𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

06. 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑳𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕

Chapter 6.

✎ᝰ

June 4, 1832.

THE CAFE WAS slightly dimmed, a flickering candle in the corner casting shadows that danced around the walls.

Elizabeth glanced to her right, where Enjolras sat, his focus locked on the stack of papers in front of him, the furrow of his brow accentuating the intensity of his thoughts.

"Enjolras," she ventured softly, breaking their silence, "what do you think will happen when we... you take to the streets?"

His gaze flickered to her momentarily, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features before regaining his composure. "I think people will finally understand what it means to fight for themselves. To rise up."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, the door burst open with a thunder of energy, jolting Elizabeth from her thoughts, and in rushed Combeferre and Courfeyrac, their breaths quick, faces glowing with vindication.

"The sections are all prepared at Notre Dame!" Courfeyrac shouted, and a wave of enthusiasm rippled through the room like wildfire.

"At Rue de Bac, the poor are growing restless, ready for the revolution!" Combeferre said proudly, putting a hand on Courfeyracs shoulder.

Cheers erupted from the assembled group.
Elizabeth watched as Enjolras rose from his seat, arms crossed defiantly across his chest, his posture exuding the pride he fought valiantly to contain.

"It's time," he declared, "The people are ready. It is time for our barricades to rise!"

A roar of affirmation erupted, echoing into the corners of the room and beyond the four worn walls.

The door flew open once more, this time with less grandeur. Marius stumbled in, hair disheveled and cheeks flushed as if he had just run a marathon.

"Marius!" Joly called, breaking the spell that enveloped the room. "Where have you been?"

Enjolras's brows knitted together in annoyance, his silence screaming volumes.

"You're late," he sniped, unable to mask the tension surging beneath his voice.

"I got caught up with... her," Marius replied, a grin unfurling on his face that set Grantaire off into sarcastic laughter.

"Who is this 'her' that has captured the heart of a revolutionary?" Grantaire teased, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned forward, eager to poke at any stray vulnerabilities.

"She must be truly captivating," Grantaire continued, setting off more laughter. "I mean, look at how sickly in love he appears."

Elizabeth stifled a chuckle, unable to miss the sight of Marius blushing furiously as if he were caught in some scandalous affair. Enjolras, visibly irked, called for silence.

"Mind yourself, Pontmercy," Enjolras said, his voice a warning tinged with irritation as he leaned against the table, crossing his arms. "This is no time for distractions."

Marius shot a glance at Enjolras, his expression turning stubborn. "You wouldn't understand what it means to be in love when the world is on fire."

"Yes, I do," Enjolras countered sharply, surprising Elizabeth with the simultaneous hurt and strength in his voice. He glanced toward Elizabeth as he spoke.

Without giving Marius time to respond, he turned away.

Everyone returned their attention to Enjolras as he began his speech, words pouring forth like a waterfall.