So, after this chapter, I don't really have much of a plan as far as this story goes. I'll try and continue it as much as possible, but I have no idea when that may happen. Enjoy this chapter, though! And again, please give any feedback you have! Thanks for reading!
ALSO, totally forgot to do this in the first chapter, but these characters are based off the 2012 movie cast, but if you have someone else in mind, by all means, go with it.
One more thing (also forgot this in the last chapter- will fix later):
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or any of these characters, as much as I wish I did.
Enjoy!
They met in college. They attended the same university, although they had vastly different majors, and both frequented the Café Musain just off campus. She sat alone with her cup of coffee and a sketchbook, while he sat either alone with a large textbook or amongst friends bearing maps and plans for future rallies.
She had heard him speak once or twice, but had never spoken to him. The last thing she needed was some rich boy telling her what was wrong with the city. She knew the evils of the city better than anyone, having grown up in the poorest neighborhood for miles. She learned to steal long before she learned to read. She wouldn't have anyone pity her or try to "fix" her. She was stronger now because of it and she merely scoffed at these boys trying to change the world.
Eponine sat at her usual table near the back, dragging her gray pencil across the gray paper of her sketchbook, drawing nothing in particular, but distracting herself all the same. Suddenly, the table shifted and her sketchbook was drenched with hot coffee.
"What the hell is your problem? Watch where you're going!" She screamed without looking up. She tried in vain to blot the paper with a wad of napkins, but the damage was done.
"Sorry," said a deep voice from above her. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." He sounded genuine enough.
"You ruined my drawing! Did you not notice the table in the middle of the café?" She finally looked up to see the boy who had run into her. His curly hair was mussed as if he had been running his fingers through it all day. His chiseled features were twisted into a look of apology and sympathy.
"I'm really sorry," he said again, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. "It's been a long day and I guess I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't think so. I think it's beyond saving," she replied disappointedly. "It's okay. I have another one at home." Her eyebrows came together in thought for a moment as she stared at the man. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe you've heard me speak here? My friends and I have created a social activist group and we meet here to plan our rallies," he said proudly.
"That must be it. I've seen you guys in here a few times. The pretty boys trying to save the poor and destitute," she finished dryly.
"And what's so bad about that?" he asked, offended.
"Nothing, just that not everyone needs some hero to come and fix things. Some people can survive just fine on their own," she replied, the argument getting heated.
"And how would you know? Have you seen the conditions these people are living in? Nobody can possibly raise a child in that kind of environment." They were practically yelling now, gesturing wildly.
She suddenly stopped, silently seething. She brought her face unbearably close to his, her index finger poking into his chest. "Listen to me," she said, her words dripping with rage. "You don't know anything about life in the slums. You are not some superhero who can just drop in there with your fancy words and make everything better. And don't you dare doubt anyone's ability to survive the slums. Those people are stronger than you will ever be. Believe me when I say that you wouldn't last a day in that part of the city, so back off."
She stepped back at the end of her rant and saw that he was absolutely floored. But she also noticed the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly. He was impressed by her knowledge and her fire. He apologized for his ignorance and extended his hand to her. "I'm Enjolras, by the way."
She reluctantly shook his hand. "Eponine."
"Not to be weird, but that was amazing," he admitted. "I've never seen someone that passionate in a debate before."
"Well, that is, in fact, weird, and thank you, I guess." She didn't really know how to respond. Her blood was still rushing from telling him off.
He watched as she blushed slightly and he froze. Her cheeks were distinctly red. He had never seen red cheeks before. Or red anything, for that matter. It was beautiful. Just like her, he thought and then stopped himself. What the hell is going on? Isn't this only supposed to happen when… But I only just met her! I can't be…
Yes, he very much could.
That day, he walked through the small park in the center of the city. He spent half the time marveling at the beautiful colors around him that he never had the chance to appreciate before now. The other half of the time he spent thinking about Eponine.
He had never met a girl like her before, that much as certain. But how could he possibly be in love with her? They barely spoke for five minutes and all they did was yell at each other. Her words were cutting and icy and he had never seen anything so fierce as her. No one had ever spoken to him like she had, and no one had ever bested him in a debate before. Eponine was definitely special, but love? Enjolras wasn't so sure.
She was beautiful, of course: her long brown hair falling in loose waves down her back, her brown eyes bright and lively. He couldn't help but notice her full lips pursed in anger and wished he could have swooped down and kissed her. Woah, Enjolras. You just met this girl. This is absurd, he , he couldn't get her out of his head. He saw her in everything. The brown of the fallen leaves matched that of her eyes. The woman jogging by had the same olive-toned skin. Every visual, every color brought her to mind.
He wondered if she felt the same. Could she see this wonderful new world, too? Or did her life remain gray?
Eponine stared at the painting. Something was off about it, but she couldn't tell what exactly. Anyone who saw it would be able to tell that it was the park across the street from her studio apartment. The monotonous gray tones blended together in her mind until all she saw was a mess. She picked up the canvas and threw it in the garbage. She decided that life itself was grey and always would be.
Well, I hope you liked it! Once again, I'm not really sure where to go from here with this, but I'll try to keep it going. So please drop me a line down below, what did you like, what did you hate, favorite lines/parts/etc.
Thanks for reading!
