Hi guys! I got another one-shot for you, although I might expand it if people like the idea and when I've finished my other multi-chap fic 'The weakness of being fine'. It's again slightly AU and a bit darker than my other fics, set some time before the revolution.
They told him not to go there. Not in that part of Paris. Not alone. But of course, he would not listen. Convinced that even in the darkest corners of the city, people needed to hear about the revolution, he had dismissed his friends' objections. Or rather, he had promised them he wouldn't go there. And yet, here he was, stack of pamphlets in his hand, walking firmly through the streets.
"It is daylight, what on earth could possibly happen?" he thought to himself, trying to convince himself, although he felt a feeling of discomfort crep up on him as soon as the streets grew emptier and the atmosphere turned murkier.
He made sure the few people he did encounter, got themselves a pamphlet and some of his encouraging words. "We give demonstrations every week and we meet every day at Café Musain", he told them, hoping to get himself some new recruits.
After only little more than an hour however, he gave up. There was hardly anyone showing him any interest and most of them even seemed afraid of him.
Sighing he turned around and started to make his way back to the café. Halfway the journey home he had the uneasy feeling he was being followed and yet, every time he turned around, he saw nothing. He kept a firm hand on his knive however, just in case. "Stop being paranoid", he told himself sternly, "Just keep walking."
A few minutes later however he heard noises. Kissing noises, right behind him. He spinned on his feet and was met by a solid fist, smashing his jaw. Shocked, he stumbled a few feet back, blinking fast, willing the stars he saw away. He recollected himself however and was prepared for the second punch his attacker tried to throw at him. He ducked aside and dug his knive deep into the strangers' shoulder.
The man growled and then chuckled darkly. "Pretty boy knows his moves", he purred mockingly.
Enjolras breathed heavily, keeping his distance from the man and raising his knive. "Stay away from me", he said, not nearly sounding as convincing as he had hoped.
The man only grinned his evil grin and lunged forward again. The minute Enjolras tried to block his movement however, he felt both his armes being yanked back with force. He couln't help but let out a surprised shout.
He struggled, but it was no use. The man holding him was strong and didn't loosen his grip. The other man walked right up to him, his face only inches from Enjolras'. "What is a pretty boy such as yourself doing here?", he asked.
Enjolras looked right at him, refusing to cast down his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He felt the pamphlets being yanked out of his hands. "Well, well, well, we've got ourself a revolutionary Antoine", the man chuckled.
"Fiery little lad, aren't you", the man behind him, Antoine apparently, breathed in his ear.
"Well monsieur 'I fight for the people', you just got yourself in all kinds of trouble."
Enjolras just kept looking at the man in front of him. Refusing to show any sign of fear. Inside, his mind was racing however. He cursed himself for not listening to his friends. He thought of any possible escape attempts, but the arms of the man behind him felt like lead and he knew he wouldn't be able to pry himself loose.
"Cat caught you're tongue, pretty boy? Or do you not deem us worthy to talk to?". He felt a hand stroke his hair and he could almost taste the foul smell the man was producing.
When the man reached out and pressed his body against Enjolras', he lost his cool however. "Get the hell away from me if you know what's good for you, you filthy streetrat", he snapped.
"Oh my, a dirty mouth Louis, this is going to be fun!", Antoine laughed.
The man in front of him, Louis, didn't back off but only pressed against him harder, caressing his body with his hands. Enjolras breathing sped up, his heart beating so loud he was surprised the man couldn't hear it. "This can't be happening", he thought.
When a hand slipped under his vest, he closed his eyes in disgust, trying to kick the man away with his legs, but it was no use. They were strong, and even though Enjolras could put up quite the fight, he was no match for them both.
"We are going to enjoy this, pretty boy. Taking all the time we need."
Enjolras remained quiet, but kept struggling. He refused to make this easy for them. As soon as they had rid him of his vest and shirt and had him pressed against the wall however, his mind seemed to comprehend what was about to happen. And his mask faltered.
"Don't do this. Please, you don't want to do this", he said brokenly.
"I think we do", one of them purred against his ear.
Enjolras felt himself shake with fear, hating himself for it, but praying someone would come, would save him.
Just as Antoine started with his trousers he heard someone shout. "Hey! Hey, what the hell's going on over here."
Both of the other man were surprised by this sudden interruption and Enjolras felt their grip loosen. Not thinking twice, he took his chance and started fighting with all his might to get free.
Everything happened very fast after that. The unkown man had joined the fight, pulling Louis and Antoine away from him. He was strong. Stronger than any man Enjolras had ever seen. He was no match for the other two and they were soon backing away, fear evident on their faces and then they ran.
The unknown man turned around facing Enjolras, who was still trembling and trying to realize what the hell had happened just know, how close he came to being violated, how frightened he had been. Still was.
"Are you hurt?", the man asked.
Enjolras looked up, backing away slowly.
"Don't fear me boy, I am not going to hurt you", the man said. "My name is monsieur Fauchelevent."
Enjolras didn't say anything, he was still in too much of a shock.
Mr. Fauchelevent then reached down and picked up Enjolras' vest and shirt. He handed them over.
Enjolras felt himself turn red and he snatched the clothes away from the man, dressing himself as fast as he could.
"What were you doing in a place like this?", Mr. Fauchelevent asked.
Enjolras opened his mouth, but found himself still unable to found any words. He didn't need to, however, since the man catched eye of all the pamphlets spread on the street. He just nodded and looked up again, a compassionate look in his eyes.
"Thank you monsieur", Enjolras finally managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper. He tried to collect himself again, breathing in deeply a few times.
"Are you hurt?", the man asked again.
Enjolras shook his head. "I'm fine", he answered.
Mr. Fauchelevent's look turned sceptical, his eyes filled with disbelieve, something not all that different from Combeferre's look whenever he doubted Enjolras' wellbeing.
He didn't say anything about it however, but instead asked: "What is your name, if I may ask?"
"Enjolras", he answered. The man nodded, having heard the name before.
"Well monsieur Enjolras, I think it would be best to get out of here", he said.
Enjolras nodded. He wanted to get away from this particular place of Paris as soon as possible. His eyes darted around the streets, still feeling quite uncomfortable and not really looking forward to making his way back by himself. He did not, however, consider asking the stranger to accompany him.
Mr. Fauchelevent eyed Enjolras doubtingly. He saw the internal struggle of the boy in front of him. Being obviously scared out of his mind after what had happened, after what could have happened, but on the other hand being to proud to want to show any weakness. He decided to make it easier for him.
"Do you want me to accompany you?", he asked gently.
Enjolras looked up at him and then back at the streets. "No sir, it's not necessary, I can manage my way back", he said hoarsely.
"I have no doubt you can, but I am headed that way anyway and I would feel more comfortable to guide you back to safer places myself", he smiled friendly at the blonde boy, for that was all he still was, a boy. Hardly any older than his daughter.
Enjolras didn't say anything but instead just nodded shortly. Inside he couldn't feel more relieved.
They did not speak during the journey back. Enjolras was too preoccupied with overthinking what had happened. He felt ashamed and uncertain of himself. And above all he felt stupid. Because that was what he had been. He should have listened to his friends.
Mr. Fauchelevent knew better than to press the boy with questions.
As soon as they arrived at the Café, another boy came running towards them.
"Enjolras, where the hell have you been? What happened?", he shouted, noticing the bruises and his pale face.
Enjolras seemed to have completely hid behind a mask of marble again. "I'm fine Courfeyrac, don't worry", he smiled, "This here is just a result of my own clumsiness. I tripped, that's all."
He felt Mr. Fauchelevents look of disbelief burn in his back and prayed he would stay silent.
Courfeyrac couln't help but laugh. "You? Clumsy? I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around Enjolras' shoulders.
Enjolras couldn't help but flinch, but only Mr. Fauchelevent seemed to notice.
The blonde revolutionary turned around, looking at Mr. Fauchelevent. "Thank you monsieur, for your help".
He looked at the man a second longer, silently nodding his gratitude again and then disappeared with Courfeyrac inside the café.
Mr. Fauchelevent looked after him. The boy was obviously nowhere near fine, looking still very shaken. He wondered if he should say anything to him, to his friends, but then decided against it. It was not his place. Enjolras obviously did not want his friends to know what had happened.
He sighed and silently prayed for the boy, before turning around and making his way home. He had a strange feeling, they would meet again some day.
So there you have it. As I said, I have ideas for expanding this story, but I don't know if you like it and I first want to finish my other story. I do hope you liked this one though! Let me know :)