a/n: story i originally - and quite hastily - posted to tumblr, now being brought to ff! dialogue has been reworked to flow better. please enjoy!
04.03.2012: typos edited as per the lovely Almost an Actress. also changed up the look of it (capitalization, et. al). doesn't look as good here as it did on Tumblr. as for the possibly over-flowery language surrounding Enjolras, i really wanted to test the push and pull between his "angelic face" and the "terrible" things he was capable of, which may or may not have come through, but its a drabble so... whataddaya gonna do?

i can't see you- les misérables - modern au - enjolras x éponine
when montparnasse shows up to a party, éponine sees a side of enjolras she never thought was there

Montparnasse was there. In their apartment. Interrupting their party. From the kitchen, frozen in place, Éponine watched as he ranted and raved. Stinking of whiskey and cursing everyone and anyone.

Mostly he just called her a whore. A prostitute. Standing just a mere two feet from her new love. The one who loved her. Her Enjolras.

"She's fooling, you lot," he announced, "and especially you, o' Wise Leader. I fucked her first, you know. And she was already looser 'n change by the time I got there."

"Enough," Enjolras commanded. He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, indignation beginning to fume from his chest. "Aside from the scientific fact that what you're positing is absolutely impossible, you're assuming that I would base a woman's worth on some trivial notion of sexual virtue. That being said, I understand that your only goal is to humiliate and degrade Éponine, and for that I will. Not. Stand."

Montparnasse's fist hammered against Enjolras' nose with a deafening crack. The air was sucked out of the room and everything stopped.

For just a moment, Éponine thought she knew what he would do. Enjolras would step backwards, palms at his sides. Just like he did whenever they would argue and she would lash out, laying her hand against his face. Communicating in the only language she knew. Then when she cowered, throwing her arms up in defense, he would lightly grab her elbows. Gingerly. Soft as a whisper, he would pull her into his chest and wrap his arms around her as she wept.

"We can get past this," he would murmur, "we can do this together."

But this was no lover's quarrel and Montparnasse was no Éponine. Blood dripped from Enjolras' nose and his pure blue eyes flashed dark with ferocity.

he admires me with those eyes.

Enjolras' lips, with their deep cupid's bow and rosy color, pulled back into a tight and terrible snarl, his perfect teeth bared in a primal show.

those lips kiss me. they say i love you.

Like lightening, his right hand darted out and crushed against Montparnasse's windpipe with a doughy thump. Enjolras shoved him backwards into the living room wall, sending the beautiful photos Éponine had arranged flying to the floor. Using his left arm to brace himself, the delicate fingers of his right hand still curled around Montparnasse's throat, Enjolras grinded every ounce of his weight against the drunk's windpipe.

those hands hold mine. those fingers touch my face and brush away my tears.

Everyone seemed to move like molasses. slow and muffled. Éponine couldn't hear the yells over the dull humming in the back of her head. Hazy, she walked barefoot across the hall and locked herself in the bathroom, making sure every faucet was turned on before sitting on the cool tile floor.

A tentative knock came at the door.

"Éponine? are you okay?" Enjolras' clear voice managed to rise above the sound of running water and still be soft.

Seconds trickled away. "Éponine. Please. Are you okay?"

She rose and twisted off the shower and the sink before calling yes against the door.

"Can I come in?"

Éponine couldn't answer. Everything she was thinking formed a hard lump in her throat.

"Okay," his voice wavered. "I understand."

When she finally overcame the door, she slipped into their bedroom. Enjolras sat on the side of the bed, a heavy book laid open on his lap, and his eyes boring holes into the wall.

"Enjolras…" he turned to her. Even in the dim light she could see the red glint in his eye, his thick lashes dewy with tears.

She twisted her fingers together, rising to her tiptoes in anxiety. Finally she was able to say what she needed to say:

"I can't see you like that."

His eyes became downcast and the book slid from his hands to the floor. "I know," he took a ragged breath, his words hitching, "When we first started dating, I promised you I would never scare you. That I would always make you feel safe, and now I've failed. I've scared you and you don't feel safe. You don't feel safe with me."

He stopped, shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry, Éponine. I'm so very sorry. No pretty words can take back what i've done, but I am sorry."

With a deep breath, she sat down next to his side and brushed his hair behind his ear. "I know. We can get past this. Together," Éponine wrapped her arms around him and he collapsed into her.