The Dark of Ages Past-An Enjolras Fanfiction

Chapter 2 A World About to Dawn

"At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear."

           —Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through it and Other Stories

Chapter 2 A World About To Dawn

Enjolras

"Lissette, slow down!" I yell. I just catch sight of her blonde ringlets as she dashes around a corner, leaving me behind despite the fact that my legs are almost twice as long as hers. "Where are we even going?" I call. My voice echoes through the nearly empty streets. Most of the people of Paris retreat to their homes when the sun begins to set. I look up; the sky is turning a beautiful shade of orange.

"You'll have to catch me to find out!" she calls back over her shoulder.

I sigh and push my legs harder, trying to catch up. How did she get so far ahead of me in the first place? Finally, I round a corner and find her waiting for me beside a building. Amusement twinkles in her green eyes as I rest my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. "Are you trying to kill me?" I gasp.

Lissette laughs. "Come on, I wasn't running that fast. You're just getting soft." she teases, giving my chest a shove. I shake my head and push her back gently, though I know I probably couldn't hurt her if I tried.

"Okay, got your breath back?" she asks. I roll my eyes but nod. "Good; time to climb." with that she turns to the building and begins scaling the side, first using the windowsill and then the uneven, multi-colored rock face to pull herself up. I follow more slowly, keeping a wary eye on her feet which kick uncomfortably close to my head.

I am wondering how she manages not to fall in her dress when I'm struggling in my pants and boots when we finally reach the top. Lissette swings her legs over the shallow lip of the roof and then lowers her hand to help me up. I don't really need assistance; my long legs make the wall an easy obstacle, but I take her offered hand anyway. I swing my leg over with just a bit too much force and stumble when my feet hit the roof.

My breath catches in my throat when Lissette's arms wrap around me, holding me upright. I look down at her face, more than a foot below mine. The blood rushes to my face as I find that her eyes, the bright green of the grass in the garden below my bedroom window, are trained on me. I force myself not to blush as I try to decide if I am imagining the pink I see creeping into her cheeks. Suddenly I realize that I am holding my breath. I exhale and the moment is broken.

Lissette drops her arms and laughs—a bit breathlessly? "You are too clumsy for words!" she jokes. "What would you do if you didn't have me to catch you?" she grins that breathtaking grin of hers and takes off toward the other side of the roof.

I shake my head as I watch her, unable to take my eyes off of the radiant gold of her curls against the orange sky. What is wrong with you, Enjolras? I ask myself as I follow her to the edge and peer over.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking in the view. The building we are on rests at the top of a hill and from this spot I can see houses and restaurants and shops of every size and color scattered across the horizon like autumn leaves on the forest floor. Now, bathed in the oranges and yellows of the sunset, the view is breathtaking. "I can see why you brought me up here." I whisper.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lissette comments. I try not to notice how close we are standing; if I shift just a little to my left our arms brush, sending a chill up my spine. I shake my head to clear it. "But that's not all." she continues, turning to face me as she pulls something out of the bag at her hip. She offers me a small box tied shut with a piece of red ribbon. "It's not much, but—"

"Lisse..." I protest, interrupting her. "You know I don't want you to buy me things. I don't need gifts and you don't have the money."

"Of course I got you a gift; it's your birthday. Besides, I didn't buy it, I...aquired it." She grins mischeviously.

I look at the box. Written on the top in dainty cursive letters is Franciouse Andreas Enjolras. I laugh at the use of my full name, something that few people actually know. I remember when I told her; we were sitting in a patch of grass somewhere, swapping stories. She told me about her Father dying, forcing her to live alone on the streets. I remember the single tear that slipped down her cheek. I couldn't bear to see her so sad. "Do you want to hear something funny?" I asked her. She nodded so I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "My full name is Franciouse Andreas Enjolras." she laughed and insisted that I must be joking, but I assured her that it was completely, unfortunately true. It's one of my best memories.

I untie the ribbon and open the box. Inside is a beautiful brass button engraved with an intricate hyacinth. I run my finger over the flower gently. "Where did you get this?" I whisper, tears coming to my eyes. I look at the hyacinth pattern and a dozen memories come flooding before my eyes. I see ten-year-old Lissette crying in an alley as she tells me about her sister who died of tuberculosis before her eyes, clutching a single hyacinth—my weak attempt at comfort for the unthinkable—in her small hands. I see the two of us running through the park picking flowers, a crown of hyacinths on her head. She laughs when I let her put one on me and ad climb a tree and tell each other stories. I see my family cemetery the night my mother died; it is raining. Lissette holds my hand and together we lay a bouquet of hyacinths on the fresh, muddy grave. I see a million moments that Lissette and I have shared, all tied together by a single purple flower.

I almost tell her. My lungs pull in air and my mouth moves, ready to form the words that I haven't even shared with myself. A vision of Lissette in a white dress, a bouquet of hyacinths in her hands, walking toward me through the aisle of a church adorned in purple flowers fills my mind and for an instant I am brave enough to tell her how I feel.

All of this happens in the half-second it takes her to respond. "I found it in the street. The most perfect gift and it just...came to me. It's like it was meant to be." her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. As my surroundings come back into focus so does the all-too-familiar shyness and uncertainty that overcomes me when I am with Lissette. I feel like hiding because I almost told her I love her and crying because I didn't. "Do you like it?" Lissette asks. What I am feeling must show on my face because her green eyes examine me, full of concern.

"I love it." I smile and pull her into a hug, "Thank you, Lisse."

"You're welcome, France." I can feel her grin into my chest as she calls me by the nickname that only she uses, a play on my ridiculous first name. I smile and mouth the words that I dare not say aloud. "I love you." I whisper soundlessly into her hair. I am not sure if I want her to hear me. I close my eyes; Lissette is my best friend and, for now, at least, that is enough.