Cafe Musain Oneshots

Damn Rogue - Enjolras

queerplatonic!enjolras x fem!reader (canon era)

summary: there's a window, some rope, and someone you will soon hold dear

word count: 2.8k words

warnings: smoking??, character death (woops), blood 

a/n: if i had a dollar for eveytime i wrote enjolras involving a window, i would have 2 dollars which isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice, actually scratch that, if i had a dollar for everytime i wrote enjolras and mentioned his ass i would have quite a few dollars actually

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Right then, this was totally normal, you thought to yourself. Your arms shook as they strained to keep a secure grip on the rope, one foot braced on the wall next to your open window as you leaned backward, silently praying that your strength would not fail you.

Now what exactly had led you into this situation.

It had been an uneventful morning, you rose with the sun and went to work at the local dressmaking factory up the road as you always did. Your foreman being his usual unbearable self coming onto all the women who worked at that dreadful sweatshop. Silently thankful he chose to forget about your presence tucked away in the corner sewing buttons all day. Yet you always tasted something sour whenever he walked past.

You had been paid a total of five francs, much to your delight. So you made the decision to treat yourself, taking a detour on your route home to the bakery just a bit aways. And with that, you needed to walk through the square. Or rather, squeeze your way through.

It was packed, from one end to the other in an endless wave of townsfolk. Men and women alike jostling as one furious being, pumping their fists in the air around you. If it weren't for your determination, you would have considered giving up your trek to the bakery, with the amount of elbows that had dug into your side whilst walking between them. At one point, a young man had shoved a poster into your basket, yelling something that you could not comprehend for the life of you. But he was gone, lost in the sea, before he could repeat himself.

Eventually you had made it to the other side, going beneath the underpass and leaving the unbearable noise behind you. When you finally walked out of the shop with your groceries, the winter sun was already setting fast, making you quickly hurrying in your footsteps. Paris after dark was something to behold, dangers lurking on every street.

Keys in hand, you walked up the steps of your complex, landing on the second floor where you lived. Your apartment was small, all that you could afford with your simple day job and the small amount of money that you had been given by your family before moving out. Tight and cramped, but it was your own. Your window didn't even have a view, rather a wall as it looked over a dark, dingy alleyway where you could have sworn you could hear crime being committed every other night.

But you fairly enjoyed the night time atmosphere, from the comfort of your home. You had long learned to ignore the smell of shit that hung around the neighbourhood, as you opened the single window pane and leaned against it. Instead, with the flick of a lighter, you inhaled the burning tobacco of the cigarette in your hand, thick plumes of smoke drifting in the evening air as you journeyed lost in your thoughts.

But you were interrupted.

From outside, what sounded like running and yelling down the street. You jumped when a crash of metal startled you that was closer than you thought, leaning your head further out the window for a glimpse of the commotion.