Disclaimer: Still not Victor Hugo.
Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! For those of you wondering, we'll find out about Éponine and Enjolras soon! I'm working on the first chapter. I should have it up soon, but I just don't want to delay this one too much. I really hope this chapter is okay - there were like five different ways I could have gone with it and I had a really hard time making up my mind on which one. But I finally did! It's kind of a filler chapter, but I put some backstory in to hopefully clear things up. So, here goes...
"Don't leave," Marie pleaded, gripping tight to Grantaire's wrist as he turned to leave the room.
It was late now, near three in the morning, and the two were finally back at his flat. They had waiting at the café for some time, until they deemed it was safe to go out into the streets. Marie didn't seem to think Montparnasse or Brujon would be out anymore, anyways - though the way she had gripped so tightly to him on the way home and flinched at every little noise told him otherwise. Still, he was relieved that they had made it back without being discovered. She would be safer here, out of the streets, in a home the Patron-Minette seemed to know nothing of.
The gun he kept hidden in his top drawer helped to ease his mind as well.
He turned around quickly, nodding in response. She hadn't spoken since they had been at the café - not a single word. He had assumed she was angry with him for not allowing her to leave. But he could not have allowed her back out onto the streets because she had some foolish desire to protect him. No, everything would be fine - he and his friends would just have to be careful, and he would have to ensure that Marie didn't go wandering off the first chance she got.
"I won't ever leave you," he assured her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She seemed so exhausted, and he could see the tension in her face, her fear was almost palpable.
His hand moved to stroke her hair and her eyes closed at his touch.
Marie wanted to feel safe, she wanted to appear happy so that Grantaire wouldn't worry. She hated herself for letting this happen, but at the same time she was glad.
She had escaped her old life because of a very similar situation. Her parents had arranged for her to marry a man she could not stand. He was cruel and viewed her as little more than a possession that he could do with what he pleased. He was wealthy, and as with most like him, he believed that set him above everyone. She had nearly resigned to simply marry him and live out as happy a life as possible the first time he hit her. Out in the gardens at his father's estate. Had they been alone, it wouldn't have been quite so scarring, but it had been in the middle of their supposed engagement party.
She had been countering his argument that she should keep her mouth shut wherever they went. In his opinion, it seemed she was to be seen but not heard. Always in the background for people to look at, or on his arm for him to show off, but never allowed to have opinions of her own. The thought of marrying him made her sick, and she eventually found herself unable to even put up with it. She rand away one evening, never looking back.
She wondered if anyone even came to look for her. If anyone, it would have been her parents - but they were not especially fond of their youngest daughter, either.
She had thought she was escaping this sort of life - one where she was treated harshly. She had been naive and foolish to even think such a thing. She had dreamed that she'd find work at a factory. She would have been happy to be a grisette - she didn't miss high society. However, she had never imagined how difficult it would be to get a job, and how quickly things could turn sour.
Oh, things had gone sour.
Yet, amidst all of this, there were small moments of happiness.
Grantaire was the source of much happiness - Grantaire and his friends. She may be skeptical of their revolution, but she did not doubt they meant well. They had kind hearts, even their leader, and without their intervention that evening, she could very well be dead or trapped in a life much too similar to that which she had tried to avoid.
She could feel the bed shift as he laid down next to her, and she nuzzled her face into his chest. His heartbeat was calming - constant. It matched perfectly with her own. She smiled in spite of everything that had happened that evening.
The world, as shitty as it was, could take away most things, but it wouldn't be able to take away this moment. It could not take away the feeling she had for Grantaire, though she had tried to convince herself she had none. There was a warmth in her chest and in her fingertips and throughout her whole body. Like the flame of a candle, small but steady. Pure happiness rushed over her in an unexpected moment of bliss.
"I love you," she breathed.
She was half asleep, and she hadn't intended to say the words, but they had slipped out and she would not take them back now. With their revolution drawing near, she feared she would not have the time to speak these words, and she had to tell him. Marie had trained herself to feel nothing for anyone - but in that moment it was entirely impossible.
Before she even had time to panic, she felt his arms around her and his lips on the crown of her head.
"I love you, too."