Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, the novel or the musical, both of which are amazing.
Title: The Note
Summary: Enjolras has never been fond of the female affection thrown his way. Yet, he finds himself strangely compelled when he discovers an anonymous note in his pocket. Who was the one to put it there? And, when he discovers the truth, will he then be able to convince her that he is indeed the one the note was intended for?
Author's Note: I do apologize for making Enjolras seem a bit too rude. I wanted it to be quite obvious that he didn't really approve of the way Eponine went about things with Marius. Also, that he isn't really into the whole romance thing and, in a way, looked down on others that were completely blinded by such a thing. If that makes sense…? Hopefully as the story goes on, I will be able to make his previous behavior a bit more…understandable/acceptable. Hopefully, though, this chapter redeems him a bit. I don't want it to seem like he is so easily swayed, which may be the reason behind his reaction when he finds himself alone again.
Chapter 3 – Dinner at Notre Dame
Darkness had inhabited Paris, and Eponine knew that the time had come for her to meet Enjolras for this absurd dinner he was planning. She couldn't say she had high hopes for it. She knew that he wasn't much better off financially than she was. And, he wasn't one to resort to petty thievery. At least, she figured, if he ended up tricking her with this, as well, she could be reassured in all of her reservations against him.
It was easy enough for her to find her way. Not only had she frequented the Café Musain so much, but she also thrived in the blackness of night, so getting to her destination took no time at all. Spying it in the distance, she wished that she could put off the inevitable. If there was a way to continue to procrastinate, she would have jumped at the opportunity.
Unfortunately, nothing seemed to present itself, and she reached the designated meeting spot before the other party.
She loitered just outside, not wanting to be recognized by the regular clientele within. She half imagined Enjolras lounging at a table with his friends, laughing at her foolishness and his ability to manipulate her. She wrapped the shawl, which was little more than a lengthy piece of cloth, tighter about her shoulders in a sad attempt to stave off the chill in the air. Her dark eyes darted about. She couldn't help wondering how ridiculous she looked, and if Enjolras failed to show up, she would seem even more ridiculous.
Typically she could care less what everybody thought of her. If not, she would have stopped chasing Marius long ago. She knew what people said about her. She knew that she was often called pathetic and delusional. It didn't matter, though. Nobody understood. Besides, it was a cruel world with nobody to rely upon other than oneself. She was merely prepared in that sense.
Enjolras always seemed so serious and so demanding. She watched him at times when dealing with female suitors. He never even gave them a second look. It was as if such emotions were worthless to him. She really wondered at times what the reason was for his defensiveness. For him to be so uninclined toward female attention, something must have occurred. She couldn't say she had much interest in the answer, but there was a bit of curiosity there.
Lost in thought, Eponine almost missed Enjolras approaching. She saw him at the last second. He carried a baguette under one arm and a cloth parcel in his hand. Underneath his other arm was a bottle of wine, and he balanced two glasses in his last available hand. Much beyond her awareness, she straightened her posture at his approach, even going so far as to tug at her tattered shirt. It looked as if he had taken special care of his appearance. His entire ensemble seemed neater. And, she couldn't be completely sure, but it seemed that he had run a comb through his unruly blonde locks.
"I see you actually showed," he greeted with a grin.
"Are you surprised?" she baited.
He shrugged as best he could with his arms full. "A little. I really didn't know what to expect when I got here."
Her eyes moved about, landing everywhere but on him. She pretended that their meeting had been nothing more than an afterthought to her. "Well I couldn't let the food go to waste." At least it was half true. Her gaze landed on the items he was carrying. "Are we going in? I don't know that they will like that you've brought your own refreshments."
"Actually, I found a much nicer venue." He turned on his heel, marching away from the Café Musain, expecting her to follow. And, she didn't disappoint.
"Where are we going?" she asked, but received no answer. "Enjolras!" It made her quicken her pace behind him, eager to reach this mysterious destination.
They weaved in and out of side streets, a route that she knew well. Even so, it wasn't until they had come directly upon Notre Dame that she realized where he had taken her. She ceased in her tracks, staring up at the darkened façade of the cathedral. It took him a few extra strides before he realized she had stopped. He turned back around toward her, expectantly.
"I thought we could take a seat on one of the benches here and enjoy the view," Enjolras told her.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Eponine breathed. Her gaze finally fell back down, halting on him. "Why would you choose this, of all places, to have dinner?"
Enjolras shrugged, apparently not understanding the issue she had. "I am sorry, Eponine, I really didn't mean anything by it. I thought perhaps it would be best to make amends at the scene where the offense had taken place. Besides, it is quite a remarkable sight at night, wouldn't you say?"
She looked at him warily. "Why am I having doubts about this already?"
He laughed, crossing back to her. "Will you just trust me? Please, come and sit down." He ushered her to the nearest bench, where she lowered herself carefully onto it.
Enjolras set the items he carried onto the empty space, laying everything out carefully. He untied the small bundle, revealing a wedge of cheese, a knife to slice it with, and a stem of grapes. Her eyes went wide at seeing the fruit, as such luxuries were typically hard to come by. He uncorked the bottle of wine, which looked to be missing a few cups already, and poured it into each glass.
"Stale bread and a half-empty bottle of wine," Eponine said snidely. "Why am I not surprised?"
"If you are going to criticize my choice of meal," Enjolras said, glancing up at her, "then you don't have to have any."
She frowned, biting her lip, as her stomach protested against her. "How did you happen to get ahold of some grapes?"
He grinned slyly. "That's my secret."
A smile erupted onto her face, much against her will, and she shook her head. "Well, you are charming. I have to give you that," she said incredulously.
"Did it pain you to admit that?"
She laughed. "A bit."
Enjolras held up one of the cups. "Here, take this."
She took it in both hands, cradling it close. She watched him divide up the food, breaking apart the baguette and slicing off some cheese. Her eyes lingered on his hands, which worked deftly and gracefully. She had never noticed before that he had rather skillful hands.
Finished with his culinary preparations, Enjolras slid onto the bench next to her. He balanced the food in his lap and his own cup of wine in one hand. The stars were the only source of light that evening, but even those weren't dependable. Even so, both Enjolras and Eponine appeared to be content and capable.
"So what should we toast to?" Enjolras asked, raising his cup.
She thought for a moment then shrugged. "New beginnings?"
"To new beginnings," he agreed. "To friendship, and the possibility of something more."
His glass clinked gently against hers, which appeared frozen in the air. He took a small sip, staring at her the entire time. She nearly forgot to do the same, but found it an excuse to avert her own attention. She couldn't figure out his motive. She had no idea where he could be coming from and what he could possibly want. It unnerved her.
She tore off a piece of the bread and cheese combination with her teeth, taking her time to chew the concoction. Meanwhile, it allowed a heavy silence to fall between them. She could feel his gaze on her still and didn't know how to react to that. Her body tensed, uncomfortable.
After a moment, Eponine introduced conversation as a way to ease the awkwardness. "I suppose that this isn't a terrible spot to enjoy a meal, especially when the weather cooperates. You should consider it for a date." Her eyes darted nervously toward him.
"Unfortunately I don't find myself on many of those."
"You seem to have enough admirers to keep you thoroughly occupied."
"I'm not interested in any of those women," he admitted. He finished masticating his bit of bread and turned the conversation around. "Speaking of admirers, though, what is it about Marius that fascinates you so, if you don't mind me asking?"
She cast him a look, which he pretended to not notice in the darkness. She sighed then. "I suppose I could try to explain it to someone. Honestly, though, I don't know that I have the whole reasoning myself. He is so genuine. He is everything that I wish I could be and more."
"You wish that you were a fool blinded by love?" Enjolras spat.
"Is that not precisely what I am?"
He paused, since he couldn't deny this. "I…I'm sorry…I didn't…Eponine…"
He had often thought exactly that, but for whatever reason he wished he had considered his words before saying them. Perhaps it was the hurt expression on her face. He didn't want to see the pain that would crack across her face. He didn't want to chase her away again. Instead, he looked at the ground between his feet, ashamed.
Then she giggled. "It's all right, Enjolras. I know that I am. I know that what I am doing is terribly wrong. I know that Marius doesn't see me and that he probably never will. Why I continue to torture myself like this, though, I can't say. Perhaps I enjoy the pain." She shrugged.
"If you know all of this, you can change it," he said quietly. "You should turn your attention elsewhere, onto someone who is worthier of you."
She raised an eyebrow, seeing her chance and the ability to pounce. "Someone like you?"
Enjolras froze. His entire body stiffened and his heart nearly stopped. He couldn't help thinking that she looked quite serious for a moment, and that frightened him. "Excuse me?"
Eponine laughed, finding great amusement. "Don't worry, Enjolras. I know you aren't inclined to such things. I thought that you wouldn't understand my position, but perhaps I underestimated you."
He grinned. "That would be a terrible mistake."
The evening was unfolding better than either of them could have foreseen. Enjolras actually forgot for a time what he was doing and who he was with. He had never before found this much enjoyment in the company of a woman before. Her words lingered on his mind the entire time, though. He hadn't actually had himself in mind when he had referenced another man worthier of her affection. But, since she had brought up the idea of him as that man, he couldn't get it out of his head. Yet, that couldn't be possible unless he had feelings for her.
"You know, Enjolras," Eponine said after they had gotten through the entire baguette and cheese wedge and grapes and about the third cup of wine, "this has been much more enjoyable than I expected it to be."
"I think, for once, we agree on something." He smiled genuinely pleasantly.
Her cheeks possessed a charming flush from either the alcohol or the chilliness of the air. He considered it to be the latter when she shivered ever so slightly and she accordingly pulled the thin wrap tighter around her bare arms. She stood and turned away, as if attempting to cover it up.
Enjolras followed suite. "I didn't realize how cold it's gotten outside," he said, though he felt completely comfortable. He figured she wouldn't be the one to say so. He shrugged out of his jacket. "You must be freezing."
She started slightly when he placed it on her shoulders. She turned toward him, appearing rather frightened and confused. Her mouth was agape as if about to protest, but then, as if reconsidering, her lips fell closed gently against one another. She smiled, half-heartedly. "Thank you."
He moved in closer so that he was able comfortable rub some heat into her upper arms. "It's unfortunate you're so thin," he whispered. "I wish I had something heavier to give you."
She looked up into his eyes, finding comfort. She had only ever imagined that he could be this considerate, but she had never thought that he actually was. From what she had seen, he had never seemed terribly capable of being so understanding.
She frowned, which caused him to gradually do the same. She began to feel very nervous, very out of place. It didn't really sit right with her the way that he was turning out to be a completely different person than what she had expected: a better man than she could have ever given him credit for. Not to mention, the sudden skip in her heart, which she had only ever thought Marius capable of causing in her, was unnerving.
Eponine cleared her throat, taking a step backward from him. His hands fell off of her, his arms swinging down by his sides. She broke the contact between their gazes, as well, suddenly feeling a lot better as soon as that was accomplished.
"Eponine?" Enjolras ventured. "Is everything all right?"
"Y-Yes," she lied. "I-It's just gotten so late, hasn't it?"
Enjolras glanced around at the thick darkness surrounding them. "I suppose."
"I need to leave," Eponine said resolutely. "I'm sorry for being so abrupt, but…" She backed up a few more steps.
"Well, if you really think so," Enjolras said. "Wait a moment, I'll walk you home."
She cracked a smirk. "Thank you, but there's no need. I can manage on my own. I always do."
She glanced at him one last time then disappeared into the shadows without another look over her shoulder. He watched her go, standing dumbly in the middle of the courtyard of Notre Dame. This was the second time she left him alone in the middle of the night. He scoffed.
Enjolras pattered back to the bench and grabbed up the bottle of wine and the remaining alcohol within. He turned in the direction of his humble abode, leaving behind their dinner makings, not caring about the fate of the dull knife or simple cloth.
"Why am I doing this to myself?" he asked the darkened streets around him. He snaked his way through the sleeping streets. "Why do I care?"
The darkened buildings didn't offer him an answer. They merely echoed the shuffling of his determined footfalls on the cobblestones back at him. He decided that he really didn't need to be a part of this with her. He didn't need a distraction such as this. He took a long swig of the wine, draining the bottle of half of the liquid left inside of it. He wiped his moist lips on his sleeve.
Enjolras replayed the night in his head. He couldn't find any particular part that he felt warranted such a dismissal from her. Yet, he couldn't deny her the exit she had chosen to take. He had seen the fear spread across her features. He had noted the caution with which she had looked at him.
He didn't know where this frustration was coming from then. Or, why his head felt so warm. His heart beat so frantically against his chest. He emptied the wine then discarded the bottle off to the side of the street. He listened to it shatter against the pavement, breaking into a million pieces. He stepped casually toward where it had scattered. He stared down at the pieces of glass that sparkled in the starlight.
Enjolras laughed, his voice echoing off of the surrounding architecture. "Could this really be happening?" he slurred to himself. "Could I really be brought down by a foolish girl?" He shook his head incredulously. "Could I really be falling for her?"