WARNING: Purple prose ahead! (I blame my Lit final on figurative language in medieval plays)
There was a change to the way he looked at her in comparison to his usual unwavering, cold glare. It was something close to tender, as if life was a hurricane and she was a rose, buffered by the winds, her petals being torn away and released into the heavens. And he? He was the gardener, who just watched from his shelter as if he could help by sending her pitiful gazes.
She was pretty sure that she didn't like it; to solve her problem, she ignored it. She ignored him.
Enjolras was furious. The reasons should be fairly obvious. As a youth who was usually exempt from human emotions and physical desires, this strange new feeling was, well… Strange. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the hidden beauty that was Éponine. Whenever he tried to turn himself to stone, she would look up at him with her homely eyes and he would feel himself melting.
The veins in this marble were made of lava that remained dormant until she came into the picture. Enjolras knew that the only person he could be bothered to talk to about this was Prouvaire or Pontmercy. However, Prouvaire would probably squeal and ask for details, then proceeding to write a poem that would be called something horribly blatant like 'Enjonine'. Pontmercy would redirect the conversation to his personal situation.
That's how Enjolras ended up stealing Grantaire from Éponine for a night. You can imagine Grantaire's shock when the two boys ended up at a well-known bar in Queens. Enjolras handed the artist a very realistic fake ID, as well as taking one for himself.
"Is Apollo actually going to drink? Let this be marked as a historical day, when a God came down from Olympus to suck some of Dionysius' sweet, sweet nectar!" Grantaire snickered at his last allusion. "That sounded dirty. Unless…" He looked towards Enjolras, waggling his bushy eyebrows. The usually stony blond became tinged with red, and all hints of sarcasm were lost in Grantaire's shocked face. First drinking, then emotions?
"We don't have time for your nonsensical mythology." Enjolras snapped, practically pushing Grantaire out of the car.
The air was nearly freezing, and their breaths emerged in small clouds framed by the fluorescent neon of the Manhattan night. Enjolras looked up at the sky that was nothing but a dark, dismal gray that seemed to dim even further above the harsh lights.
"Why is this damn city so dirty?" Enjolras began. "I mean, this world is part of something so large, so beautiful! There should be eight wonders of the world, and the new addition should be the night sky!" He rambled as they pushed into the crowded bar. They snagged a small booth by the time that Grantaire spoke.
"Nine." He said.
"I'm sorry?" Enjolras looked confused as he tried to process the singular syllable. Grantaire nodded sadly.
"Nine wonders, and the ninth should be Éponine." Grantaire said. Although this was his plan in the first place, a selfish part of him begged for the marble man to deny it immediately. Instead, Enjolras immediately flagged down a waitress. At this refusal to respond, Grantaire's swollen heart sank.
"Gin and tonic." Grantaire said, and the red-headed woman nodded, her wrinkled mouth pressing into a line as she turned to Enjolras.
"And you, pretty boy?"
If he was bothered by the nickname, Enjolras didn't give any sign. He looked at his companion, lost. Grantaire, despite his sadness, managed a chuckle and ordered for him.
"Just a glass of Merlot for him." Grantaire said, shooting the waitress a wink. She rolled her eyes.
"I'd cahd the both of ya, but it's kind of refreshing to see kids doing something other than drinking Sta'bucks and going on Instagram ." She walked away, her heels clicking as she unsteadily went to the bartender to get their drinks.
"Grantaire," Enjolras sighed. "I think there's something wrong with me."
Grantaire faked a gasp, putting a charcoal-caked hand over his heart. "I am agog! I am aghast, is our dear Lukey in love at last?"
Enjolras glared, responding with a curt, "You know I hate my first name. And you know how much I hate it when you call me 'Lukey'."
"That wasn't a 'no'." Grantaire pointed out, to Enjolras' great displeasure.
"No, it wasn't…"
"'Ponine!" Marius called. Éponine, who was walking with Enjolras, turned around, a light brightening her dull eyes. Marius caught up with the odd pair and grasped Éponine's slender wrists. "Oh, why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what, Mister Marius?" She asked, teasingly. If he was this interested in something that was most likely to be trivial, how interested would he be when (if) he finally fell in love with her?
"That you and," He lowered his voice, as if it was a secret between the two of them, "Cosette are friends?"
Éponine felt her face twist, and she knew that Enjolras was watching her with that look in his eyes. "Mister, we're not-"
"Oh, you must help me with her birthday present! After all, she did say that you were the only girl her age that she knew, so therefore you are the only person I can enlist the help of!" Marius laughed as though he'd made a great joke. With that laughter still in his eyes, he ruffled her hair and bounded away, shouting over his shoulder, "Meet me in the courtyard after school!"
"You're not actually going to go, are you?" Enjolras asked, haughtily. Éponine dodged his gaze, and he made himself soften for her sake. He gently angled her chin so that she was looking at him, and he could see the tears burning her eyes. She pulled away and started to walk faster. He said loudly enough for her to hear, "You don't have to go…"
She ignored him.
It killed him. The sneaky longing in his Apollo's eyes as he looked at the elusive Selene. Like sun and moon, they were destined to never meet. Grantaire could only imagine the supernova that would occur if they did. He could all too easily imagine the horrible, ripping pain through his heart when he would see them kiss for the first time. Yes, he would be there to ensure that this disastrous event would occur.
They deserved each other. Apollo, with his hollow feelings and his empty home, and Selene, with her broken body and twisted heart. They needed each other, that's why days and nights occurred. Apollo would race towards the sunset to meet the moon, while she was racing towards the sky for a last glimpse of him.
And yet, Grantaire was determined to make it happen; that's how Dionysus was stuck playing the role of Cupid.
A/N: I know! A short chapter after a long hiatus :( Don't kill me!
And I feel so bad for R! Someone cry with me, please!
This pathetic chapter (as well as an odd n2n AU two-shot) is the result of the worst week of my life.
So, um, I survived final exams. *barely* I managed a low A on my Lit, a B on my Math, a C on all the rest (French, Science, History). And, not surprisingly, an A in drama.
Our Drama final was kind of amazing. We had to get into groups of a number smaller than ten (My group had four) and put on a one-act show as a full production. It was tons of fun, and quite frankly my group was the only one that knew their lines and had blocking down and stuff. Half the groups tried to improv their way into an A. (it didn't work)
And the guy who was our Techie is leaving the program to study abroad, so I'm kind of very mad at him because we lack talented males.
Annnnyyywaayyy, review! And did anyone catch my subtle and pathetic allusion to one of my other stories that may or may not be updated today? (it was just the title)