"I Love You"
Chapter 5
Eponine halted at the door to Le Café Musain, letter in hand, and took a moment to work up her courage. Though she attended the meetings at the café almost nightly, tonight held a certain blissful anxiousness in the air. Never before had anyone returned her feelings!
All her life, Eponine's emotions were swept aside by her cold, uncaring mother and father, making matters all the more difficult for the poor girl when she matured and took interest in Marius. Day after day, she used to fret over the boy, wishing on the stars that he would care for her as deeply as she did for him.
As so many young lovers know, the grief of unrequited affection tears at the heart with more force and pain than any sword or dagger. Such anguish was the sort Eponine once felt routinely, dull, and yet so sharp all at once. But now Marius was a love in the past, for Enjolras had awakened in her a new fondness, stronger and more magnificent than anything she had ever known. The mere thought of the young man sent a tingling delight up Eponine's spine.
"What's the matter with me?" she asked herself, taking in a deep, quivering breath so as not to fly into a panic. This was so real, so very unlike all her usual fantasies. This was actually happening.
Finally deciding the time was right, Eponine opened the café door and entered the large room.
Already, several of the Amis sat at various tables, chatting gaily with vitality and glee about their plans to rebel. A light shone in each of their ambitious eyes, radiating an indescribable warmth and energy, which reflected their animated youth and vigor. To see such a sight in one's lifetime is to see the spirit of the revolution.
Fueilly, Combeferre, Bahorel and Courfeyrac took to one corner, creating piles of gathered ammunition to save for the attack; Jean Prouvaire scribbled a mysterious note on a square of parchment with his quill; Joly sat with Lésgle, as usual, discussing his latest imaginary illness; Marius, who had only just arrived, draped his coat over a chair and hurried to assist the others; Grantiare was already drunk and slurring his words as he swayed back and forth in his chair by himself. Eponine expected him to topple over at any moment as she made her way past the large group of men.
Although she loved all of Les Amis de l'ABC, they did not matter to her now. Tonight, all she cared about was finding her dearest Enjolras.
She paced around the café, nodding to the young men as she passed them, until she found him at last, once again absorbed in his work in a corner of the room. The poor boy was flushed and slightly worn-looking, though every bit as marvelous as always.
"I warned you not to work too hard," sighed Eponine, relaxing when she saw the state he was in. "You see now, you look very ill! Not enough sleep, I tell you!"
Enjolras seemed to start as he registered the girl's voice, and his sudden blushing intensified his already pink glow. All his life, he had been hardy more than asexual, so he was understandably confused by his sudden affection for a woman.
"Eponine," he sighed, his voice unusually hoarse. He cleared his throat. "I.did not see you there."
The girl nearly giggled at Enjolras' words. For a boy so confident and outspoken, he was certainly having a laughable amount of difficulty speaking to a street girl.
"Enjolras, you poor thing, you've worn yourself out entirely," she beamed, trying desperately to conceal her hysterics. "Listen to your voice! It is so rough! Come, have a moment's rest before you kill yourself!"
"You fret too much, Eponine," he replied, softer than he would have, had he been feeling up to an argument. "My voice is simply tired from my speeches. I will be fine in the morning."
"Hardly," she pressed. "If you've caught a cold, you'll have to answer to me! I warned you, I did! You should have listened to me. Now, leave your work and we will sit by the fire where it is warm."
Enjolras smirked and rose from his chair, too tired to put up any more of a fight. As he followed Eponine to the large, lit fireplace, he briefly wondered if she had yet received his letter.
The couple took seats in two tattered, yet comfortable armchairs. The glow of the roaring embers warmed them as they sat in silence for a moment, taking in its lovely heat. Finally, Enjolras spoke:
"Eponine, the battle plans you created last night.they were wonderful. I am impressed. Thanks to you, we have a flawless plan of attack against the National Guard."
Eponine sighed.
"Enjolras, you worry me," she declared. She did not think it necessary to sugarcoat matters when she could just as easily be blunt.
"Is that so?" inquired Enjolras, slightly caught off guard.
Eponine caught his eye and nodded.
"You worry me every day," she sighed, refusing to break her gaze. "I believe you need to spend less time working and more time--oh, I don't know- -more time out, enjoying the world. It is not healthy to waste your youth obsessing over matters such as war.though I admit it is very interesting."
Enjolras smiled and considered Eponine's words for a moment. She was very wise for her age, that girl.
"I shall try," he replied at last.
His grin was returned and Eponine abruptly rose from her chair. Enjolras stood with her to be a gentleman, unintentionally closing the space between them. In this near contact he could almost hear her soft breath, feel her pale skin, read her very thoughts. The feeling that then swept over him caused his pulse to quicken, his heart pounding like a drum now that they were so close.
"I will show you how," the girl stated softly, her eyes still fixed on his.
Enjolras had not expected to feel this way. Suddenly, in this swirling ecstasy, he wished nothing more than for Eponine to show him the life he had missed all these years. He longed to walk the streets of Paris with her, to admire the beauty of the earth and all its wonders. He wanted to explore the magic of the world Eponine saw every day. He wanted so badly to be close to her, closer, closer still.
What happened next, neither Enjolras nor Eponine could explain. Their emotions blurred in the firelight as they stared at one another, mystified by these strange, new, wonderful feelings. In the thrill of the moment, the generally icy young man placed a hand behind the girl's head and tilted it up to his, bringing her closer than he had ever been to a female in his entire life.
"I love you," he whispered, the words tumbling out, so odd and so right at the same time. He spoke the very words Eponine had written to him the night before, the very words which had changed him, the very words which he had never before spoken to a woman.
Taken aback and yet utterly thrilled, Eponine leaned closer to Enjolras' towering form.
"And I, you," she copied, trading the boy's words for her own.
In this sudden realization, Enjolras' emotions overwhelmed him. Without any thought at all, he brought Eponine's lips to his, where they stayed perfectly locked, warm and precious, until he realized what he was doing and began to panic. The extraordinary sensation dizzied the calm, collected, never shaken Apollo and his marble lips softened, though his back remained rigid.
Sensing the boy's discomfort, Eponine pulled away momentarily and laughed.
"Don't be afraid of me," she sighed, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, and continued what they had not yet finished. Enjolras immediately relaxed.
The two stayed in each other's embrace, savoring their shared love until they could scarcely breathe. Enjolras' lips tasted so soft and delicate for such a masculine young man, Eponine was reluctant to let them go. But when at last the beautiful kiss ended, her heart's desire was fulfilled, and she could ask for nothing more. Pulling back, she rubbed his shoulders briefly and smiled.
"Take care, M'sieur, or I shall die worrying for you," she breathed, and stepped away. After a moment of wavering, she turned and walked across the room, vanishing out the door of Le Café Musain.
After she disappeared, Enjolras stood alone, dazed and frightened and blissful all at once. When he found his voice again, he declared:
"I shall."
Chapter 5
Eponine halted at the door to Le Café Musain, letter in hand, and took a moment to work up her courage. Though she attended the meetings at the café almost nightly, tonight held a certain blissful anxiousness in the air. Never before had anyone returned her feelings!
All her life, Eponine's emotions were swept aside by her cold, uncaring mother and father, making matters all the more difficult for the poor girl when she matured and took interest in Marius. Day after day, she used to fret over the boy, wishing on the stars that he would care for her as deeply as she did for him.
As so many young lovers know, the grief of unrequited affection tears at the heart with more force and pain than any sword or dagger. Such anguish was the sort Eponine once felt routinely, dull, and yet so sharp all at once. But now Marius was a love in the past, for Enjolras had awakened in her a new fondness, stronger and more magnificent than anything she had ever known. The mere thought of the young man sent a tingling delight up Eponine's spine.
"What's the matter with me?" she asked herself, taking in a deep, quivering breath so as not to fly into a panic. This was so real, so very unlike all her usual fantasies. This was actually happening.
Finally deciding the time was right, Eponine opened the café door and entered the large room.
Already, several of the Amis sat at various tables, chatting gaily with vitality and glee about their plans to rebel. A light shone in each of their ambitious eyes, radiating an indescribable warmth and energy, which reflected their animated youth and vigor. To see such a sight in one's lifetime is to see the spirit of the revolution.
Fueilly, Combeferre, Bahorel and Courfeyrac took to one corner, creating piles of gathered ammunition to save for the attack; Jean Prouvaire scribbled a mysterious note on a square of parchment with his quill; Joly sat with Lésgle, as usual, discussing his latest imaginary illness; Marius, who had only just arrived, draped his coat over a chair and hurried to assist the others; Grantiare was already drunk and slurring his words as he swayed back and forth in his chair by himself. Eponine expected him to topple over at any moment as she made her way past the large group of men.
Although she loved all of Les Amis de l'ABC, they did not matter to her now. Tonight, all she cared about was finding her dearest Enjolras.
She paced around the café, nodding to the young men as she passed them, until she found him at last, once again absorbed in his work in a corner of the room. The poor boy was flushed and slightly worn-looking, though every bit as marvelous as always.
"I warned you not to work too hard," sighed Eponine, relaxing when she saw the state he was in. "You see now, you look very ill! Not enough sleep, I tell you!"
Enjolras seemed to start as he registered the girl's voice, and his sudden blushing intensified his already pink glow. All his life, he had been hardy more than asexual, so he was understandably confused by his sudden affection for a woman.
"Eponine," he sighed, his voice unusually hoarse. He cleared his throat. "I.did not see you there."
The girl nearly giggled at Enjolras' words. For a boy so confident and outspoken, he was certainly having a laughable amount of difficulty speaking to a street girl.
"Enjolras, you poor thing, you've worn yourself out entirely," she beamed, trying desperately to conceal her hysterics. "Listen to your voice! It is so rough! Come, have a moment's rest before you kill yourself!"
"You fret too much, Eponine," he replied, softer than he would have, had he been feeling up to an argument. "My voice is simply tired from my speeches. I will be fine in the morning."
"Hardly," she pressed. "If you've caught a cold, you'll have to answer to me! I warned you, I did! You should have listened to me. Now, leave your work and we will sit by the fire where it is warm."
Enjolras smirked and rose from his chair, too tired to put up any more of a fight. As he followed Eponine to the large, lit fireplace, he briefly wondered if she had yet received his letter.
The couple took seats in two tattered, yet comfortable armchairs. The glow of the roaring embers warmed them as they sat in silence for a moment, taking in its lovely heat. Finally, Enjolras spoke:
"Eponine, the battle plans you created last night.they were wonderful. I am impressed. Thanks to you, we have a flawless plan of attack against the National Guard."
Eponine sighed.
"Enjolras, you worry me," she declared. She did not think it necessary to sugarcoat matters when she could just as easily be blunt.
"Is that so?" inquired Enjolras, slightly caught off guard.
Eponine caught his eye and nodded.
"You worry me every day," she sighed, refusing to break her gaze. "I believe you need to spend less time working and more time--oh, I don't know- -more time out, enjoying the world. It is not healthy to waste your youth obsessing over matters such as war.though I admit it is very interesting."
Enjolras smiled and considered Eponine's words for a moment. She was very wise for her age, that girl.
"I shall try," he replied at last.
His grin was returned and Eponine abruptly rose from her chair. Enjolras stood with her to be a gentleman, unintentionally closing the space between them. In this near contact he could almost hear her soft breath, feel her pale skin, read her very thoughts. The feeling that then swept over him caused his pulse to quicken, his heart pounding like a drum now that they were so close.
"I will show you how," the girl stated softly, her eyes still fixed on his.
Enjolras had not expected to feel this way. Suddenly, in this swirling ecstasy, he wished nothing more than for Eponine to show him the life he had missed all these years. He longed to walk the streets of Paris with her, to admire the beauty of the earth and all its wonders. He wanted to explore the magic of the world Eponine saw every day. He wanted so badly to be close to her, closer, closer still.
What happened next, neither Enjolras nor Eponine could explain. Their emotions blurred in the firelight as they stared at one another, mystified by these strange, new, wonderful feelings. In the thrill of the moment, the generally icy young man placed a hand behind the girl's head and tilted it up to his, bringing her closer than he had ever been to a female in his entire life.
"I love you," he whispered, the words tumbling out, so odd and so right at the same time. He spoke the very words Eponine had written to him the night before, the very words which had changed him, the very words which he had never before spoken to a woman.
Taken aback and yet utterly thrilled, Eponine leaned closer to Enjolras' towering form.
"And I, you," she copied, trading the boy's words for her own.
In this sudden realization, Enjolras' emotions overwhelmed him. Without any thought at all, he brought Eponine's lips to his, where they stayed perfectly locked, warm and precious, until he realized what he was doing and began to panic. The extraordinary sensation dizzied the calm, collected, never shaken Apollo and his marble lips softened, though his back remained rigid.
Sensing the boy's discomfort, Eponine pulled away momentarily and laughed.
"Don't be afraid of me," she sighed, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, and continued what they had not yet finished. Enjolras immediately relaxed.
The two stayed in each other's embrace, savoring their shared love until they could scarcely breathe. Enjolras' lips tasted so soft and delicate for such a masculine young man, Eponine was reluctant to let them go. But when at last the beautiful kiss ended, her heart's desire was fulfilled, and she could ask for nothing more. Pulling back, she rubbed his shoulders briefly and smiled.
"Take care, M'sieur, or I shall die worrying for you," she breathed, and stepped away. After a moment of wavering, she turned and walked across the room, vanishing out the door of Le Café Musain.
After she disappeared, Enjolras stood alone, dazed and frightened and blissful all at once. When he found his voice again, he declared:
"I shall."