Ahhhh I couldn't leave you hanging! Also I'm in a writing mood, and feel like I should take advantage of it! It is now 4.37am however, so no more until at least tomorrow :L
On that note, actually, I'm going home this weekend! (EEEEEEEP!) for the first time since I moved to Edinburgh and I'm VERY VERY EXCITED (seriously, this has been on repeat for about 3 days /watch?v=KrySWH_q37Q) so if I don't get anything done tomorrow or on the train on Friday, it might be a while before there's an update on this, or No Tomorrow - sorry! (also not sorry, so excited for going home :D)
DISCLAIMER: I wish I was capable of writing something like Les Mis... I do know all the words to 'I'm coming home Newcastle', 'the Blaydon Races' and 'Monkey Mackems' though, so TAKE THAT, VICTOR HUGO.
'ACTUAL PEOPLE ACTUALLY BELIEVING THIS BULLSHIT! CAN'T THEY SEE THE INJUSTICE?!' She was mid-rant, ready to continue on her expletive-filled rage about the ridiculousness of the whole situation, when suddenly she found her lips otherwise occupied as Enjolras kissed her.
And he didn't just kiss her. This was no polite, 'I'm not sure if I should be doing this' chaste peck on the lips, this was 'I literally cannot stop myself from kissing you right now'. And once she got past the shock… she was loving it.
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward so they were flush against each other, closed her eyes and started to move her lips quite forcefully against his. Her response seemed to initially surprise him as he momentarily stopped moving, but seconds later one hand was on her face and the other on her waist, and he was kissing her deeply, intensely, passionately. Éponine opened her mouth and their tongues started to dance together as he guided her gently but firmly backwards towards the wall, her hands wrapped in his golden curls, his playing at the lining of her shirt before slowly moving their way up to stroke her back and midriff. The feel of his soft, strong hands against her skin sent a jolt of pleasure running through her body, electrifying her, setting her on fire. Leaning against the wall for support, she jumped up so her legs were wrapped around his waist and deepened the kiss, as he moved in closer to the wall, putting as much of their bodies in contact as possible.
It was hot, sexy, open-mouthed kissing, and God she never wanted it to end.
Suddenly they heard a noise from the stairs and simultaneously opened their eyes to stare at each other like rabbits in headlights, then she jumped down and Enjolras moved back over to the table so quickly it was as though he had never been there at all. She frantically straightened her shirt as he fixed his hair and they tried to get into a more… natural position before whoever it was came in.
Musichetta bustled through the doorway with a worried look, asking 'is everything all right, Éponine?'
Oh you have no idea just how alright I am right now! Wait… what is she talking about?
Oh, earlier! The reforms! Shit!
Determinedly not looking at Enjolras, she replied 'No! I'm bloody not! Have you heard about these reforms?!'
'No… what reforms?'
I am in no position to explain this right now, I need time to breathe! How can I get out without making it look like I'm running? 'Erm…' She glanced at the man in the corner cautiously. 'Enjolras can you explain? I really need the bathroom, all that adrenaline.' His eyes widened and she realised what he was thinking, so she followed up with 'you know, from the ranting and stuff.'
Enjolras cleared his throat and said 'Yes. Of course.'
'Thanks' Éponine replied, and then darted through the door into the back, where the employee toilet was. She hurriedly locked herself in and slammed the toilet lid down, then sat on it and pulled her feet up so she was hugging her knees. Running a hand through her messed-up hair, she desperately tried to clear her head and make sense of the situation.
What. The fuck. Was that?
Did…?!
Did that just happen?
Actually happen?
Did Enjolras just kiss me?
ENJOLRAS?!
Why?!
Where the hell did that come from?!
That was… wow.
I mean… wow.
ENJOLRAS of all people!
Where the fuck did he learn to do that?!
Well… R is definitely wrong about him having had exactly zero sexual experiences.
Shit.
MONTPARNASSE could take lessons.
Fucking hell.
She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. Maybe it was because she knew she had, but she could see every tell-tale sign of a recent make-out on her body: her curls were messily piled up on one side of her head; her cheeks were still slightly flushed; her shirt was wonky and creased; the edges of her mouth appeared blurred as the first signs of snogrash started to form. Regarding herself in the mirror, she straightened her shirt again, and splashed cold water on her face to calm her blush.
What the hell do I do now?
Enjolras desperately fought to keep his face impassive and his voice level as he explained the situation to Musichetta, but inside he was screaming.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU
WHY
WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT
THAT WAS SO, SO, SO VERY STUPID
WHAT. THE…. AHHH!
'Oh God, Enjolras, that's terrible! Didn't anybody know about it before today?'
What? Oh, the reforms. 'No, it was kept quiet. I suspect Lamarque didn't even know.'
'What is the world coming to?' Musichetta muttered to herself. Then, more loudly, she asked 'another coffee?'
'Please.'
As the redhead disappeared off behind the bar to get his coffee, Enjolras ran his hands through his hair.
She's going to hate you.
She's going to move out.
You've ruined everything.
Where did that even COME FROM, this has never happened before, what the hell!?
Actually… that's not ENTIRELY true, is it?
It doesn't count if there was alcohol involved! Oh GOD, she's going to hate me!
But… she kissed you back.
Didn't she?
Did she?
She did. She kissed you back.
What does that mean? Does she like you? Is she going to be expecting something from this because you know from experience that you are the worst boyfriend in the world and with all that's going on you'll be distracted and-
Wait; do you even WANT to be with Éponine like that?
Isn't this just harmless…ish physical attraction?
Anyone would have done the same if they'd seen her eyes on fire like that, she looked so ALIVE, and it was all for the cause, MY cause!
GOD it was sexy.
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!
IT'S ÉPONINE!
STOP IT!
Just then, the door from the back opened and he looked up, expecting to see Musichetta holding his coffee, but it was Éponine. She came and sat at the table, across from him, and picked up one of the newspapers.
I knew she was mad at you.
Do… do we just pretend like that didn't happen?
Because I haven't had anything like that happen to me in a long time and now I have absolutely no idea what to do.
'I forgot to mention, I told students from Paris-Sorbonne that if they wanted to fight this, we could help.'
What? '…what?'
'I said there was a meeting tonight at –'
'you told them about the café? About us?'
'No! God, no. Course not. I said we'd be at the elephant, if they wanted to come. We can see there who's serious about it. Because little protests aren't going to be enough this time Enj-' she visibly panicked and quickly corrected herself '-Enjolras, we need to do something bigger.'
His mind was whirring at 100 miles an hour, centred on three things: 1. The… earlier. 2. The fact that she was clearly awkward around him, she hadn't corrected an 'Enj' since… God, since November time! Is this how it would be now, akward all the time? 3. How impressed he was at her thinking to do something like this, that she cared enough. Nobody ever cared quite as much as him… until Éponine.
'I agree… what time was that meeting?'
'I said 7.30'
'perfect'
Silence fell, loaded with trepidation and unsaid things. It only took minutes to become unbearable and he broke it with a sudden 'good idea, by the way. The meeting, I mean.'
'Oh… thanks.'
The silence fell again. This is horrendous. What do I DO!?
Azelma was working behind the bar in the inn, wiping a glass worriedly. She'd texted him and asked him to come the day before, but she still wasn't sure he would. He often didn't. It was hard to tell with him; he did what he wanted.
He always came when Éponine asked, though, didn't he? She thought to herself, half sad, half annoyed. She was just pushing the thought out of her mind when he walked through the door
'You wanted to talk to me, 'Zelma?'
'Yeah… 'She scanned the bar: 3 patrons: one old man asleep in the corner, two middle-aged fat blokes drowning their sorrows in the corner. If he came to the bar, they shouldn't be overheard. 'Can you come hear a sec?'
He strode over silently and sat on one of the ancient, wood-wormy barstools. It creaked ominously beneath his weight, but still he said nothing. She'd expected he'd be curious by now, but his face remained as impassive as ever.
'Well I've asked… I mean… the thing is…'
'Are you ok, Azelma?'
'Yes! Well, not really… it's… well…'
She felt his cold eyes on her, and felt naked under his gaze, acutely aware of how thin and drawn she looked, how grey her skin was, how lank her hair was. Azelma was used to feeling inadequate, but just then, she felt like if she died on the spot, the world would be more beautiful and she'd be doing it a favour.
He shifted his weight (carefully – he'd fallen victim to these chairs before) and regarded her, a frown playing at his features for the first time.
'Azelma, whatever it is… it can't be that bad.' Yes it can.
She laughed humourlessly, and then burst into tears. He reached out and touched her arm gently; if it had been anyone else, she'd have mistaken it for compassion, but it wouldn't be. Not him. Certainly not for her.
He let her cry for a minute, until she pulled herself together enough to whisper 'I'm pregnant.'
The perfect mask slipped, and his jaw dropped. 'What?! I mean… are… are you sure?'
'Yes. I'm very very late, I've… I've felt it. Inside me.'
'Shit.'
She started to cry again.
'Why are you telling me this? I mean… not that I won't help, just… is it….?'
'Yes.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes. It's from just after Éponine left, so before I started… that.'
'But… that was six months ago'
'yes.'
'Wait… how long have you known?'
'I suspected since the start of December, but I didn't know until just before Christmas.'
'Why didn't you tell me until now?!'
'Because then it's real… because then I have to admit it to myself… because it wouldn't make any difference?'
'So you're too far along for…'
'Way too far.'
'Oh.'
'Yeah.'
'This… is unexpected. A BABY?'
Suddenly, a gravelly, harsh voice came from behind her. 'WHAT?!'
Azelma whipped around, terrified. Her eyes were so wide they dwarfed the rest of her drawn, sunken face as she was confronted with her brutish father stood in the back doorway, livid, with the writhing figure of a small boy under his arm.
'Dad! And… Gavroche?!'
''Zelma, help me!'
'She'll not help ya lad. She's in enough botha of 'er own.'
She turned around to look for him, but he had gone. She was on her own.
An actual long one for the first time in ages! Also, I'm interested, did any of you guess about Azelma?
I'd absolutely love it if you'd leave a review, it means a lot!
Back ASAP, promise :) Thanks for sticking with me! (20000 views... this is mental. Thank you all so, so much!)