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Enjolras climbed the stairs to the roof of the apartment complex, ready to go. However, when he reached the top, there was a girl standing by the railing, looking prepared to jump. He wished she wasn’t there, both because he felt a duty to help her, and because he wanted to jump himself.
He decided he had to save this girl and shouted, “Hey! Please, don’t jump!”
The girl’s head whipped around and one of her braids hit her face. “W-what?”
“Don’t jump.” Enjolras sat down on a bench, motioning for the girl to sit next to him. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
The girl sighed. “Well, there’s this boy I like. His name is Marius. But…he doesn’t like me back. He likes Cosette. I don’t know why, but I love him so much, and I don’t know why he can’t love me.” The girl began crying.
That’s it? Seriously? “Hey, shhh.” Enjolras tried his best to sound caring. “It’s…it’s okay. There’s someone I like too and I don’t know if they like me back.” He paused. “What’s your name?”
“Eponine…”
“Well, Eponine, if Marius doesn’t like you, he’s missing out. You are a lovely girl and you’re going to find someone you love even more than Marius who will love you just as much in return.”
The girl sniffled. “Promise?”
“Promise,” he smiled.
Eponine hugged Enjolras tightly. “Thank you for listening,” she whispered. “No one ever does.” After that, she left, and Enjolras was alone on the roof. He sighed. He would live another day.
For Eponine.
-
The next day, Enjolras climbed to the roof again, this time finding a short boy at the edge. His shoulders shook and he was about to jump off. Enjolras again felt some sense of protectiveness for this boy and shouted, “Hey! Don’t do it, Please!”
The boy’s shoulders stilled. “Go away,” he said, not looking behind him.
Enjolras approached the boy. “What’s your name?”
The boy hesitated, before saying flatly, “Gavroche.”
“Why were you going to do it?”
“No one likes me. I just don’t fit in with anyone. I don’t have any friends and everyone’s mean to me.”
Are you kidding? Cry me a river, Enjolras thought. Maybe he was terrible, but instead of voicing his thoughts, he tried to comfort the boy. “Do you have a family?”
The boy nodded.
“At least you have them. At least you have a meal to eat everyday. There are people that love you. Listen to them instead of the others.”
“I’m hungry,” the boy mumbled, standing to leave.
Once again, Enjolras was alone with a choice. He’d live another day.
For Gavroche.
-
Everyday, he returned to the roof, and every day, someone new would be standing there, prepared to end their life. Every day, Enjolras would convince them to walk away, and he would to. He would live another day.
For Combeferre.
For Courfeyrac.
For Feuilly and Joly
For Jean Prouvaire and Bahorel and Bossuet.
Each of them had their reasons for coming to the rooftop, and each of them told Enjolras their pains. He would comfort them and live for them.
He’d live another day, for each of them.
-
Enjolras climbed to the rooftop, hoping today he would finally be able to end his suffering. No such luck, he sighed, spotting a dark-haired man in a cardigan standing by the railing. He must’ve heard Enjolras coming, because he turned to look behind him. Enjolras blushed.
It was Grantaire.
“Hey! Please don’t jump!” Enjolras shouted.
“Why not?” His friend asked. “It’s not like I’ll ever amount to anything. You said so yourself.”
He had done that. Oh, god, this was his fault! “I didn’t mean it, R! Please, please, don’t jump.”
“Why not?” Grantaire repeated. “Why do you even care? No one likes me, not even you, so give me one reason I shouldn’t jump.”
“Because I love you!” Why did he just say that? What the hell was wrong with him?
“What?”
Enjolras rushed to his friend’s side. “I love you. Don’t jump. If you jump…I—” He was crying. Why the hell was he crying?
Grantaire embraced him, allowing his friend to sob into his shoulder. When Enjolras was done, Grantaire took his face in his hands and wiped the remaining tears from his face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I thought—thought you’d hate me.” His voice was quiet suddenly, more vulnerable than Grantaire had ever heard it, and the question his friend asked broke his heart. “Do you hate me?”
Without thinking, Grantaire kissed him. It was light and quick and over sooner than either of them would’ve liked it. “I could never hate you,” he said, pressing his forehead to Enjolras’.
Enjolras smiled despite the redness of his face, both from crying and from Grantaire’s unexpected actions. “You’re mine now, R.” He chuckled a bit, and kissed Grantaire’s neck. “My R.”
Enjolras would live another day and the rest of his life.
For his R.