Chapter Two
Adrian Enjolras's hand began to tire as he hunched over his desk writing page after page of notes for his next speech. He was a twenty-two year old law student adamant on changing France. Shortly after moving to Paris, he formed the group called Les Amis l'ABC with the help of his two friends, Nicolas Combeferre and Mattheiu Courfeyrac. Naturally, Enjolras became the chief or leader of the group because he was charismatic, a natural born leader, and he was an extremely eloquent speaker. Combeferre came to be the guide, and Courfeyrac was the center. The group grew quickly, and now they met on a weekly basis to discuss ways to help the lower class and poor of Paris. Enjolras knew that their cause would eventually lead to a fight, and he was prepared to die for his country.
Enjolras was a rather handsome man. He had golden blonde curly hair that sometimes fell into his face. His eyes were a brilliant blue that were able to produce a piercing glare. He was tall and slender, but also strong. He was passionate, yet his personality could be icy. Rarely did he ever show emotion that wasn't connected to his passion for his country. His face rarely cracked into a smile, and he hardly ever laughed. He remained serious and focused with a hard demeanor. Because of this and the paleness of his skin, he was often called "the marble man." Some people described his appearance as "god-like," earning him the nickname Apollo. Women of the higher classes tried to get his attention, but he simply ignored them. He claimed that his only love was for his country, and his mistress was Patria.
Enjolras lived a relatively simplistic life. He lived this way partly because he didn't want to live like he did during his childhood. He grew up in a large home north of Paris, the only child of his two extremely wealthy parents. There were servants who catered to every whim of the Enjolras family. They didn't have to do anything for themselves. Adrian learned at home where he was taught by a governess. As he got older, he started noticing things like the gamins and the starving families who lived on the streets. It didn't sit well with Enjolras when he knew that he had a home filled with food, a warm bed to sleep in, and clothes that didn't have holes. He would try to talk to his father about it, but it soon became clear that that Monsieur Enjolras thought the poor were wretched creatures who deserved what they got. He stayed in trouble as a child for helping or talking with the servants. As he got older, he learned that his political views differed greatly from his father's. They often got argued because Enjolras got tired of watching his father disregard the people in need like they were nothing more than pieces of dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Every time they'd argue, it would end in Monsieur Enjolras saying, "Son, you'd better shut your mouth before I shut it for you." His mother would've already left the room early on in the argument because it made her nervous. Once Adrian's father said, or rather screamed that comment, he would clench his jaw and turn on his heel to leave the room, spending the rest of the night in his room. One particular argument when he was sixteen years old was what ended him up in Paris. He got sick of keeping his mouth shut. They were in the sitting room where his father was seated, he was pacing, and his mother was nowhere to be found.
"Father, if you would just listen to me for once! They are people too, and they need help. If you would just-"
"No, Adrian, I will not listen to you!" his father boomed.
Enjolras stopped pacing and stared at his father with piercing blue eyes.
His father continued his screaming, "I will not listen to you because whatever spews from your mouth is ridiculous garbage. I don't know where you got all these nonsensical ideas, but it sure didn't come from this household. You were rightfully raised a royalist! You were also raised to respect your elders, and I am your elder, so I suggest you do what I say and shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"
Enjolras rolled his eyes at his father's typical comment. He'd had enough.
"No," he said defiantly.
He watched as his father looked like he was about to explode, turning the brightest shade of red he'd ever seen. It didn't intimidate Enjolras, however. He stood his ground, continuing to stare at his father defiantly.
"Excuse me?" his father spat out.
"No. I will not stand by any longer when there are things to be done, people to be helped, and changed to be made. I will not stand by living my cushy little life while there are men, women, even children starving and freezing on the streets! As for me being a royalist," Enjolras let out a loud scoff, "I am far from one. You have taught me one thing, Father. You've taught me that I want to be nothing like you!" Enjolras screamed.
"Get out! No son of mine will talk of this ridiculousness and live under my roof. Pack your bags and get out of my house," Monsieur Enjolras commanded.
Enjolras turned and stormed up to his room, angrily shoving things into a bag. After a few minutes, his mother quietly entered the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her.
"Adrian, I've talked some sense into your father. We've figured things out," she said quietly.
He sighed and went back to packing his bag.
"Mother, I'm not staying. I can't stay," he whispered.
"I'm not suggesting that you stay. I agree that you can't stay. You need to go someplace where you can do all the things you want to do, help make a difference."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him down to sit on the bed to stop his frenzied packing.
"Don't you remember what we talked about no too long ago? About your plans for the university?" his mother asked.
He nodded. They had decided that when he decided to go to the university in Paris, his parents would provide the money needed. Enjolras had decided to go to school to become a lawyer.
"Then we'll pack your things, and you can leave for Paris in the morning."
"No, mother. I need to leave tonight. I don't want another argument to occur in the morning," Enjolras said.
"I'll make sure you and your father won't even cross paths in the morning. Just please stay the night, Adrian. Please, for me?" he pleaded.
"Alright, Maman. I'll stay the night for you, but I'm leaving first thing in the morning."
"Thank you. Now, let me help you pack your things," his mother said before leaving the room briefly.
She returned with a trunk and an extra bag. She began to help him put his books into the trunk, and Enjolras could hear her quiet cries. He stopped packing and pulled his mother into a hug.
"What's wrong, Maman?"
"Oh, I'll just miss you, Adrian. That's all," she cried.
"We'll write. I'll keep in touch with you."
She let out a harsh laugh, "If your father will let me."
"He doesn't have to know. We'll do it secretly," he whispered.
"Alright then. We should finish your packing if you want to leave first thing tomorrow," she smiled.
He nodded, and they finished packing, filling the trunk and two bags with all his belongings. The next morning, Enjolras told his mother goodbye, loaded up his things, and climbed into a carriage headed to Paris. His parents sent him enough money for his classes, for him to have a very nice apartment, and for his personal needs to be well taken care of. Enjolras, however, so no need to live an extravagant life. He used the money his parents sent for his classes, only his basic needs, and an apartment with low rent. The apartment he found was very modest and didn't cost much. It basically had two rooms. One was a small bedroom that he furnished with a bed and an old chest of drawers for his clothes. He pushed the trunk he'd used to pack beside his bed to use as a side table, and there was a small closet in the corner of the room as well. The other room was open and consisted of a small kitchen and a large open space that was big enough for a living area. Enjolras furnished that space with a small table large enough to eat at, a sofa, two chairs, a couple of oil lamps, and a nice sized desk which was the only thing he truly splurged on. He'd also found a really cheap bookcase to put against his wall. Most of the furniture was in case he ever had company and to make it feel more like home. Not long after starting at the university, he reconnected with his childhood friend, Nicolas Combeferre. He shared his beliefs with his friend, and they agreed to start Les Amis l'ABC. His parents didn't know about his revolutionary planning, and he wanted to keep it that way. Enjolras knew that if his father found out, he'd lose all his funds. All the extra money left over after he paid his expenses, which was quite a bit considering how he lived, went toward his cause. Now, here Enjolras was six years later, finishing his speech for that night's meeting at the Café Musain. After he finished his speech, Enjolras quickly penned a letter to his mother before grabbing his favorite red coat and heading out to the meeting early.
Author's Note: I hope you liked Enjolras's introduction. I know I said that the Amis would be in this chapter, but I thought it would be a little much if I tried to include them. I've decided to introduce them a couple at a time. You'll meet a few in the next chapter and the rest later. Thanks for reading! Review please!
~loislane16
