turning fiery as hers connected with his icy blue ones. It seemed as if this particular jab, her calling him Napoleon, had inflamed him even more for before she could dip her hand into the hat, he snatched it right back from her as quickly.
"What the hell?"
"You get to pick last."
"And why?"
The blonde man thrusted the hat towards Jacob and of course, he and his form fitting, sleek black sweater that was probably from stupid Dior seemed to jump in enthusiasm along with him when he bent over to look at Jacob's chosen topic.
"So he gets to go first?!" Eponine's incensed words seemed to reach a higher decibel as her temper flared. He made her so angry. He only looked at her in response, as if he was prolonging her wait to anger her even more.
"What happened to women being first?" The man sent her a mocking look.
"You are far from being a "woman"."
"Fuck you, this isn't misogyny one-oh-one. Give me my damn topic."
"I saved this just for you." He replies, eyes hard as he calmly places the paper in front of her.
French Revolution it read.
And if you were to really, truly ask Eponine what subject she did not and could not excel at without trying so very hard, it would be history.
Before Eponine could contemplate throwing herself to him and scratching the perfect blonde curls out of his head, he was already striding away, leaving a dust of dreamy sighs from the students behind her and an angry, huffing one that resembled an angry bull from her nostrils.
That stupid, infuriating man.
The third occurrence that to her, seemed to be the worst out of all the two particular shit-specle of the day was the out-of-the-blue, in all caps-lock texts from Courfeyrac that she received when she was on her daily run at Central Park. Eponine was clad in the tight black yoga pants and sports bra that Cosette and Musichetta had given her as a gift last Christmas. In her left hand, she clutched the leash that held a panting Cillian beside her. Eponine came to a stop immediately, seeing as the insistent beeping from numerous, quick texts kept cutting The Black Keys off from her ears in five second intervals. Eponine came to a stop, letting her heart calm before straightening to catch her breath. While she willed herself to calm, Cillian immediately slumped down on his furry butt, his breaths heavy in exhaustion. She supposes Cillian was probably thanking the God-dog's above for Courfeyrac putting a stop to their exercise.
"Told ya' you were eating too much of those Kibble things Cosette has been feeding you." Eponine muttered good naturedly, patting Cillian's head with affection.
He sneezes in reply.
Before Eponine could view Courfeyrac's texts, a string of "Oom Pah Pah, Oom Pah Pah!" blurted out of her phone, alerting her that not only is Courfeyrac calling, but he has certainly been screwing with her phone again. Apart from Cosette and Jehan, it was only Courfeyrac too, that enabled the monthly trips to seeing Broadway shows. Courfeyrac, in simple terms, loved Oliver!.
"What?" Eponine huffed impatiently as soon as her ear had placed itself near her phone.
"Pony, why aren't you answering my texts?!"
"How can I when you're too busy firing off fifty of them into my inbox? And don't call me Pony." She retorted, turning around to lean unto the fence that surrounded the lake.
"I am a fast texter huh?"
"Courf! Ugh, what did you need? I'm currently in the middle of my run here." Eponine could hear a snicker and a bit of movement in the background and she supposes that he had company. Before she could speak whatever, a muted and familiar voice in the background murmured, "Enjolras isn't answering his phone."
Eponine was sure that she knew who that voice belonged to, but his name wasn't particularly coming up in her jumbled, post-exercise brain.
"Courf, you idiot, why am I on speaker phone?"
"Oh shit, how'd you know you were on speaker phone?" Eponine was about to retort angrily when from a distant she heard an exasperated "WHAT?!" and a few frustrated ramblings. She briefly turns around to try and spot the owner of the voice, and she sees a muscular back turned from hers, cell phone to his ear, beanie clad-head, and a tight white shirt over his body. He was animatedly in conversation, seemingly as exasperated as she was when Courf interrupted her run.
"Hold on Courf, there's some guy who's about to blow off a fuse here…" she ambles a bit more to her right, she supposes this will be an enough distance so she won't completely be in the same noise-background as the angry guy in the white shirt.
"Huh that's weird."
"What's weird?"
"Grant's on the phone too. Oh well never mind that. Are you free tomorrow?" Eponine's brows furrow. That name sounds really familiar to her; it was like it brought on a taste of déjà vu on her tongue.
"Depends...really. what time?"
"Most likely…around seven? Listen, one of my best buddies are in town for good, they've transferred into NYU and a little drinking as a celebration sounds good eh? I'll even pay for your first round of margaritas if you come. Please, Ponine!"
Eponine was not about to turn down free drinks, and after this day she's had? It was like a dream come true.
"I'm not about to say no to free drinks, Courf."
"Awesome!" Courfeyrac screamed and she swore that her phone could have yelled out in pain if it could at the volume of his voice.
"Dude, settle down!"
"Man, I get excited, stop ruining my mojo."
"I'm hanging up now." Eponine smiled lightly, if anyone were to ask on who Eponine could, hypothetically speaking, rob a bank with, it would certainly be Courfeyrac; only because he was her partner in crime in that sense of the word. Seriously, she really would never rob a bank, Eponine has too many people on the top of her mental list on who would certainly rob a bank, number one being persons who she was closely related to.
Hint: her "parents."
"Fine, I'll see you later!"
"Later? Courf, if you think I'm cooking dinner for y-"
Dial tone.
Eponine finds herself shaking her head, a smile coming to her face as she received a newer text from Courfeyrac a few seconds after he hung up.
"Chinese at your place. I'm sick of your cooking, so I'm ordering."
Before Eponine however, could text back, she makes her way to the bench that was situated near hers, for really, her run had deemed her extremely thirsty and she needs to get a hold of her bottle of water before Cillian, the smart little ass, decides to uncap it for her and drink the entirety on her own.
Though the sight that beheld her when she turned had completely shaken her out of her post-Courfeyrac-cheer-up spree.
"Cillian, what the FUCK are you doing?!"
For the readers who are completely appalled at Eponine's colorful vocabulary, do understand that this particular moment is completely well deserving of as many curses as Eponine could think of in a span of seconds. If she had only known that the few minutes that she turned her back to Cillian, ambled her way farther from him and the other man who was speaking on the phone, bent to lean unto the rail that surrounded the lake and read Courfeyrac's new text could lead to this particular moment, she would have never done all of them and instead, parked herself right next to Cillian to watch his every move.
And of course, faith dictates that it wasn't enough for Eponine that Cosette's dog was engaging in a public act of love for all of the New Yorkers to see; but oh! It just so happens that the same, infuriating, salt-hating, Napoleon-anger-triggered, white-form fitting-shirt-wearing, muscular and sweaty man from the cafe and Muriel's class seemed to be the owner of said girl-dog that Cillian had taken a liking to.
"What is your dog doing to my dog?!" He is striding to her with his stupid, commanding swagger to her, gorgeous face contorted into what she could make out as exasperation and embarrassment, and still he is on his phone, now looking at her as if she is the cause of the problems in his entire life.
"I - I - I don't, I mean, it's, he's not my dog! Cillian, would you stop!" Cillian, of course, does not stop, instead he continues to hump the stupid blonde dog even more.
"Get him off!"
"I'm not going to remove him...his - uh from there!"
"He's going to get my dog pregnant!"
"I CAN'T CONTROL THAT DOG'S URGES!"
"He's YOUR dog! STOP HIM!" At this point, the infuriating and nice smelling ('how can he even smell nice, he's sweaty for god's sakes!' Eponine thought briefly) man is a good six inch in standing from her. How Eponine knew that specific distance was only and truly, because of the fact that when she tried to move back from his close proximity, she instead found her bare waist stumbling right back to the cold metal of the rail.
"You stop him!"
"Why should I?! He's not my dog!"
"I told you he isn't MY dog! And you stop him because, because y-yo- you have the same bits and it's less awkward that way!"
"What?! What does that even mean?"
"Ugh god fucking damn it, I'm not about to remove that damn dog and his damn penis from your dog!"
Eponine has become so flustered that her usually blush-free face was, well, red. The embarrassment of being in such a peculiar position, not only by an attractive man such as he, but also with the fact that she practically told him to remove Cillian from his dog because they share the same lower bits and it won't be awkward then, caught up to her. It was not only that too, but now, she struggled with the fact that his close proximity and his heaving chest had completely sent her into a tizzy, because how can she ignore that he is so ridiculously good looking and she is far too under dressed for this conversation? In vain, she tries to wrap her arms around her bare stomach, but it seems that this action brings his blue eyes to stray from her face and down to her bare waist.
'And I thought this couldn't get any more awkward', she thinks.
They are both stunned to silence at this very point. She wants to kick him because how dare he ruin her entire day but at the same time, she is angry because the tension that was purely built on anger and frustration with each other has melted into something else and she is certainly not about to punch his perfect jaw and she is certainly not contemplating on kissing his perfect pink lips, on which was now parted as his heated stare ascends from her body and back to her eyes.
There is more silence.
Then violent laughter erupts from his phone. This does it however, the moment is gone and Eponine is both glad and annoyed.
Though for now, Eponine is clutching at her heaving chest, she does not know or even bothers to understands why she is so damn angry around him, enough to make her breathe as heavily as this, but it was like this man was fire and she in turn was fuel, eager to be inflamed by his own nature.
He is hissing into the phone and then he is hanging up, but before Eponine could think of maybe just making a run for it and just abandoning Cillian out here (she could always come back right? And it's not like Musichetta would mind not having him around for a night, she isn't very fond of walking Cillian to take his potty breaks, anyway...) he is right in front of her again, but he is less angry now and more indifferent, but at the same time there is a fluidity in which he seems to engulf her in his stance and she is so frustrated that she cannot put into words on what kind of man he really is...
Other than someone that just pisses the fuck out of her, of course. But that is such a course description and she is not about to major in literature with honors while using such adjectives to describe him.
Eponine tries not to look at him but it is like he is commanding her silently to look at him, in which she does of course. She is angry that now there is no stupid laughter to keep this moment from being silent, but at the same time she is glad that there isn't. Since when did she become this undecided over anything?!
"Give me your name."
Eponine's head snaps to his so quickly she is really quite surprised that head doesn't fly right off and into the lake behind her.
"What?"
"Your dog will probably get my dog pregnant and I'm not about to keep the entirety of this responsibility on my shoulders. So...give me your name." Eponine's mouth seems to gape at his command, who asks for people's name in this manner?
But then again do people even meet and proceed to get into heated arguments because their dogs had found it completely okay to hump each other out in Central Park? At this point, this man has his phone out, and he is looking at her expectantly as if she would just bend to his will just like that.
In response, Eponine takes her phone out too, and now both of their iPhones are centered at each other's faces, as if they were about to take pictures of each other at that very moment. In her surprise, the sound of a photo being captured does come from his phone and she is now back to being flustered and exasperated.
"Why did you do that?!"
"So I know whose dog got my dog pregnant."
"He. is. Not. my. dog."
"He is with you, yeah? You're running with the dog? He's your dog."
"He is my best friend's dog! And delete that picture!"
"Give me your name." He replies instead, his gaze and voice infuriatingly leveled and calm.
Eponine has half the mind to test her newly toned arms out by swinging his six foot three frame into the lake behind her, but instead, she takes a photo of him and saves it into her phone, just like he did.
"Why did you do that?!"
"So I have photographic proof of which asshole can't seem to find the mental capacity to understand that that dog is not my dog."
He is silent again and she is proud of herself for how her wit has seemed to stun him into possible submission. But then his quick hands are grabbing her phone and she is so completely stunned by this action that she stays rooted for a few more seconds.
"What the fuck!?" Eponine is making a grab for him but he steps back quickly, all the whilst, his thumb is furiously moving over her phone's screen and she is trying to make a grab for her phone, but when she really is about to clock him in the jaw, he hands her back the phone with an infuriating ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Here you go, Eponine."
How the fuck?
"And I am Enjolras. I will be texting you later so you will have my contact in turn, believe me, if your dog does impregnate my dog, we'll be in contact. Come along, girl."
And with a whistle, the stupid man, with his stupid name, his stupid face and his stupid dog disappears from her sight.
Eponine doesn't even want to think about how her mental vocabulary has reduced itself from having colorful and powerfully worded statements to using such words as "stupid...stupid...stupid" in everything that had to do with any noun or verb that she thinks of when she sees that man, Enjolras. But as she shakes the shock out of her system, she is then seeing Cillian looking at her with his large eyes, tongue swept to the side of his mouth and an expectant look at his face that she knew was begging her for more of his Kibble treats.
Eponine could certainly now figure out what New York brought to people like her:
New York was a place for opportunity, for living a life amongst towering buildings, for finding love, for being happy, for - for...for...?
For pretty dog owners who are insistently passionate about equally sharing the blame of their dogs' unwanted pregnancy.
(That sexual tension though.)
I seriously enjoy writing arguments between characters such as E/E, because honestly, they're both pretty firey characters to begin with. Usually, people like that clash and then get along very well, or they end up hating each other. To me, I think they're in the middle ground.
But attraction to each other? (Very high on the rictor scale, tbh).
I'll have you know that Cosette's dog, Cillian, is actually inspired by Amanda Seyfried's adorable and very smart dog. I'm not sure if Amanda's dog is a girl or a boy, but I do know that he is smart and so very fiitting to be one of the many reasons why E/E in this fic begin to interact in the first place.
PS: Hopefully I wasn't too OOC on them, I made Enjolras very intimidating and a bit aloof, Eponine is also fiercely independent and stubborn, too. I'm trying to take a grasp of their characters outside of their original miserable, 19th century fictional existences okay, give me a break! ;-;
Leave reviews please! Also I will be making an art out of this fic too, and it will be up on my blog soon. Reminder on what my tumblr account is: ( www. violentporcupines. tumblr. com )
XXX