Chapter One

In which Enjolras becomes acquainted with the Thérnardier sisters and Gavroche steals some cheese

...

He had never really stopped to look at her until a rainy March afternoon. All of the Amis had already left the Café Musain, while Enjolras had stayed there, studying maps and books in a corner of their dark meeting point. He had a glass of wine next to him, but he had barely touched it. Unlike his good friend Grantaire, Enjolras had never felt too attracted towards the idea of drowning one's sorrows in alcohol, for he was one to belief that grief should be faced and fought with bravery.

He looked around distractedly as he saw how the owner of the café gave little Gavroche a jar of beer. The boy was only eleven years old, and yet he was braver than many of the students. To Enjolras's surprise, he saw that he wasn't alone – two young women came with them. One of them seemed to be a year or so younger than Enjolras, whilst the other looked only a couple of years older than Gavroche. He wondered who those two were – probably just two fellow urchins Gavroche had brought with him to the café.

He gazed intently at the older girl. She looked rough, muddy and tired, but still he thought he could see something strangely attractive in her unfinished features. While the girls he usually met were round-faced, clean and fancy-dressed, that girl had something that made him feel funny in the inside. He thought he had seen her before, but he couldn't put his finger on the situation.

"'Lo, Enjolras." said Gavroche, trotting over to the young man's table. The boy smiled broadly at him.

"Hello, Gavroche." Enjolras answered, ruffling the boy's hair. He offered him a loaf of bread Courfeyrac had left on the table. The boy gladly took it and showed it to the two girls. The younger girl smiled and took the bread from Gavroche, while the older one seemed strangely annoyed. "Who are your companions, my friend?"

"They're my sisters," answered Gavroche. "That's Zelma," he said, pointing at the younger girl. She looked no older than thirteen, and smiled widely at Enjolras when the boy shook her hand and kissed it politely. "And that's 'Ponine, she's the eldest in our family."

"Nice to meet you, madam," said Enjolras, shaking the young lady's hand. "May I ask, have we ever met before? Your face looks familiar."

"I've seen you before," said the girl briskly, her brown eyes glistening nervously. "I often come with Marius to your meetings."

"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Enjolras happily. He couldn't help but smile broadly at the sight of the girl's lips curling into a small smile. "That's why you looked so familiar to me. Well, Éponine, my name is Enjolras, and I am most glad to have become acquainted with you."

"That's a funny name, Enjolras. Never heard it before."

"That is because it's not my name, but my surname. I greatly dislike to be addressed by my first name, so Enjolras should be fine for now." He smiled kindly at the girl.

Éponine nodded, and the two of them did nothing but stare at each other for a few seconds, Enjolras studying her brown eyes with an incredible attention. Moments later, the younger girl started tugging on Éponine's sleeve.

"'Ponine, Mama and Papa must be looking for us," she said quietly. "Shall we go?"

Éponine glanced one last time at Enjolras before nodding hurriedly.

"Yes. Yes, we'd better get moving." she said. "It's been nice to meet you, monsieur Enjolras."

Enjolras nodded acknowledgingly. "Have a good afternoon, madames. I hope to see you here soon."

With a wave, the two sisters were gone. Enjolras sunk into his chair while Gavroche took a seat on a stool in front of him. His books lay sprawled on the table, the maps of Paris now all wrinkled and unused. Enjolras thought of the girl he had just had seen – her beautiful black hair and her endearing brown eyes. She wasn't as beautiful as the girls his mother would usually force him to meet when he was younger, but she had something that made her more attractive than any other.

But why was he even thinking about her? He wasn't a lover, he was a fighter. He fought for freedom and democracy, and his only love would always be his dear Patria. His friends were all crazy about girls, and he was at times the only one to keep them all sane, with the help of his good friend Marius Pontmercy. How could he even dream of feeling attracted towards that girl?

"Aren't you going home with your sisters, Gavroche?" he finally asked the boy, who was sipping his jar of beer.

"Oh, no," answered Gavroche with a wave of his hand. "I don't live with my parents. They've always loved 'Ponine and Zelma and never cared much for me, so I left when we arrived to Paris. Been livin' in the streets since."

Enjolras nodded quietly. He then glanced at the eleven-year-old and raised his eyebrows. "So, Gavroche, is your sister Éponine friendly with the Amis?"

Gavroche quickly shook his head. "Nope. She's only friends with that Pontmercy bloke. Zelma says she fancies him, but I'm not sure. S'not like I'd know about that kind of stuff, anyway."

Enjolras nodded again. He blamed himself for thinking about Éponine so much, but he simply couldn't help it. He tugged on his blond hair thoughtfully, trying to find a way to see her again. He thought of her lovely eyes, and how her lips had curled up in a smile when he had kissed her hand. Was Enjolras, leader of the revolution and father of the soon-to-be-formed barricade, falling in love with a girl he had just met?

"Say, Gavroche – do you think your sister would be able to come tomorrow to our meeting?" he asked then. "I'm sure she would enjoy it."

Gavroche shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'll go find her 'moro morning and I'll tell her."

The older boy nodded happily and gave Gavroche a lopsided grin. He then took one of the books he was reading before his eyes first met Éponine's, only to find out that it was impossible for him to read without thinking of the brown-eyed girl he had just met. He dropped it again with a long sigh, to find that Gavroche was staring at him with a huge smile on his face.

"What?" asked Enjolras, laughing at the boy's mesmerized expression.

"You fancy Éponine, don't you?" inquired the eleven-year-old bluntly, raising his eyebrows.

Enjolras felt how his cheeks heated and shook his head, his blond curls swishing back and forth gently. "No. Of course not. I've only become acquainted with her, Gavroche. How could I have fallen in love with her?"

"I said you fancy her, not that you'd fallen in love." said the boy, giggling. "That means I'm right."

Enjolras's cheeks warmed up even more. "How would you say that, Gavroche? Come on, I'm sure you're late to – supper – bedtime – "

Gavroche laughed heartily, hopping off his stool and gulping down the last sips of beer in his jar. Then, he silently made his way to the counter and fished into a small drawer, pulling out a large piece of cheese and a loaf of bread from it moments later. Enjolras chuckled as the little boy waved him goodbye.

"G'night, Enjay."

And with that, Gavroche was gone. Enjolras chuckled to himself as he turned back to the piece of paper in front of him. He definitely needed to get something more done that night. He would have enough time to ponder his feelings towards Éponine later.

Just as he started scribbling on the piece of paper in front of him, he saw how the landlord arrived from cleaning the tables in the upper level of the café. The man opened the drawer so as to make himself a nice bread and cheese treat, only to find the drawer empty.

"Ah, those bloody students," said monsieur Himpens, sighing. "They will be the end of my business."

"We're your main clients nowadays, sir," said Enjolras conversationally.

Monsieur Himpens sighed and raised his eyebrows. "What I'd give to be young and join you little revolutionaries...but for now I just want some cheese and bread."

Enjolras laughed as monsieur Himpens started looking for some food in his pantry. The landlord had grown fond of him after all those nights by themselves in the Café Musain, when the rest of the students and fellow revolutionaries were gone.

"I finally found the bloody Parmesan!"

Enjolras couldn't help but laugh at that.

Éponine lay wide awake in bed as she stared up at the wooden, moldy ceiling. She could hear her two little brothers' soft snores at the other side of the room, and as always she saw Gavroche's empty bed in front of her. Anzelma lay next to her, but she made no sound. Little Zelma was really silent for everything, not just sleeping – the poor girl was as quiet as a mouse.

"Zelma, you asleep?" asked the girl quietly.

"Hmmm," Anzelma yawned, shaking her head. "No. Can't sleep."

"Me neither," answered Éponine.

"What's botherin' you?"

Éponine tilted her head. How would her sister know that there was something bugging her mind? "Nothing. Why'd you ask?"

"It's harder to sleep when you've somethin' buggin' your mind." stated the thirteen-year-old matter-of-factly. "Perhaps your beloved?" she said the last word in a slurring, perhaps mocking tone.

Éponine knitted her brows. She knew that her sister was a lot more mature than most girls her age, but still she would have never dreamed of little Zelma talking to her about such a topic.

"Shut up," whispered Éponine. "Mama and Papa don't need to know about Marius."

The truth was that her sister was right. She hadn't been able to sleep because a certain boy had been haunting her mind – although this time it wasn't the usual Marius, but another boy she had met that day. She thought of his blond curls and his green eyes, and the way he tugged his hair thoughtfully whenever he got stuck while scribbling one of his plots against the Orléanists. She had been listening to his speeches attentively for the past few weeks, and in fact she quite enjoyed them, although she sometimes thought Enjolras was just a foolish rich kid who wanted to play hero in front of his friends. His plans were unrealistic and sometimes rather bland, but she still enjoyed his 'what-if's and his positive thinking. And, she had to admit, he made a quite fine young man.

But why did she even think about Enjolras that way? They had only met, and she was already daydreaming about him? For goodness sake, she loved Marius! Enjolras was a rich bourgeois – how would he even bother laying his eyes on her? He had only been polite when he said it had been a pleasure to meet her. No, of course Enjolras would never feel interested towards her. Marius was her friend and she knew him even better than she knew her brothers, yet Enjolras was practically a stranger to her.

But still, that annoying revolutionary wouldn't leave her mind.

"I wasn't talkin' 'bout Marius," protested Anzelma then. "I mean that boy in the café today. Enjolras."

"Oh, yes. Him."

"Well, whaddya think about him?" asked the thirteen-year-old. Then, she let out a dreamy sigh. "I think he's quite the charmer, you know. And he's really handsome."

"Zelma, he must be about six or seven years older than you."

"Does that really matter? There are many handsome men in the world." said Anzelma happily. "Most boys my age are idiots. And they're really ugly."

Éponine smiled at her sister's words. She was five years older than her, and she still remembered how she hadn't spoken too highly of the boys her age either when she was thirteen. Of course, she hadn't known Marius back then. And if she had, she knew she wouldn't have thought too highly of him anyway.

"You'd better get some sleep, Zelma," said Éponine, yawning. "You're talking real rubbish."

"You just don't want to admit that you fancy him." protested the younger Thérnardier. "I'm sure that he'd love to talk to you more often."

Éponine rolled her eyes and sigh. "Sure, Zelma. Good night."

"G'night, 'Ponine. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

And with that, the younger Thérnardier cuddled into a ball and let out a long yawn before falling asleep quietly. Éponine was still awake, but she had now closed her eyes. She definitely needed to stop thinking about that annoying revolutionary. She had been so swept up in her thoughts that she had forgotten that she had to visit Marius that afternoon. She blamed herself for having forgotten about her beloved.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite, Zelma," she repeated sleepily as she felt how she started falling asleep.

So that was the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. This story will not be too long – fifteen-twenty chapters for the most. I will try to update as frequently as possible!

Just so you know, the characters in this story are movie-based. It's been ages since I last saw the musical, so just picture everything with the movie actors.

Review, please?

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