Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enjolras was tired. After another hot day striking at the coalfield, he was stuck in the warm church basement for the weekly strike committee meeting. All he really wanted to do was shower and sleep, but he had already promised Feuilly and Bahorel that he would meet them later for a pint.

Enjolras fully believed in the power of the people, and their power to pressure the politicians, but recently he started to feel the strain of inaction. He didn't know how much longer the miners would stay put—rumors abounded that they would get twice their salary if they crossed the picket line. To add, outside support was dwindling and money was getting scarce. It was only September, but already the upcoming winter was a shadow looming over everything.

"Well that was the last item of the agenda before we adjourn… Anything else?" his uncle and the head of the committee, Jean Valjean, asked, looking around the table.

Sister Simplice, the administrator of the local church and school, raised her hand as Enjolras started out of his seat, ready to get out of there. "Yes, Sister?" Valjean asked, pointedly looking at Enjolras, who slunk back down into his chair, defeated. This could easily take 30 more minutes. Sister Simplice was known for never lying. She was not known for being succinct.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "We received a call."

"And from whom may that be, Sister?"

"From London."

Enjolras perked up, suddenly interested. He wanted nothing more than to explore new places and meet new people. Despite being only about three hours away, London and all it stood for felt worlds away.

Sister Simplice smoothed her skirt, taking what felt forever before elaborating."There appears to be a group of young individuals." She took a sip of water, adding to the anticipation.

"And?" Cosette prompted, throwing a smile at Enjolras.

"Well, it seems they want to donate to us."

It was rare for outside groups to donate directly to a town as opposed to going through the National Union of Miners, which then distributed funds based on need. Even then, groups who did bypass N.U.M. tended to donate to bigger towns. Berwyn, a small village near the Brecon Beacons, wasn't even in some maps of the country.

"That's marvelous, Sister! Did you get their phone number? Maybe we can arrange meeting them sometime next week," Valjean asked.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "They asked to meet tomorrow. In London."

Enjolras could see the committee's mood deflate–Saturdays were community center days—all-day events where the six-person committee offered free breakfast and dinner to miners and their families. Often, a local group would play some music and they would host raffles or other games. But he wasn't willing to give the money up.

"I can go," Enjolras said, leaning forward in excitement. "I can go meet them."

"But son—"

"Papa, we'll be fine if he goes. He is on dishwashing duty tomorrow anyways. He won't be needed until later in the day." Cosette winked at him. In reality, she was the one who had been assigned to dish-washing duty, but Enjolras didn't care. At this moment he was willing to do as many of his cousin's shifts as needed if it meant going to London.

Valjean sighed. "Well, I guess you might as well. God knows we need the money, and tomorrow might even be the perfect time since we won't be using the van for the picket line. All those in favor?"

The committee all agreed. Enjolras could not stop grinning all night long.

Enjolras loved Berwyn. He'd lived there about ten years, having moved to live with his uncle and cousin soon after turning fifteen. It was a beautiful place, the hills a brilliant green even in the gloomiest of days. He felt a sense of loyalty to the land and its people. He was, after all, a miner son of a miner son of a miner son of…

He loved his cousin and uncle, had made great friends in Feuilly and Bahorel, and felt proud of the work the committee was doing. He even thought fondly of the other miners at the picket line, even if striking was their only thing in common. Enjolras loved Berwyn, but sometimes he wanted nothing more than to leave. There was something stifling about a small town. He often felt like he couldn't make a mistake without everyone knowing. And with his father's death in the pits, well, it felt clear Enjolras had no choice but to honor his legacy and follow in his footsteps.

Not that this trip to London even constituted leaving. He would go accept the funds and bring them back in less than 24 hours, and with them a much needed morale boost at the pit.

He squinted at his map of London. He stood at a corner trying to figure out which street was which when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a group of eclectically dressed individuals. One of them was waving for someone. He looked around surreptitiously. No one else was out in the streets. Were they waving at him? He took a chance, and walked up to the group.

"Are you, the uh—" He looked at the notes on the margins of the map. "London Group to Support the Miners?"

The group all looked at each other, shuffling in confusion. One seemed to be stifling a laugh.

"Yes, well, no, but yes," the dashing man in the center—presumably their leader—finally said, stretching out a hand with a big smile. "I'm Courfeyrac. Are you interested in a pint?"

They ended up inside a nearby pub, all six of them plus Enjolras crowded into a table booth. He looked around the table.

"So, what does LGSM stand for if not 'London Group to Support the Miners?'" Enjolras asked.

"It's actually 'Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.'" said the flowery one with a giggle, seated to the left of Enjolras. They had introduced themselves as "Jean, with an H." Enjolras wasn't sure what that meant, and had been hesitant to ask.

"And you are actually all…..?" He trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

"I'm technically the lesbian but for all intents and purposes, yes," the only girl in the group, Eponine, said. She sat on the edge across from the table. Her hair and makeup reminded Enjolras of Ziggy Stardust. The spikes in her jacket shone under the neon light, a barrier against anyone trying to approach the table.

He sat back, frowning.

"I've never met…" He felt the words stuck in his throat– Other gay people. I thought I was alone. How do you deal with it? How do you hide it? But what was he thinking? He didn't know these people at all. He probably wasn't even gay, and anyway, he was too busy with the strike to think about any of this. "I've never met… gay people before."

The man across Eponine scoffed, taking a swig of his beer. Enjolras couldn't remember his name for the life of him. He was too nervous when the man introduced himself to catch it; Enjolras had felt his dark brown eyes boring into his soul, examining him. He felt like a book the man was checking for typos. Thankfully, he couldn't really see him at this angle

. Combeferre, the sensible-looking one across from him, cleaned his glasses. "Will that be a problem?"

"Oh no, not at all." He felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

"Well then, cheers to that!" Courfeyrac smiled and raised his pint, everyone following suit. "If it helps to know, you're the first miner we've ever met. Well, except Eponine."

"Oh?"

Eponine shrugged. "I've been around."

They group laughed at what felt like an inside joke, and Enjolras frowned. He hated to admit it, but he felt more uncomfortable than he imagined he would on his first trip to London. He always imagined he would immediately fit in to the city, like a missing puzzle piece. Instead, he felt just as much as an outsider as he did in Berwyn, if not more.

This group was between their 20s and 30s, all dressed like they were headed to different social events. He couldn't tell if this was a city thing, or predicative of their sexuality. Regardless, they looked effortlessly put together, or in the case of Eponine and the man on the edge, effortlessly disheveled. Enjolras was wearing his Sunday best and yet he felt shabby, an imaginary layer of coal dust permeating everything he touched.

He cleared his throat, shaking himself out of his thoughts."How did you end up choosing Berwyn anyways?"

"Honestly we got tired of waiting for the N.U.M. to return our calls so we just chose a town at random," Courfeyac said.

"I must've called over 100 times. We just kept getting hung up on, God knows why," said Combeferre with a knowing smile.

"Well, I'm glad you randomly chose Berwyn. Please, if you could, thank… your people for us. This money, it will be life changing. There are so many families dependent on the committee. We are really thankful for your support."

"Why don't you thank them yourself?" the baby-faced one piped up. Everyone turned to look at him, causing him to blush. "Uhm, I mean, I just mean, I mean…" he trailed off nervously.

"Marius! That's a brilliant idea!" Courfeyac exclaimed.

"Uh, is it?" Marius looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Yes! Enjolras, you must! You are so handsome, you'll have everyone and their mother pitching in."

Enjolras frowned, despite the group’s giggles. "How could I?"

"Easily! You could ch—”

"Courf," the man on the edge interrupted, "don't push. He clearly doesn't want to be seen with a bunch of poofs."

Eponine reached over and slapped the man's arm. Enjolras shook his head, feeling clammy all of a sudden. Why did he feel like he was messing everything up? Maybe Cosette should've been the one to come. She had a way of charming everyone. As a child, Enjolras was often chastised for saying things wrong. He thought he'd gotten better at it, but now he felt once more like he was six, his mother upset at him for reasons he couldn't understand.

"No, no, it's not that, I promise. I just, how would I even… say thank you? There's not a place you all congregate to now, is there?"

"Oh hon. We love to congregate." Jean with an H said. "There's the Bat Cave, and the Asylum, and the Black Market and—

"Bars." Eponine mouthed at Enjolras' growing confusion.

"—And the Mud Club… but right now the hottest place in town is probably the Corinthe."

"What do you say Enjolras? Care to give it a shot?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras desperately wanted LGSM to like him. He didn't want to discourage them from raising money for the miner's strike. He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. As long as he didn't stay too long, he would still be able to make it back home by the time he said he would. He had budgeted some time for sightseeing, which, in a way, this was. Plus, it would be helpful to the cause to foster relations with this group, so really, he was just doing what any other committee member would have done.

He nodded.

"I'm in."

The Corinthe was nothing like anything Enjolras had seen before.

It was dark, the music pounding, the floor sticky. Bodies were rubbing up against bodies. Enjolras could feel everyone's eyes on him, like if a bright flashing sign was pointing down saying "Look! He's the intruder! He doesn't belong here!" He knew homosexuality was not illegal, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that the cops would show up at any moment, arresting him for being there.

Thankfully, Courfeyrac was in his element, expertly parting the crowds and leading him and the rest of LGSM towards the back, where a stage was set up for the drag queens. Courfeyrac approached the MC, gesturing wildly over the loud music. The MC did not look particularly pleased, but she gave in to his request.

"You have ONE MINUTE." She raised a finger and turned to the group, making sure they all saw it.

Courfeyrac grinned. "Favourite, I owe you my life!" He kissed her on the cheek. She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a smile from creeping up.

"Enjolras, I'll introduce you and then you can go ahead and say some words, yeah? Keep it brief. Hopefully you won't get beer thrown at you." He clapped his shoulder, grinning impishly, and headed up the stage. Enjolras couldn't tell if this should be a serious worry or not. Jean with an H gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

At Courfeyac's introduction, Enjolras took a step into the stage. The lights were blinding, obscuring the faces of the crowd. For a split second, he could feel his heart pounding, his hands sweating. But then, he took a deep breath and everything was perfect. All of his confusion and out-of-placeness was suddenly gone. He was at ease.

Later, he wouldn't be able to tell Cosette what it was exactly that he said. But whatever it was, it must have been highly impactful, if the money raised right after his speech was any indication. He left the stage to applause and cheers. Courfeyrac ferried him around the bar. Everyone wanted to cheer him on, to show him their support for the miners. Marius and Jean both filled their buckets, and Combeferre seemed to be in a serious discussion with the bartender about adding a jar for donations. Eponine claimed that she was approached by a woman and her two men, looking to join LGSM.

It was all a blur of happiness.

Walking towards the door, he felt revitalized. He felt untouchable. If he could bring this energy back, if they could build on this momentum then maybe things would be okay, maybe—

"Riveting speech, kid," said the man whose name Enjolras had forgotten. He was sitting at the bar, nursing what appeared to be whiskey. "Too bad this energy will be short lived."

Enjolras' enthusiasm soured instantly. "Excuse me?"

"You know." The man waved his drink around. "Before they forget and get back to dancing to Wham! all night"

Enjolras frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Hey, I wouldn't have chosen Wham! myself, that's just what the people want."

"You think this is a joke?"

"I don't joke about Wham!" He was smirking, his big brown eyes challenging him.

Enjolras scoffed. The beer from earlier was roiling inside him. All of his energy suddenly felt compressed into his chest. "Of course you don't. But believe it or not, this is actually more important than whatever song you lot want to waste your life and get drunk to."

The man laughed. "Right, sorry to take up your precious time." He turned back towards the bar.

Enjolras felt angry. He felt stupid. But most importantly, he felt determined to not let this man, whoever he was, bring him down. What was he even doing there or with LGSM if he didn't care? Couldn't he see that people's lives were at stake? The miners would continue striking until their demands were met.

Thatcher and the man be damned.

Chapter Text

Cosette stared at her reflection.

She hated to say this. But she was beautiful.

She remembered the first time she realized this, after a boy in Year 7 asked her out. She had cried all the way home. It felt unfair, to be pretty. At that time she wasn't aware of the specifics, but she felt that being pretty had led to her mother's death.

Now she knew better. But still, it just felt useless. What was she going to do with that beauty? She wished she didn't have it. Enjolras was beautiful, but he was a boy, so in many ways it didn't matter. He could do whatever he wanted. On the other hand, Cosette felt the unspoken expectations- not from her papa and cousin, but from the town. Cosette was meant to marry a miner and make miner babies and be a miner wife and never think of anything other than what she was going to feed her miner family that night. She envied her old classmate Enid. No one expected her to get married. She was able to study all she wanted.

Enjolras had come back the week before, equally grumpy and excited, with the news that the 'London Group to Support the Miners' was actually 'Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners', and that they had raised more money than Berwyn had received from the N.U.M. in the last three months. The traditional next course of action was to invite the group over for an evening as a thank you. Yet, due to the makeup of this group, the committee kept skirting around the topic, going back and forth on whether or not to invite them over. An hour of this and Cosette had had enough. She had snapped, saying that if no one had an issue with them then they should just go ahead and invite them. Enjolras had looked proud, her papa worried, the rest of the committee shocked she could be anything other than kind and gentle.

Some days she just wanted to scream.

"Cosette!" her papa called from downstairs. "It's time to go!"

"One second Papa!"

She sighed, frowning. She slapped her left cheek. She slapped her right. Now at least it looked like she put on blush instead of wasting time staring at herself.

Cosette and her papa arrived at the community center, where they were going to meet LGSM and take them on a tour of the village and surrounding areas. Since it was a Friday, most people were off at the strike or at school, a precaution taken by the committee to ensure that LGSM could at least have a warm welcome before any judgement from the townspeople.

And judgement, there would be. There had been many complaints received when it was announced that the committee had invited LGSM over for the weekend. Someone had put up flyers asking the people of Berwyn to boycott the community day, essentially asking them to skip two free meals, warning them of the dangers of homosexuals. 

Cosette couldn't deny that she was a little hesitant. At school, there had been the rumour that all gay people were vegetarian. Even though she knew it was silly and probably not true, she was anxious about the lamb stew they were making for Saturday. She should've remembered to ask Enjolras if he had noticed anything weird. But then again, Enjolras could be hard-pressed to notice anything. 

She felt afraid of the friction between the town of Berwyn and LGSM, but mostly she wasn't sure what to expect exactly. What did gay people act like? There was no way they were all addicted to sex, was there? What if there was just nothing in common between them all and it just made for the most uncomfortable weekend ever?

She had been slightly surprised her papa had volunteered to take the group on a tour. He was a devout Catholic, even more so than most others. But most of the committee would be busy that day, and Valjean was a highly respected man in town. If someone wanted to cause trouble, they would think twice before doing so with him present. Back home, Enjolras had asked him, slight confrontation in his voice, if he was sure he really wanted to do it. Valjean had just shrugged and said, "Who am I to judge?"

There was a lot she would never understand about her papa, but on this she could deduce his thinking: hate the sin, love the sinner. And that, she would try to do. As long as they didn't just talk about sex. 

The community center was one big multi-purpose room, with a small kitchen and supply closet to the side. There was a small stage on one end, and a bar on the other, a more family-friendly locale than the other bar in town. Outside, there was a small garden and playground area for the town's kids. It didn't just host the committee's events. It was the town's auditorium, gym, weather shelter, and event space. It was a common after-work hangout space. Cosette had probably spent more time there than at her own house.

Cosette and Valjean sat on a bench outside, waiting for the group to arrive. Not long had passed before a bright orange van with "OUT LOUD Theatre" in faded letters written on the side halted to a stop in front of the community center.

"Ah, these must be our guests," Valjean said, taking a step forward to greet them.

The group introduced themselves as they climbed out the van. There was Courfeyrac, the leader of the group, all bright smiles. Next there was Combeferre, his right-hand man, who looked like he could bring peace to any dispute. There was Marius, a skittish young man who stood next to Eponine, a beautiful woman with funky makeup and a no-nonsense attitude. After, there was Muschietta and Joly and Bossuet, the three laughing as Bossuet tripped down the van, followed shortly by Grantaire, who had smiled and curtsied at Cosette, making her giggle.

And lastly,

"I'm Jean, with an h."

"Oh! Like in old french? j-e-h-a-n?" Cosette asked.

Jehan's face lit up. "Yes! Very few people know why. Are you a fan of the Middle Ages?"

"I'm familiar with some of the stories. I did a project on Tristan and Yseult in school, which got me interested in some of the literature of the time."

"I love Tristan and Yseult! Which version did you read?"

"I've read both Béroul's and Thomas of Britain's, although I am partial to Béroul's."

"Oh me too! I just think that the added complexities of their suffering-"

Someone cleared their throat. Cosette blushed, suddenly realizing everyone was listening to the both of them.

"Cosette," Valjean said with a gentle smile, motioning to the door. "Why don't we show our guests inside?"

They guided LGSM through the town and up the path on the adjacent hill, her papa spouting facts of the land and answering questions about the strike and the miners' demands. She had wanted to be a good host and help her papa answer, but she ended up sucked into conversation with Jehan, who claimed Cosette was his new bosom friend, and Marius. 

Despite Jehan's kindness and willingness to explain certain things, and Marius' own ignorance, Cosette couldn't help but feel frustrated at her lack of knowledge on Medieval literature. She wished not for the first time that she could spend her days reading books, instead of trying to calculate how best to feed various families with only a couple of cans of beans.

She tried to shake these feelings of inadequacy and instead focus on her new and unexpected friend. She had to make the most of it; neither Enjolras nor her papa enjoyed reading. That said, she was thankful when the conversation took a turn.

"So did you grow up in Wales?" Jehan asked.

"I did, but I moved to Berwyn when I was eight. I'm from the coast originally."

"Oh! So is Eponine," Marius turned to look at Eponine, "Isn't that right?"

"What, do you think everyone from the coast knows each other?" Eponine made a face at him that Marius returned, making Jehan giggle.

"Do you have any siblings?" Jehan asked.

"Sort of? Enjolras is my cousin, but he moved in with us when he was fifteen, so he's practically my brother."

Marius audibly gulped. "Oh… He's a little scary."

Cosette laughed at this. "He's not! He is just…reserved. He can be awkward with new people."

"He did a really good job at the bar," Eponine said, "he seems really passionate."

"Oh, he was so eloquent! He made me swoon!" Jehan added, pretend-fainting on Marius like a Victorian lady. "Maybe there is a poet within him. Does he like poetry?"

Cosette couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Enjolras? Poetry? No way. He couldn't tell you a simile from a metaphor."

The four of them laughed, and they continued talking until they finally reached the overlook. From the top of the hill the colliery was visible in the distance, a black smudge in the sea of green. Her papa started pointing out the landscape.

"From here you can see our sister town, Onllwyn. We share a colliery with them, as well as with Seven Sisters over to your left."

Cosette cringed a little internally. This high up, she could really see how small her life had been, how the so-called towns were really just small clusters of buildings, barely enough to need more than three streets. She was embarrassed to bring LGSM to the overlook, they probably were used to better and bigger things. They would probably be bored at this. She should have thought about this before when her papa suggested the overlook, and honestly, why did she insist for LGSM to come to Berwyn? There was nothing here.

She turned away from the overlook to see LGSM's reaction.

Everyone seemed in awe at the sight, the way the hills sloped gently up and down for kilometers on end. It was a rare day with bright blue skies. Grantaire had started sketching, and Marius had taken out his camera and was snapping away. Joly, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were pointing excitedly at different cloud shapes. Muschietta, Bossuet, and Eponine had sat down in the grass. 

Her papa, who had grown up in Berwyn and knew the hills like the back of his hand, looked at peace.

Jehan sighed, smiling. "It is so beautiful and verdant here. I wish I could stay forever."

Their reverie got broken by the sound of cars, down in the distance.

"What is that?" Joly asked nervously. He was standing the furthest away from the edge, looking afraid of the heights.

Cosette sighed. "It's the police. They're rounding up the picketers. Enjolras is probably in one of those cars. "

"They can't do that," Combeferre said, frowning.

Her papa shook his fist in the air, anger pouring out of him. "These men just want respect and fair wages and this is how they're treated."

"No, no, they truly can't do that." Grantaire explained, putting away his sketchbook. "A police officer only has the right to stop you if, IF, he has reasonable grounds to believe a crime is going to be committed, and he has to charge you within twenty-four hours of that arrest."

"Reasonable grounds?" Cosette asked.

"He needs evidence that can stand up in court. It can't just be he doesn't like the look of you."

"So you're saying it's illegal? They can't do this? You're absolutely sure?" Cosette could feel the blood rushing in her ears. She was angrier than she had been in a long time.

"Trust me, kid, I'm deeply acquainted with police harassment."

"Papa, I'm going to the police station. I'll see you back at the community center."

"Cosette, wait—"

She had already started running down the hill.

She arrived at the police station out of breath and full of determination. She walked in to see Inspector Javert, infamous in Berwyn, behind the counter.

He gave her a curt look. "Can I help you?"'

"I am here to demand the release of the miners immediately."

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow. Cosette felt her courage waver, but it was too late to back out now.

"I mean," she swallowed, "I am here to demand the release of the miners as there are no reasonable grounds to arrest them."

"And what if I don't?"

"I will," she faltered, she hadn't thought this far. She quickly looked around, hoping for inspiration, when she noticed a newspaper on the counter. "I will  tell the press! Yes! I will tell them that the Dulais Valley police precinct is illegally detaining miners to undermine the strike's efforts and how as inspector, you are well aware of this and even encourage it."

Inspector Javert looked a little taken aback, like he hadn't expected her to come up with an answer.

An hour later, all the miners were released. She would never tell Enjolras, but she felt just as cool as Princess Di.

As with most days after work, the community center filled up with people ready for a pint. Cosette had joined Enjolras and her papa, excited to celebrate her little victory. But once inside, the women of the committee had whisked her away to help prep the ingredients for the meal tomorrow. She was bored out of her mind, on her second bowl of potatoes-to-peel, the ladies rehashing the same gossip they'd rehashed yesterday.

"Well, I know it's so sad her son turned out to be a scab but, at least he's not, one of them homosexuals," said Glynis, the head of the women's committee, and a pest in Cosette's mind.

"Tell me about it," Elin, Glynis' best friend and fellow pest said. "I can't believe they'll actually be here for the community day tomorrow. What about the children? Think of the bad influence on them."

Cosette whipped around to face them. "Actually, they've raised the funds that paid for this meal. And believe it or not, most of Berwyn has no issue with their presence." This was a lie.

"Oh really?" Glynis gave her a disbelieving look.

"Yes. I know they are out there, mingling and celebrating the release." Internally, she cringed. Why did she say that? She knew the chances of that happening were really small.

"Oh yeah?" Elin scoffed.

"I'll show you." She opened the kitchen door, really hoping for a miracle, and gestured to the main hall.

"Oh yeah. Totally mingling." The women laughed.

Cosette turned and saw that there was a pretty clear demarcation between LGSM and the miners, with the miners by the bar and LGSM standing opposite them. She felt her face get hot with embarrassment.

"I'll be right back." She stomped towards Enjolras, who she could make out at the edge of the miners, the whole group laughing at something.

"Enjolras! Enjolras!" she motioned to him, grabbing his attention as well as that of his friends, Feuilly and Bahorel.

"What?"

"You have to go hang out with LGSM, " she said. gesturing behind her.

"What?!"

"Yeah," she was annoyed. "What are you doing here? Go hang out with them."

"Uh," he scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Won't we do that tomorrow?"

"Enj." She gave him a look. "Seriously? They are our guests. and we need to treat them as such," she crossed her arms. Enjolras could also be a pest when he wanted to.

"I mean, I just, I don't want them to get the wrong idea you know."

'Enjolras. you might be a catch for Berwyn women, but I am certain they all turn down more beautiful men than you on the regular so, chop chop!"

At this Feuilly and Bahorel snickered, as Enjolras got red in the face.

"Cosette, stop please."

"They are literally the ones that freed you tonight. You wouldn't be here without them."

"What do you mean? You were the one who got us out, not them."

"Well yes, but," Cosette hated to admit she didn't come up with the idea. "They were the ones who told me what to say."

Bahorel took a step forward. "I'll go."

"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" Feuilly asked. He was probably thinking the same thing as Cosette: Bahorel was a gentle giant, but a giant nonetheless. Most strangers felt intimidated by him, and they really needed to foster this relationship. She wasn't sure how Bahorel felt about the whole homosexuality thing, but she hoped for LGSM's sake he was cool with it. Only Grantaire looked maybe strong enough to take Bahorel in a fight.

"Yeah fuck it, I'll go."

He walked towards LGSM, his big work boots stomping on the ground. Cosette followed right behind with Feuilly, and Enjolras reluctantly in the back.

"Are you the gays?" Bahorel asked, voice gruff.

Courfeyac turned from his conversation with Marius, and stood up in front of Bahorel. He was barely taller than Bahorel's shoulders. "Yes that's us, is there a problem?" He looked around at the four of them.

"You told Cosette what to tell Javert?" Bahorel asked, pointing a thumb at her.

"Uh yeah, yeah, well Grantaire was the one who—"

Bahorel shook his hand, breaking into a radiant smile. "Thank you, butty. Let me offer you all a pint."

Courfeyrac shook his hand, and the tension broke immediately, with many of them laughing in relief. Cosette was proud of herself. Honestly, where would the committee be without her? She smoothed her sweater, and turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Wait," Eponine's hand grabbed her arm. "You should stay and celebrate. You were the one who got them out."

Cosette blushed. "I really can't take credit. I couldn't have done it without Grantaire."

"Sure but, you were the one who told the police and got them to release them. And from what I've heard that Javert is a real pain in the ass."

"Uh, there are still many potatoes to peel?" She hadn't wanted that to sound like a question, but something about Eponine's words struck her.

Eponine gave her a look. "Stay."

So she stayed.

It was the most fun she had in a long time.

Cosette had always struggled feeling like she fit in anywhere, but hanging out with LGSM she felt so comfortable.

There was Enjolras, talking with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly, about different methods of fundraising and the intricacies of the strike. There was Bahorel and Grantaire, laughing like old friends. Joly and a confused Marius were in deep conversation with a miner about the medical implications of mining, while Bossuet and Muschietta were talking with a couple of miners about beer differences between Wales and London.

And Cosette? Cosette was happily sitting with Jehan and Eponine, talking about nothing and everything. She had not expected to mesh so well with gay people. She learned Jehan worked at a bookshop, where LGSM met up. Eponine had met Jehan through Grantaire, who had been her best friend since she was twelve, the same age Cosette was when Enjolras moved in with her. She told them about life in Wales, and they in turn regaled her with stories of London. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Grantaire and Bahorel sit next to Enjolras to join in the conversation on ways to improve LGSM's reach. She couldn't help but notice that Enjolras seemed flustered around LGSM, a direct contradiction to his usual blunt and confident manner. She hoped that whatever it was, he could get over it. She was having so much fun, and it would suck if he did something that pushed LGSM away.

'Okay children," Valjean said as they entered their house, "it's bedtime for this old man. Great job today to the both of you, you make me proud."

"Goodnight papa," Cosette smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek, moving to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. She could hear Enjolras and her papa say goodnight in the foyer, but only one set of steps going up to the second floor. Curious, she walked back to the hallway, catching a glimpse of Enjolras entering the living room.

"Okay, what's gotten into you today?" Cosette said, following him.

"Nothing." Enjolras turned to look at her, a frown on his face.

"Then what are you frowning about?"

Enjolras' frown deepened. "I'm not frowning."

Cosette gave him a pointed look, trying not to giggle. Many often considered her cousin to be cold and scary, but right now he looked just like he had at fifteen, having to share a bathroom with her.

He sighed, flopping on the couch. "I'm just. I'm just frustrated with him."

"At Inspector Javert?"

He scoffed, "Okay yes. When am I not? But right now there is someone else who has me even more frustrated."

"Oh? Do tell." She sat next to him.

Enjolras groaned. "I just feel frustrated by that one guy, with the brown eyes and scruffy beard and paint-splattered clothes."

"You mean, R?" Enjolras could be quick to find fault in others, even those he had just met. 

"Yes! He is just so ughh!! And what sort of name is R? Why can't he just go by his full name like the rest of us. Why does he have to choose a stupid pun."

"Aw, you've got to admit it's kinda funny. Also, I thought I saw you two talking? Was it bad? What did he say?"

"He's just so frustrating! He clearly doesn't think that any of this is going to work so why is he here wasting our time?"

"I'm sorry," Cosette said gently, feeling bad for teasing her cousin.

"It's nothing." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just… I am thankful you got us out, but we shouldn't have to wait for some sort of city… gay to come rescue us. If they are taking advantage of us like this, what other ways could they be doing that? We cannot let them continue to step all over us. We have to, we have to find a way to spread this information with the other miners, who knows how many others are being held against their rights."

Cosette sighed, sinking further into the couch. "Yeah, you're right."

A silence enveloped them. Cosette could feel her happiness from earlier in the day disappear. She couldn't tell if something else was gnawing at Enjolras' mind, or if he truly was this angry at what happened. She couldn't deny she also felt angry at being played by the cops, and how faraway a resolution to the strike felt. She hated how powerless she felt.

"Cosette, listen," Enjolras sat up suddenly, eyes full of conviction. "You can't tell my uncle but, once this is over, I have to go. I'm going to go and study law, and I will come back and bring all that knowledge so no one can fuck us over anymore. It won't take more than a couple of years, and you two will be fine without me, I'm sure."

"Of course, yeah. We would be."

Cosette looked away, tears forming in her eyes. She hoped Enjolras would think it was because she would theoretically miss him, and not from the hurt that she wouldn't be included in his plans. That he couldn't see she too was dying to get out. Once more she felt like he could only see her as the annoying and awkward twelve-year old she was when they met.

Envy was starting to feel like a life-long friend.

Chapter Text

Enjolras woke with a start.

He had accidentally fallen asleep at his desk, spending most of the night trying to make a plan to move to London to study. He had tried calculating how much money he would need to save, but it was hard to figure out when the strike had no end-date in sight. He had then pivoted to figuring out alternatives to raise money, but kept coming up short, until he had apparently fallen asleep.

He looked at the clock. It was 11 A.M. Shit. He was running late for the community day at the center.

Enjolras rushed to get ready, grabbing an apple on his way out. Cosette and his uncle were already gone, had probably left at 8 A.M. as Enjolras was supposed to. Thankfully, Berwyn was not very big. The community center was just a street over, no more than 10 minutes walking.

He arrived at the center feeling flustered, and was surprised to see that LGSM was already there. Most of them were gathered around the tables, creating packages of canned goods and other essentials for mining families. Jehan was by the stage, not really playing with children as much as the children were playing him. His long hair was getting braided by two little girls, as some boys showed off their action figures. Near Jehan was his uncle and Combeferre, deep in conversation.

As Enjolras walked towards his uncle, he spotted Grantaire and Cosette in the kitchen. They were laughing alongside Sister Simplice and Mme. Hucheloup, the committee member in charge of cooking.

Enjolras frowned. He had never made Mme. Hucheloup laugh. No one he knew had ever made Mme. Hucheloup laugh. She was a strict woman, with a birdlike face and a constant frown. Her smiles were reserved for particularly good meals. When it came to the kitchen, Mme. Hucheloup ran a tight ship where no one could even dream to live up to her standards. Cosette could do a spot-on impression of her in the kitchen, red in the face and waving a spatula around. 

Cosette noticed him and waved him over. "Enjolras! Hi!"

He approached hesitantly. "Hey, sorry I'm late. I'm going to check in with my uncle to see where he needs me."

"Hey man, it's cool. It's tiring saving the world," Grantaire said, a devilish smile on his face.

Enjolras blushed. "That's not—" he tried saying, but Mme. Hucheloup's booming laughter rang over it.

"Oh, you are wonderful, Grantaire," she said. "Enjolras, Thank you for bringing this amazing man here. He cooks like no other!"

Enjolras felt his blush getting stronger.

"Uhh, haha, no problem, but I really have to get to my uncle now. " he said as he turned to leave, but by then Grantaire was making Mme. Hucheloup laugh once more.

Mme. Hucheloup was right: Grantaire was an amazing cook. At least, according to everyone else, who kept praising the lunch. It was very annoying. Enjolras had yet to eat, as he was running around helping with the community day and packing parcels, so he couldn't actually say. But it was annoying. There was something smug about Grantaire, and his beautiful brown eyes— no wait. What was he saying? There was nothing remarkable about Grantaire's eyes nor the thick lashes framing them.

He desperately needed to sleep.

"Enjolras," Combeferre called, startling him out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a second?"

Enjolras put down the can of beans he'd been holding absentmindedly for a few minutes. "What's up?"

"I know we talked yesterday about the next steps for LGSM, and I ran some numbers and wanted to update you."

"Oh sure, follow me." Enjolras walked over to an empty table where Combeferre could set down his papers and calculator.

"Well," Combeferre adjusted his glasses, "it seems that most of what we made was at the bar when you spoke, a close second being from the buckets at Jehan's bookstore. But it seems that we didn't do as well when we would stand on street corners with our buckets. So we will continue with the buckets at the bookstore, but we need to rethink our corner strategy." Combeferre pulled out a map of London."Maybe if we tried different areas? We've been mostly hitting the area around the bookstore, since it's close to the university. But maybe if we went further out…"

Enjolras frowned. "Do you think that would be helpful? I would fear that…" he hesitated. He wasn't sure how to say this, "maybe it would be more helpful to change the name, so as to get a wider array of people donating."

Combeferre looked at Enjolras. "I understand where you're coming from, but Courfeyrac and I are adamant that the name must stay. It would have been easier to just change it and go through the N.U.M., but we do not want to hide who we are. We are proud to be gay and we are proud to support the miners, and those two things should be able to coexist, rather than negate one another. "

"Right. Makes sense." Enjolras couldn't even fathom what it would feel like to be proud of oneself.

Combeferre smiled gently. "In all honesty, I think what would be most helpful is if you joined us again. Your speech was quite captivating, and I fear that we won't be able to bring that much money again with our current methods."

Was this an invitation? And if so, for how long? Could this be his way to London to study?

Enjolras felt like he was approaching a stray kitten. One wrong move, and his dreams would run away. He had to tread carefully; London was so close yet so far away.

"When I spoke at the bar," Enjolras said, testing the waters, "many people said after that they had no idea why miners were even striking. Maybe if we found a way to educate people on why money is needed and why we are striking?"

Combeferre's eyes brightened. "Oh, that's actually a great thought. I'll bring it up to LGSM in our next meeting, in case anyone has any ideas to implement this. And if you do come stay with us, then you could help by giving more speeches."

Enjolras was vibrating with possibility. An extended time in London, helping spread information on the strike. Raising funds, doing something tangible with immediate results for his town.

But then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his aging uncle talking with a miner and his wife, and he felt the sudden realization of what this would mean.

"Combeferre, I would love to, but I'm not sure if I can. I would have to talk to my uncle first. He— the pit might need me here."

"Of course. I totally understand, you have a duty to your people. But if you ever have the chance, please don't hesitate to join us. And we will keep you in conversation about how to best spread information on the strike."

"I would really like that."

Combeferre smiled warmly at him.

The day continued on without a hitch until dinner was served.

It was customary for a representative of the invited group to say some words and a prayer before people dug in to dinner. In this case, it seemed that Courfeyrac would be the one to speak, as no one else from LGSM seemed eager to do so.

Back in London, Enjolras had envied the ease with which Courfeyrac walked into any room. He was charming and magnetic, fun and outgoing. Both men and women flocked to him at every turn.

Enjolras knew that people also felt drawn to him, but it often felt like there was a distance between him and others. In many ways, he was still an outsider in Berwyn; it was rare for people to move to such a small town, only one couple having done so in the ten years he had lived there. He'd only shaken off the 'new kid' label at school when he'd hit a football through the headmaster's office window. He had claimed it was an accident, but really, it was out of anger at the lack of sexual education for girls in the school.

It led to a week of detention and to newfound appreciation and respect from his classmates, who all hated the headmaster. This respect had followed him when he started mining, quickly rising in the ranks, and into the strike, where his commanding voice and his passion for labor rights had made him pivotal in influencing the younger miners to join the strike.

An old classmate of his had once said that he was fearsome— that it was hard not to follow his orders. Enjolras didn't really care to be followed, but if that is what it took for equality to be achieved, then so be it. But seeing Courfeyerac's charisma, it made Enjolras feel like maybe he was going at this leadership thing wrong.

But now, seeing Courfeyrac try to make a speech at the community center, well, it reinforced the fact that nobody was perfect.

He had gotten up on the stage with the same pep in his step he had when he got on the stage at the Corinthe, but things took a quick turn.

"Hello lovely people of Berwyn! Thank you for inviting us over. I won't lie, I'm a little intimidated— Enjolras here made a lovely speech back in London and he's a tough act to follow. I should've brought my high heels and danced to Cher."

Crickets.

From there, it was all downhill. But perhaps the lowest point was when he suggested that one in five people were gay, meaning that one in five miners were gay. That caused a stir between the audience, and some people even left the community center altogether. Enjolras felt his face get hot. Why did Courfeyrac make that statistic up? Enjolras could not even imagine any of his fellow miners as gay. They all were normal, dating and getting married to local girls.

Courfeyrac got down from the stage immediately after, not even attempting the prayer, the band starting right up to fill the awkward silence. From where he sat, Enjolras could see Combeferre patting him on the back, and Grantaire saying something that made Courfeyrac laugh and Marius blush.

Yet despite Courfeyrac's failed attempt, most people stayed at the community center to enjoy the rest of the evening.

As part of the committee, Enjolras was sat at the table with LGSM. He felt a little self-conscious every time people would stop by to thank them for their donations. He was really enjoying their company, and wanted nothing more than to go to London with them. But under the watchful eye of his neighbors, he felt hesitant. He wished he could explain why he was sitting with LGSM, explain that he wouldn't have chosen that seat otherwise. But wouldn't he have? Enjolras was always trying his hardest to stick up for the little guy. He tried to live his life with a focus on equality, being welcoming of everyone. And he enjoyed LGSM's company. But something about being seated with them just gave him pause.

Dinner ended, but most people stayed and mingled, taking advantage of the discounted bar. Kids ran around, couples danced, and laughter rang throughout the center.

Enjolras was half-listening to Feuilly recount their school days to Joly and Bossuet, when Courfeyrac came from behind and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Oh man, oh man," he started as Feuilly and Enjolras shifted so he could sit at their bench, "I fucked up bad, didn't I." He took a swig of his beer.

"Uh well…" Feuilly trailed off.

"It could have gone better," Enjolras said, making Courfeyrac laugh.

"Yeah, no kidding. Who knew miners were such a tough crowd. By the way, Combeferre told me about your idea to educate people. I think it's great!"

"Oh, thank you," Enjolras could feel Feuilly's eyes on him. He wondered what he was thinking.

"Yeah, and it solves some of the issues LGSM members had brought up about keeping the strike relevant in people's minds. And I agree with him, you should totally come and help us out. We could do like a bar tour and have you speak at different venues."

"Are you sure? I mean, you know the people more, so maybe it would be easier if you did it?"

"Well—yes, but you just witnessed the extent of my speaking skills under pressure and no rehearsal. You had zero prep time and wowed everyone at the bar."

Enjolras could feel himself blush. "Well, I don't know, I need to talk to my uncle first. Like I told Combeferre, I would love to, but I have a responsibility here."

Just then, he noticed his uncle walking towards them.

"Hey son," Valjean said, "I will be heading out soon with Cosette. Do you need anything before I leave? Do you have your key?"

Before Enjolras could answer, Courfeyrac stood up and started talking, "Sir, if I could interject for a second," he looked like a child about to ask his parents for a puppy for Christmas. "We at LGSM had been talking about the possibility of maybe Enjolras coming with us to London, to help raise funds for the committee. And sir, you don't have to answer now, you can take your time to decide, but do you think it would be okay if Enjolras came with us? We want to be considerate of his duty here at Berwyn."

Valjean gave him a funny look. "His duty?"

"Yes, his duty as committee member and to you. We want to be respectful of that."

Valjean laughed. "Of course. I'd forgotten he owes me a dish duty shift. When would you need him by? And for how long?"

"I mean, we will be available as soon as tomorrow if somehow that could work. And we'll have him for as long as he can join, again, being respectful of his time."

"Well, what do you think, son?"

Both Valjean and Courfeyrac turned to look at Enjolras.

It was soon, too soon. And while it wasn't like he had much to pack, he wasn't sure if he could do it overnight. But then again, what if this was his only chance? He swallowed.

"Tomorrow? I could be ready, I think."

"Well then, you have my blessing, as long as he comes back every so often to do his dish duty." Valjean smiled.

"Amazing! Thank you sir." Courfeyrac looked ready to hug Valjean. "I'm going to grab us more beers to celebrate." Courfeyrac headed towards the bar.

Enjolras said goodnight to his uncle, and turned back to the table where Feuilly beamed at him. He patted him on the back, congratulating him, and the others joined in celebration. Enjolras could not wrap his mind around the fact that his uncle said yes, and that he was set to leave for London tomorrow. He was sure his uncle would say no. He smiled back, but it felt distant.

Two beers later, Enjolras quietly slipped away from the bustle.

He felt conflicted.

He felt conflicted that he felt conflicted.

He sat at the curb, a little to the side of the community center's front door, and lit up a cigarette.

All day he felt he was in a rollercoaster going between the possibility of leaving and the reality of staying. And now the rollercoaster was over, but the vertigo stayed.

He should be overjoyed at getting his dream opportunity, but he couldn't help but come up with shortcomings. He knew he should be grateful, but it felt wrong that he was able to get this opportunity just like that, without the chance to sacrifice all that he thought he would need to. How would he show he was worthy of this if he hadn't had the opportunity to prove himself? It felt fake to think that good things could just happen like that. Who was he to deserve this chance?

He crushed the cigarette butt and looked back towards the community center. A figure was approaching. It was Grantaire.

Enjolras sighed internally, lighting another cigarette. He didn't really feel like talking, much less with Grantaire who had flawlessly waltzed into his life. He still felt angry that Grantaire had known what to do about the police harassment and he hadn't. Not to mention how he had charmed half of Berwyn in a mere 24 hours, but had failed to do anything but poke fun at Enjolras and the miners' attempt for justice. He just seemed so carefree, it frustrated Enjolras to no end, especially now when he felt so confused.

He sat next to him, pulling out a cigarette. Wordlessly, a resigned Enjolras offered him his lighter.

They sat in silence, smoking for a few minutes before Enjolras broke the silence, unable to keep it in anymore.

"Why are you here if you don't care about this?" Enjolras asked, flinching at the sound of his own voice. He sounded harsher than he meant to, but Grantaire didn't seem to notice or mind.

"I didn't say I didn't care," Grantaire smiled coyly, flicking a look at Enjolras.

"But you clearly don't believe that any of this will be worth it. You said so at the Corinthe."

"That's not what I said— I said that people would forget about this," Grantaire gestured around.

Enjolras frowned. "You honestly can't believe that. The strike has been going on strong for six months."

"Uh, yeah. And support has clearly waned. Do you seriously think you will change Thatcher's mind? She's made it up. The pits will close because it's what fits her capitalist agenda best. You're just bleeding yourself dry by striking instead of making what leftover wages you would have."

Enjolras scoffed. "Okay, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make our voices heard and fight for what is right. And isn't that a bigger reason to help us out? The fact that we will be without a job and that she's drying us out?"

Grantaire laughed. "Sure, that's why I'm here. Just trying to delay all the miners signing up for unemployment, so that you don't hog all the money from us real unemployed people."

Enjolras felt himself smile against his will, although he felt confused. Why would Grantaire spend his time devoted to a cause he didn't care about instead of searching for a job?

"But really, why did you end up joining LGSM?" he pressed. "Is the job search really that bad?"

Grantaire laughed again, loud and joyful. "Eponine, you know the one with the spiky hair?" Enjolras nodded. "She basically strong-armed me into it. And it's not like I would rather get a job. I'm an artist, so I'd rather focus on that, and if money gets tight I can help Jehan in the bookstore or sign up for a boxing match. I mean, don't get it twisted, I haven't been doing this for long. The first meeting I went to was actually the one you showed up for, and then when this trip came up they needed a driver so…" He shrugged. "I'm here now."

"Oh." Enjolras couldn't wrap his mind around Grantaire. Part of him wanted to continue pressing him on his views, and work to change them, but this new information really threw him for a loop. "You're an artist? Like, painting?"

"Yeah, I paint. Nothing too exciting. Every so often I'll try my hands in ceramics, or I'll help Marius with his photography, but paint is my specialty."

"That's pretty impressive," Enjolras said.

Grantaire waved him off. "It's not, really. It's just a fun past-time."

"Well, I don't have an artistic bone in my body, so it all sounds impressive to me."

"Oh come on, what about dancing?" Grantaire wiggled his eyebrows.

Enjolras laughed. "Uh, look around. The only place to dance is the community center and they only play love ballads."

"Oof that's tough. So you're telling me no Wham!? Culture Club? Bananarama?"

"Yeah no. We are lucky if we hear anything from the past decade. The first time I heard Wham! was at the Corinthe."

Grantaire laughed, Enjolras smiled. Maybe it was all the beer he'd had, but he could see why the people were charmed by Grantaire. He felt the need to keep him laughing.

"Well," Grantaire said, "that music is not all it's cracked up to be. You aren't missing out on much."

"Oh yeah?" Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "What do you listen to?"

"Mostly The Smiths, The Cure, some Violent Femmes, and I recently fell in love with Siouxsie and the Banshees…" he trailed off. "What about you?"

Enjolras hesitated, trying to think about what music he liked. He never really paid much attention to what was playing, he was too busy for that.

"The... Beatles?"

Grantaire gave him a look. "Really?"

Enjolras blushed. "To be honest, I don't really know much about music. Most of what I hear is on the radio to and from the pit, and a couple of records that either my uncle or Cosette own."

"Oh, so that explains why you have old man tastes."

Enjolras laughed, a deep belly laugh that caught him by surprise. It had been so long since he'd laughed like that.

He suddenly became aware of how close Grantaire was, how easily he could reach out and brush a mischievous curl into place. He felt magnetized by his eyes, two black holes swallowing him whole. There was a fluttering in his chest, like a bomb threatening to detonate. He licked his lips, swallowed. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely.

Grantaire leant in, and gently kissed him.

It hadn't caught Enjolras by surprise inasmuch as he was just thinking about kissing Grantaire, but, like the chance to go to London, he never expected it to happen.

Enjolras quickly stood up, bewildered, and looked around desperately.

His eyes landed on Grantaire, who was looking up at him in surprise. He stood up slowly, like if he were approaching a lost kitty or a rabid animal.

"Hey kid, I'm s—"

Before he could stop himself, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's cheeks and rushed to kiss him, noses bumping, teeth clanking.

It was passionate and it was angry and for a brief second it was perfect until Grantaire backed off, or maybe he backed off, he wasn't sure. He felt dizzy. He felt nauseous. He thought he heard Grantaire say something, but all he could hear was his heart pumping. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt, he felt, he felt, he didn't know.

He slid down the wall trying to regain his balance.

whatdidhedowhatdidhedowhydidhedothat anyone could have seen anyone could say something anyone—

He's not sure how much, if any, time has passed when Grantaire crouched down beside him, a funny look in his eyes.

"Listen, you don't have to worry about it. I won't say anything."

Grantaire stood to leave, leaving Enjolras behind, still trying to catch his breath.

Enjolras' mind was still reeling by the time he got back to his house. He felt ill. His body couldn't decide if he was sober or drunk as he stumbled up the stairs to his room, when he heard a voice calling his name from the living room.

It was his uncle. Enjolras approached him slowly. He looked shaken, like he sometimes did when he had been thinking about Enjolras' mom, his dead sister. He took Enjolras' hands in his own.

"You know I love you, right? And I will always love you, no matter what?"

Enjolras blinked, trying to keep his panic down. Was it possible his uncle had noticed his… conversation with Grantaire? And if his uncle saw, who else saw?

"Uh—”

"I just don't want you to ever stop being yourself because of me. I know I can be strict, and a bit reserved, but I am never trying to clip your wings, I just want the best for you and for Cosette."

What was his uncle trying to say? Was this some sort of fucked-up way of telling him he loved him despite being gay? Fuck. Would he try to stop him from going to London? He could feel his breathing go faster. God, would he really lose it all over a stupid kiss? He had to say something, but what? Before he could come up with something coherent, his uncle sighed, and stood up.

"Pah, don't mind this old man. I'm just struggling to believe you've both grown up." He hugged Enjolras, patting his back. "Get some sleep, son. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Enjolras just stood in the living room, trying to wrap his mind around the day's events.