HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I hope you all have a happy and healthy 2016! My new years' resolution is to finish this bitch, and I am feeling super mis-y because I saw the show in London from the front row yesterday (my body was not ready) so here we go.
Disclaimer: EVEN NOW, I don't own Les Miserables. And the song is by Every Avenue.
Enjolras gazed up at the imposing front of Notre Dame and cursed himself for his own stupidity. Of course it was shut at two in the morning.
Now what? He asked himself. Sitting down heavily on the cold ground against the railings, he propped his elbows on his knees and knotted his fingers in his hair.
The world had never seemed so vast to Enjolras before. There had always been boundaries: as a child, the edges of the estate; as a teenager, the small town nearby, or the immediate area of Paris when in town. As a man, now, he thought mostly of the city of Paris, and the country of France: further was too far for now. When Éponine left in the early hours of Sunday morning, he had never considered that she would go far: she'd spent her life in the city of Paris, and had told him of her wish never to leave it. But now as he sat outside her quiet place, locked from entry by railings and door, his heart was heavy and distraught as he realised that she had three days' head start: he had waited so long to look for her that by now, she could be anywhere in the world.
His head told him she wouldn't have the money to go far, and that she had never wanted to before. But even then, how could he even start? Paris, the city of light, had plenty of dark corners, and Éponine had grown up hiding in shadows. And Montparnasse's loyalty would surely lie with Éponine rather than him: if she didn't want Enjolras to find her, he wouldn't, of that he was certain.
So then, the question became: did she want him to find her?
Did she forgive him for blaming her, instead of listening?
Would she come home, even knowing that Grantaire would be gone?
Did she still want to stay with him?
Did she even still love him anymore?
Enjolras' stomach sank and his heart was heavy as for the first time he questioned everything. Would he ever see her again? Touch her, hold her again?
He thought back to that night, before Grantaire came around. He'd been so busy with work he hadn't even noticed the time passing until she came in to stop him, her exhausted face and heavy eyes just as radiant as ever. He'd barely acknowledged her, only stopping when she told him he had to. They'd climbed into bed, and she'd made a joke he couldn't even remember before they both fell asleep. Enjolras had taken that night for granted as the norm: he'd left her alone all night and made her remind him she was even there, and then fallen asleep without even kissing her goodnight. He hadn't even told her he loved her. What if that night was their last? And he'd ignored her for most of it?
In his despair, sat helpless on the cold, hard ground, the worst occurred to him. What if I don't get another chance?
And then he heard it, like the answer to a prayer.
Éponine!
As she had so many times in her life, Éponine walked along the Seine, the blurred reflection of the streetlights against the dark depths of the water calming her nerves and helping her think straight. She knew now she had to go back and set things right, or at least try. With a soft laugh, she realised that she was actually nervous to talk to Enjolras. And to think, she once had a reputation as hard to scare.
She supposed the nervousness came from her own conflicting feelings on the situation. On the one hand, her talk had reassured her that the guys didn't blame her entirely for what happened, and she wasn't about to walk into suddenly unfriendly territory. But on the other, she wasn't sure that she had forgiven herself yet. Or that Enjolras had… or that Enjolras would. He held himself to such high standards in every part of his life, could she be sure he wouldn't hold her to the same? Would the marble man's empathy stretch this far? Could he understand?
She hardly noticed herself starting to sing now, it was such an unconscious habit.
It feels like I'm up on a wire,
And you just keep lifting it higher
I'm right on the edge,
And I'm doing my best not to fall
Their whole lives had been so stressful lately, it had felt like everything was close to breaking point – which of course, it had turned out it was. Éponine had been watching as day by day her love pushed himself further, packing more and more into the day: working harder for the cause than ever before, barely celebrating their small victories and determinedly learning from his mistakes. She cared for him like she cared for Gavroche the past few weeks: commanding him to sleep, bringing him food and drink. Éponine had always known she would come second to the cause, she just hadn't expected that being number two would be so much work.
And then there was Gavroche – he was growing up, but not as fast as he thought he was. She knew he loved spending so much time with the guys, and she could never bring herself to stop him. And yet, the more he tried to help them, the harder he worked to impress them, the tighter the knot of worry wound in her gut. She wanted to believe he would stay away from a real fight, know that it was beyond him, but she also knew her little brother. He wouldn't be happy if he wasn't in the action, fighting with his friends. Her Gavroche, always the hero. His faithful sidekick Jacques, never far behind. Staying on top of the pair of them, keeping them in line… it was an increasingly futile pursuit. How did she make them see that a revolution was no place for a 10 year old?
It feels like the world's spinning faster,
Towards a beautiful perfect disaster
The moment you kissed me,
I knew I was risking it all
Éponine remembered the first time she had actually listened to Enjolras speaking, how she had known that his promises wouldn't be empty if he could help it. Years in the slums had taught her cynicism, but just minutes with Enjolras had her questioning everything she believed. Now, as they worked three times harder than they ever had before, with the backing of more people than they could have imagined, dread gnawed at the back of her mind. The realist in her knew the moment of truth must come soon, and the odds were not in their favour. The selfish part of her told her she should grab her brothers and run. Her heart knew she never could. She was in too deep for that: she had been since the day she barged into the Musain, ranting about injustice, and Enjolras' lips had met hers for the first time. The day her fire for change, and her fire for him had grown from a carefully managed flame to a blazing inferno she couldn't hope to control.
The further I run from you baby,
The closer I get to the truth
And I feel like nothing can save me,
It's something I just can't undo,
Cause I can't not love you
The truth: it would be do or die, for all of them. She saw that, distance providing the objectivity she needed. Éponine wondered if she could even dare to hope to make amends with Grantaire before they did. More than that, she wasn't even sure she deserved the chance.
I'm bracing myself for collision,
In the back seat of my heart's decision
I'm rounding the curb,
And I don't have the nerve to say no
Even if he didn't want all of her any more, even if their lips would never meet again, even if they had spent their last night wrapped up in each other's arms. Even if she could never again tell him how she felt – as though she was any good at that anyway – she knew she would stay. She would see their campaign through to the end. Whatever that end might be.
The further I run from you baby,
The closer I get to the truth
And I feel like nothing can save me,
It's something I just can't undo,
Cause I can't not love you
Yeah, ooh, ooh
Yeah
Relief hit Enjolras like a tidal wave, and he briefly felt a huge weight rise from his shoulders. As he scrambled to his feet, his senses cried out for her – his very skin seemed to reach out as he frantically scanned the area, searching for her. He followed her voice, towards – where else? he internally laughed – the river.
She sounded so conflicted, he noted with a pang. And while the over-riding message was the one he had so hoped for, the tone was less than positive. He realised again how he had taken her for granted, and how he had let her down the other night. The guilt twisted in his gut.
The further I run from you baby,
The closer I get to the truth
And I feel like nothing can save me,
It's something I just can't undo,
Cause I can't not love you
Yeah
But baby, baby I can't
I can't not love you baby
I can't not
He hated that he might have made her think he might not love her. Because how could he ever not love her?
He reached the Pont au Double, and he wheeled around as her voice faded into the night. Feeling helpless, he grabbed the stone side of the bridge and looked into the misty reflections of the lights in the river. When he looked up, he caught the briefest glimpse of her, climbing the steps to the Petit Pont. A second later, he was running as fast as his legs would carry him.
The last thing she expected as she crossed the bridge back towards Saint Michel was the sprinting form of Enjolras flying towards her as fast as it could, stopping once they reached each other in the centre of the bridge.
"Ép – Ép…" he wheezed, bending down and resting his hands on his knees, arms locked as he tried to regain his breath.
She folded her arms, preparing herself for whatever he would say. Her heart was beating like a drum, so hard she wondered if he could hear it.
And then, he looked up at her, his uncharacteristically dishevelled, blushing face pleading with her. His desperate eyes met hers and he wheezed out "please come home. I love you."
Feeling the weight of the world rising from her shoulders, she stepped forward and tentatively raised a hand to rest on his cheek.
"You look terrible" she deadpanned.
He let out a breathy laugh. "I'm so out of shape"
She half-laughed back at him, then kissed him softly on the mouth. Her body hummed happily, recognising the sensation. "Come on" she smiled at him. He stood up and pulled her into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder: she snaked hers around his waist. Relaxing into each other, they both knew they were exactly where they needed to be.
Reviews are always welcome: for feedback, for a chat, to reassure me that you're all still alive out there... thank you much if you are!