For all her desire to go home, Éponine couldn't help but stare.
He came off to her as very impressive.
There was a kind of distantness about him. Coldness, too. A bit like a marble statue. Waves of golden blonde hair that looked like the sort Michelangelo's David had and blue eyes. His face was serious and stoic: clearly, he was a man who would rather spend a night alone reading rather than at a club party. There was a sort of subtle fierceness about him that almost made Éponine nervous.
But—he was beautiful.
And not just physically. It was a powerful, strong, commanding beauty—he seemed like he could be the personification of something, although Éponine didn't know what. Something good, something worth fighting for. She stood there in front of him, in awe, and she didn't even know why she was so stupefied. There was something about this young man—
"May I help you, mademoiselle?" the young man asked, snapping Éponine out of her reverie. She suddenly realized she'd been gaping at him like a fish, drawing up romanticized depictions of whom she thought this man was. Immediately, Éponine flushed a dark red.
"Ah, no, monsieur," Éponine managed through her embarrassment. "Please, forgive me." She stepped aside and held the door open. The young man dipped his head at her slightly.
"Merci."
As soon as the man had walked through, Éponine let the door fall back, realizing what had just happened. She'd been acting like some silly schoolgirl dreaming about a famous celebrity, all over that stranger who she stupidly ran into. Éponine walked as fast as she could back to her apartment, burning with mortification.
"Enjolras! Over here!" Enjolras saw Marius waving a hand.
"You have my book?" Enjolras said, making his way towards his fellow student.
"Right here," Marius said, handing it over. "Although, for the life of me, I don't see why you would want this biography on Robespierre back. I took a look through it; it seems like a total bore."
"He was a fascinating man," Enjolras said curtly. "It doesn't bore me, I assure you." He flipped through the volume briefly for a post-return examination. Whenever a book of his was in possession of someone else for longer than a day, Enjolras always went through to make sure there was nothing wrong with it.
Marius shrugged and stood up. "Whatever you say. Cosette, are you ready?"
"Yes," came the reply.
"All right then. So I'll see you in class tomorrow?" he asked Enjolras.
"I'm not going to be anywhere else," Enjolras confirmed. He followed their path to the door with his eyes briefly, watching Marius put his hand on the small of Cosette's back and gently lead her out of the café. He couldn't help but feel a little indifferent to their relationship. There were so many more important things to be doing. Surely, the point of men on earth was for them to give back and improve society, not indulge in personal romances.
Not that Marius didn't care, but he was certainly more restrained and confined in his efforts. When a man was occupied with several dates a week, it was a tad more difficult to be doing work that was focused towards bettering the community, after all. Enjolras leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
"Alexandre Enjolras!"
He jerked slightly at the sound of his name and sat up straight, finding the rather bosomy, red lipsticked Brigitte frowning at him, hands on her hips.
"I hope you aren't planning on napping here all night without purchasing a drink. Not even you can get away with that."
"Of course not," Enjolras sighed. "Just my usual."
Brigitte had it prepared immediately. It was an easy order, since Enjolras took his coffee black and with nothing else. She brought it over to him and then commenced to sit across from him. Enjolras had brought the cup to his lips but then lowered at it. He raised his eyebrows at Brigitte.
"Yes?"
She shrugged. "Nothing."
"Don't you have work to do?" Enjolras pointed out.
"It's almost closing time," she said carelessly. "No one will care. Except for you, of course. You need to learn to loosen up."
Enjolras didn't answer her and tried to concentrate on his reading, only to be interrupted by Brigitte again.
"How can you sit there and read that book of yours?" she demanded. "Since you had that little altercation."
Enjolras eyed her from over the edge of the book. "What altercation?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"No, I really don't."
Brigitte looked exasperated. "That girl?" she prompted.
"What girl? Oh. You mean the one just now. What about her?"
"You must be blind," Brigitte said. "She was staring at you like you were a god! Doesn't that interest you at all?"
"Not particularly," Enjolras said. "She was doing nothing of the sort, anyway. All she did was look at me for a moment and hold the door."
"Mon cher, I don't mean to flatter myself, but I think I know how to read a girl's face a touch better than you can," Brigitte said mulishly. "She was definitely not just looking at you. Besides, how could she, after running into such a handsome person such as yourself?"
Enjolras sighed again. Brigitte was nice, but sometimes a bother, and she knew it. She was outrageously flirtatious and had a rather voluptuous figure, something she used all too often to get unsuspecting men to do her little favors, although all innocent of course. Enjolras had known her for quite a while, so Brigitte was aware that nothing affected him, but still liked to tease him and play games.
"I'm sure you're mistaken."
Brigitte threw her hands up. "You're hopeless! If you don't shape up, you'll end up dying alone. Do you want that?"
"Plenty of people have died alone, and they still managed to do great things in their lifetime."
"Oh yes? Name one," she challenged.
In response, Enjolras showed the barista the cover of his book. Brigitte's face wrinkled in confusion. Enjolras himself felt for a second a flash of bemusement. "It's Robespierre—"
"Yes, I know who he is!" Brigitte snapped huffily, interrupting Enjolras before could begin into one of his long-winded lectures on the Revolution. She'd had enough of those for a lifetime.
The apartment was dark when Éponine unlocked the door.
"Hello?" The kitchen had been neatly cleaned up, and there was no sound to be heard. She couldn't believe that everyone was asleep already. Setting her key down, Éponine went towards her and Azelma's room, where a small light was on.
Azelma was wearing sweatpants and a ratty pajama shirt, her dark hair piled into a messy bun. She lay on the bed, holding what Éponine figured to be schoolwork over her head. Azelma put it down when she heard Éponine come in.
"Sorry I'm late," Éponine said. "I lost track of time. I guess you and the boys were fine, though."
"Yeah." Azelma went back to her paper.
Éponine stood awkwardly in the door for a moment and tried again. "Why don't you sit at the desk?" she asked, indicating the desk she and Azelma shared. It was at the far end of the room, against the window. "It'll be more comfortable and better on your eyes."
"I'm happy where I am."
And she promptly went back to acting as if Éponine hadn't said anything at all. Éponine took the hint and quietly left her sister to do her work.
In the kitchen, she began to prepare the next day's dinner. Tomorrow was Sunday, so she'd have to go grocery shopping again. Standing over the stove, Éponine made an internal list of what she needed. Carrots, broccoli, apples, a pack of coffee beans—
Which brought to mind her incident earlier that day. At that moment, Éponine was by the stove, so her redness could be taken as a result from the heat in case anyone walked in.
She wanted to shrink up just thinking about it. Éponine had seen attractive men before, but she didn't think she'd ever been so obvious with her own admiration. And to have him have to say something about it! It would have been one thing if Éponine herself had realized what she was doing and snapped herself out of it. But the stranger making a remark on it was just awful.
"Oh God, what's your problem?" Éponine groaned, spinning around to put her head on the table momentarily. "He probably thinks you're a freak now."
She knew that they would probably never meet again, but the memory made her shrivel up inside. One more person who wouldn't be thinking well of her.
By the time a few days had passed, though, Éponine had forgotten about it. The workweek moved by at its usual sluggish pace. M. Fraure sacked someone and then hired someone. Théo got a headache; Éponine went to buy medicine, and Azemla administered it to him.
On Saturday, Éponine remembered. It made her wary to go near the place again, but on her way out of The Idle Hour, she talked some sense into herself: "What, are you going to never go there again because of one stupid incident? How much of an idiot are you? Come on, Éponine, man up!" With that, Éponine squared her shoulders and almost marched all the way to the Musain, attracting some strange looks from the other pedestrians.
"I'm not letting why I think one person's opinion of me prevent me from enjoying my half day off," Éponine declared stoutly as she reached the Musain. She reached forward to whisk the door open only to have it opened from the inside. Éponine's eyes were drawn upward towards the person who had opened the door first. She froze.
It was he again, speaking to a curly-haired friend over his shoulder. Éponine took a step backward so as to avoid another collision and hoped he would pass by without noticing.
He did.
The young man turned his head to the front again and then spotted her. He did a bit of a double take, and then Éponine knew that he'd recognized her. Determined not to look at him and knowing once again she was red in the face, Éponine bowed her head and slipped into the café.
A/N: A bit on Enjolras's name - Alexandre means "defender, protector of man". I thought that was a very fitting name for him.
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