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expired-applejuice · 2 years

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I Will Lead You into the Dark

Based on this (I refuse to make R Ugly, I'm sorry.) Part 1.

"Join us in the fight for freedom!" Enjolras spoke standing on a crate.

"With the help of General Lamarque, our voices shall reach the ears of those in need. The people will rise," Combeferre continues.

"Tonight at The Café Musain, we shall hold a meeting, join us!" Courfeyrac handed out flyers to those who were interested.

Soon a man in green walked toward the rebels. He took a flyer and read over it, "You guys do dream don't ya."

"It's not a dream, Monsieur, it's the future. Join us tonight, and we will show you," Courfeyrac smiled.

"I suppose you're the leader?"

Courfeyrac shook his head, "no I'm not. He is," He pointed toward a blonde in red.

The man laughed, "Oh Apollo is a revolutionary now? I truly and deeply doubt that you can do anything."

Enjolras stepped off the crate and got nose to nose with the man. He noted that he smelt like alcohol, yet he was not disgusted like usual. He actually was drawn to the man. He looked up into his green eyes that seemed to mock him, though he didn't feel angry.

"You're just afraid of change!" Enjolras said to the man.

"No, I am not. I'm just saying that a group of students can't do anything to the king's army."

"We are stronger than we appear."

"And stubborn."

"Like a mule. So are you in, or not?"

"I'm in."

"You are?" Courfeyrac asked.

Enjolras too looked puzzled by the man's answer. "Why is that?"

The man took the flyer and left them, grabbing his wine. He had a smirk on his lips as he walked by.

"Who was that guy?" Combeferre asked.

"Don't know. But he is one more person in our revolution. How many do we know for sure are coming?" Enjolras asked, grabbing his crate.

"10, counting Musichetta."

"Courfeyrac, what about that friend of yours? Will he be joining us anytime soon?"

"I'm trying to talk him into coming. I should warn you though, his beliefs are different from ours," Courfeyrac trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"He's a monarchist."

"No, he's a Bonapartist."

No sooner did Courfeyrac finish that, than Combeferre busted out laughing, "Good one Courf."

"I'm serious, he studies Waterloo. Something about his father and whatnot. His father died before he got to meet him. And when the truth came out, that his grandfather took him away from him, he studied his father. Hell, he remembers a letter his dad wrote before he died, he lost it, but can recite it word for word," Courfeyrac explained, gathering some flyer he had dropped long ago.

"We'll have to see about that, won't we? Did Musichetta talk to her boss about letting us use the back of the Cafe?" Enjoys asked holding the door to his flat open for the two.

"According to Joly, yes. We have gained access to it whenever needed. Should have known too, the old man is great friends with Lamarque," laughed combeferre.

The three put their stuff down and sat down for a second. Enjolras head began to wonder as the other two yapped about school. He remembered the man from before. His smell, his eyes, laugh, hair, the way his voice went deeper after he finished the last words in his sentence. He thought of the name he gave Enjolras, Apollo, looking back at it, his chest began to flutter.

"Oh, Apollo is a revolutionary now?" After he finished those words, and before he said the next ones, his tongue wetted his lips. A small action, but it was burned in Enjolras's memory.

Then there was the way he looked when he left. He stepped backward smiling, grabbed his things, and left. It was the way he captures Enjolras's eyes and flooded his brain. He said little, and what he did, was just mockery. Still, there was this wonder in his mind, why would he join? He didn't believe in their cause, why follow?

"-Right Enjolras!" Courfeyrac opened the blinds to reality. Waking Enjolras, he looked just as so. Awaken from a dream of wonder.

"What?" He asked a bit startled.

"Gavroche can join the revolution."

"That little kid? Courfeyrac, you know the danger we face. It is no place for a child. He can't shoot a gun, nor can lift the chairs needed for the barricade."

"But he is small and fast! He could easily run letters between barricades. Not to mention the fact that most people who have joined never used a gun either."

"Then Gavroche will have to prove to us what he can do. Until the time arrives he can be a messenger for us all," Enjolras sighed.

Combeferre smiled with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch, he then rested his chin on his palm, "May we ask what was on your mind?"

"I was just thinking."

"Were you possibly thinking of the gentleman from earlier?"

"No, why would I?"

"Lying is a bad habit, Enjolras," Courfeyrac mentioned.

"So what if I was! You can't tell me you're not curious about why he joined."

"Yeah, it was a bit odd. But maybe it's best we didn't know," Combeferre mumbled.

They left it at that. At the Cafe, Enjolras was talking up a storm about their strategies. They also had a lot more than 10 people. Combeferre was working on counting the men as more and more walked in. And in the corner of Enjolras's eye, he saw him.

The man was talking to Bahorel, a regular, and a full-time member of Les Amis. It seemed that they have met before. They greeted each other with a smile and handshake that turned into a hug. They sat together, and Bahorel got Feuilly to bring the man another bottle of wine.

Enjolras wanted to go over there and talk to him, but he didn't want to look desperate or anything like that. So, he watched the man and noted all his features in greater detail.

He had messy, black, curly hair. It looked soft, and Enjolras wanted to see if it was soft as it looked. His eyes were green, brighter green than the bottle he held. He felt so drawn to those eyes. Though he couldn't hear his voice, he could see the drunken speech the alcohol had caused. The way his mouth would curve upward during some words, made Enjolras hear the way his Rs would drug out. His facial hair was perfect in Enjolras's eyes. He was jealous of it too. Enjolras couldn't grow facial hair. His body was muscular and covered with a few tattoos. The man plagued Enjolras's mind. And it annoyed him.

He didn't know his name, who he was, or what he does. He just showed up and took over his mind. The nerve on that guy!

"Enjolras, I can't get an exact count, but it's somewhere in the 30s or 40s, maybe even 50s," Combeferre brought Enjolras back into reality.

Enjolras smiled widely, "That's amazing, I knew the people were on our side. I think after a few more meetings, we can start looking for a sign. A sign to start the next phase."

Courfeyrac came over hearing the news, "The next meeting my friend, Marius, will be joining us. So that's one more! We're doing it, boys."

"Yeah, we are... Go talk to him," Combeferre said with his hand on Enjolras's shoulder.

Enjolras's face flushed, "W-Who do you mean?" He knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Monsieur Mystérieux, go talk to him," Courfeyrac finished for Combeferre.

"No, he looks busy talking to Bahorel."

"Go."

"Fine, just to clear things a few things up."

Enjolras walked over his hands shaking a bit. He sat at the table with the man and Bahorel.

He cleared his throat, "So you actually showed up." Enjolras looked at the man, whose head had turned to him when he had sat down.

"I said I would, didn't I?" He smirked. His bottle was only centimeters from his lips, teasing his taste buds, which didn't last long. He brought the bottle to his mouth and took another drink, never letting his eyes leave the blonde.

For a second Enjolras lost his breath. "U-um. We never got your name."

The smirk, turned into a smile, it mocked Enjolras's but a smile nonetheless, "I could say the same, Apollo." There was that name again. That damn name probably was an insult to his looks, but it still made Enjolras's face burn and made him act coy.

"I'm Enjolras. Yours?" Enjolras tried to get him to answer again.

"So, when is this so-called "revolution" going to take place," the man asked chuckling.

"Soon, we are waiting for the right time. We can not rush into this Monsieur! We have to have a good plan," Enjolras argued rising from his seat, making them man's smirk once more.

"But, Apollo, you said about a thousand different plans tonight! I'm sure you could strike now."

The mocking voice the man spoke in, angered Enjolras, "We can't go running in all willy-nilly. Those plans all need to be thought through a bit more. Who are you to come in here to speak to me like this."

"What I thought. You shouldn't put these people in danger," the man stood up as well his hand gripping the bottle as he slammed it on the table.

"Why are you here."

"What are you gaining from getting these people's hopes up, and getting them to risk their lives."

"I am helping those in need. These people believe in the revolution, like me. What do you believe in?"

"That's none of your concerns. Bahorel, I'll be going. I'll join you again soon," the man said to his friend before turning to Enjolras with a fire in his eyes, "Apollo."

He said nothing else to the blonde, he just rolled his eyes at him. Enjolras watched him leave, now noticing a few people looking at them. He sighed looking away from them sitting down and placing his face in his hands.

"Sorry about him, Enjolras. He is a cynic if you couldn't tell. But, maybe he'll come around, I mean look at all these people. You got them to believe in the cause, maybe it's possible to convince a cynic," Bahorel laughed.

"What's his name?" Enjolras asked resting his cheek on his fist. He picked at the table while listening.

"Grantaire. We call him R though."

"Do you happen to know why he was here, or why he's coming back? If he is a cynic like you said, why would he be here."

"It's hard to say. Maybe it's the wine, maybe he's curious. I think he's here because of the people, he always liked to watch people. Not in a creepy way of course. He has never been passionate about beliefs, so maybe he wants to see how other people function with them. If you know what I mean. As I said, it's hard to say with R."

Enjolras still had questions about the ma- Grantaire, but he just let Bahorel go back to his conversation with Feuilly.

The next meeting Grantaire showed up early, so Enjolras walked over to him, "Grantaire, I must apologize for-"

"Bahorel told you my name. Great," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, he did. Now back to what I was saying. I'm sorry for yesterday, I just," Enjolras stopped to think of a way to put his thoughts to words, "I just get defensive over the cause. I want to help people, and that didn't help."

Grantaire hummed in response, one eyebrow going up as he scowled at him.

Enjolras continued, "You're free to join us anytime. I can introduce you to everyone, and tell you what their jobs are. I can fill you in on-"

"Alright, alright. I'll bite, tell me about it all I guess," Grantaire sighed.

"Well, I'm Enjolras, the leader. Over there is Courfeyrac, you talked to him the other day, he is like the center. Combeferre is the other person who was with us, he is the guide. The rest are just as important, though they don't have a named role. They are just as important. Without them, we couldn't do this. You know Bahorel of course. Feuilly, Bahorel's friend-"

"Just a friend? That's not what I got from the way he talked about him," Grantaire chuckled opening a bottle of wine, and sitting down, Enjolras followed.

"Well, I didn't want to assume... Anyway, Feuilly is the only person here who isn't a student. Next is Bossuet, he was the bald one, he gets hurt, like a lot, but he is passionate. His mistress, who he shares with Joly, who is a doctor with character, is Musichetta, she works here. And then there's Jehan Prouvaire, he writes a lot of poetry. Courfeyrac says he is a professional sunshine."

"The rest?" The man asked taking a drink.

"Well everyone else are volunteers, they didn't have to say their nam-"

"Oh, but I must have?" Grantaire spat, making Enjolras flinch.

"I was curious. You didn't really approve of our cause, and I just wondered why you would join. You kept refusing to say."

"Well, you can't expect a guy to reveal all his secrets. You might want to get ready Apollo. I'm sure the nameless volunteers are buzzing to hear from their oh-so-great leader."

Enjolras knew that the man was dismissing him. Enjolras sighed and walked away and sat beside Prouvaire. He was writing a few lines down in his journal.

"Prouvaire, do you ever feel-" Enjolras didn't dare to say attraction. It wasn't a good feeling to have to someone who was so spiteful. "-Feel drawn to a mystery?"

"Les mystères sont comme une drogue, One is addicted to not knowing, and solving it the way a smoker is drawn to the smell of a tobacco pipe," Prouvaire said in a certain rhythm. A rhythm Enjolras was sure was a part of what he was writing.

"I hear that. I don't know what to do." Enjolras sighed, his eyes going over to Grantaire once more. He was drawing on a piece of paper, he was so focused on each line. Then he looked up at Enjolras, Enjolras's breath was caught in his throat as he looked away blushing.

"Have you tried listening to him?" Bossuet asked sitting with them, Joly soon followed.

"It's rude to eavesdrop you know."

" 'Jolras you know the balder the guy is, the better the hearing," Joly laughed leaning his cane against the table.

Enjolras laughed, "I guess you're right. What else can baldness do?"

"Calculate the best way to trip and fall," Joly continues, making Enjolras and Prouvaire laugh.

"Yeah go ahead and laugh it up. At the end of the day, you are all jealous," Bossuet ran his hand through his imaginary hair, making them break out in quiet giggles as more volunteers filed into the room.

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Depending on how this does, I'll make more parts.

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