𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

01. 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑳𝒂 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒊𝒆

Chapter 1.

✎ᝰ

May 12, 1832.

SHE SAT AT THE long oak table in the meeting room, staring at the scattered papers that chronicled their revolution.

Handwritten notes, sketches of strategies, and accounts of their past gatherings littered the surface, but today, her mind was elsewhere.

She had spent the last several weeks wrapped in the warmth of Enjolras' embrace in secret corners of their world, away from the prying eyes of their comrades.

And now they were here, gathered as they usually were, but something was distinctly different.

Everyone knew about them.

Elizabeth could see it in the way their comrades glanced uneasily at Enjolras, whispers tangled with clumsy attempts at humor, as if waiting for some storm to break. It was as if they respected him less.

"Drinks are on me tonight!" Courfeyrac announced as they burst into the bar after swarming down the stairs, disturbing the quiet that had just settled over the room.

The atmosphere shifted like the sudden strike of thunder; laughter erupted, voices bounced off the walls, and Elizabeth found herself lost in the chaos.

"Have a drink, Elizabeth!" he continued loudly, a teasing twinkle in his eye that made some remnants of Elizabeth's worries fade momentarily.

She glanced at Enjolras, who stood with arms crossed, a tense line between his brows.

She ordered her drink, and as the bartender turned to prepare it, Courfeyrac leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially.

"Just be careful with how much you're having. You don't want Enjolras to blow a gasket," he said, flashing a grin toward the sulking leader.

Elizabeth furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Why? It's just one drink."

Courfeyrac shrugged nonchalantly, "You know, Enjolras is a lot more serious since... Just try to lighten him up a little... maybe?"

The drink in her hand felt heavier than it should, and she could feel Enjolras' imposing presence right behind her, simmering with an irritation she dared not voice.

The chatter grew louder, a cacophony of cheering and roars of laughter that made her pulse quicken, in contrast to the tight knot in Enjolras' jaw.

"Let's toast to our brave leader!" someone shouted, and they all raised their glasses, filled with mirth and excitement, as they began to chant Enjolras's name.

For a moment, Elizabeth found herself nestled in the warmth of camaraderie, but the joy turned suddenly sour for her companion.

With an abrupt move, Enjolras took her hand, practically yanking her away from the noisy rabble.

"Let's go," he said curtly, tension threading through his voice.

Elizabeth barely had time to take a sip from her glass before they were outside, the cool night air embracing them.

✎ᝰ

"Why did you want to leave?" she finally asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Because I don't always care to be around them," he replied, his voice low yet fervent. "I much prefer being around you."

Her heart fluttered as the words enveloped her like a soft cloak, and for a moment, she forgot her worries.