Another month full of warmth and joy flew by, it had been the most beautiful month in Esmeralda's eyes, her memories were filled with sounds of uncontrollable giggles as glasses clinked in the background; long thought-inspiring walks along the canal Saint-Martin at sunset with her newly found friends. Her heart was wavering from it's firm stance in her chest for the beautiful blonde revolutionary. She felt it. She knew it.

She had known it since the first time she had laid eyes on him, that he was different; that he wasn't like any other man she had ever encountered in her entire life. She knew… that if he offered his hand in marriage to her she'd take it within a single heartbeat. However, that was a scenario that would never come true, no matter how she would replay the scene her imagination made up in her mind repeatedly, she knew how Enjolras loathed the concept of marriage. It didn't make her daydream any less about it though.

She could almost envision those electric blue eyes in front of her, staring into her own emerald ones. Esmeralda had always thought how cold his eyes were, the glacier that seemed to hide in his eyes gave menacing looks to unwanted strangers when they needed to, but now she knew that the hottest of fires burned bright blue.

"How strange, this feeling that my life's begun at last
This change, can people really fall in love so fast?
Esmeralda, what's wrong with you?
Have you been too much on your own?
So many things unclear
So many things unknown.

In my life
There are so many questions and answers
That somehow seem wrong
In my life
There are times when I catch in the silence
The sigh of a faraway song
And it sings
Of a world that I long to see
Out of reach
Just a whisper away
Waiting for me."

Esmeralda unwrapped the mass of sheets around her lithe body and hastily jumped out of bed, walking with careful footsteps to her open window. She gazed out into the beautiful lush garden in front of her, the colour of the grass and the leaves matching her emerald orbs as her eyes caught onto a fluttering butterfly in the air. She released a small sigh, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her.

"Does he know I'm right here?
Do I know if he's true?
Does he see what I see?
Does he feel what I feel?

In my life I'm no longer alone
Now that love in my life
Is so near
Tell me now, tell me dear."

She crept down the hallway with quiet steps till she reached her father's study.

As she grew closer with her friends; to Enjolras, she found her father slowly drawing away from her. It was only today she had bumped into Marius Pontmercy, by chance, in a square earlier in the evening. It was like every step closer she took towards those boys, she took a step away from her father and in no ways possible, were she able to stay with both.

Her father was more lenient with her more than ever, letting her walk around Paris with men he hadn't even been introduced to yet and letting her stay out late with them, it was almost as if he had been occupied with something more important than her. Esmeralda had stumbled upon him in his office multiple of times, with his head resting in his hands; afraid she'd disturb him, she had walked away, leaving her father to occupy his own thoughts. Every time she gazed at her Papa, she saw the storm in his eyes grow, like the inner turmoil within himself grew with it. She noticed the redness of his eyes in the morning, despite him saying he had slept like a baby the night before. It ripped her heart into pieces to see him fall apart in her hands.

It was on this day she had had enough.

The sun was about to set over the city of Paris, colouring the sky a beautiful array of colours as it cast an orange hue into the small cottage the Fauchelevents lived in. Esmeralda had been quietly watching her father sigh and grumble from his study door for the past five minutes. She watched him run his hand through his hair multiple times, letting out a defeated sigh every now and again as he stared through the window of his study. It was today, Esmeralda would find out what had been tormenting her father this passed month so horribly.

"Papa." Her voice came out as a whisper, but Valjean had heard it anyways.

He turned to the doorway, letting his eyes take in his daughter as she relaxed against the side of the door frame.

"Esmeralda." He let out another sigh. "What is it you need, my child?"

Esmeralda swallowed the hard lump in her throat and carefully made her way into the room to sit on the small chair opposite her father's desk.

"This past month you have…" She sighed, trying to think of the right words, "Been acting a bit off, Papa."

Valjean's back tensed as he took in her words. The movements of his hands stilled on his desk as he faced away from her. His eyes seemed to harden as he continued to stare through the window, away from Esmeralda.

"I'm not sure I understand your words, Esmeralda." The words he spoke were grave and only incited sadness within Esmeralda.

"You know what I speak of Papa…" She wringed her hands together nervously. "What is it you've been hiding from me this past month?"

Valjean stood suddenly, not sparing a glance in Esmeralda's direction.

"There's so little I know, that I'm longing to know of the man that you were a time long ago…" The melodic tone of her voice travelled through the tense air between them. "There's so little you say of the life you have known; Why you keep to yourself; Why you're always alone…"

She gazed sadly into his eyes, watching the storm pool within them once again.

"So dark, so dark and deep…" Esmeralda paused, "The secrets that you keep."

They faced each other now, the sun had already bid farewell and the moon was in full shine above them as the dazzling moonlight creeped through the window of the study, illuminating their solemn faces.

"In my life…" Esmeralda hesitantly took a step closer to her Papa, carefully taking his hands in hers. "Please forgive what I say, you are loving and gentle and good. But Papa, dear Papa in your eyes I am still like the child that would dance in the woods."

Valjean quickly slipped his hands from Esmeralda's causing a frown to appear on her face.

"No more words, it is a time that is dead. There are words that are better unheard… better unsaid." His voice was raised as he quickly left the room, letting a desperate Esmeralda trickle behind him.

"In my life… I'm no longer a child and I yearn for the truth that you know!" The strength of her voice increased as she persisted after her Papa, following him up to his bedroom where he heaved a heavy sigh and lowered himself to his bed. "Of the years… years ago."

Valjean's eyes remained tightly closed as he spoke his next words firmly to Esmeralda.

"You will learn that truth is given by God to us all in our time, in our turn."

A breath of defeat seemed to flee from Esmeralda's lungs as she caught the words her Papa had thrown her way. She blinked, standing still for a few seconds before turning dejectedly turning away from her father and treaded down the hallway.

Loud chatter and laughter filled the air of the back room of Café Musain as Les Amis d'ABC enjoyed and revelled in each other's company. Only Enjolras, who's arms were braced firmly against the table as he leaned over the multiple stacks of papers in front of him, seemed to be silent. He felt the frustration within himself grow as his mind seemed to keep wondering back to a certain mademoiselle with brilliantly emerald eyes. Her presence clouded his thoughts, yet at the same time her presence was missed. He quickly assessed the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner; his ears carefully listening for her melodic laughter to float through the air, yet there was none. She was absent.

For 2 months straight, ever since she had met them, Esmeralda had attended all the meetings. She continuously showed up on time, with a dazzling smile on her face and with many ideas in hand to share with them; so, you could imagine the confusion to not see the young mademoiselle at the meeting. Esmeralda had never once broken one of her promises to Enjolras, and it was earlier yesterday that she promised she would definitely be at the Café tonight. Enjolras wasn't particularly sure why he had specifically asked Esmeralda to make sure she'd come to this meeting tonight, maybe it was the voice in the back of his head that told him he'd miss her too much if she was away.

But how could he miss her? To miss someone, you would have to form an attachment to them; to form a bond of some kind, is that what they had? Was it really just friendship between the pair of them? Or was it something more? Something more passionate, fierier; something that burned in the hearts of the two of them without them ever acknowledging it.

Enjolras prided himself to be an unwavering man, he had once promised himself that he would never devote any part of his heart to the means of women, yet here he was with his heart in throws of pain as his mind was enthralled with worry over Esmeralda's lack of presence. He had always thought love made a man a fool, that if any part of a man's mind wasn't focused on the task at hand it would sabotage the quality of their work.

Ever since the day Esmeralda had spilt her heart out to him, how she had spread out her raw emotions about her worry and love for her Father over a matter so trivial as marriage, his heart had been attached to her. However, it wasn't trivial anymore; not to her, not to him. Marriage was an inconvenient problem for Esmeralda, a source of worry and anxiety for her, and therefore it was a problem for him as well. He hated to admit it, to admit the fact that an alluring, allusive woman like Esmeralda had managed to worm her way into the pit of his heart, however she was much more than that. She was so much more than her outside appearances. If you looked passed her beauty, passed the flirtatious comments and into the heart of Esmeralda, you would find the enormous amount of kindness, selflessness and the unswerving compassion she held in her heart for the people around her. How she had managed to put up with his berating and irritating arse these passed few months he had no idea.

He didn't deserve her.

He didn't deserve the men that surrounded him at this very moment.

His eyes finally lifted to gaze upon the multiples of young men around him, his thoughts strayed to how they were all so young, yet they had come to join his cause; to join his arms in battle. Did he really have the right to proclaim himself as their leader? Was he truly good enough to fill that role? Was he good enough for Esmeralda… to love?

He finally straightened himself, readying himself for the meeting ahead. He could no longer wait for Esmeralda to show.

"The time is near…" The chatter disappeared into thin air as the whole room's focus shifted onto Enjolras. "So near that it's stirring the blood in their veins and yet beware… don't let the wine go to your brains."

With a harsh glare towards Grantaire, who's only response was to continue to sip on his bottle, Enjolras continued.

"We need a sign! To rally the people; to call them in arms; to bring them in line!"

Joly's eyes rested on Marius, watching the young Pontmercy stare into nothing.

"Marius wake up." Joly's words seemed to jolt Marius from whatever reverie the young man was enraptured in. "What's wrong today? You look as if you've seen ghost."

Grantaire strutted his way over to the solemn man and poured a hefty glass of wine for him.

"Some wine and say what's going on."

Marius chuckled lightly before darting his eyes across his peers.

"A ghost, you say? A ghost maybe."

Enjolras ears didn't fail as he picked up the words Marius had uttered a few metres over. He looked up from his table and casted his eyes to Marius who had strolled over to an empty chair.

"She was just like a ghost to me. One minute there, then she was gone."

"Oh yeah? Then who was this 'she' that you speak of?" It seemed Grantaire didn't catch the freezing glare Enjolras had sent over to him, either that or he had simply ignored it.

Marius seemed hesitant to say, as if the mademoiselle in question would get backlash if he revealed her name.

"…Esmeralda."

Enjolras' whole body seemed to freeze at the name. He felt the tension rise through his whole body as her name was uttered upon the lips of Marius. It seemed that Enjolras wasn't the only one to be bewitched by Esmeralda. He slowly turned his head to behold the sight of a blushing Marius as the rest of Les Amis teased him for having taken fancy to Esmeralda. However, anger seemed to swirl in the pit of Enjolras' chest as he took in the lovestruck Marius before him. So many questions seemed to run through his confused mind all at once. Was he truly getting angry at Marius for simply falling in love with Esmeralda? How hypocritical he felt, as he had spent that last ten minutes pondering over his own feelings for the mademoiselle. Or was this… jealously? Jealously – the sickening combination of possessiveness, suspicion, rage and humiliation; all summed up in one emotion. Jealously was and always will be an emotion Enjolras would loathe till the day he died. It was jealously that managed to incarcerate a man enough to have an affect on his actions and his mentality, more than love.

Love was a luxury.

With the people so close to starting this revolution they had been planning for years, could he afford to fall in love with Esmeralda? He couldn't afford to… but he had. He wondered what is was that Marius was in love with; was it the way her emerald eyes seemed to glisten every time she laughed? Or the way she was so unswerving to her friends and family, the amount of loyalty that she kept in her heart. Enjolras could've spent hours on reasons why Esmeralda was such a beautiful person without even having to touch upon her looks. Could Marius do the same?

Combeferre had been watching, spectating this whole time. His eyes carefully ran over the occupants that filled the room from his seclusive corner in the back as Marius and Enjolras seemed to be in their own little worlds. He watched Enjolras' back stiffen as Marius had uttered the name of the young mademoiselle who had managed to crawl into a small part of each their hearts and make her home there. Combeferre also noticed her lack of presence within the room tonight, in fact it was hard not to notice the lack of bubbly laughter that would float through the air, or the sound of her angelic voice as she voiced her never-ending supplies of ideas and prospects to the group of men around her.

His eyes watched Grantaire as the drunk's eyebrows raised at Marius' confession of love.

"I am agog! I am aghast! Wil Marius confess at last? I've never heard him Ooh and Aah." The mocking tone of Grantaire's voice was slyly hidden under the drunken slur of all of it. "You talk of battles to be won! Yet here he comes like Don Juan, it is better than an Opera!"

The bashful smile on Marius' face seemed to fade as Grantaire all but sang out the last words.

Enjolras' gaze never faltered from Marius, he couldn't reprimand Marius for he was just as hopeless as him; having fallen in love with the same woman, at the same time. Yet he needed to have the right motivations at the front of his mind, he needed to keep his men together before the biggest event of their young lives happened. He couldn't afford to have Esmeralda in the centre of his mind, he needed that place for Patria; for the revolution.

"It is time for us all to decide who we are…" The room quietened again at the sound of Enjolras' voice trickling through the warm air. "Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now?" The fire in his eyes seemed to burn as he looked around his table of men. "Have you asked of yourselves, what's the price you might pay? Is it simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colours of the world are changing day by day…"

Combeferre could see what Enjolras was doing. The only fool that was blind enough to his own love for a woman was Enjolras. Combeferre could almost read the inner workings of Enjolras' mind for he knew him that well. He was pushing Esmeralda away, putting her in the back of his mind because he believed that the mind was not a place where revolution and love could coincide. Combeferre knew he had to stop Enjolras before things got out of hand before his leader loses the love of his life forever.

"Red, the blood of angry men

Black, the dark of ages past

Red, the world about to dawn

Black, the night that ends at last!"

Enjolras' eyes never seemed to waver from Marius as he stood from his seat, but Marius soon followed suit.

"Had you seen her today, you might know how it feels…

To be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight."

Enjolras scoffed in the face of Marius, keeping his true emotions of conflict hidden behind a cold stoic mask.

"Had you been there today, you might also have known…

How your world may be changed in one burst of light,

And what was right seems wrong

And what was wrong seems right!"

Enjolras took a dangerous step closer to Marius, the pair almost chest to chest, and lowered his voice to a dangerous level.

"I know more than you think, Pontmercy."

Marius' brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask Enjolras the meaning of his words Grantaire's voice bellowed through the room.

"Red!"

"I feel my soul on fire!" Enjolras' piercing glare seemed to cut right through Grantaire, but it seemed the drunkard didn't get the message.

"Black!" Grantaire gestured mockingly.

"My world if she's not there!"

"Red!" The whole room seemed to join in.

"The colour of desire!"

"Black!"

"The colour of despair!"

Combeferre could see the inner turmoil tumbling through Enjolras' brain like it was a storm in the middle of a bright summers day. His eyes held the fire, yet his words held the storm. Combeferre hoped Enjolras wasn't about to say something he was going to regret in the future.

"Marius you are no longer a child!" Marius let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair to comb the mess upon his head. "I do not doubt you mean it well, but now there is a higher cause-"

"I know." Marius replied with a smile to his friend.

Marius knew Enjolras always meant well, but sometimes the fool had no idea what the heart was capable of, or was he?

"Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive towards a larger goal." These words that flowed from Enjolras' mouth, did he mean them? His heart was doubting his brain. "Our little lives don't count at all."

For the first time in Enjolras' life his heart and mind weren't in sync. Patria wasn't the only thing in his heart anymore, for he found Esmeralda lodged deep within it. With his mind battling for dominance over his heart, his body was a turmoil. Was he truly reprimanding Marius for the greater good of all of them? Or was he doing it for his own selfish goals?

"Red, the blood of Angry men

Black, the dark of ages past

Red, a world about to dawn

Black, the night that ends at last!"

"Listen everybody!" The Les Amis had been too caught up with themselves to have noticed the entrance of their youngest member, Gavroche, enter the hall.

The attention of the whole room fell onto the young boy.

"General Lamarque is dead."

The shock seeped into the veins of Les Amis as they received the news of the death of the only high standing general that was on their side through these hard-unbearable times. It was as if light had managed to crack through a cloudy sky as Enjolras saw an opportunity, an opportunity he wasn't willing to lose.

"Lamarque, his death is the hour of fate." Enjolras' body swivelled to face the rest of the room. "The people's man… his death is the sign we await!

"On his funeral day, they will honour his name with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes.

From the candles of grief, we will kindle our flame.

On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise.

The time is here!

Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer!"

The fires in each of other souls were lit by Enjolras' inspiring words.

"Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts-"

"But a jubilant shout!"

"They will come one and all!"

"They will come when we call!"

The voices of the men carried through the warm air of the night as they shouted and cheered their calls of revolution, with their hearts pounding their chests and the fires of passion aflame in their hearts.