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corvuscorona · 10 months ago

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"You Never Forget Your First Love."

The other day, a mutual (hi! you know who you are I think probably hello hi! thank you for the Posting Impetus!) said something that made me curious (for, like, the 80th time, actually; lol. I Have Thoughts) about something: what's the split on people who subscribe to the "Stranger of Paradise probably intended for us to believe that Jack & Sarah were in love" mindset, vs. not? In general, but ESPECIALLY around these parts.

I genuinely didn't read it that way myself (& I do NOT normally give media (general) this much credit, but the writing in this game is sublime; I had no choice but to fully engage Scholar Mode on it), + I think it's interesting that SPECIFICALLY any of my fellow tumblr people / AO3-heads / Gay People Online / etc. seem to have. (I expect nothing from people who haven't been basting themselves in the same online sub-subcultures as me for over a decade. They're allowed to write wrong things on wikis, and have done so already; it's whatever.)

I wanna metapost badly again, so let's go. Join me. No poll. If you have an opinion on this, I'm looking directly into your eyes and beckoning you towards your own keyboard + also the reblog button / comment section, like a weird ghost. What did you think when you first played the game?? What do you think right now? What are you about to think after you have read a bunch of my words. Tell Me. I Need To Know This.

Spoilers for, idk, everything? Today we will use everything we've got to talk about Princess Sarah.

1. As a Narrative Element

This game makes a point of referring to Sarah as things like "a symbol of hope and peace" as often as possible, & when it isn't doing that she's usually in the role of An Object Or Device Of Some Kind, anyway. She's important because she's capable of holding light and dark in balance & SOMEONE'S gotta hold onto this dark crystal for safekeeping, and also we're gonna need to upset that balance on purpose later. There's that conversation in the Wicked Arbor about whether the Strangers would "choose" her (as opposed to "treasure") as the "reward" for succeeding in their mission[1], & there's the one in the Sunken Shrine where Jed asks Jack what he thinks of her and Jack says that he doesn't care about her as a person[2] BUT that protecting her is mission-critical (lol), too.

Sarah's death is metaphorically charged. It's the point of no return: the dark crystal breaks, the balance of light & dark gets extremely ruined, & Literally All The Darkness In Cornelia converges in one place (Fool's Missive XXVII). That's the payoff for the "symbol of hope and peace" motif, and communicating this idea that "the metaphorical light of hope just For Real Died, Like Catastrophically Imploded, No Take-Backs" feels to me like it was the highest priority here. Second-highest goes to "Jack had way more humanity before, but he set it aside on purpose and is actively in the middle of losing the rest of it." "Sort of." "I'm not getting into what counts as humanity or doesn't because if I did we would be here forever."

Basically, I'm saying that the tidiest read on the situation is "Jack despairs because Sarah dying means in a very literary and final way that everything is ruined forever, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with, like, Love (romantic)." I don't think the text of the game is particularly signaling that Love (romantic) is involved, and I think that if it meant to, it would be more obvious about it. You could bundle "an romance" into the "humanity" thing if you wanted to, but I'm not inclined to, based on some additional list items that you can read below this one.

[1] The fact that Neon ALSO says she feels bad for her for being thought of in this way only reinforces my conviction that the game is pointing at Sarah & yelling "REMEMBER THAT SHE IS MOSTLY A SYMBOL!", tbh. Who wants to go point out how freaky the mechanics of Being An Royalty are w/ me and the boys??

[2] I will give the Wiki WrongPosters this: I can totally see this as some kind of irony thing, given that he's still missing like a fucktillion of his memories when he says it. However! As mentioned above, I have other reasons not to read it as evidence that he was ever, like, romantically interested in her.

2. As a Sheltered Youth™

We don't have a TON of information to work with RE: Sarah as, like, a person, but here are a couple of hard facts to start with: she's 19 (per the data book, but she'd have to be somewhere in the 18-to-early-20's age range regardless or her whole deal wouldn't really make much sense, imo. She's a baby...!), and she's royalty. I think this ties into her utility as a walking metaphor, among other things; she's archetypically young, fresh, & idealistic. I'd call her naïve but the game obviously isn't interested in portraying it as a weakness, so positive words only; why not.

You could argue that people look to her as a symbol of hope because she hasn't directly experienced enough strife to exhibit hopelessness or fear in response to bad news in the abstract. I find it interesting that before Jack, like, knocks the wind out of her & tells Sophia to take her outside so she can see for herself how bad things have gotten at the end of the game, she says that her duty is to die with her people if she has to, & it doesn't even seem to occur to her that she could lead at least some of them away to safety...? When she changes her mind, she still talks about herself as a symbol before she ever uses the word "leader". She sees HERSELF in terms of symbols and metaphors, and takes action based on her designated role As One Of Those. Not very practical.

There's also the dialogue you can have with the queen the first time you're allowed to run around in the throne room at the beginning of the game, where she asks Jack to smile in front of her daughters (NOT just Mia; daughters, plural). Even if she only means "dude can you be polite please," the fact that this is The thing she has to say to Jack is telling. Is it going to upset your 19-year-old daughter to see that the Guy Whose Job It Is To Kill Monsters looks serious? Why do you think this? Does your 19-year-old daughter understand how serious the situation is, generally speaking? Do you not WANT her to for some reason? Boats don't work anymore unless a weird elf messes with them first. Not thinking very hard about the implications of this is something a sheltered person does.

Residual time loop un-memories aside, a young woman in this situation is so obviously going to have a huge crush on Jack Garland no matter what. He Is So Cool, first of all, & he's also Different from the adult men she gets to see on an everyday basis (family, guards, rando townspeople[3]...). It's not like the political social scene could POSSIBLY be thriving in this world, either; it all seems to be one kingdom we're dealing with and they're kind of busy with the external threat of being Under Fucking Attack By Monsters. Does she even get fun treats like "handsome visiting dignitaries" & what-have-you? The game doesn't present us with any potential options, here. Jack is mysterious, he has special-boy Warrior of Light status, his one job & apparent life's purpose is protecting the kingdom she loves, he's pretty nice to her (even in later cycles he at least goes out of his way to be polite!), & additionally, he's shredded. THIS makes sense to me.

There's a Q&A in the data book that has something to say about JACK as a symbol & what that has to do with this whole thing but we'll get there. We'll get there.

[3] Tangent: what's up with how Cornelia's entire adult male population appears to consist of aging queens. Why did they only make models that look Like That for the NPCs? It's awesome but I have 1 quastion

3. JACK JUMPSCARE !

I'm not about to say that he's just humoring her, or anything, but please humor ME for one second & put yourself in Jack's shoes. Not the default shoes; we can have more fun than that. Maybe the Banded Boots. Blurple ones? Shaped like a cartoon would wear them? Big spikes on the back for no reason? I love those things. Anyway, you're Jack. You're working for literally the king, & the work means Everything to you for reasons you can't even necessarily explain except to say that it JUST does. The king's eldest daughter (very young adult; Never Been Outdoors; a little overly-sociable but nice enough & what do you expect from a princess, anyway) has imprinted on you like a duckling for whatever reason. You would be nice to this person, yes? You'd be patient with her while you're in town. You have Brutal Murders to be doing, but not until, like, 2 days from now, or whatever; you're sharing space with her in some capacity in the meantime & it's in your best interests to keep her happy. (You probably even enjoy doing this, if you're Jack of a Way Earlier Cycle; I'm in no way ruling that out. Sharing your music collection with an enthusiastic Baby Adult? That's fun. I think he was probably having fun. Okay, you can step out of the fun purple shoes if you want; the Humoring Me Minute has concluded; thanks.)

Also, @2000sanimeop and I think that if Jack felt that way about her Astos would have been a little More Something about how much it was gonna suck for him when she died. In Fool's Missive XXVII he uses the word "painful," but that's about it. He doesn't even bring it up in XXV, which is the one where he says he's curious about whether she'd survive being turned into a fiend (side note: Astos fucking rocks. Why did he write that down?? I love him). & Hey SPEAKING OF ASTOS,

4. I wouldn't put Jackstos on a wiki, either.

The writing in Stranger of Paradise, SERIOUSLY, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION, is some of the best I've seen in literally anything ever. It suits not just its medium but also its sort of Place in History Relative to Other Video Games & the things it chose to DO with that medium & that niche INSANELY well. It is CUSTOMIZED. It's SO INTENTIONAL. I can't get too far into this or we'll be here all day, but the essence of what I want to say here is: there are relatively few facts presented to us by this game, compared to the implications we can go about drawing from those facts & other, external sources of context.

Sarah calls Jack her first love; that's a fact. No facts are presented to us that REALLY say much one way or the other[4] about what Jack thinks of this, himself; "fucktillion memories missing" Jack says he doesn't care, but he's missing a fucktillion of his memories, and DLC2 Jack has a set of dialogue options (hi Anne the Malboro I love you Anne the Malboro) that can point either way depending on what the player chooses, which is kind of nothing, on balance. As the audience, we can (should!) draw whatever conclusion we want about it, but none of those conclusions are text.

[4] I WILL GET TO THE DATA BOOK IN ONE SECOND. HOLD ON.

And, okay, please let me level with you. Let's be on the same page. Jack & Astos had some kind of thing going on, imo, OBVIOUSLY, but I want to be CLEAR and I want to get CREDIT for the things I'M bringing to the table to help generate this conviction. I drew that conclusion & I read that reading based on subtext, context, personal history, personal preference, & sheer gay zest for life. It is also, emphatically, NOT TEXT.

Astos refers to Jack with the ol' "...friend" in Fool's Missive XXI. He calls him "my Jack" in Fool's Missive XXXI. Canonically, textually, he has some big fucking COMPLICATED fucking feelings about this man. These are facts. If you're playing this game as Some Guy, I can see how you could potentially absorb these facts & still pay them much less regard[5] than I did & continue to. My argument here is that god I wish I lived in a world where Some Guy could extend the same courtesy to me and not treat Sarah's textual affection for Jack as something that necessarily indicates Some Kind Of Reciprocal Romantic Whatever, Definitely, Obviously, Of Course.

[5] Longer Tangent: I have been informed that the Some Guys of the world are currently pretty good at Recognizing a character that behaves in a way that's Pretty Gay, but tend to stop there, possibly for the combined reasons that A. they're not very familiar with a lot of the the ways gay relationships often work (you know, soul resonance. mutual recognition. sharing a brain etc.) and B. the Object Of Affection is usually the player character and they subconsciously shy away from thinking of a Guy They're Supposed To Identify With as gay. This is practically a lead-in to an entire separate post I could make, so I'll leave it at that, lol.

The writing is too good for that kind of assumption! I'M SERIOUS!! It's mind-blowingly subtle & endlessly fascinating to hold up to the light & view from every possible angle, and "Jack & Sarah were in love" + "Jack & Astos were in love" are BOTH ANGLES. I'm personally very very interested in giving the text credit for that. I think it's impressive. I think it's really, really cool, and I think it was on purpose. Speaking of which,

5. Word of God agrees with me, btw

This is from the Q&A section on page 156 of the Confidential File. The translations below are my own (I think they're straightforward enough, but lmk if you know more than me & I'm actually being stupid in there somewhere. Alt text has the JPN, if you want to copypaste it or something). Someone asked:

Why is it that you established Garland as someone Sarah has a romantic interest in?

The answer is from Daisuke Inoue (director, one of 3; the other 2 are from Team Ninja; he's from Square Enix):

That was because, from a narrative standpoint, we wanted Sarah to be the kind of person who holds onto hope. You can imagine that she saw the "hope" to save the world in Jack, a potential Warrior of Light. Sarah is seen by her people as a symbol of a bright future, but if there were nobody to give her hope, that might destabilize her emotionally. As for whether she felt genuine love for Jack, or just mistook her feelings of admiration towards him for "first love," we'll leave that to your interpretation.

The first time I read this, I thought the question was implying the aforementioned Reciprocal Something, but on closer inspection that doesn't even seem to be true! "思い人" seems to indicate a directional relationship; as in, the question assumes that Jack is an object of affection to Sarah, but assumes nothing about what Jack thinks.

Also, the answer uses the word "初恋" (hatsukoi), which is a very established Concept as far as "first love" goes, but in that one cutscene, Sarah says "初めての恋" (hajimete no koi), which is. Different, but I couldn't tell you how, lol. It's Not The Exact Same Phrase, but I'm not sure whether it's meaningfully different in this context. If I had to guess, I'd say that IF ANYTHING it could be a way of saying "first love" without invoking the cultural CONSTRUCT of First Love (as much)? But it's whatever. The localization holds up. All sources show that Sarah had Feelings about Jack, and all sources CONSPICUOUSLY neglect to mention Jack's feelings about her.

It was on purpose. This is my license to be as annoying as I want for one second here. I am right. All the other writing in this game is notably subtle, efficient, intentional, and skilled, AND ALSO, WHEN do you ever see anyone write such a richly beautiful, mostly-subtextual relationship between two men, which can easily be read as a romantic thing, and NOT explicitly canonize a very possible romantic relationship between at least one of those men and a woman, like not even in an interview or anything. What the fuck, man.

I'm putting away the Respectable Scholar Hat now. This is so funny. The person asking this question didn't EVEN go as far as assuming Jack & Sarah had any kind of Actual Romance going on, & the answer STILL dials it back to "she might have been conflating her feelings about Jack AS A SYMBOL with actual affection, also. We'll let you decide : ) ". This game is everything ever.

#stranger of paradise #that's it that's the only tag. there's enough words under that readmore for anyone&everyone. happy weekend!!!

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bees--in-my--bones · 2 years ago

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Beyond the Barricade

Masterlist

Character: Enjolras x f!reader

Summary: All you had ever known was life at the Musain. You worked hard to stay alive and keep your family comfortable, and that's all that you ever needed. But your life's path will be forever altered by a young revolutionary who has his sights set on changing the world.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 19,000

A/N: Enjolras x Reader!! I love this guy so hopefully this isn't half bad. It's all one big long part because I didn't really have a good way to break it up, but I had a couple ideas for scenes that didn't make it in, so if this does well maybe I'll write a couple short one shot things.

Also just want to clarify I'm not an expert, I watched the movie and read wiki articles, but I haven't gotten around to reading the book so there's some stuff I'm just kinda extrapolating. Like I'm pretty sure they meet in the back room of the Musain, but they just meet in the upper floor here. And in the final battle there's the Musain as the base of operations and a non named tavern where they keep the bodies and Javert, just for my own storytelling purposes. (Even though I think there's another place in the book or something idk)

Anyway, enjoy!

-----

You scrubbed at the counter until your arm burned, trying your hardest to get the stains out. Despite your best efforts, nothing budged. You sighed and tossed the rag into your bucket of soapy water, moving on to the leftover dishes strewn across the counter top.

The Café Musain would open soon, and your sister had not done the work that your father had asked of her the night before. So now, as usual, the chores fell to you, while your sister was out gallivanting, probably with one of those ridiculous Amis de l'ABC. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the mere thought of them. Their revolution had merit, sure, but a fight against the monarchy was hopeless for a bunch of schoolboys. Your father, however, was sympathetic to their cause, so he allowed them to use the upstairs room of the café whenever they pleased.

Your father lumbered through the door, already tired in his old age and having spent the morning arguing with vendors and traders, trying to prevent them from increasing the supply prices yet again. He paused, taking a moment to catch his breath after the long walk and looked around the café. When he saw you behind the counter, he sighed. "Where is your sister? Why is she not helping you?"

You shrugged. "Marie is out and about, I suppose. I can't keep track of all her callers."

Your father pinched his brow. "Okay," he sighed. "Okay."

He made his way over to a table and lowered himself into a chair.

You finished cleaning the glass and filled it with fresh water. Making your way around the bar, you set it down in front of your father.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said softly. He sighed again and leaned back in his chair. "Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight. I know your sister usually tends to them, but I want you to do it today. I hate to say this, but she needs to be put in line. I want her to have her fun, but we're struggling here, and if she cannot tend to her duties properly, she doesn't get to do the jobs she likes."

"You're punishing her?"

The nights that Les Amis came to the café, you usually let Marie take care of them. They were a bit too much for you, and you didn't mind working up front while she got to flirt with the students as they planned their revolution. She was not going to be happy about this, and you weren't exactly thrilled either.

"I think it's appropriate discipline," he replied, "until she can manage to balance her work and social life. We are better off than most, but we cannot afford to neglect our work."

"I understand, Papa. I'll talk to her later. "

He laid one of his large hands over yours. "Thank you, Y/N. I'm going up to my room now. I need to go over the books once more before we open."

The big man stood and patted your shoulder gently before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the empty café.

—--

You glanced at the old clock on the wall. You were supposed to open in a matter of minutes, and still no sign of Marie. Usually your father would have come back to help, but you imagined he had fallen asleep in the small apartment upstairs. You decided not to wake him. Your sister and you could manage on your own, provided she showed up, and the old man needed what rest he could get.

You snapped up your head at the door creaking open. In walked Marie, who you hadn't seen since the night before. She rubbed her eyes, all but ignoring you, and grabbed the rag from its bucket, beginning to clean off the counter.

You plucked the rag from her hands, tossing it back in the bucket. When she looked at you in confusion, you sighed.

"It's already done, Marie. I spent the morning doing both of our chores, which I didn't even get to until much later than I should have, because I had to clean up the mess you left last night." You had to admit, you weren't even that upset, just tired.

She tugged at her sleeve and looked away sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I really did think that I would have been back sooner. But my friends and I-"

You waved your hand. "It doesn't matter." You grabbed the broom out of the corner and handed it to her. "Give the floors a once over before we open."

She took the broom without complaint and began sweeping. You sat down at one of the tables, giving your feet a much needed break.

"Les Amis de l'ABC are coming tonight," you told her, watching as she moved about the room.

Instantly she perked up. "You know, I think Courfeyrac has his eye on me."

You leaned forward in your seat, resting your head on your hand. "Shame we'll never find out."

She paused her sweeping. "What do you mean?"

You gestured for her to keep sweeping, which she hesitantly did. "Papa says you aren't allowed to tend to Les Amis until you can show up to work when you're supposed to."

Marie opened the door with a loud sigh and swept out her pile of dust. "I suppose that means you're doing it then."

"Yes."

She moved to sit on the counter with another loud and dramatic sigh. "Fine. Tell Courfeyrac I said hello."

You shifted in your seat to face her. "You aren't upset?"

She shrugged. "I knew that Papa would be fed up sooner or later. I'm just glad the punishment isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Why do you do it, Marie, leaving us with all the work? Why don't you care about the family?"

"I do," she protested. "I do care about you. I guess I just find my life difficult to come to terms with. Is this café where I spend the rest of my days?"

You joined her behind the counter as the first few customers began to trickle in. "We do not live in a forgiving world, sister. If you want a stable job and home, then likely so. Unless you manage to find a rich man somewhere willing to marry a barmaid."

Marie let out a short laugh. "That would be the day."

—--

Soon, the café was bustling with the evening business.

Your father entered the room, looking slightly more rested than he had earlier that afternoon. You were glad, he deserved the reprieve.

He approached the bar and motioned for you to come talk to him.

He leaned over to you and lowered his voice. "Our.. guests' meeting is about to begin. Your sister and I will take over out here. Bring a few bottles of wine up, they usually start with those."

With a nod, you gathered up the drinks and glasses and made your way to the private upper room. As you approached you heard a strong voice speaking confidently. "Too long have the people of France lived under the thumbs of dictators. I thank you all for joining me today to fight for a new world, a world reborn."

You slipped into the room, staying in the shadow of the doorframe, meaning to allow the speech to come to a natural pause before interrupting. You didn't get the chance, however, before a voice in the corner cried. "Marie! How nice of you to join us!"

"That's not Marie, you louse, that's her sister!" another voice cried, this one much higher than the first. You glanced down in front of you and your eyes widened.

"Gavroche!" You couldn't help but exclaim, startled to see Eponine's younger brother. "Does your sister know you are here?"

"Yep!" The boy said proudly. "I'd be happy to take that off your hands, milady," he said, reaching for the tray of wine.

You lifted it out of his reach. "I think you're a bit young for me to be giving you this."

A hand rested on the boy's shoulder. "Pardon young Gavroche, he only wishes to be of help."

You looked up and met the eye of the blond man who had been speaking at the front of the room only moments ago. Your breath hitched for a moment at his intense gaze.

"I can take the wine," he added when you said nothing. You blinked away your initial startledness and handed the tray over to him.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said. He leaned closer to you, a conspiratorial look on his face. "We'll likely need another round soon, though, knowing these men."

"Of course, Monsieur. I'll be back soon to check on you all. I'll be up front if you need anything before then."

The rest of the night was spent going back and forth, clearing away a glass or two at a time, doing your best not to draw attention.

At the end of the night, you stood behind the counter, counting the night's earnings as customers began to leave.

Marius approached the counter, as he always did this time of night, after Les Amis had had their fill of drinks and politics and were heading home.

"Good evening, Monsieur Marius," you greeted him.

"Hello, Y/N." He handed you a pouch of coins. "This should cover the tab, along with a little extra as a tip. You did excellent on your first night with us."

His tone was slightly teasing. He knew you would rather stay behind the counter. But you weren't lying when you shrugged and said "I didn't mind it all that much. Work is work, people are people." You counted out the change as he watched, sorting it into neat piles. "They're making you pay again?"

"They all chip in," he said. "They just make me take it up to you. Trying to force me to talk to people, I think" he said with a grin.

You laughed softly and put the money away. "Have a good night, Marius."

"You too, Y/N."

You watched the young man leave the café before turning to get the cleaning supplies out. When your father saw what you were doing, he came over and took the supplies from you. "Marie will take care of the cleaning up after Les Amis de l'ABC are gone from here on out," he told you.

You raised an eyebrow. "You don't think that's harsh?"

"It is. That's precisely the point."

Marie sighed one of her signature sighs as she passed by and took the cleaning supplies from your father, the same way he had taken them from you. "You two go on up to bed then, I'll take care of this."

Your father gave her a little pat. "Good that, Marie," he said, before turning and making his way to his room.

"I think I'll go sit outside for a while," you told her. "It's a nice night."

She shrugged. "I'm not your boss."

Shaking your head, you opened the creaky door and sat on the concrete step leading up to it, leaning your back on one of the pillars that framed the entrance. The city was silent this time of night, and you loved the brief respite from your hectic life. You hadn't been able to enjoy it in a while, though, thanks to Marie and her antics always leaving you with far more work than free time.

No sooner had you relaxed than the door opened once more, spilling warm light from inside on to the dark street.

You jumped to your feet, startled by the sudden intrusion. "I am so sorry, Mademoiselle," said the silhouette at the same time you started splattering muddled apologies, your brain still scrambled from the scare.

The voice gave you pause. You recognized that voice. As the figure stepped away from the door, you realized why. The leader of Les Amis de l'ABC stepped on to the street, concern in his eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

You nodded as you smoothed down your clothes taking your seat once more. "You startled me is all. I didn't think any patrons were still here."

He shrugged. "I was working on a paper and Marie kicked me out."

"If you need to finish, I'm sure I could-"

"No, no," he interrupted. "Thank you, but I can finish it another night."

"Alright then," you said. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

He gave you a curt nod. "Mademoiselle." Turning on his heel he began to make his way down the street. He only made it a few steps before turning back towards you. "Actually, I do have a question for you. You seem like you actively avoid my little group, but tonight you replaced Marie. Why?"

"Marie was being punished, that is all. Our father told her she could not work with you all because she enjoys it."

"And you don't."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He asked no question, only offered an observation.

"You don't agree with our ideals," he said when you didn't respond. Another observation. He stepped forward, offering you his arm. "Walk with me. Allow me to convince you."

You laughed softly at his boldness. "Is that what you say to all the women?"

A hint of a smile brushed his lips. "Only the pretty ones."

"I don't know," you said, now smiling as well, your teasing tone juxtaposing your objections, "walking off with a strange man at night sounds dangerous."

"What if I promise to protect you?"

You glanced back at the door, light glowing from the crack at the bottom. With a sudden burst of resolve, you pushed yourself off of the stone and took his outstretched arm. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I'd expect nothing less."

The two of you walked side by side in the night. Neither of you spoke for a while, but the silence was comfortable.

"So why do you avoid us?" he asked, finally breaking the quiet.

"I don't avoid you, per say…"

He only raised an eyebrow in response.

You shrugged. "I only think that you are taking great risks to do what you do, and have seen very little reward. It's not something I want a part in."

"The reward will come," he responded. "In time. Even if we are not there to see it."

"In time, perhaps," you said. "But I find it difficult to justify jeopardizing what I have for a world that I will not live to see."

"But what of those who have nothing to jeopardize? People suffer because of tyrants that hoard all of the wealth. France is dying because of the rich who hold the resources captive."

You stayed quiet for a moment after that, pondering. Finally you asked, "Say you're starting to convince me, what can a few schoolboys possibly do?"

"Light the flame of revolution. We won't be fighting the war, merely the first battles. We are not foolish enough to believe that change will come quickly, but if we give it all we have, people will rise when we fall. Then one day the world we long to see will come into fruition."

Again, this gave you pause, as you pondered over the words and their meaning. "Would you mind terribly if I sat in on the next meeting? Of course, I would still do any of the services your group needs."

"That depends," he replied, his tone light. "Would you be sitting in the way that Marie does, or would it be to listen to what we are discussing?"

This made you laugh. No doubt Marie was often a distraction in meetings, with her bubbly personality and her need to make friends with any human being who crossed her path. "I would like to think the latter," you told him.

He smiled. "Then I would be honored that you join us." He slowed and came to a halt. "I believe this is your stop, Mademoiselle."

Sure enough, you had made a full loop around the block without even realizing it, and you were back at the front door of the Café Musain.

"Right," you said, "I'll be seeing you soon, then." You dropped his arm. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

Taking your hand in his, he bent over and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles. "Goodnight, Mademoiselle."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks at his gentle touch.

With a final nod goodbye, you turned toward the door. You had only made it a step when he shouted, "Wait!"

You stopped and turned around to face him, waiting for him to say something more.

“I never learned your name,”

“Y/N,” you called. “And yours?”

“Enjolras.”

“Well then, goodnight Enjolras, and I will see you again soon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, I look forward to it.”

—--

When you walked in, the chores were complete, the lights were out, and Marie was nowhere to be found. As silently as possible, you made your way up the stairs, past the upper room that held the Amis meeting space, and into the small apartment on the topmost level. Your father's door was shut tight, but you could hear his snores even through the thick oak frame. You cracked the door to your small room and slipped in, trying to avoid waking Marie in the next room over. You quickly slipped on your nightclothes and ducked under the covers, heart still thumping in your chest from the excitement of the night.

"Where were you?"

You jumped up at the sudden noise as Marie's whispered question broke the silence to see your sister looking through a crack in your open door.

Your chest tightened at the question, but you responded hesitantly, "I went on a walk."

"That's not the whole truth," she said, slipping into your room.

"How would you know that?" you hissed in response.

"I saw you walking with someone."

So there was no hiding it then. Not that you had a reason to, it was just a friendly conversation. "Enjolras."

Marie gasped loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Oh, stop it," she said. "Papa is fast asleep."

She lit the candle on your small nightstand and plopped herself down on your bed with such force you couldn't help but make a soft "oof" sound. "What were you doing with Enjolras?"

You shrugged. "He saw me outside and asked to talk to me about his revolution, so we did, that's all."

"Ugh," said Marie. "Boring. I've never been able to get him to say more than a few words to me though, so clearly something you're doing is working."

Your eyes widened at the implications of her statement. "I'm not doing anything! We were just talking!"

Marie looked disbelievingly at you. "Mhm, sure. You have to admit he's attractive though."

You hid your face beneath the covers, which she promptly yanked down. "I'm going to take that as you agreeing with me," she said.

"Even if I did agree with you," you said, swatting away her hand, "there's nothing to do about it. He's more interested in the revolution, and his family is far wealthier than ours."

"True," she said, "but he has never once tried to recruit me for the cause, even before I started getting a little friendly with some of the boys. And how can you truly think class would matter to him? It's the antithesis of who he is."

"I'm sitting in on the meeting next time."

Marie nodded. "Good. And you'll be waiting for him at the steps again at the end of the night."

"I will?"

"Of course. You must establish a pattern."

Your jaw dropped. "Marie, are you trying to set us up?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. "And it's going to work." She pinched out the candle and left back to her own room without so much as a goodnight.

—--

You thought about Enjolras a lot the next few days. There wasn't even much cohesive thought to it, just his smile, his warm hands, the way the dim street lights shone through his hair.

The rest of Les Amis de l’ABC were regular customers of the café. They were loud and jovial on the nights they had no official meeting, but never had you seen Enjolras on a night that there was no meeting. Now that you were listening, though, you heard the other students speak of him. He preferred to stay home studying and planning than spend his nights out and about.

You replayed the memory of your walk over and over in your mind, for no reason other than the joy it brought you to remember him.

Finally, finally, the day came when Les Amis de l'ABC would meet again above the Café Musain. You hated to admit it, in the fear that you were getting excited over nothing, but your heart buzzed all morning at the thought of seeing him again. The customers began to arrive and you busied yourself in the back doing inventory as your father made the night's meal.

Marie poked her head around the corner. "Y/N, he's- they're here," she corrected herself quickly after seeing your father.

"Thank you, Marie," you said, and gathered up the tray of drinks you had already prepared.

Your father looked up from his task. "Good luck."

Muttering a quick "Thank you," you slipped out the door and made your way upstairs. Like the last time, the meeting had just started by the time you got there. It came to a quick halt as you entered though, as the men realized that drinks had arrived.

You made eye contact with Enjolras from across the room, and you did your best to ignore the butterflies from his intense gaze. He made no move to get to the drinks like the rest of the men did, but you gave him a small smile and he nodded briefly in return.

You spent the majority of the night in the back of the room, listening, save for the time you spent running for drinks and food. The more you listened, the more you found yourself being swayed towards the revolution. The things they spoke of called to mind all of the suffering people you saw around you, even in your small sheltered corner of the world. Who knew how bad it was in the areas of the city even poorer than yours, or rough areas like the docks, where you were forbidden to even go.

Enjolras was a strong leader, confident and well spoken, and it was clear that he was respected by everyone in the room. It made you wonder why a man who already had plenty of people that agreed with him and the ability to sway many more was wasting his time by radicalizing a singular barmaid. Free drinks on the battlefield, maybe.

Like all nights, this one came to an end. You gathered up the dishes and took them out to Marie, who had begun cleaning the kitchen. Les Amis de l'ABC began filing out the door, talking loud and cheerily as they left.

You placed the dishes into the bucket of soapy water, earning a sharp look from Marie.

"Get out there," she said. "He'll be out soon."

You shook your head. "Marie, he's probably already left with everyone else. I know what Papa said about your punishment, but at least let me do the dishes."

Did you want to do the dishes? No. Were you far too nervous to come face to face with Enjolras again, now that Marie had put all these ideas in your head? Absolutely.

Marie quickly moved in front of you, blocking you from the dishes. "He hasn't left yet, I have to kick him out every single time he has one of these meetings."

"Marie-"

"Go."

Giving her a sharp glare, you obliged. As you sat on the stone and leaned against one of the pillars framing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. Enjolras or not, you had a sizable appreciation for the peaceful night.

Like before, you were alone in the night, and like before, it didn't last long.

The door creaked open, gentler than it had last time, and light once more flooded the street.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, I was wondering if I would find you out here again."

You stood and turned towards the voice, pleased to see that the small smile on your face matched his own.

"I thought I had given you my name?"

He held up his hands in concession. "My apologies. Y/N, I was wondering if I would see you here again."

"Well, here I am,"

"Here you are indeed."

The moment's silence that followed was far more awkward than any silence had been last time, but he made no move to leave. You cleared your throat. "Working on a paper again?"

He chuckled. "I usually am. Marie is responsible for cleaning again?"

You nodded. "For the foreseeable future."

He nodded, and things were silent again.

It was his turn to clear his throat. "Care to take another walk? You can tell me what you thought of the meeting."

You stepped toward the street, looking back at him. "I thought you'd never ask."

And so you did walk. And again after the next meeting. And again after the next.

You talked of politics at first, but your conversations soon gave way to more personal matters. Talks of opinions, and the future. His favorite color was red. He was in law school. He told you he wanted to help people who couldn't help themselves, but he didn't need to say anything for you to figure that out. He was not warm or welcoming, not on the outside, but his compassion for others was evident in everything that he did.

You noticed that he started coming to the café far more regularly. At least once a week he would sit working silently in the most private corner of the upper room, never ordering, but he would always meet you at the end of the night for your walk.

You found yourself spending all your time thinking of him. He was on your mind in every idle moment. But still, you hesitated to admit why.

You fell into a routine on meeting nights, and no longer felt dread before attending them. On one such night, you were running a bit late. You hurriedly made your way up the stairs, only to be greeted outside the door by a seemingly flustered Enjolras.

He took you by the shoulders and guided you away from the doorframe.

Tucked in the corner of the hallway, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Can Marie work tonight?" he asked.

You shook your head. “It’s just me and Papa tonight, actually. Marie is sick. I actually needed to talk to you about that. It’s why I was late up here and why I won’t be able to stay for the meeting tonight.”

“Let me take the drinks in, then,” he said. “Best that you get back downstairs.”

“Oh, that’s alright. It’ll only take me a moment,” you replied, trying to move past him.

“Y/N, please do not go in there.”

“What is this about, Enjorlas? You’re acting strange.”

“I will tell you later.”

You pushed past him, balancing your tray on one hand. “Or you could let me do my job,” you said, walking to the doorway. He reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N, please.”

You pulled your hand away and walked into the room. The second you entered, you were greeted with shouts of your name, accompanied by hearty laughter. The men were usually excited to get their drinks, but never this excited.

In the corner, one man grabbed his closest companion tightly. “Y/N, my love!” he cried, gazing into the other man’s eyes. “Nothing can tear us apart!”

The other man clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched voice, “Oh, Enjolras, run away with me!”

“Enjolras” took “Y/N” into his embrace, the two of them writhing in what you could only assume was an exaggerated passionate kiss, earning plenty more laughs from the rest of the men.

You could do nothing but stare in horror as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up at Enjolras, your eyes still wide in shock. “Someone saw us out walking together, and the story spread,” he told you gravely. “I am truly sorry.”

You gently removed his hand from your shoulder, not wanting to give the men any more ideas than they already have, and your shocked expression morphed into a determined one. “You have nothing to apologize for, but these men do.”

You slammed the drink tray on the table, and the harsh sound was enough to gain everyone’s attention. “I don’t know what you all think is happening,” you began, “but I can guarantee that anything happening between Enjorlas and I is none of anyone’s business but our own. But since you must know, he has been teaching me politics so that I can better understand these meetings, which up until now, had been full of men I respected. My father does you all a great service by allowing you to meet here, and by disrespecting me, you disrespect him. Not to mention the disrespect to the man who leads you sorry lot.”

You pushed the drink tray to the center of the table. “Serve yourselves tonight.” Turning on your heel, you stormed out of the room. There was no protest, only deafening silence. You did not look back, remaining steady on your course, but if you had, you would have noticed the small proud smile on Enjolras’ face.

—--

You finished the clean up as fast as you could that night, in the hope that you would still be able to catch Enjolras before he left. To your dismay, you caught a glimpse of him leaving right around his usual time, even without Marie to kick him out. You finished up the rest of your work, feeling quite disappointed, and made your way outside regardless. May as well get some fresh night air if you still could.

To your surprise, you found a familiar figure waiting. Enjolras was silhouetted in the darkness of the street, but there was enough light to see when he outstretched his hand toward you. “Care to join me?” he asked.

Silently, you took his hand, and the pair of you began your usual stroll.

After some silence, he finally spoke. "Like I told you before, one of the boys saw us out walking after the last meeting. The mockery has been nonstop since. You have my sincerest apologies that you had to hear that."

"It's not your fault. We both know it means nothing."

But did it mean nothing? Not if you asked Marie. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that didn't quite mind what those men were saying.

"Nothing?" asked Enjolras, his voice tight.

You kept your sights straight ahead, unable to look him in the eyes. "I only mean to say that what we do is our business, no one else's."

He seemed to relax almost imperceptibly when you said that, and you couldn't decide if that made you feel better or worse.

Suddenly, you felt a droplet on your skin. Looking up at the sky, you could just make out the edges of the clouds in the inky darkness. You had barely made it a few more steps when the rain sped up, moving quickly from a drizzle to a downpour.

Almost instinctively, Enjolras shrugged off his coat and held it above the two of you, trying to offer the best protection he could from the rain. “This way,” he said, his voice raised slightly to be heard above the sound of droplets hitting the ground. He led you to a shop front with a small outcropping, where the two of you huddled, trying to stay as dry as possible. Despite Enjolras’ best efforts, though, both of you were soaking wet.

“Here,” he said, wrapping his coat around you. “We can wait here for a while until the rain slows down.”

“Oh, I don’t need this,” you tried to protest as you began to take off his coat. “Better that you stay dry, you’ve got a longer route home.”

“I insist,” he replied, pulling the coat around you once more. “I would be abandoning any gentlemanly values I have left if I let you give this back to me. Winter is creeping closer and this rain is freezing.”

You held his gaze for a moment, trying to gauge if you had any chance of convincing him to take it back, but were met only with his intense eyes and sheer determination behind them. Deciding that he really wasn’t going to take the coat back, you pulled it closer around you. He gently pulled his arm around you, and without even thinking about it, you nestled into his side. The soft pitter patter of the rain was peaceful, and you were pretty sure you could have fallen asleep there if you had wanted to.

“Y/N?” Enjolras broke the silence after a while.

“Yes?”

“I must confess something to you. I have to admit, I was not… completely bothered by what my men have been saying about us. I do not appreciate their mockery, but… I don’t mind when they talk of us being together.”

You pulled back, looking up at him in shock. “What are you saying?”

Reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, he chose not to respond with words, instead moving his hand to your jawline and drawing you gently into his face, planting a light kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, your face was burning and you were left speechless. His gaze was darker than you had ever seen it before. Seeing the stunned look on your face, he stood and offered you his hand, refusing to meet your eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of turn. Let’s get you home.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t out of turn, that you felt the same way, but you were paralyzed, overwhelmed by your emotions, so you took his hand and made your way home through the downpour. You moved like a zombie, feelings burning bright on the inside, but unable to articulate any of it outwardly.

—--

Marie was asleep when you got back, and you quickly and silently got into bed, piling a few extra blankets on top to combat the steadily dropping temperatures. As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts were filled with Enjolras, and you could only hope that he had made it home safely and warmly, and that you hadn't offended him too terribly.

—--

You woke the next day to white flurries outside your window. It was the first snow of the season, and it showed no signs of stopping. As of now, it was only a light dusting, but you were sure that by late afternoon the ground would be covered. Marie was up and about, having recovered from yesterday's sickness, and your father only spent part of the day out of his room, retiring early because of the cold’s poor effect on his old bones. You and Marie spent the evening by the warmth of the kitchen fire, chatting, reading, and working on various projects since no patrons had made their way through the thick snow that blanketed all by now. It grew darker outside and the snow grew higher. Marie had just begun to suggest heading to bead when you heard a knock at the door.

You exchanged worried glances and Marie quickly made her way to the front of the store, with you following close behind. She opened the door and let out a large gasp.

“Enjolras?” she said, clearly taken aback.

“Is Y/N there?”

She stepped aside, allowing him to see you. He rushed forward, gripping your shoulders firmly, as Marie shut the door behind him as fast as she could. He seemed to be completely unaffected by his blue lips or his usually curly hair that was frozen into frizzy chunks.

His gaze was more intense than you had ever seen it, his blue eyes seeming to bore into your very soul. “Y/N, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go another moment without seeing you again. Last night was all wrong, I know that, but I need you to know how I feel, and I need to say it properly.”

“That can wait,” you replied before he could continue. “We need to get you warmed up right now, before you get sick. I don’t need to explain to my neighbors why a rich boy died of frostbite in my home.”

“Marie,” you said, taking Enjolras’ hand and leading him to the kitchen, “will you grab my blankets from my bed and bring them down here? And see if there's any of Papa's old clothes about? I’m going to heat up some of our leftover dinner.”

Marie gave you a mischievous look, glancing back and forth between you and Enjolras, but for once in her life she kept quiet and did what was asked of her, and she scampered upstairs to get all the extra winter furs she could find.

“Take off every layer that you can without exposing yourself,” you told him. “Marie will bring back a change of clothes, but the wet clothes are going to be what kills you if you don’t get out of them.” He complied silently removing his coat and layer beneath that, leaving him only in a button down undershirt and trousers.

You busied yourself getting him something hot to eat. "Thank the Lord that Marie never cleans up after herself," you muttered to yourself when you noticed that she had left the pot she had used for dinner out above the fire, keeping the small amount of soup still inside of it warm.

The entire time, Enjolras' gaze never left you, waiting for you to relax for a moment before he spoke again. He would have to wait longer, though, because just as you set the soup in front of him, Marie entered the kitchen with a large pile of blankets. She set them down next to the hearth and brushed her hands together. "Well, unless you two need me any longer, I think I'll head up to bed."

"Alright. Thank you, Marie, goodnight," you said.

"Yes, thank you, Marie," Enjolras added.

Marie left, with a wink to you behind Enjolras’ back. Ignoring her goading, you turned toward the hearth, throwing your last log on and stoking the dying flames higher. When at last you were satisfied with your work, you turned to find Enjolras standing, and an empty bowl set on the table.

"Y/N I-"

You shoved a shirt and pants into his hands. "You're soaked to the bone. Change."

"You're avoiding this."

He was always too perceptive, wasn't he? Yes you were avoiding it. It wasn’t as simple as I love you and you love me. There was your status, his status, the work you had to do and the degree he was working towards. The revolution you were fighting.

You started to move past him, out of the kitchen, to give him some privacy. “Obviously. Regardless, you still need to change.” There was no denying that you were avoiding the subject to him- he knew you all too well.

His arm reached out, lightning fast, and he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His grip was firm, but not painful. You avoided his gaze, waiting for him to let you go, or say something. “Help me, then.”

You looked up, finally making eye contact. You could see the dare dancing behind his eyes. He knew it would be improper. He also knew you would do anything he asked of you. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down your arm and took your hand, slowly guiding it up to the top button of his shirt. You stood silent and stony faced, weighing your options. Finally caving, you reached up with your other hand and began undoing his shirt, slowly, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin with every button.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice low.

“You noticed?” The sarcasm dripped from your question.

“I notice everything about you.”

You clenched your jaw as you undid the last button and he shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders. You turned slightly to the side, trying to avoid looking at his bare torso. From noticing the way his skin gleamed in the firelight. From watching the way that the melted snow ran down his body.

“Why did you come here tonight?” you asked.

“I told you. I did not get a chance to tell you how I felt properly. Nor did I give you a chance to respond.”

“At the risk of your life? You could have gotten lost in this storm, and then what? You wander for hours until you freeze to death?”

“You truly think so little of my navigation skills?”

You rolled your eyes. “Say your piece then.”

He stepped towards you, taking your chin in his hand and slowly guiding your face to look at his. “I have never met anyone who makes me as happy as you do. I count down the minutes until our next walk together. I want to be with you as much as possible. Seeing you only once in a while is not enough for me. You are smart, hard-working, and kind, and I want a future with you. I love you, Y/N.”

For all your bravado, your angry facade melted the moment he finished speaking. Your voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “Never did I think I would hear you say those words. I love you too, Enjolras.”

This time, you initiated the kiss. It was far more passionate than the last. Enjolras kept one hand firmly on the side of your face, and snaked the other around your waist, pulling you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him until you couldn’t anymore, finally having to come up for air. You pressed your forehead to his, panting slightly.

The reality of what happened suddenly hit you. You had just kissed Enjolras, who was currently holding you very tightly against his very bare chest. And the air around you was still freezing. Gently, you pushed yourself away from him. “Finish changing,” you told him. “I’ll be right back with more firewood.”

He smiled. You had never seen him smile so brightly. “Come back quickly,'' he whispered as you left.

—--

The cold outside was unbearable, even in the back alley behind the café where you stored the firewood. How had Enjolras made the journey all the way from his school in this? Grabbing a bundle, you rushed back inside, hurrying back to the kitchen and its warmth. When you entered, you found a fully clothed Enjolras curled up in the large pile of blankets on the floor next to the hearth.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, the worry evident on his face. “You’re shivering!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. I’m glad you have the color back in your cheeks. You had me worried.” You threw more logs on the fire, stoking the flames to a much more considerable size. You set down the poker, but did not get the chase to stand before you were being pulled into a mass of fur and warmth. Before you knew it, you were once again wrapped in Enjolras’ embrace. Surrounded by blankets and his strong arms, you were so warm.

“Please stay,” he said gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you were lulled to sleep by his gentle breathing and the sounds of the crackling flames.

—--

When you woke, Enjolras was still asleep. Judging by the dying flames in the fireplace, it had only been a few hours.

Carefully, you removed yourself from Enjolras’ embrace and out of the pile of blankets. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him, but you would prefer to not have to explain to your father why you were in such a compromising position.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving" you had told him only a little while ago, but you knew he would understand.

Silently, you made your way to your room. Making a stop at Marie’s room, you stole a few of the blankets off of her massive pile and curled up in your bed, drifting back to sleep with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart.

—--

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pushed yourself out of bed. Marie's door was still shut, and as you walked out of your room, you saw your father's door wide open, with him nowhere inside. You grimaced, hoping that he hadn't been too upset after finding Enjolras.

As you made your way downstairs, you were astonished to hear your father's hearty laughter from the kitchen. Of course, you really shouldn't have been. Your father had always sympathized with Les Amis de l'ABC, and he had no way of knowing what Enjolras had said or done last night. You shivered as you remembered his gentle touch and the way he held you.

Rounding the corner you were greeted by your father and Enjolras, who were talking at one of the tables in the main seating area.

"Good morning chouchou!" your father called. "Enjolras has been telling me of you and Marie's heroics last night."

Enjolras nodded. "It was quite foolish of me to think I could visit Grantaire and make it back to my own home before the worst of the storm hit. I am incredibly grateful I was able to stop here," he said, giving you a pointed look as he subtly filled you in on the story he had told your father.

"I'm just glad you were not stranded out in the storm," you told him, taking a seat at the table.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found him curled up next to our fireplace this morning," your father said. "Speaking of, I should go prepare breakfast. I was a bit distracted after finding Enjolras." He gave you a quick pat on the shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.

You turned to Enjolras, your voice lowered so your father could not hear. "You lied to him?"

"I didn't know if you wanted him to know or not," he replied. "Should I have told him the truth?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. "Give it a little more time, I think. We're only just figuring it out."

Before he could reply, your father stuck his head out from the kitchen. "Y/N, would you go wake Marie? Breakfast will only be a few minutes."

—--

For a day trapped inside, it flew by surprisingly quickly. Once Marie joined you, your group spent much of the day around the table, talking and exchanging stories. The snow had stopped, but your father insisted that Enjolras stay one night more to give the drifts that covered the streets more time to melt. After several protests, Enjolras agreed.

Your father and Marie had turned in for the night (Marie far too eagerly), leaving you and Enjolras completely alone, just like the night before. You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, unsure of what to say.

"Alone at last," Enjolras remarked.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "What to do?"

He smiled fully, a rare sight to see. "I have a few ideas."

He leaned across the table, meeting you halfway, as he captured your lips in a kiss just as passionate as the one from the night before. Slowly, without breaking the kiss, he stood and maneuvered you so that you were sitting on the table, him standing between your legs. You ran your fingers through his silky blond curls, tangling your hands in his hair as you drew him closer to you.

Eventually you had to stop. The short pauses between kisses was not nearly enough to catch your breath.

You broke away, the both of you panting, and you buried your head in Enjolras’ neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

You slowly pulled away, the lightheartedness of the past few moments fading as reality crashing back down on you. "Enjolras, I think we need to talk about that."

His brow furrowed. "I thought you told me you loved me too."

You sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I do it's just-"

"Go on." His voice was low, gravely serious, but not threatening. You felt safe with him, you always had.

"You are in a completely different class of society than I am. I know you don't care, but that does not change the obstacles that come along with it if we want a future together. And the revolution! How can we truly commit to one another if the most important thing is France?"

When he didn't respond, you raised your eyes to finally meet his and saw that his gaze had softened considerably as had his words when he finally spoke. "We can face those challenges together, when they come. And the revolution is not an obstacle so long as our love for this city binds us together."

You nodded, a silent agreement to his reassurement. He took your face in his hands. "I know you, Y/N, and you know me. Our love for each other is stronger than anything the world can throw our way."

"I'm going to hold you to that," you whispered.

"You had better."

You leaned back into him, planting a kiss on his lips, far gentler than the one before.

"I should probably go up to my own bed," you told him, your voice all too easily betraying your hesitating to leave him.

"Goodnight, chérie," he said, placing a kiss on your brow before he moved to the side, allowing you to hop off the table and walk past him.

You didn't get very far when you felt him grab your hand and spin you around until he was holding you tightly against him once more and pressing one last kiss to your lips.

You broke away and brushed a golden lock of hair away from his eyes. "Goodnight Enjolras, I will see you in the morning."

—--

Enjolras left early the next morning, the snow having melted enough for him to make the journey safely. "A few days' time," he told you, "Then I will be back for a Les Amis de l'ABC meeting."

You helped your father work in the kitchen, preparing for the guests that would surely arrive that afternoon now that the snow had subsided. Marie worked on cleaning tables and floors in the outer rooms.

"So," your father began. "You and Enjolras?"

You froze, your eyes widening at the unexpected comment. "Whatever do you mean, Papa?"

Your father laughed heartily. "You think that I do not notice? You look at that man like he is the greatest thing you have seen, and he looks at you the same way. Not to mention the walks you two have been taking for quite some time now."

You stared in disbelief. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew. You and Marie aren't as secretive as you think you are. I'm happy for you chouchou. Enjolras is a good man, and I can tell he makes you happy."

"Thank you, Papa," you said sheepishly. You scooped up the pile of inventory you had been working on and left the kitchen to take it to the storage, shaking your head and muttering to yourself, "He knew the whole time." Try as you might, though, you couldn't shake the smile from your face.

—---

The rest of the night was largely uneventful. Customers came in, you served them, and they left. You and Marie were cleaning up for the night when a familiar face burst through the door.

"Oh no!" the girl said, looking around at the empty space. "Are you closed already?"

"Never for you, Eponine!" A grin spread across your face at the sight of your old friend. You hurried towards her, pulling her into a hug. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months, and Gavroche never gives me a straight answer when I ask him!"

"My parents were busted in a scam and we had to flee to the countryside. We've only just returned," she replied, squeezing you tightly.

"And what of Gavroche?" you asked. "He has been here the whole time! Has someone been caring for him?"

She nodded. "There was no time to take Gavroche when we ran, but we knew he would be able to stay with one of Les Amis. He's been staying with Courfeyrac, I believe."

"Oh, Eponine," you said, "I wish you would just come and work here. We could give you an honest living and lodgings, and you would not need to live a life on the run."

"Y/N, you know I couldn't. My father is far too vengeful, and I would never want to put you and your family in danger."

You sighed. "I know Eponine. Just remember our doors are always open. Truly, I am just glad you are back."

“You must catch me up,” she said, suddenly excited as she pulled you down to sit at a table.

“Well,” you began with a smile, “I have made good friends with Les Amis de l’ABC.”

Eponine’s shock was evident. “You? Getting all buddy buddy with the politicians?”

“You know I have never been one for politics, but it is far more than that. It is the very roots of our society that must change.”

Eponine laughed. “You sound like Enjolras!”

You shrugged and looked down sheepishly, a small smile on your face, and Eponine gasped. “What?” she asked.

“Two days ago he told me that he loved me.”

Eponine stared, her mouth agape. She leaned back in her seat, shaking her head silently. “You and Enjolras, of all people. Who would have thought?”

—--

Your time with Enjolras was a blur, filled with joy and passion - for one another and for the revolution.

You went to meetings and rallies, him hardly letting you out of his sight in the crowds. But most importantly, you had continued your nighttime walks, that brief moment of bliss that the two of you could share together, away from the rest of the world.

And you were ever so thankful for those moments, because you had something big planned.

Tonight he stopped in front of the Café Musain, took you in his arms, and kissed you, just as he always did. Spring was in full force, and the warm air danced around you. But instead of going inside, as per usual, you grabbed his hands and pulled him around the back of the building.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you hushed him. “Follow me.” You began to scale the side of the building, the hand and foot holds familiar to you. You hoisted yourself onto the roof, looking down at your lover following, although somewhat slower than you had been. When he was within reach, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up to you, a little too forcefully, causing him to stumble over the ledge and into your arms.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said quietly, still holding him close. He smiled, something that was becoming rarer and rarer these days, and began to lean in for yet another kiss- not that you ever tired of them- when something gave him pause. He stepped back from you, although he did not drop your hand, and surveyed the roof, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Y/N, what is this?” he asked, gesturing to the scenic roof that Eponine and Marie had helped you prepare earlier that day. A dozen or so candles flickered in the night, illuminating a simple blanket adorned with flowering embroidery. The flowers on the blanket matched the small basket that eponine had brought, filled with a flower arrangement. You pulled him down to sit on the blanket with you and pulled out another basket, this one filled with the food that you had made that morning. Pulling out the contents, you spread them around the two of you. “It’s a picnic,” you told him. “I made it for us. I thought it might be romantic.”

Enjolras smiled again, and it warmed your heart. “It’s amazing Y/N,” he said.

You pushed some food towards him. “Eat,” you said, “I’ll be right back.”

As he ate, you opened the door on the corner of the roof and dropped the ladder. You climbed inside the café and dashed to your room, grabbing a box and quickly running back to the roof. You took your place back on the blanket and handed him the box, slightly fidgety with impatience. “This is for you.”

“Chérie, you know I do not expect gifts. You did not have to-”

You waved your hand, dismissing his protests. “Just open it.”

After one last pointed look towards you, he complied, and opened the box, pulling out the contents with a shocked look on his face. He slowly felt the fabric as he looked up at you. “Y/N, this is beautiful.” You swelled with pride as your hard work was appreciated, watching him admire the red jacket you had made him.

“I worked some shifts at the sewing shop to afford the nicer fabric,” you told him. “And then I spent my evenings working on it. The buttons,” you scooted closer to him to point them out, “are the best part.” You ran your finger over one, and in the candlelight you could see the inscription on the metal. ABC.

“Y/N,” he said softly, wonder in his eyes, “this is amazing.”

“You did say red was your favorite, right?” you asked.

“I did,” he said, shrugging on the jacket. “It’s perfect Y/N.”

“I do not have much to give,” you told him, “but I wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

“I do not need to be reminded, Y/N, for you are always in my thoughts. But this jacket is now my most prized possession.”

You smiled. “Good. I am glad you like it.”

—--

Time went on, and as it did, political tensions rose. And as political tensions rose, so did Enjolras’ stress. He was more distant, and the more you tried to reach him, the more he withdrew. He was becoming short tempered and irritable, and you did most of the talking on your walks.

Why could you not comfort him like you used to? Was your presence no longer enough?

You waited for him tonight, as you always did after meetings, and when he exited the café, he did not offer you his arm, simply rushed past you.

“Apologies, Y/N,” he called over his shoulder, not breaking stride, “but I have far too much to do. I will try to make time to see you soon, but it may need to wait until the meeting next week.”

Before you could even reply, he was out of earshot, and you were left alone on the stairs of the Café Musain.

—--

The next day, you rose bright and early, a mission on your mind.

Quickly dressing and grabbing a bite to eat, you made your way downstairs, passing by a barely awake Marie

"Where are you off to?" she slurred, still mostly asleep.

You sighed. "To find Enjolras. I should have said something to him sooner, because he's been so stressed lately, but I didn't want to bring it up. But then he skipped our walk last night…"

Marie raised her eyebrows, the fogginess of sleep seemingly disappearing instantaneously. "He skipped your walk? He's never missed one, has he?"

You shook your head. "I'm worried about him, Marie. Only a few weeks ago we were as thick as thieves, but since we've received the news of Lamarque's sickness he's like a completely different man."

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You'll find him, Y/N, and you'll help him through this, I know it."

You nodded your thanks and made your way out to the street only to be startled by Gavroche, dashing across the street with some of his friends.

Perfect.

"Gavroche!" You called after him. "Gavroche, I need your help!"

The young boy spun on his heel and sprinted towards you as his friends continued onward. “Whad'ya need, Y/N?”

You crouched down to his level to speak to him. “I need to go to Enjolras’ apartment. Do you know where it is?”

He nodded, but then his brow furrowed. “Haven’t you been seeing him? Why don’t you know where he lives?”

You sighed. “I’ve never had cause to visit him alone in his apartment, but I’m afraid that he sorely needs my company, even if he refuses it. Can you show me the way?”

“Absolutely!” he said, and he stuck out his hand as you stood up. You gave him a stern look, but dropped a few francs in his hand. Lord knows the boy needed it more than you did.

You followed him down the city street, passing through familiar shops and homes, before he finally stopped in front of a small building wedged between two much larger ones. “This is it!” he told you. “I deliver his letters here all the time.”

You ruffled his hair. “Thank you, Gavroche. Do you know if Eponine will be at the meeting next week.”

“That depends,” he said with a laugh. “Will Marius be there?” Before you could respond, he ran back in the direction you came, no doubt meaning to catch up with his friends.

You felt a twinge of pity for Eponine. Her unrequited love towards Marius had been tearing her to pieces, and you could hardly bear to watch her fall to shambles like this.

Take care of Enjolras first, you told yourself, then you can worry about Eponine.

Steeling yourself, you approached the door and gave it a sharp knock. You waited, but no response. Another sharp knock.

“Go away!” called a voice faintly.

No way in hell you were going to do that. Jiggling the handle slightly, you were pleased to find that it was unlocked. The door opened with a quiet creaking and you slipped inside.

You rounded the corner of the main entryway and what you saw made your heart sink. Enjolras was slumped over his desk, his hair a mess, his clothes crumpled, and the entire room in disarray. You stepped forward, and your shoe clinked against a glass left on the ground.

“Get out,” he muttered, sounding groggy.

You pressed forward, approaching him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Enjolras, it’s just me.”

He turned toward you, giving you an appraising look, but he quickly looked back down at his work. “I said get out.”

You raised an eyebrow. His words were slurred, and you could smell the sharp stench of alcohol on his breath. “Enjolras, have you been drinking?” You had barely known him to have a single drink, much less get drunk.

“It does not matter. Now, if you would leave me be, I have matters to attend to. Letters to write, rallies to plan.” He batted your hand away.

Not satisfied with his answer, you snatched the letter he was currently working on out from under him. “Dear Commander,” you began, reading his work aloud.

“Hear the the pleas the cries of the people who we need we need assistance. I beg your well wished and timely response.”

You tossed the letter back on the desk. “Enjolras, this is incomprehensible! You need to take a break. You need rest.”

He leaned back in his chair, placing one hand over his eyes. As the sunlight from the window illuminated the panes of his face, you noticed the thin layer of stubble that covered his usually clean-shaven visage. “There is no time for rest,” he told you. “Every day, Lamarque is nearer to drawing his final breath, and we are running out of time.”

You took his chin in your hand, guiding him to look up at you. “All your efforts will be for naught if you kill yourself in the process. Rest, Enjolras, please. You need sleep just as the rest of us do.”

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine. I will take a break.”

You kissed his forehead. “Good. Come on now.”

Seeing as there was no bedroom on the first floor, you guided him up to the second floor, and like you had all those weeks ago when he had turned up half frozen on your doorstep, you slowly undressed him, allowing him to feel your hands on his skin at every opportunity as you rid him of his dirty clothes and helped him into a pair of clean nightclothes. He was silent, and kept his eyes closed, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away as you tended to him.

He laid in bed, and you sat on the edge beside him, using a damp washcloth to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face.

“Thank you, my love,” he said quietly as you finished up.

You brushed the side of his face gently with your hand. "I only wish that you would speak to me instead of working yourself to the bone."

"I'm sorry," he said, placing a gentle kiss on the palm of your hand. "You deserve much better than a man like me."

This gave you pause. "What is it then, that you think I deserve?"

"A lover whose focus is on you, not France. You deserve to be happy."

"What did you tell me, when I said nearly the same thing? You are not fighting for France alone, my love, I am fighting with you. Together, always. I am the happiest I have ever been."

You leaned in close, a teasing smile on your face. "Except, of course, when you choose to ignore me instead of telling me what's wrong." You planted a kiss on his lips, feeling his smile against your mouth.

"You're right," he whispered. "You're always right."

And with that, he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you down on the sheets next to him. "Please stay," he whispered.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving," you replied.

—--

Together you worked. Together you built a revolution, rushing to tie up as many loose ends as possible before the inevitable: Lamarque's death. Meetings were more frantic, rallies more crowded and more prone to intervention by law enforcement. But you stayed by his side and he stayed by yours.

You rushed through the square, glancing up at a nearby clocktower. Enjolras would be expecting you by now, but no matter, you would watch the rally from the crowds like everyone else did, rather than by his side as usual. You pushed to the front, muttering apologies to deaf ears, as no conversation was comprehensible in the massive crowd.

"Lamarque is the only one who stands for the common folk, the only one in our government who fights the wealthy elite in our name! But he is ill, and fading fast!" you heard Marius' voice ring above the crowd.

You pushed further forward and then there, up on the stage, you saw Enjolras. He looked almost angelic, the sun streaming through his hair, passion written on his features.

"How long do we suffer for their benefit before we take what's ours and cut the fat ones down to size?" your lover cried. "Join us in our rebellion! Join us at the barricades!"

Just then, the police burst in from the opposite side of the square, sending the crowd into a frenzy as they rushed to clear the area. The entire time, the students were shouting to the people to not give in, to meet again the following week in the same place for another rally.

You moved against the crowd struggling to stay upright. People were moving in every direction. Which direction was Lamarque’s home? Which was the police? The world was spinning and you had lost all sense of direction, until by some blessed luck, you ran into Marius. “Marius!” you cried, grabbing his arm. “Where is Enjolras?”

“He’s near, he’ll meet us back at the Musain.”

You followed him through the crowd, and soon the people thinned out, and you saw a flash of red ahead.

“Enjolras!” you cried, rushing forward to reach him. He turned quickly at the sound of your voice, and swept you into his arms as you came towards him, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Y/N,” he said into your hair, “I thought you had not made it to the rally today.”

“I was just late,” you replied, your voice shaking. “After the panic, I could not find you. I feared something had happened to you.”

He rubbed small circles onto your back. “It would take far more than a mob to get rid of me. From here on out, we will travel to rallies together. With tensions rising, it is far too dangerous to go on your own.”

You nodded against his chest, still gripping him tight.

“Come now,” he said, releasing you from his embrace, but grabbing on to your hand instead. “Let us go prepare for tonight’s meeting. We will have much to cover.”

—--

The students were gathered together now, and energy was crackling throughout the room. Throughout France, the people were beginning to rise in protest. Notre Dame, rue-du-Bac, everywhere, they were eager to stand and fight.

“The time to rebel is fast approaching, '' began Enjolras. “The people are stirring, rising up with us for the common good of France. I need you all to stay sharp.” He shot a pointed look at Grantaire, who was chugging from a bottle of wine. “The National Guard outmatches us by far. We need a sign that will unite the people, that will call them to arms.”

“Marius, wake up!” Joly shouted across the room. Marius looked dazed, completely indifferent to the meeting happening around him. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! What’s gotten into you today?”

“Some wine and say what’s going on?” Grantaire offered.

“A ghost,” Marius mused. “Yes, she was like a ghost. There one moment, gone the next.”

Grantaire laughed, the sound almost barking. “Marius has found himself a girl at long last! I am aghast! Never have I seen him in such a state. Why, it’s better than the opera!”

Your stomach dropped as you thought of Eponine. Did she know of Marius' mystery woman? By some stroke of luck, was it Eponine?

“Marius, now is not the time.” Enjolras said. “Is this what we must fight for now? The right to sit around and talk of women? The right to a night at the opera? This is real life men, not a game for a few young, rich, fools to play. We are coming out of a dark age, my brothers, but there is a red dawn at the end of this black night.”

“You should know how it feels, Enjolras,” Marius protested. “When you see Y/N, are you not struck to the bone in breathless delight? Does she not fill your vision with a burst of light each time you think of her?”

“Yeah, Enjolras,” you said playfully, nudging him slightly. “Do I not do that for you?”

He shot you a sharp look that said “Now is not the time to make light of the situation.”

“What I feel for Y/N is not relevant at the moment, and she knows that as well as I do. If your woman was here, helping with the rebellion, we would not be having this discussion. We all have a higher call now, a larger goal, one far more important than finding solace for our lonely souls. Feel how you must Marius, but you are no longer a child, and we need to be present at these meetings. Our little lives are nothing in comparison to the whole of France.”

“Hear, hear!” you cried, raising your glass at Enjolras’ words.

“Hear, hear!” the men echoed.

“Listen, everybody!” The group turned sharply toward the doorway, where Gavroche stood waiting. “General Lamarque is dead!”

You drew in a sharp breath. You knew it was coming, had known for a while now, but it was still jarring to hear the words aloud.

“Lamarque,” said Enjolras. “The people’s man, fallen at last. His death is the sign we have been awaiting.” He grew more confident as the plan solidified in his mind. “His funeral day will be soon, and there we will gather to honor his name. There will be a crowd there, a massive one, of the people who knew Lamarque to be the last truly good man in our government, and from their candles of grief we will kindle the flames of rebellion. The tomb of Lamarque shall lay the foundations for our barricade, for the freedom of all of France!”

He was met with cheers and jubilant shouting. You silently took his hand in yours, and he looked to you with more hope in his eyes than you had seen in months. “Tomorrow!” he yelled to his men. “Tomorrow we meet again and prepare here. Bring what ammunition and supplies you can find, we will need all you can get!”

The men trickled out, and as the uproar died down, Enjolras muttered to you, “You remember our night on the roof?”

You nodded.

“Could you take me there now?”

—--

You did as he asked, leading him up to the trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the roof, and soon the two of you were alone in the cool night air. As soon as the door was shut, Enjolras pulled you into a kiss, kissing you far more passionately than he had in a while. “We’re close,” he finally said. Another short kiss. “So close.”

You held him tight. “I’m proud of you, Enjolras. You’re changing the world."

"I could not have made it this far without you, ma chérie."

"Then into the new world we ride," you told him. "Together."

You couldn't place the look on his face. Hesitant, maybe?

"I have two things I must ask of you , my love."

"Anything," you replied.

He released you from his embrace and backed away a bit. He reached for something small in his pocket and then took a deep breath before kneeling.

"Y/N, since the day I met you, my world has been brighter, more hopeful. You occupy much of my thoughts, and to be apart from you is the worst fate I could imagine." His eyes, so often your only windows into what he was feeling, were shining with emotion. "You have already done so much for me, but would you do me the greatest honor of all and become my wife?"

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall. All you could do at first was nod, for fear of bursting into sobs, but eventually you were able to croak a small, "Yes."

In an instant, Enjolras was on his feet, kissing your face over and over muttering "Thank you," and "I love you," over and over. He slipped a ring onto your finger, and you held your hand up to examine it. It was a simple band, nothing ornate, but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"I will get you a nicer one someday soon," he told you. "I had not planned on doing this tonight, but after the rally this morning, when you clung to me in the streets, I knew that I couldn't wait another day to ask you."

"I don't want a more expensive one," you told him. "It would never mean as much as this does."

He held you close and rested his head against yours. His jaw was tense, almost as if he was in pain.

"Enjolras?" You asked, raising a hand to his face. "Are you alright?"

He inhaled sharply at your touch. "I'm afraid there is one more thing I must ask of you."

"What is it?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"I need you to take your father and sister and leave the city."

Your blood ran cold. "What?"

"It's far too dangerous here. I cannot- I will not- be the reason you get hurt."

You stepped away from him, disbelief written over your features. "What happened to together Enjolras?" You held up your left hand, now adorned with a ring. "I made a promise to bind myself to you only moments ago, and now you ask me to break that promise?"

"Y/N-"

"No! I am sick of this, Enjolras. When I agreed to see you, you told me that this revolution was something we would fight together, and now you try and send me away!"

"Y/N, we are fighting together, but I need you to stay away from the actual battle. I could never live with myself if you were hurt."

"What about me? How do you expect me to sit by while you risk yourself? I will arrange for Papa and Marie to leave, but I will not abandon our cause in its hour of need. I will not abandon you."

He held your gaze, the stubborn look in his eye no doubt matching your own.

"Fine," he finally said gruffly. "But if you are going to stay, you have to follow orders, the same as the rest of my men. Regardless of what you think, I need to keep you safe."

"Of course," you nodded. "So long as you don't order me to leave."

"I won't."

You embraced him once more. "I love you, Enjolras."

"I love you too, ma chérie."

—--

Marie and your father were gone. There was some protest about you staying behind, but they saw the way you clung to Enjolras' hand, and had been watching the way you had thrown yourself into revolution work the past few months. They packed up what things they needed and left for an inn on the outskirts of Paris.

The next day was a blur. Preparing was busy work. You organized weaponry and ammunition, you helped deliver messages to other rebel groups across the city, and you kept Enjolras from losing his head.

One day more, and then you would be in the fight of your lives.

The students prepared late into the night, and eventually, there was simply no more that could be done. Most stayed the night, setting up a makeshift camp on the second floor of the Musain. You and Enjolras once again found yourselves on the roof, looking over the city at night, pondering the challenge that tomorrow would bring.

“Are you ready?” you asked him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Silence once more. The comfortable silence took you back to all those months ago. The time that you had first met, and the walks that ensued. The time that you had spent together, simply enjoying one another’s presence.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Unless I’m remembering incorrectly, we’ve already had this conversation. Is the stress getting to you so much that you forget?”

“No,” he said. “Will you marry me tonight? Right now?”

You were taken aback. “Now? That’s a bit soon.”

“We may not have another chance,” he said grimly, and for a moment, the gravity of tomorrow weighed on your mind once more, but you quickly pushed it back. You were as prepared as you could be. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Let’s get married then.”

—--

Soon, Les Amis de l’ABC were gathered in the upper room of the Musain, like so many times before. Unlike usual, however, you were there to celebrate a union, rather than plot the downfall of the monarchy.

Combeferre was chosen to officiate, as he was widely regarded as the second in command of Les Amis. You and Enjolras stood facing each other, hands clasped together.

“We are gathered here on this night to celebrate the union between two of our most core members,” Combeferre began. “Enjolras, you have bravely led us through all our trials, and continue to do so even now. Y/N, you have only been with us a short time, but in that period you have shown tenacity and passion in all that you do. I understand you each have something to say?”

You smiled up at your fiancé. His features were softer than they had been in a while, and his smile was more relaxed. He was less tense, like his stress had all but vanished, if only for a little while. “Enjolras,” you said, completely lost in his eyes, “I have no idea where I would be if not for you. Not only did you show me love, but you opened my eyes to a world beyond my own, and to the possibility of a better future. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing, because as long as I have you, I know that I will be alright. However tomorrow ends, I am grateful that we will be fighting for France hand in hand, as husband and wife.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was no doubt one of the biggest challenges he would have to face in the coming days: being emotionally vulnerable in front of his friends. “Y/N, I still cannot place what it was, but the first night you came into our meetings, you left your mark upon my very soul. I have thought of you every day since then, and I could not ask for a better woman to call my wife. You care for me when I don’t deserve it, and remind me again and again that I am stronger than the things holding me back. I love you more than I could ever articulate, and I will never be able to thank you enough for agreeing to marry me."

Combeferre nodded curtly. "Now-"

"Wait!" you said. "Gavroche, it's time."

The young boy dashed up to the front of the room and handed you something.

"Thank you, Gavroche," you said.

"Something for you, something for me?" he asked hopefully, earning a chuckle from yourself and many of the students gathered there.

"After we finish up here," you told him, ruffling his hair. He grinned up at you and ran back to his seat. Turning back to Enjolras, you noticed his look of confusion.

"I really wanted to exchange rings," you began, "so I raided my father's small jewelry collection. He's been saving it in case we ever fell on hard times, but I don’t think he would mind." You opened your hand to reveal your engagement ring and a similar band that you had found. "I think it belonged to my grandfather," you told him as you handed him your ring.

You took his left hand and gingerly slipped the ring onto his finger, and he mimicked your actions with your ring.

"Now," Combeferre started over when you had finished. "Enjolras, do you vow to take Y/N as your wife and cherish her through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?"

"I do," he said, practicing glowing.

"Y/N, do you vow to take Enjolras as your husband and cherish him through all times, bad and good, until the end of your days?'

You nodded, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I do."

Combeferre smiled. "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. Enjolras, you may kiss the bride."

Enjolras’ lips were on yours in an instant, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire time. He dipped you down low, earning quite a few wolf whistles and cheers from the students.

He helped you back upright and there was a smattering of applause from your companions, as well as some very loud sobs from Grantaire.

"Would you be quiet?" Marius asked from next to him, nudging him slightly before snatching the nearly empty bottle of alcohol from his hand.

"I'm sorry" Grantaire half blubbered, half slurred. "Weddings make me emotional."

"So does liquor," Marius muttered.

"You're drunk, Grantaire," your husband said, arm around your waist. "Get to bed. In fact, all of you should get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The members of Les Amis de l'ABC filed out of the room, off to their respective sleeping spots, when you noticed a slip of a boy with his hat pulled down over his brow trying to leave out the back.

"One moment," you muttered to Enjolras, and you followed the figure out the door. "Eponine," you called after "him." "I know it's you."

She paused, then turned back towards you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wanted to be there, but I didn't want to face Marius."

You hugged her. "That's all right 'Ponine. I'm just glad you came. And I'm sorry to hear about Marius. What girl has got him acting like this anyhow?"

She shrugged. "Some rich girl named Cosette. I grew up with her, actually."

"You're far too good for him anyways," you told her. "Any man worth his salt would be lucky to have you."

She tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I'll be alright on my own tonight. Go back to your husband."

You hesitated, not wanting to leave her when she so clearly needed a friend.

"Go," she said.

"Well if you're that eager to be rid of me…"

"Congratulations, Y/N," she said, and she was soon out of sight.

—--

You couldn't help but worry for her, but your mood brightened when you found Enjolras waiting for you.

"Come on," you told him. "Let's spend our first night as husband and wife together."

—--

The second the door to your room was shut, his mouth was on yours. You laughed a bit at his eagerness before surrendering yourself to the kiss.

He guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed frame. "Do you trust me?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded.

He lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the bed. He leaned over you, his hair falling around his face like a curtain. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Enjolras."

That night was bliss like you had never felt it. Enjolras was gentle and rough and kind and passionate all at the same time. It seemed like you were there for an eternity. When you held you in his arms at the end of the night, you wished it truly had gone on forever.

“Please stay, Enjolras.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

—--

The next morning, you woke to him standing at the foot of your bed, buttoning his red coat. A small grin cracked on his face when he saw you stir. “Good morning, chérie.”

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. “You should have woken me when you got up.”

He bent over and placed a kiss on your brow. “You looked so peaceful, that I just couldn’t disturb you. Do you own a shirt and trousers?”

You nodded. “Somewhere around here.”

“Wear them today then. You may get a few stares at the funeral procession, but I would rather you be wearing something more practical for what follows.”

Groaning at your stiff muscles, you pushed yourself out of bed and began to rifle through the small trunk that held your clothes. You tossed what you needed onto your bed, and Enjolras picked them up.

"Allow me?"

You nodded, and your new husband helped you into the outfit, which was just baggy enough to hide any curves and make you look like a young boy.

"You've never looked so lovely," he said jokingly.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your two cockades from the nightstand and handed one to him. He pinned it on your lapel, and you did the same for him.

"I love you, my beautiful wife.”

You grinned. “I love you too, my beautiful husband.”

—--

You stood at the front of the crowd, watching Lamarque’s funeral procession slowly parade down the street. You held Enjolras’ hand tightly in one hand, and Eponine’s in the other, although a bit more discreetly. You didn’t think she wanted anyone to know that she was there. Quietly, Les Amis started singing. It was a song you had heard many times before, but still gave you chills. You added your voice to the choir.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The surrounding crowd looked around in confusion, but slowly, they started joining in.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The voices crescendoed, and soon the vast majority of the people were singing.

Will you join in our crusade

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?

Enjolras gave your hand one last brief squeeze before jumping out into the middle of the procession, waving a bright red flag for all of Paris to see.

Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!

Following his lead, Les Amis ran for it, crowding the funeral procession, and a few bolder onlookers in the crowd did the same.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

Somewhere in the confusion, Eponine’s hand slipped from yours.

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

You and Les Amis crowded the hearse, climbing up onto its sides as it continued down the street.

When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Enjolras joined Marius, standing on the top of the hearse. His voice rang out over the crowd.

Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance?

He leaned over the side, offering a hand to you.

Some will fall and some will live

You took it, and he hoisted you up next to him.

Will you stand up and take your chance?

One arm was around your waist, steadying you and the other was grabbing the hilt of his red flag. You sang at the top of your lungs, and yet you could not hear your own voice over the crowd.

The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men

It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again

The crowd was following the procession now, the swell of people moving down the streets of Paris.

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drum

There is a life about to start

When tomorrow comes

The procession came to a halt. Standing before you was the National Guard.

They threatened you, but you didn't think they would do it, not really. Until the shot rang off, and almost as if it was in slow motion, a woman in the crowd fell to the ground. The echoes of the shot rang in your ears as you looked on, stunned.

You looked toward Enjolras, whose features were grim, but determined. “To the barricade!” he cried.

The revolutionaries ran, moving like their life depended on it, which it did. You came to the little square where the Café Musain was and called to the people in the buildings to throw down whatever they could, which they did immediately, all too willing to aid in the downfall of the monarchy. You ran into the Musain, grabbing what chairs and tables you could to toss out onto the street.

You made swift work of the project, and foundations of the barricade were built, blocking you from the National Guard waiting on the other side.

“I need a volunteer!” your husband cried through the frenzy. “Someone who can find out their plan and when they will attack.”

A man that you did not recognize approached. “I will go,” he declared. “I was once a part of the guard, and I know their ways well. I will find out the truth.”

Enjolras nodded. “Thank you for stepping up, citizen.”

In the blink of an eye, the man was gone.

Ejolras dashed to the top of the barricade and planted his red flag there, a symbol of the revolution.

Soon night fell, and the buzzing of the day’s adrenaline was still taking hold. Everyone rushed about doing whatever they could.

“He’s back!” a voice cried, drawing your attention to the barricade.

“Listen friends, I have the information you seek!” the strange man called from outside the barricade. “I have counted their men and overheard their plans. They are strong, and it will be a dangerous fight.”

Enjolras gestured for him to come around the barricade. “Have faith. If you know their plans, we will find a way to overpower him. There is great strength in the people here.”

“You are safe for tonight,” said the man. “They wish to starve you out and weaken your forces before they attack in the morning.”

“Liar!” echoed a young voice. “Good evening, dear Inspector Javert!” It was Gavroche. “This man is no ally, he’s the law!”

Courfeyrac and Grantaire quickly grabbed him. “Throw him in the tavern,” Enjolras directed coldly. “We will let the people decide his fate.”

Javert’s face twisted in anger and he spat at Enjolras’ feet. “Kill me if you wish. You schoolboys know nothing of the world and the laws that bind it. I renounce your people’s court.”

They tried to pull him into the tavern, but he flung the two men off of him.

Enjolras rushed forward as the men struggled to restrain him. Javert rushed to the corner grabbing something-

“Enjolras, watch out!” you cried, as Javert swung a metal bar straight at his head. It missed narrowly. Enjolras wrestled the bar away from him, and swung it down hard, knocking the Inspector out cold.

Suddenly, you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You weren’t the only one who noticed something off, as the rest of the people gathered began looking around. Realization dawned in Enjolras’ eyes, and the men rushed out of the tavern, grabbing guns as they did.

“They’re coming!” someone yelled

You were in charge of reloading Enjolras’ musket, so you settled in behind him, on the ground below the barricade, as he took aim.

“Who’s there?” shouted the leader of the National Guard.

You clenched your jaw. The time was here.

“French Revolution!” your husband cried.

“Fire!” was the only response he got, soon followed by a volley of gunfire.

Shouting. There was so much shouting. The shouts soon grew louder, and you looked on in horror as you realized why.

They were climbing over the barricade.

You saw Marius grab a barrel of gunpowder and a torch before scurrying up the barricade.

What was he planning?

He reached the top nearly nose to nose with enemy soldiers. One raised his musket.

Oh God, you thought, Oh God, he doesn’t see.

Before you could cry out, before you could move, Eponine lept, seemingly from nowhere, in front of the musket, right as the shot rang out. Her body seemed to fall in slow motion, and you stood paralyzed. You hardly processed Marius’ threats to blow the barricade and the retreat of the National Guard as you ran to Eponine’s side. You took her hand in yours.

“Eponine!” you cried. “Eponine, please be all right.”

“Y/N?” Her voice was shaky.

“Yes, Eponine. Hold on, all right? We’ll get you a doctor.”

“I love you Y/N. You were the best friend I could have asked for.”

“I love you too, Eponine, but don’t talk like that, okay? We’re going to get you fixed up, don’t worry.”

She shook her head, but then you saw her eyes brighten. You turned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Marius stood looming over you. You backed away, knowing that she would want him by her side in her final moments.

He knelt down and held her, whispering to her, as her light slowly dimmed. The hot tears in your eyes mixed with the cold rain as your vision blurred.

You saw Gavroche, standing alone, the rain pouring down not masking the silent tears streaming from his eyes as he watched his sister bleed out. You approached him, and gently took his hand into yours. He squeezed so hard that it hurt, but you didn’t say a word.

Eponine went limp and her hand fell from Marius’ face. You stifled back a sob. As he passed you, Enjolras placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent reminder that he was there if you needed him. He and a few of the others gently lifted her body to take it out of the rain.

A while later, you were sitting quietly with Gavroche when Marius approached you. You tried to push down the swell of anger that came when you laid eyes on him. He, who had only noticed Eponine when she killed herself for him,

“Gavroche, can you do something for me?” he asked.

“Anything. Without you, I would have bitten the dust,” the young boy replied.

Marius handed Gavroche a letter and a few francs. “Deliver this for me, would you?”

No sooner had he spoken than Gavroche was off, leaving only you and Marius.

“Was that to Cosette?” Your voice was cold.

He nodded sheepishly, and your face twisted in anger.

“Eponine sacrificed herself for you! Took her own life so that you can live, and all you can think of is your wretched girlfriend? And now you have the gall to ask her brother to deliver your love letter? You didn’t even acknowledge her until she was dying in your arms!”

Enjolras dashed over, alerted by the yelling. “What’s the matter?”

“He doesn’t care,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his arms. “He doesn’t care that Eponine is dead. My best friend is dead.”

“I care,” Marius said quietly, the look on his face grave. “That I can promise you.”

He turned and left, leaving you and Enjolras alone.

You sank to your knees, no longer having the motivation to keep yourself upright, as the sobs racked out of you.

“She didn’t deserve this,” you muttered into his chest as he rubbed small circles on your back. “She didn’t deserve this.”

“No one does,” he said. “That’s why we fight. Why we must keep going, so that Eponine’s death is not in vain.”

You nodded, still sniffling slightly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, smoothing your hair. “Her death has shaken us all. Why don’t you go try and get some sleep? I’ll join you shortly, for a little while, but I have things that need to be taken care of.”

“I think I’d like to be alone, just for a bit,” you told him, “but I’ll sleep when you sleep.”

He kissed your brow. “That’s fair. Now go, and I’ll be there soon.”

—--

You had done as Enjolras had said, and you were sitting in your room, staring at your candle as it slowly burnt down. The tears had long since dried, and you were sure you must look a mess.

Bang!

Bang!Bang!

You jumped to your feet, startled as a series of gunshots went off. You raced downstairs, grabbed a musket, and prayed to God it was loaded. When you stormed into the square, armed and at the ready, the gunfire had died, and Enjolras was closing the tavern doors.

“Enjolras!” you cried, running to his side. “What happened?”

“Enemy marksmen from the roofs,” he said. “We took care of them. And there is another volunteer from the National Guard, but Gavroche has claimed he is trustworthy. He’s taking care of Javert as we speak.” As if to punctuate his sentence, a loud gunshot rang from behind the tavern. And thus ended Javert.

The men were relaxing, leaning against the barricade after a long and difficult day. Enjolras turned to address them. “Courfeyrac, you take the watch. The enemy may attack before light. Keep the faith, all. The people will rise, we are not alone.”

He took your hand, leading you along with him. He approached Marius, who was lost within his work, reinforcing the barricade. “Maruis,” he said, “rest.” Marius’ jaw tightened when he saw you, but he nodded curtly at Enjolras’ command.

Enjolras led you to an outcropping in front of one of the surrounding buildings, and leaned against the wall. The fatigue was evident on his face, but he drew you in and held you close as Grantaire began to sing an old drinking song.

Drink with me to days gone by

To the life that used to be

At the shrine of friendship, never say die

Let the wine of friendship never run dry

Here’s to you

And here’s to me

You could feel the soft rumble of Enjolras’ voice as he joined in. His soft voice was comforting, and you couldn't help but chuckle when he kissed your head as the rest of the men sang

Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads

And to witty girls who went to our beds

You stayed like that for a while after the song was through, listening to his heartbeat. Despite his relaxed appearance, you could tell how stressed he truly was. He was scared.

“Go on up to bed now,” he told you. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me to do that,” you said. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Never,” he said. “I just worry about you. And I have far too much to take care of to rest.”

You nearly laughed at that. If anyone should be worried it should be you. He was working himself to the bone, and at this rate, he wouldn’t even survive until the next attack.

“You need to sleep as much as I do,” you told him. “Come to my room with me, just for a few hours, and then we’ll take care of your stuff together, okay?”

He sighed. “You've swayed me, chérie Let’s go get some rest.”

—--

You woke a few hours later to an empty bed. You sighed loudly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. At the foot of your bed layed Enjolras’ red coat and a note.

I’ve gone to see how the other barricades are faring. I know you would have wanted to come with me, but I promise I will be back soon. Keep my coat safe, chérie. I love you.

You scoffed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset at him. He wanted to keep you safe. You just wished he realized that you wanted to keep him safe as well.

You put on his coat, and were pleased to realize that it smelled like him. You met up with the rest of the men outside.

“Looking sharp,” Grantaire said with a wink, earning a gentle playful slap on the arm.

“How are things looking?” you asked Combeferre.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The rain has damaged our supply. We’re working to see what we still have, but it’s not looking good.”

A sudden whistle from the top of the barricade drew your attention, and your heart soared as you saw your husband climb over.

Before he could even crest the barricade, Marius ran over to him, “Enjolras, the rain damaged the gunpowder. We’re low on ammunition.”

“We’re the only barricade left,” Enjolras replied, but his eyes were trained on you as he spoke.

“What?”

“We’re the only ones left.” In a perfect demonstration of his inner character, Enjolras spoke to the crowd as he approached you, wrapping one arm around your waist in a silent greeting. France came first, but he would not forget you because of that. The look he gave you was a silent apology for leaving you alone.

“The people have not stirred,” he announced. “Those who still live in fear have abandoned us, so I will say this. All who wish to leave must do so now.”

The air was thick. Would they stay and risk losing their lives, or leave and risk losing their values?

The silence was broken by one little boy, singing a familiar tune.

Do you hear the people sing?

Singing the song of angry men?

The people around you joined Gavroche, with hushed tones at first, but then soon at full volume.

It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart

Echoes the beating of the drums

There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes

Soon the troops were gathered again, their spirits reinvigorated, but the concern of ammunition was a big one. No one was sure how you were going to keep going on.

“Gavroche!” you heard someone whisper urgently, and looked up to see a few of Les Amis, leaning over the top of the barricade. Your stomach dropped and you climbed over the edge and looked over the side to find Gavroche, holding sacs of gunpowder and taunting enemy forces. A gunshot rang out, narrowly missing the boy.

“Gavroche!” you hissed. “Get back here!”

Your words fell on deaf ears as Gavroche looked up, grinned, and continued onward.

Courfeyrac yelled for him, trying to jump over the barricade, but he was held back. All you could do was watch in horror as one, two, gunshots struck Gavroche down. His lifeless body stared at the sky, his blank eyes devoid of all their usual mischief and playfulness.

Courfeyrac ran out to grab the body, bringing him back and laying him at the base of the barricades. His sobs hit you like a knife. How many more must die?

“Bring him to lay next to Eponine,” you said quietly, and someone, you didn’t see who, obliged.

“You at the barricades!” the leader of the National Guard shouted. “The people of Paris sleep in their beds. No one will come to help in your fight. You are on your own with no chance at all! Why throw your lives away?”

Enjolras took on a new air, ever the leader. “Damn their warnings!” he cried, “And damn their lies. Let us die facing our foes. We can still make them bleed.”

“They will pay for every man!” yelled Courfeyrac, still teary.

“Others will rise when we fall!” your husband shouted, his voice thick with passion. “One day the Earth will be free!”

He grabbed your hand as the men ran to arms, speaking now in a low voice. “You told me not to ask you this, but I must. Please go. This ends in prison or death for all of us if we stay.”

“I’m not leaving you, Enjolras,” you whispered.

He nodded and raised his gun. “To arms, then.”

“Cannons!” came the shout from the other side of the barricade. Your blood curdled, but you held fast. This was judgement day.

“Fire!” cried Enjolras, and a volley of gunshots rained on the National Guard. He tossed his musket down to you and you handed him the new one you were holding, prepped and ready, and began to make quick work of the old one.

Through the screams, the bloodshed, the falling bodies, you did what you were supposed to do. You tuned it out and changed the weaponry. But soon the guard advanced. The bodies were dropping from bayonets instead of muskets, and you were forced to retreat. Those who had previously been sympathetic closed their doors, shutting out the dying students in the streets.

“To the Musain!” you cried, and the straggling survivors followed. There were shouts to barricade the door, but it wouldn’t hold for long. Your group ran to the second floor

Enjolras grabbed your hand. “I know you don’t want this,” he said, speaking hurriedly, “But I don’t care. Go to the storage room on the kitchen and don’t come out, no matter what you hear. I love you.”

“Enjolras, I won’t-”

“Go! I love you!” He was moving away from you, towards the stairs, forcing himself to leave because he knew you wouldn’t leave him.

“I love you too!” you yelled after him, and ignoring the sinking pit in your stomach, did as he asked.

—--

You shut yourself in the tiny room and curled into a ball on the floor. You were surrounded by bottles of your father’s finest liquor and extra cleaning supplies.

You broke the skin on your hand when you bit it to keep from crying at the gunshots outside.

The footsteps and shouts of the National Guard retreated, and there was silence in the Café Musain once more.

You were alone once more.

Your eyes scanned the small room around you, an idea forming. An idea that you knew Enjolras would hate just as much as it would make him proud.

It’s either die here or rot in jail, you thought. There’s no getting out of here without the guards seeing me. May as well make all this effort worth my while.

You grabbed what you needed and threw the supplies in a small satchel. Placing a hand on the doorknob, you steeled yourself, and then stepped outside.

There was a thin haze in the air, most likely smoke from the barricade and musket fire. You slowly crept your way up to the second floor of the building, and stifled a gasp when you saw the bodies of your friends littered on the floor. Grantaire was slumped next to the window, and next to him-

You knew it was true, but you didn’t want to believe it. You slowly leaned over the edge of the windowsill, and felt a pang of horror as you saw Enjolras’ body hanging from it, waving his red banner proudly, even in death. You had no time to process it, before you heard a guardsman cry. “Up there! Someone’s still in the building!”

You sprinted away from the ceiling and up to the top floor. You pulled the trapdoor down and hoisted yourself onto the roof, then quickly scampered down the side of the building, two bottles of brandy clinking in your bag.

You rounded a corner, crouching at the edge of the barricade. You were hidden for now, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Opening the bottles of alcohol, you stuffed a rag down the neck of each. You kissed the neck of one bottle. “For you, Les Amis de l’ABC.” You kissed the other. “For you, Eponine.” Bringing your hand to your lips, you kissed the band around your finger. “For you, Enjolras.”

With that, you lit each rag with a flint and steel, and raced to the top of the barricade.

“Vive la France!” you cried, so loud that it hurt your throat, and you hurled the two makeshift bombs towards the enemy’s cannons, right into the highest concentration of gunpowder.

If the explosion wasn’t enough to knock you off your feet, the responding volley of gunfire was, and you fell to the ground as the bullets tore through your body.

“Vive la France,” you whispered once more as the darkness enveloped you.

—--

You woke to sharp pain from your core and the sounds of a woman sobbing. You realized suddenly that you were being carried, and as you slowly opened your eyes, you recognized who it was.

“Marie,” you whispered, barely able to get the sound out. Your sister screamed and nearly dropped you.

“Y/N, you were dead!”

“Not yet Marie, but I’m dying. Where did they put Enjolras’ body?”

“You know, then,” she said grimly. “He is in the tavern. I’ll take you.”

“What you did was amazing,” she said as she walked. “Everyone’s talking about it. They’re calling you the Belle of the Barricade.”

You crinkled your nose. “I was never one for semantics.”

Marie laughed, but there was little joy in the sound. “You were very brave, Y/N. Your bravery won’t be forgotten. Why, I’ll tell every patron we have about my daring older sister who took on the National Guard single handedly in a final attack.” She was smiling, but tears were streaming down her face.

She laid you down on the floor next to your husband’s lifeless body. “Marie?” you said softly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“We were married. The night before the funeral procession, we were married right in the Musain. I want you to know. And Papa.”

She nodded tearfully. “I’ll tell him.”

You raised one hand to Enjolras’ face, so rigid and smooth in death. “I told you, my love,” you whispered to him, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

And with that, the strength ebbed from your body, and all went black a final time.

—--

Light, warm and pure surrounded you. Your eyes opened, and as your vision cleared, a face came into focus.

Enjolras, his face far more peaceful than you had ever seen it. The lines of his face had softened, and he looked for once like a school boy, not a hardened general.

“Enjolras?” you asked. Your brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

“Beyond the barricade,” he replied, offering you his hand.

You took it, and he pulled you towards him. The two of you went forward into the light, into the world you longed to see.

-----

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, because it was really fun to write.

Also sorry for the fade to black scene, I'm just not a fan of writing smut.

But I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, and I hope I was able to do Enjolras justice.

#enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x you #enjolras imagine

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