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: This chapter is a bit shorter. I just wanted to showcase the aftermath of what happened in the café. So it jumps from Enjolras to Eponine with a little breaker separating the two. It is occurring in the same evening at the same time, though.
Chapter 5 – Aftermath
His friends weren't speaking to him. Well, he wasn't speaking to them. But, for good reason! He didn't want to have to explain himself over and over again. Firstly, he didn't believe he needed to give any sort of explanation. It wasn't their business. Secondly, he really didn't know himself. He could have blamed being caught in the moment, but he knew that he had been fully conscious of what he had said. He didn't like the idea of possibly lying about what made him cause such a scene at the Café Musain. It actually made him a little sick to his stomach.
Enjolras ran his fingers through his unkempt locks. He was still attempting to come to terms with what had occurred earlier, with having announced his intentions regarding Eponine to the entire world. He was a very private person, so it was safe to say that nobody thought that he would do something like that. He also had never paid attention the female attention constantly cast his way. It must have seemed so unlike him then to dedicate himself to Eponine in the middle of the crowded café.
He didn't stay home at night often, but it seemed quite appropriate for that evening. There wasn't much to his humble abode. It was a one room apartment that he received almost free of charge because the older woman who ran the building had a wandering eye. It contained a wooden table with a matching chair, a thin mattress, a drawer set, and a pair of moth eaten curtains over the only window.
He sat in darkness at the table with only the sparse moonlight spilling in through the window. He had tried to forget about the incident all day, but his friends had kept bothering him with questions. Then when he had finally gotten rid of them, sleep eluded him. In the silence and loneliness of the room, her face haunted him.
If Enjolras was being completely honest with himself, he didn't regret going about it the way he had or saying the things he had said. In fact, he still stood by them. He still believed in them. It had been a way to ensure that Eponine could not run away. Unfortunately, at the same time, he wouldn't have blamed her if she equated it to being caught in a trap.
He knew her. She preferred to be alone. She preferred her own thoughts to the presence of another person. He knew that deep down it was because she was scared, and that that fright came from being hurt too many times. There was nobody for her to rely upon but herself. However, he had presented her with another option. He was putting himself out there for her to confide in and unburden herself on. He had offered in front of everyone to be there for her always.
He scoffed. Enjolras just realized something that he didn't like. It made him scowl, turning down the sides of his lips.
"It is the same situation now," he muttered to the darkness.
It was. He was referring to Eponine's situation with Marius. It was the same one that he criticized and turned his nose up at on a constant basis. Eponine pined away over Marius, who did not even acknowledge her feelings for him. He even had public interest in another young woman, who Eponine could not even compare to. At least, in Marius' eyes.
And, here he was. He had publicly declared his intentions for Eponine, who only had ever shown interest in Marius. She might not even consider him more than a mere acquaintance. He hoped that he had at least won her friendship, but it was difficult to tell with Eponine. She wasn't one to reassure someone about the regard she held them in. It was frustrating.
He was frustrated. He was annoyed that he had somehow fallen into such a difficult position. He couldn't foresee himself going back on what he had said, though. Even if it was to save his honor, he couldn't denounce what he had just publicly said. All he could do was hope that perhaps she would come around. He knew that she had hope for the same thing with Marius.
Enjolras chuckled incredulously to himself. Of course when he finally chose to love someone it would mean getting himself involved in the worst triangle that he could ever conceive.
xXx
Eponine sighed, staring up into the night sky. The stars stared back at her and the moon smiled. She couldn't smile back, unfortunately. After the day she had had, that was perhaps the last thing she wanted to do.
She still couldn't believe that Enjolras had put her on the spot like that: by announcing to the entire café his intentions of dedicating himself to her. He had probably expected her to fall at his feet in worship. She wouldn't put it past him to believe that all it took was a confession and a public display to have her swoon. Unfortunately, she wasn't that type of girl.
There was little else she could do the rest of the day than avoid the Café Musain and dwell on what had occurred. It was just how her mind worked, and it was most certainly a curse. That was part of the reason she refused to leave Marius alone. It was the only way to get him off of her mind. Now, it turned out that Enjolras had accomplished the most difficult task of giving her something else to obsess over.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell. Most of all, she wanted to really give Enjolras a piece of her mind. He was the only one, she had discovered, that could really get a rise out of her. He was the only one to cause so much passion to course through her veins. She liked to believe that she could cause the same in him, since she had only ever seen such a specific reaction when he was interacting with her.
A small smile crept to Eponine's lips much despite herself. She had to admit that she thoroughly enjoyed the back and forth they tended to get into whenever they did happen to speak to one another. She felt truly alive when in his presence. Otherwise, she was just another shadow, a ghost, drifting through the world, never being noticed or considered. It was always fake pleasantries whenever she got some. She preferred the silence to the lies.
She figured that what was done was done. There was no way to turn back time to redo what had ultimately been done. She was stuck with the awkward tension that Enjolras had created and she had to live with it. She figured that she could muster up the courage to still show her face among the people she had grown accustomed to. She could still find a way to endure Enjolras' presence. It may be difficult, but she was used to such things.
"Why?" she whispered to herself, though there was nobody else present on the darkened streets to overhear her. "Why would you do such a thing? Why would you say such things?"
Enjolras wasn't present, but she still hoped to gain some answers. Those types of questions were the foremost on her mind, and, of course, they were the ones that she couldn't get relief from immediately. Perhaps it was the cynic in her that believed that there was some sort of motive behind his words. There was never any interest between them before, though the last couple of days were certainly abnormal. He had always made fun of Marius in the past, of her. He criticized romance constantly, believing to be above such trivial pursuits.
She suddenly froze, her breath caught in her throat.
"Is that your game, Enjolras?" she managed after a moment.
It was quite possible that he was merely doing this to prove a point. Everyone knew how much he hated to be wrong. Maybe he was trying to show the world that the heart was an unreliable thing—that it could be easily altered from its path. She wouldn't put such a dastardly thing past him.
She laughed to herself. Now that she knew his angle, she could best him at his own game. He would be the one looking foolish in the end. He would be the one finally proven wrong.
"Watch out, Enjolras," Eponine promised to herself, "I'm onto you. And believe me when I say that this is not going to be easy for you."