Chapter Two
Eponine awoke to a loud crash coming from Enjolras's room. She jumped up, running to his bedroom. She opened the door, finding Enjolras lying on the floor.
"Enjolras," Eponine whispered. She ran over to him, helping the man to his feet.
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." Eponine's hazel eyes met his crystal blue eyes. Enjolras didn't say a word when she helped him sit down on the bed. She stood to leave when he grabbed her wrist.
"Stay," he murmured. Eponine sat down beside him, observing him. He wasn't the same man he was before the barricades. This man was more human than the Enjolras she knew. He was vulnerable, he was afraid, and he showed emotion. He took Eponine's hand, observing each callous, each patch of dirt. Enjolras smiled at her.
"Do you know how to read?" She shook head, ashamed and embarrassed. "Go to the shelf over there and grab a book." Her brows furrowed but she did as she was told to do. Eponine scurried back, sitting down beside him. Enjolras had lit a candle, which illuminated the room. He took the book from her hands, opening it.
"The poems," he smiled, chuckling a little. Eponine furrowed her brows in confusion. "Would you like me to read one?"
"Yes, please," she mumbled. And so, Enjolras read the first poem in the book. One soon turned to ten, and ten to twenty. Eponine had never desired to learn how to read or write, but after hearing such beautiful words, she wanted to be able to read them herself.
"Is something wrong?" Enjolras inquired, closing the book.
"No, not at all," she answered, forcing a smile. Enjolras sighed but didn't press the matter any further.
Eponine glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall.
"Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat."
"I'm not hungry... can you get me a glass of water?"
"Of course, Enj," she stood up, going to the kitchen and getting a glass of water for him. She rushed back, handing him the glass.
"Thank you." Eponine simply nodded in response.
She gasped as though she suddenly remembered something important. It was then that he also remembered that important thing; his wound. Eponine rushed back to the kitchen, filling a bowl with water. She grabbed a clean cloth, hurrying back to the bedroom.
"Where are your shirts?" Eponine mumbled.
"Top drawer." Eponine walked over to the dresser, opening the top door and grabbing one of the shirts. Enjolras placed his water on the table beside his bed. He reluctantly unbuttoned his shirt, allowing Eponine to check the wound and the bandages. She gently wiped the blood away, bandaging it again. She took the shirt he had been wearing, knowing she'd never be able to get the bloodstains out of it.
"What do you want me to do with this?" she muttered. He finished buttoning his shirt, shrugging slightly. He was slightly surprised when she dipped the cloth in the water again, lifting his head so she could clean the dirt and the blood off of it. His eyes met hers, and it was then he noticed how beautiful she was beneath the dirt and grime that polluted her skin. He scolded himself mentally for thinking that. He shook his head, Eponine looking at him in confusion.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Was I staring?"
"No," she mumbled. Enjolras chuckled to himself.
"Ep, you can take a bath if you'd like. The washroom is down the hall and to the left."
"Thank you, Enjolras." Enjolras nodded, a sad smile on his face. Eponine kissed his forehead in a friendly manner before taking the bowl of water and the shirt he had worn out of the room. Enjolras sighed after she left the room.
"What's wrong with you?" he whispered to himself. "You don't fall in love." He closed his eyes, sighing. Enjolras bit his lower lip, glancing around the room. He turned to where his back was to the door, his feet on the floor. He grabbed the bedpost, preparing to pull himself to his feet. He sat still for several moments, wondering if he could actually walk on his own yet or not. He decided to try and pulled himself up.
"Enjolras, what are you doing?!"