Hello, my lovelies! Happy Frabulous Friday! I hope you're excited for Chapter 22! I sure am!
Also, the majority of you prefer Enjonine over Enjoltaire.
And Enjolras, I'm sorry in advance. Don't kill me!
"You love me," growled the greasy, frightening looking teenager. "YOU LOVE ME!"
Enjolras had been weaving in and out of the crowd in the café, and at that moment, he began to run, though it made no difference. The teenager grabbed Eponine, his Eponine, and pressed her against the wall, his hands at her throat, strangling her. "SAY YOU LOVE ME!" he shouted, but that was as far as he got before Enjolras reached him and socked him in the jaw. He recoiled, taking his hands off of Eponine. "You want a fight, bourgeois?" he asked, mockingly. He turned toward Eponine, to find she was not there. She was sitting on the floor, breathing hard, looking terrified.
Enjolras didn't answer, but the greasy man pushed him onto the street. He tried to punch Enjolras, but the golden haired revolutionary caught his fist and drove it downward. The other man just grinned and kneed him in the crotch, smiling icily as Enjolras fell to the ground, groaning.
Enjolras was about to get up, but the man pressed a hand to his throat. Not hard, but enough to make Enjolras lie still for fear of being choked. In an instant, the man had whipped out a butterfly knife and spun it, almost lazily, in his fingers until the blade popped out. He quickly took his hand away from Enjolras's throat and pressed the knife there instead, pushing just hard enough to see blood. "Now tell me," he purred. "Why were you protecting my Eponine?"
"She's not yours."
"Oh, is that so?" asked the man mockingly. "Eponine?" he called.
There was no answer for a moment, so he called again. "Eponine, dearest, get over here!"
Suddenly, Enjolras heard the choked, trying to stay strong voice of Eponine. "Don't hurt him."
"Ah ha," grinned the man maliciously. "He's your spot of luck, is he?"
"Let him go, 'Parnasse," stated Eponine defiantly, but Enjolras could not see her. All he could see was the man, pressing a knife to his throat, his long, greasy strands of hair almost hitting Enjolras in the face when he bent over him.
"Are you in his bed every night?" mocked the man called Parnasse. "Does he make love to you every night, like I did?"
"LIAR!" screamed Eponine, and Enjolras heard the scuffling of feet, yet all he could see was the man above him and… Combeferre?
For it was. Combeferre, his beloved right-hand man, was sneaking up behind Montparnasse and in an instant, had him by the shirt. "No he doesn't." said Combeferre. "And neither will you."
Montparnasse growled and took the knife off of Enjolras's throat. He stood up, pushing Combeferre out of the way. "Mark my words, blondie," he said, pointing at Enjolras. "You will pay. You will."
Then, just like that, he swept around the corner and was gone. Enjolras looked around for Combeferre and found him gone. He pressed a hand to his throat, and, to his horror, saw a smudge of red on his fingertips. It didn't hurt, but he was tired. He had been working hard for a while…
Enjolras shut his eyes and slumped to the pavement, unbeknownst of the blood trickling out of the gash on his neck.
….
"Enjolras?" asked Eponine, running up to him. "Enjolras?" She had seen him pass out and had run towards him fast as she could. She knelt on the pavement, cradling his head in her lap. Combeferre sprinted up to her. "Enj!" he exclaimed.
Eponine turned to the crowd of people standing behind her with mouths open. "Don't just stand there! Somebody call 911!" A person got his phone out and dialed the numbers. "An ambulance is on its way," he told her. She nodded in thanks and turned toward Enjolras again. The cut on his neck didn't appear to be very deep, but blood was slowly trickling out. She immediately took off her sweatshirt and pressed it to the wound.
Suddenly, she heard sirens and saw an ambulance stop nearby. Medics rushed out with a stretcher and loaded him onto it. One nodded to Eponine. "You did well. Now go home." She stubbornly shook her head. "I'm the person who knows him best. Even better then Combeferre," she added, pointing to Ferre. "So give me a ride. You need someone to vouch for him anyway."
Sighing, the medic nodded and gestured to the back of the ambulance. She climbed in next to the unconscious Enjolras, and the doors were closed. The ambulance rushed towards the nearest hospital.
Eponine brushed her cheek with a finger and found it wet. I'm crying?
She rubbed her cheek again, in an effort to stop the tears, but gave up when she realized that Enjolras, her Enjolras, the man she had come to consider as a best friend, was unconscious and injured from a man she had once called lover. "Mark my words, Parnasse. You will pay for this. I will find you, don't you worry. And you will wish you hadn't been born!" she promised herself.
Then, she turned toward Enjolras. She gripped one of his hands tightly, threading her fingers between his. "Oh Enj," she prayed. "Please wake up. You have to wake up. Please. We need you. I need you most of all,"
Telling him was as much for him as it was for herself. Then, she bent down and gently pressed her lips to his forehead. To her surprise, it was burning hot. "Get better, Enj." she whispered.
Suddenly, the ambulance stopped and the back door opened. The medics wheeled Enjolras out and brought him inside on the stretcher. She followed them inside and went up to the counter. "I'm with him."
The matronly woman looked up at her through large glasses. "I'm sorry, hon. What happened?" She sighed, wiping tears from her nose. "The Patron-Minette's what happened."
The woman sighed and stood up, opening her arms. Eponine embraced her, tears flooding down her cheeks. "What's his name?" she asked. "Gregory Enjolras," replied Eponine. The secretary typed some things in. "He'll be in Room 202. They'll call me with a condition sooner or later, and then I'll tell you."
Eponine nodded. "Thanks," she choked out. The woman nodded. "Of course, hon. Any time."
Eponine found an empty chair at an empty table and sat down. She saw a TV remote and turned on the flatscreen, flipping through all the channels one by one, over and over, until a large arm grabbed her. She looked up to see a man in a very large hat and trenchcoat, covering all of his face. "There's someone that wants to talk to you."
Eponine didn't say anything, but went back to flipping through her channels. The man grabbed her and forced her through the hospital doors to the street, which was dark save for streetlights. She checked her phone and found that it was 10:00 at night.
The man dragged her to the corner of the street, where she found Montparnasse. He stepped toward her, reaching out a hand. She slapped it back. "Get away from me!" she shrieked. He smiled, a grin full of oil. "But you love me."
"I'VE NEVER LOVED YOU!" she screamed. "YOU'RE A LYING. CHEATING BASTARD WHO ALMOST KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"
Montparnasse sighed. "Oh, Eponine. What to do with you. Who do you love, darling?" he asked, tilting her chin up with one finger.
"You want to know?" she growled. "Yes, my sweet." he replied.
"I love him."
Then, she socked him in the jaw and went back inside the hospital without another word.
Would you rather be Eponine, Cossette, or Musichetta?