Enjolras sat quietly while his friends discussed the death of General Lamarque. It wasn't a dead silence, but one where he was too immersed in deep thought to even bother contributing to the ongoing conversation around him. Not until the perfect idea struck him, anyway.
"We'll begin the revolution on the day of his funeral." He mused, quietly, yet the rest of the students heard still, and fell into a silence, unsure on whether he'd explain or not.
"But that's in two days, Enjolras." Combeferre finally spoke, with a questioning tone.
"We'll send word round. Lamarque was a man of the people, it seems only right that our revolution begins on the day that we bid him farewell."
"Do we begin it at the procession?" Bahorel asked.
"We'll pay our respects to him, and then we'll declare revolution. From there, we'll build our barricades, and the people of Paris will rise to join us in our fight." There was a graceful air about Enjolras' words, a regality to them, with mild traces of uncertainty, but only to those who were scrutinizing him.
Suddenly, following the silence, the group broke into a loud discussion, planning the upcoming event, assigning different roles and thinking of things that needed to be done.
Enjolras didn't leave the Musain until the pitch black of night. His eyes were heavy with weariness, but he still held his lantern out in front of him, keeping his wits about him.
The flicker of the candlelight caught a little figure making its way toward him, and Enjolras squinted his eyes to get a better look at the silhouette in the shadows. The candle lit the face of the person slightly, and Enjolras frowned.
"Éponine? What are you doing out here?" He asked, grabbing her shoulder.
"Monsieur!" She breathed, looking behind her. "I should ask you the same question."
"No, you shouldn't. It's late, why are you out?"
"I'm on my way to Montparnasse's house." Éponine replied sheepishly, looking down at the ground.
Enjolras shuddered, remembering the tall man who had been trying to get Éponine to perform unspeakable acts in the alleyway beside the inn a few weeks ago.
"What for?" His words were slick with venom. "He's a rotten person. Surely you live with your parents?"
Éponine shrugged and Enjolras saw the reddening of her cheek as she looked down again. He sighed, finally understand, and shook his head.
"Well you can't go to Montparnasse. Come, you can stay with me." Éponine's head shot up, her eyes searching Enjolras' face for something he wasn't sure of, but he knew that if it was for him to revoke his offer, she wouldn't find it.
He took her hand, not waiting for an answer, and began to lead her the rest of the way to his apartment. She followed, not protesting, still shocked at his offer.
When they arrived at his apartment, Éponine stood in the doorway behind Enjolras, reluctant to come in.
"You can come in, Mademoiselle. I didn't mean for you to sleep in the corridors." Enjolras shrugged his jacket off and hung it over the back of a chair that sat by a desk under the biggest window in the room.
Éponine took two steps into the room, so she could close the door behind her, but didn't come any further. Enjolras turned to stare at her, confused.
"Are you well, madame?"
She didn't answer his question.
"It's very nice…" She almost sounded like she was talking to herself, but Enjolras replied anyway.
"It's not much," He looked around his living room, at his mediocre furniture and his average books on his ordinary bookshelf. "but it's home." He always counted himself lucky to have a roof over his head, francs in his pocket, food in his cupboards, and a warm bed to sleep in. However, tonight, he would be experiencing the feel of the canapé under him, as his bed would be occupied.
"Come." Enjolras led Éponine to his bedroom, and she sat down on his bed, pushing her hands into the plush mattress. She hadn't felt a bed as soft as this since she was small, her parents' bed was extremely similar back in their room at the inn they once owned. Memories surfaced of her and Azelma, arranging their dolls against the backboard of the bed, laughing and giggling to themselves.
It had been a long time since she had been truly happy.
"I'll be on the couch, if you need me." Enjolras said quietly, bowing his head. He spun, and walked towards the door, before he felt a small, bony hand grab his own.
He turned slowly to face Éponine, and looked down at her.
"Thank you, Monsieur." She whispered.
"It's no bother, Mademoiselle. Now-" Éponine didn't give him the chance to finish. She was up on her tiptoes, face tilted towards his, lips pressing on his.
At first, Enjolras was surprised. His hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to put them. But soon, as their lips began to move against each other, he dropped them and placed them lightly on her hips, the pads of his thumbs slowly rubbing circles over her hipbones.
Soon, Éponine was sliding her hands from his chest, reaching to unbuckle his belt, but Enjolras pulled away.
"You don't have to do that." He breathed, and Éponine rolled her eyes.
"I want to do that." She smirked, and Enjolras felt himself harden even more than he already was. Her smirk drove him crazy, the way it sat perfectly on her face, provoking a dimple on her right cheek.
"Your lips are so beautiful." Enjolras whispered against them, kissing them again and again. His fingers loosened the ties at the back of her dress, and it fell to the floor beneath her, leaving her naked in front of him. He took her hand and helped her step out of the puddle at her feet that was her dress, and, sensing her self consciousness, pulled her close to him.
Enjolras rested his hands at the small of Éponine's back, and placed kisses from her jaw, all the way down her neck to the top of her shoulder, while she shed him of his shirt.
She marvelled at the sight of his build, still unable to believe that such a beautiful face could hide a body this amazing. He truly was The Marble Man, as she ran her hands over the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen, she felt the hard muscle underneath them.
Suddenly, they were kissing again, and Enjolras pushed them back until the back of Éponine's legs hit the bed frame. She sat down, pulling him with her, so he leaned down, a hand either side of her thighs, as she worked to undo his trousers.
He kicked off his boots and pulled his trousers off, throwing them to a corner of the room, to be forgotten for the night. Soon, she was under him, and he was exploring her body with his lips, lingering at the swell of her breasts and over her taut nipples, swirling his tongue around them a few times.
Her core was throbbing, slick with her juices. Enjolras spread them around with his fingers, before slipping one into her. Éponine let out a cry as she felt him move his finger back and forth painstakingly slowly, and he groaned at the feel of her tightness, and the sight of her face contorted with the fire he was igniting in her.
He slipped another finger in, curving them both at their deepest and biting his lip when she arched her back off of the bed underneath her in pleasure. Enjolras let out a guttural moan when Éponine grabbed his aching shaft, letting her hand run up and down it with a gentle squeeze here and there. He began circling her clit with his thumb, and she shouted with bliss at the sensation, begging for him to replace his fingers with his length, moaning his name over and over.
Enjolras complied, and in a swift movement, did exactly what he was asked. Before she could gather her thoughts, Éponine was gasping for air as Enjolras pounded into her, hard and fast. He rested his forehead in the crook of her neck, nipping at her shoulder and sucking at the skin, leaving deep red marks in several places.
Her hands found their way into his soft, golden curls and she clutched at them, bony fingers weaving around the locks and brushing them back.
His head lifted up to place his mouth on hers, desperate for her to kiss him with her beautiful mouth. It was a sloppy kiss, but it carried meaning, and each felt like they had begun to understand the other.
Pressure was building rapidly inside each of their bodies, and soon, Éponine was digging her nails into Enjolras' back, her mouth spreading into an 'o' shape as pleasure coursed through her veins, crashing around her body. A few more hard, swift thrusts, and Enjolras was flooding himself inside of her as her muscles clenched around his arousal, whispering her name with adoration.
They lay breathless for a while, clutching each other like they were the only things they had left in the world.
"The revolution begins in two days." Enjolras whispered, and Éponine squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't dare criticize it out loud, but she was free to think whatever she wanted about it in the safety of her own mind.
Stupid, stupid boys. What are they thinking, marching to their own deaths?
"Isn't that… the day of General Lamarque's funeral procession?" She bit out.
"Yes." Enjolras replied, moving to lie by her side. "We'll pay our respects to him, and assemble our barricades in his memory."
There might as well be a mass grave by General Lamarque's tomb if they carry on with what they are planning.
"You're tired." Éponine ran her thumb underneath Enjolras' eye, and tutted. "You need sleep." She didn't want to ask anymore questions because they'd only provoke further annoyance in her. Instead, she stroked his hair with a soothing motion that reminded him of his mother's caring hands.
Enjolras couldn't argue. After the exhausting day he'd had, he was surprised he was still awake even then. Éponine's hands were lulling him into a much needed slumber, and soon, everything was black.
When he awoke the next day, his cheeks reddened furiously at the sight of Éponine in his bed, naked beside him. His arm was draped across her hips, and her hand was still entwined in his wild curls. Enjolras felt like his drowsiness had made him act as though he was drunk that night prior, but he didn't regret any of it.
He untangled himself from Éponine as gently as he could, trying his hardest not to wake her. He dressed himself quickly, and looked fondly upon her sleeping form for a while, almost feeling at peace when he watched her chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm, not a care evident across her relaxed face.
Enjolras decided to write her a note instead of just leaving her in his bed without saying another word. It could possibly be his last time seeing her, if the revolution went wrong, and that was a thought Enjolras found too hard to bear. Months ago, it would have been a different story. But this poor gamine had cracked The Marble Man's stone heart, etching her name onto it too.
Éponine,
Stay safe in the next few days. Stay away from all barricades, and keep yourself from trouble. Paris will be vulnerable, and therefore so shall you, and all others who walk its streets. Please heed my words.
You are, and always will be, my Patria.
Enjolras
He left her with the note on the desk beside the bed and a kiss on her forehead, that lingered over three seconds, he was sure. Then, he was gone, to the Musain for the final meeting and preparations for this deadly revolution that would surely steal lives away from young men who still had their's far ahead of them.
Éponine woke a few hours after, at first confused of her surroundings. However, memories of the night before began to come back, and she smiled, her hand curling in the sheet beside her at the memory of how she felt. But then, happiness turned to panic, as she didn't feel Enjolras beside her, and she shot up, looking about the room frantically.
Her eyes fell onto the letter on the desk, and she snatched it up, reading over it again and again. She felt her heart twist as she read the last line, but she didn't dwell on it for long.
Éponine could nearly feel her heart break in two as she realised that she might not see Enjolras again, that there was a high chance he wouldn't come out of this battle alive. Of course, she knew this long ago, but the enormity of the situation was truly impacting on her now, in her sudden realisation of never being able to see any of them again.
Enjolras, Gavroche, Marius, Grantaire's sarcasm, Joly's hypochondria, Courfeyrac and his caring heart, Bahorel's humour, the list going endlessly on. She would never experience time with these people again.
And it was then that Éponine decided that she needed to get herself a place behind the barricades with these people, for being with them one last time.