Day 2
Enjolras groaned, furiously scratching out the line he had just written. In his irritation, he tore a hole in the paper. He groaned again. The speech he was preparing was set to be delivered at noon. Enjolras checked his watch. Ten fifty-six. He rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back against the uncomfortable back of the wrought iron park bench.
"Whotcha doin'?"
It was her; Enjolras knew it without looking up. Her perfume of whiskey and wildflowers drifted to him on the gentle spring breeze. The whiskey seemed to be a bit stronger than it had the day before, and its harsh sweetness burned Enjolras' nose. He frowned, wondering how she had found him in his peaceful corner of the Jardin du Luxembourg.
"I'm writing," he replied, discouraging conversation. He glanced briefly up at Éponine and his heartbeat quickened. She gave him her Cheshire grin. There was a new bruise forming on the bridge of her petite nose and Enjolras had to physically bite his tongue to keep from mentioning it.
"I can see 'at," Éponine laughed, ignoring his pointed stare. She flopped down beside Enjolras on the park bench he had claimed, neglecting to ask his permission. Enjolras inhaled sharply and made an effort to slide away. Looking over his shoulder at the open notebook in his lap, Éponine began to read Enjolras' speech aloud. Enjolras tensed.
"Y'know," she paused, pointing at the paper, "I'd put this part at the beginning. You've got lotsa talk about liberté, égalité, fraternité, but –"
"It isn't finished yet," Enjolras ground out, cutting across the rest of her thought. He shut his notebook with a snap. What did she know about speech writing? Nothing.
Éponine nearly choked on her words. The anger in his voice and his eyes caught her off guard, but her own ire swelled to meet his in an instant.
"Oh! Excuse me, monsieur Enjolras," she spat. Éponine stood up stiffly, her thin hands balling into fists. "Shoulda guessed that a man like you can't stand to be corrected. It's all about 'helping the unfortunate,' with you, isn't it? But God forbid one of us tries to help you!"
She paused, breathing heavily. Colour had rushed to her pale cheeks, and a slight flush was creeping along her delicate neck. Her tangled brown waves had tumbled over one eye. She was Aphrodite; wild, fierce, frenzied, and passionate but above all, beautiful.
Enjolras met her indignant gaze coolly, his face unreadable. They stayed like that, a match of fire and ice, for what felt like an eternity. After only a few moments of mutual silence however, Éponine flung up her arms in exasperation.
"Well, y'know what? I'm done, à votre aise!"
With that, she turned on her heel and marched off.
Waves of remorse and shame crashed over Enjolras. He looked between the notebook and Éponine's retreating form, caught in a rare moment of indecision. The sight of her, thin arms hugging her narrow chest, her bare feet shuffling, moved his marble heart to pity. Her angry words were ringing in his ears.
"Mademoiselle!" he called. Éponine turned around, chewing on her lip. She looked like a cat ready to pounce. Enjolras patted the bench beside him stiffly, swallowing his pride and pushing away the stinging feeling her lecture had left behind. "Will you help me finish this? Another person's perspective may… enhance the message."
Éponine's large brown eyes lit up and she skipped back to where Enjolras was sitting. She reclaimed her seat, now rightfully hers, and smiled cheekily. Her anger had vanished at the drop of a hat, and Enjolras was left with his head reeling, and with no time to recover.
"That's what I thought!" she joked, nudging the man with her shoulder. Had that all been an act? Enjolras winced as Éponine began reading aloud once again, picking up from where she had left off, but this time he did not stop her. Instead, he stole sidelong glances at her as she read, paying attention to the way her brow creased when she came to a part she didn't like, and the way her lips mouthed the words as she went along.
I am only trying to better understand her, he insisted.
When she came to the end of what he had written, Éponine leaned back thoughtfully, sticking out her bottom lip in concentration. Enjolras waited patiently, and each time she made a soft noise of indecision or contemplation, his eyes snapped back to her face and his pen was poised above the paper. She seemed to have forgotten where she was; the look in her brown eyes was far away.
"It'd be nice," Éponine breathed at last, breaking the silence, "It'd be nice to see those things come true, wouldn't it?" She smiled sadly. Enjolras gave a terse nod in response, but the girl wasn't looking at him. Silence fell between the two once more, and Enjolras noticed a pair of love birds chirping in the tree overhead.
"Well..." Enjolras prompted, pretending to look back over what he had written as a means of keeping his eyes from the woman beside him. Éponine caught his meaning and, blinking rapidly, was brought back to the present.
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, angling her knees toward Enjolras'. In doing so, their legs brushed. The contact was so brief that Éponine hardly noticed, thinking nothing of it, but Enjolras' breath caught in his throat. He clenched his jaw and forced his heartbeat to slow.
"As I said earlier, you need to move that middle part to the beginning," she began, gesturing haphazardly toward the notebook in Enjolras' hands, "But that still isn't enough, y'know? You… You need something to tie everything together – to unite your audience."
Enjolras nodded, getting dangerously drawn in by the passion in her raspy voice. Éponine barreled on at a hundred miles a minute, flying from point to point, but always bringing it back to the main idea. He was having trouble keeping up, and jotted down notes as fast as he could. The revisions Éponine was making were surprisingly beneficial, and Enjolras couldn't help but curse himself for ever doubting her abilities.
"Why don't you mention women's rights, too?" she added, pausing longer than she had been between thoughts. She looked expectantly at Enjolras, her chocolate eyes shining with excitement.
The man perked up, his own eyes flicking to Éponine's face. He gave her a questioning look and frowned.
"But the speech is about student's rights," he explained slowly. Éponine rolled her eyes and smiled sarcastically.
"The last time I checked, women were students, too," she countered bitingly. Enjolras still wasn't convinced, and the girl gave a frustrated huff. "'Member what I said about uniting your audience?" The man nodded, feeling like a child, "Well, now's your chance."
"My audience –" Éponine cut him off, holding up a small hand as an order for silence. Enjolras obeyed, scowling.
"Your audience is full of men and women, m'sieur, and as a woman, I'm telling you that mentioning the need for equal rights would certainly get you my support a lot quicker than blabbering on and on about textbook costs."
Enjolras opened his mouth to refute her claims, but found that he had nothing to say. She was right; he talked about equality for students, and fairer prices and policies, but he neglected the fairer sex in the same way the government was. Did he not walk past fellow students on a daily basis – in the library, on the great lawn, in the halls – of the opposite gender, and were just as dedicated as he, if not more so because of their gender? Enjolras felt as though he was seeing his true purpose for the first time.
He bent his head and began scribbling away furiously. The words which had refused to come only a half an hour ago were flowing from his pen as freely as water from a spring. Enjolras looked up at Éponine and flashed her a boyish smile, his relief and renewed vision making him giddy. A few minutes later, Enjolras was putting the final period on his speech with a triumphant flourish.
"All better?" Éponine joked, ribbing him. He scowled, but there was no malice behind it and Éponine laughed.
He checked his watch again before answering. Eleven thirty-five. That gave him just enough time to get to the Café Musain to deliver his now finished speech. Enjolras thanked his stars that he had an excuse to get away, to be taking his leave of the enigmatic girl. Her presence was a distraction.
"I have to go," Enjolras announced unceremoniously, standing up and shouldering his worn out black knapsack. He had a tricolor rosette pinned to the zipper, and Éponine could see a Victor Hugo novel peeking out from the top of the front compartment. Toilers of the Sea.
Éponine frowned exaggeratedly, "Leaving so soon?" The blond man nodded, looking away. "How 'bout I come with you!" she suggested, leaping up from the bench. She only reached his shoulder, and Éponine looked up at Enjolras with wide, excited eyes. He found it difficult to look away from the darkening bruise on her nose, but he managed to meet her gaze with practiced indifference.
"No," he said flatly, turning away, "You wouldn't enjoy yourself." Éponine shook her head in protest, but Enjolras spoke over her, glancing back as he walked, "And besides, I am meeting with my friends to discuss student demonstrations. We do not need another person knowing our plans just yet; it puts us at risk."
"Lighten up! I won't rat you out," Éponine said, following him. She was smiling, but there was an edge of desperation to her voice. "And besides," she mocked, "Didn't I just prove that I 'enhance' things?"
Enjolras stopped in his tracks, conscious of his deadline and unwilling to prolong the discussion. The girl, who seemed to be so aware and so worldly, was acting like a child, and Enjolras recognized that there was no negotiating with children. He took a deep breath and turned to face Éponine, preparing to give her his final "No". She was still smiling confidently, but the look in her chocolate eyes was already one of dejection.
At the look of annoyance on Enjolras' face, Éponine coloured slightly and looked at the ground. "If you don't want me, m'sieur, I understand." Guilt once again threatened to drown him, and Enjolras knew that he had to indulge her. He cleared his throat pointedly, and Éponine's eyes flew to his face expectantly.
"Follow me."
The tiny room rang with applause, and Enjolras stepped down from the chair he had been using as his stage. As he walked through the little crowd assembled in the backroom of the café, he received compliments on his speech, followed by a seemingly endless stream of congratulatory pats on the back. He gave them all a small smile of satisfaction.
"That, my friend, was magnificent," Courfeyrac called as he approached Enjolras. The brunet gave his friend an animated high five, the likes of which left Enjolras' palm stinging. "I think you've really got Bahorel all worked up, too," he said, pointing to where the man in question was talking feverishly at Grantaire. To the credit of the latter, he was at least making attempts at appearing engaged in the conversation. Enjolras gave a short bark of laughter at the sight and clapped Courfeyrac on the shoulder.
"Well, if only I could get everyone that excited about the cause," he replied, walking away before Courfeyrac could ask if he'd like to go to the bar down the street.
He went in search of Combeferre, to ask his friend what he had thought of the speech, but he was nowhere to be found. A crease formed on Enjolras' forehead as he scanned the room once more with the same results.
"Monsieur Enjolras!"
The man whipped around at the sound of his name, shocked to have heard a female voice amidst the roar of testosterone. When his eyes fell upon Éponine, Enjolras experienced a brief moment of panic and confusion. What was she doing there? And then he remembered; the park, her help, her sad eyes. He had forgotten that she had tagged along, losing himself in his speech.
"What did you think?" he asked, skipping a greeting. Éponine didn't seem to notice his coarse manners however, and she gave him what he assumed was becoming, in his mind, her signature grin.
"I like the way you talk, m'sieur." She gave him a play punch on his shoulder, and Enjolras frowned disapprovingly.
"I like the way you always tease," he countered, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as a smile threatened to break his frown. Éponine threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter had the same husky quality as her voice, and Enjolras found himself appreciating it.
Without preamble, the girl stepped forward and snaked her arms around his middle. Her perfume surrounded him, embracing Enjolras' senses while Éponine embraced his body. His arms hung limply at his sides. He had no time to react, and she had disentangled herself from him almost as quickly as she had initiated the hug. Enjolras stared down at her unable to speak, and barely able to breathe.
"Thanks," she said simply, shrugging. "For letting me come here, and for letting me help. It feels nice to… to be a part of something."
"Enjolras!" Combeferre said from somewhere behind him. Enjolras turned and look, waving him over. When he went to introduce his friend to Éponine however, he found that she had disappeared. He saw her bohemian waves dancing through the small assembly as she flitted to the door. "Great speech, but who was that?"
Enjolras shook his head as he watched Éponine leave, "I'm not quite sure."
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry again for this not being HTAWG, but I just couldn't help myself. I really like this story, and I don't know why. Anyway, yeah, so if you see any inaccuracies in details or something, or just want to comment on my writing, drop me a review or a message. For fear of sounding cliche, I love you guys, you're the bomb diggity. Thanks for reading this!
