Those Who Fall in Love. |Enjolras|

3. Navigating the City is Difficult if You're Drunk

Paris, France
December, 1830

Lorraine sat at her table in the corner, slowly sipping on a glass of milk she had poured earlier. She had a book in her lap, her eyes drinking in each word that was so carefully printed onto the delicate pages. The front cover was bent, the edges torn from the continuous use. A handmade bookmark was in her hand, being absentmindedly twirled in between her fingers. Her lips mouthed the words her eyes followed. Lorraine's hobby of reading had been something she had developed early in childhood. During her time in Paris as a child, she had learned to read from the gaggle of children in the neighborhood. Since then, she gathered all the novels she could, from fairytales of beasts, dragons, and princesses, to the autobiographies of French and English philosophers whose belief systems intrigued her.

"Lorraine?" Sandrine broke Lorraine's concentration, making her groan as she tore her eyes away from the paper.

"Yes?" She looked up at her aunt, who had her hands on her hips, curiously watching her. The café had not yet opened, leaving Sandrine, the two waitresses, and Lorraine alone.

"Why don't you go explore a little more of Saint-Michel? There are a few interesting shops near the café. There may even be a bookstore near here." Sandrine teased, seeing Lorraine perk up. "Here, take these and go pick a new one out." Sandrine reached into her apron and pulled out a handful of francs and sous.

"Thank you, ma tante." Lorraine jumped up, a smile on her face. She closed her book, sliding the bookmark into place.

"Do not venture too far, there are people in this area that may not be kind." Sandrine warned, handing over the small amount of coins.

"Big city. It's not a quiet village. Every day, used to be like the one before..." Lorraine wandered through the street, gazing into the few shops, paying attention to every person that passed her. Even for as early as it was, she heard the noise of vendors trying to haggle a price with difficult customers. Carts full of supplies for the city passed by, horses stomped at the ground, the sound of the metal horseshoes against the stone ground echoed through the streets.

"Big town... Full of little people." Children ran by, having been up since the sun rose, screaming and chasing each other at ungodly volumes that it seemed only children in the early morning could reach. "Waking up to say..."

"Bonjour!" Called out a shopkeeper as she walked by. "Bonjour!" A chorus of greetings could be heard, as more and more shops opened.

"There goes a baker with his tray, full of treats. Old bread and rolls to sell." The baker that lived on the street placed his tray on his stand, switching his sign from 'closed', to 'open.'

"I've hoped every morning won't be the same, since the morning that I came to this odd, strange, town..."

"Good morning, chérie." A voice called out from behind her. She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. She smelt the heavy scent of alcohol, and she turned around, a smirk on her lips.

"Good morning R, are you drunk again?"

"I believe I am." Grantaire looked at the bottle in his hand, smiling at it. "Problem is, I can't remember from what."

Lorraine rolled her eyes. The two of them had grown closer in the recent weeks she had been in Paris. Neither of them fit in well, drawing them close together. And as much as they pretended to despise each other, they truly felt like friends, something both of them needed desperately.

"Where are you off to?" He eyed her suspiciously.

"My aunt told me there is a bookstore nearby. I'm looking to find a new one as my current choice in books is rather limited." Lorraine stated, subconsciously sticking her hand in her pocket and feeling the coins.