Broadway Characters One Shots

enjolras-les mis

(this chapter involves war/guns/wounds!)

Enjolras used to rave on and on when we were growing up about how fortunate he was.

He's the only son of a pair of wealthy, caring parents. He's never gotten less than an exemplary scores on his school work. He's had a plethora of political opportunities to delve into.

I used to just nod slowly and smile in silent agreement, but I never really believed him. I thought Enjolras worked for his success, and didn't take advantage of his young privilege.

It wasn't until yesterday's hot summer night of the June Rebellion that I realized he was right.

Enjolras is the luckiest bastard alive.

The previous night

You know that specific, guttural feeling in your stomach when you know something is going to end wrong? So terribly, terribly wrong...Like it's a warning from the universe that this is the end all be all?

That's currently what I'm feeling.

"Now we pledge ourselves to hold this barricade." My heart wrenches as the words escape my and the rebels' lips, but I feel a surge of pride jolt through my body and mind.

The warm wind blows back my messy braid and old skirt as I take a few shaky steps towards the barricade. From where I'm standing, I see tens of young student boys grasping their guns and screaming on top of the barricade. They beg Death to leave them be, and pray the glimmer of life doesn't escape their eyes.

And I'm doing the same.

"Let them come in their legions, and they will be met!" Marius smiles deviously as the National Guard is seen from a distance.

A few young girls like me shakily clutch their pistols alongside the rebel boys, but I ignore that impending pit in my stomach and approach the barricade with a fire of valor in my eyes. Shades of red from rebel coats and blues of tattered French flags swirl with the smog of grey gunpowder and crimson stains of blood.

The only pure, golden form in sight is the boy I'm standing next to.

The boy that kept me going through the treacherous life of poverty. The boy that taught me how to love. The boy that kissed me in the rain and left me helpless in a world of wishful thinking.

His figure is hugged steadily in a red coat and a lapel pin, but his eyes are what draw me in like they have hundreds of times before.

"Have faith in yourselves, and don't be afraid." Enjolras reaches out his hand to mine. I hesitate for a second, but I know this could be the last moment of my empty, dark life. I should spend it with the only thing that made life worth living.

"Let them come if they dare, we'll be here." I grasp Enjolras' hand with my heart beating in my throat. He shoots me a small wisp of a smile, sending my fear and pain to dissipate with the gunpowder smoke in the summer air. It's that type of smile that says It's okay, or We've come this far together.

My trembling legs find their footing to the left of Enjolras as the National Guard echoes one last warning to us. Panicked looks and quick breaths fill the thick air of the barricade. I grasp Enjolras' hand one last time before letting his fingers drift apart from mine.

"You at the barricades listen to this," A solider declares amongst tens of armed soldiers, "The people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all!"

I look towards the man next to me, searching for an answer amidst the doubtful look in his eyes. The rebels don't back down, and continue to steadily aim their rifles with a craving strength in their eyes.