coffee & tv.

Gabriel Enjolras never necessarily believed in miracles, no, but what else could explain what would eventually lead him to her? Perhaps he had let Jehan's preachings of "no coincidences" force itself within the boundaries of his well established skepticism, like an invasive thought, intruding into the high walls of his crumbling kingdom. Whatever the case - miracle, fate, coincidence; Éponine had come into Enjolras' life when he had needed it most, and for that, he was grateful, grateful to whatever had crossed their paths.

Seated towards the back of the tiny yet comfortable and cozy club that was neatly hidden away in its obscurity from the public, Enjolras dragged a hand over his face, tired, looking over the documents on his laptop. Prouvaire hollered loudly next to him as they welcomed the next musician to the little stage, causing the exhausted golden boy to look up towards the commotion. A woman with an acoustic guitar was approaching the mic-stand, a sheepish dimpled smile growing on her face. She coughed, brushed a stray hair out of her face before introducing herself and looked out toward the crowd. "Thanks for that." There was a laugh in her voice. Something probably to do with nerves, Enjolras thought to himself. He'd definitely be nervous if someone were to place him front of a crowd where they most definitely expected you to have the voice of a god or goddess, or anything in-between. Lecturing to hundreds of students? Sure, he was capable. Singing? He'd rather opt out of that one, only the trusty shower knew how he sounded in that regard.

"Name's Éponine, hope you're all enjoying your night. Here's a little something I wrote." With that, the woman with the dimpled smile filled the club with her music; a voice escaping her that made even Enjolras blink to himself, she sounded professional, the likes of which you'd hear on the radio. What was someone with a talent such as that doing in a club that was hidden, known to only hipsters like Jehan? He shook his head and focused back on his work, letting the girl's voice become a lullaby of sorts; it was definitely relaxing, he'd be lying if he were to say it wasn't, his shoulders weren't so tense as they'd been before, and the wrinkled lines on his forehead probably had calmed some. When the song had finished, he looked up toward her again, a half-smile unknowingly pulling at his lips. Éponine smiled at the patrons, looking specifically toward her - he noticed - at a bug eyed blonde who whistled for the singer, and a brunette, small, clapping with the glee of someone who looked as if they still held a childlike view of the world, he was good at picking up these things. He clapped along with them, looking directly at the musician again, she awkwardly stood there for a moment before grabbing her guitar case and rushing off stage, making way for the next.

Little did Enjolras know, that this would become a new routine - get a coffee after work, sit with Jehan at the back of the club, and listen to her whenever she came in. This was solely for finishing work with a clear mind, obviously, there was absolutely no other reasons whatsoever, you'd be mad to even suggest as much. Two weeks into the routine, Éponine looked toward him and Jehan after her song was over, a sort of glint in her eye, and for someone such as Enjolras, who mastered at reading others like a book; he couldn't discern that look in her eye. With a cough, he had broken the stare, looking over the finished exams of his students. Jehan coughed back at him, earning a roll of the eyes from Enjolras. "Would you mind?" Enjolras quipped at the poet, which gave him a nudge of Jehan's arm to his own. "What're you doing right now, Prouvaire? I'm trying to work. I come here with you to work, I could do this at home just as easily." Jehan was now the one to roll his eyes at him, gesturing over to the three women; Éponine and her two friends. Enjolras feigned clueless for a moment, putting on a portrayal as if he had no idea as to why Jehan was not so subtly looking over at the three with the giddiness akin to a schoolboy.

"Don't play dumb with me, Enjolras. You like when that woman sings. You clap! You look to her in awe! It's almost like something out of a play. Romantic, no?" Enjolras simply deadpanned at him in response, letting out a sigh. "Ah, who am I kidding, hm? You know nothing of romance." A grin played out on Jehan's face as he took another sip from his latte, and Enjolras merely furrowed his brows at the man, not wanting a moment of this. Nothing could have prepared him for what was about to unfold, however, as Jehan rose from his seat, walking over to the three women in question. That smug asshole. The entire world could probably see the pure look of horror on Enjolras' face. "Enjolras!" Jehan called out, "Come over, say hi!" He sat with the ladies as if he knew them, and the realisation of the fact he most likely did crashed over him in waves. With the looks aimed toward him, he swallowed up his pride and quickly zipped up his laptop inside the case with a force that was a tad bit too strong, making his way other to the table - a routine that was comfortable for him had suddenly become a nightmare. "Here he is. This my friend with the stick up his arse that I've all been telling you about. 'Ponine, Cosette, Azelma - meet Gabriel Enjolras, he doesn't interact with women all that much; so apologies on his behalf." The small brunette barked with laughter at Jehan's remark, Éponine looking over to her with raised brows and a smile whereas the blonde greeted him with a quiet 'hello', much appreciated over roaring laughter.

Éponine looked away from the small one and directly toward him instead, "Azelma can be a bit loud, sorry about that." No kidding, but for the sake of politeness, Enjolras simply brushed it off and told her that it was okay before he formally introduced himself, noticing now that Jehan was chattering away with Azelma and Cosette, leaving him to speak to the singer alone. He clung to his laptop almost as if for dear life. "You've been here a lot these past few weeks with Jehan and never once stopped by to say hi, you always leave early. Now what's up with that?" There was that glint in her eyes that he didn't know how to place again, he felt heat building up in his throat - that was one way to be confrontational, he thought, and not to mention more observing than he had originally thought her to be. He had no clue that she had even retained knowledge of his existence outside of this little hole in the wall coffee club, in a rare turn of events he supposed he had now become the oblivious one. What two weeks could do to someone. Éponine rested her head against her hand, elbow propped up against the table, doe eyes staring up at him.

She reminded him of both a kitten and pup, mixed into one person, how was that even remotely possible? He had never made that distinction about a person before, new experiences seemed to be happening all around; what a world. He couldn't help but groan quietly to himself, his thumb unconsciously rubbing at a tear-duct before clinging to his laptop again, he suddenly had no idea what to do his hands nor himself. "I don't know if one could count the early morning hours as early, per se. I think of anything after midnight as 'it's time to go to bed', but that has definitely not stopped me before from working until five in the morning." A perfect brow perked up at him, a cheeky sort of smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. At the back of his mind, deep down in there (you'd need to go very deep before coming back with this fleeting thought) he couldn't help but think of her many facial expressions to be cute and, well, attractive. It would be a blatant lie to not admit to himself that Éponine was attractive, that much was very obvious to anyone who was blessed with vision.

"Five in the morning! Far out. How do you cope? I mean yeah, I've absolutely stayed up past my schedule once or twice playing The Sims because, c'mon, that's honest work when you've got a whole family who works to earn that bread and butter, and the hours just fly by and then what d'ya know? It's accidentally almost six, not PM, but AM." She had him laughing, genuinely laughing, and it's so foreign that it surprises him before he'd caught himself. Jehan was in too deep with the two girls to even notice what had just transpired. Enjolras couldn't remember the last time he had let himself unwind like this, to properly relax and take his seemingly always busy mind away from his work - to laugh, to smile, to integrate himself with new people. It was a good, welcoming feeling - warm, rather.

The pair who had been left alone to their own devices had ended up speaking to one another for a long while; Enjolras had learned rather quickly that Éponine would die of embarrassment if she were to busk; she already had a day job, there was no need for anything else - in her own words, busking reminded her too much of her father, and that was that, she wouldn't delve too deep into that topic, and Enjolras was understanding, the last thing he wanted was to prod into places where he had absolutely no business in the first place. He learned that the small brunette, Azelma, was her younger sister, who currently lived with her in her apartment temporarily until Azelma could get back onto her feet and land a new job. It was apparent that she and her family were not well off, which saddened him some, but she was a woman of determination, and stern, at that, he didn't need to ask her to know that she didn't want help from anyone that was well off. It wasn't as if Enjolras was a billionaire himself, though he had a steady income and a roof over his head that he could pay the rent for, and that was more than you could say for the less fortunate. At fifteen minutes past two, the group said goodbye to one another, and Éponine forced his phone into her hands, putting her details into his contacts. "Don't be a stranger."

And he would prove to her that he certainly wouldn't be. He couldn't help but message her during the week days, asking her how she was, what she was up to, the early pleasantries. Three months had gone by, and during those three months, there was a point where Éponine, as Jehan would say 'ghosted' him for a week because of a disagreement they had over a phone call; it had been over something minuscule, yet she would not double down, and it had infuriated him to no end. She was sarcastic, stubborn (just as much as he was) and loved to correct him whenever he was "wrong" about something, and yet, there was something about her that had him coming back. He had been genuinely upset when he had been 'ghosted', and reacted by not showing up to the coffee club that weekend, which had been a stupid move on his part. After work that following day, he would go see her at her day job, working at a clothing retail store, with a bag of her favourite things - a very specific brand of chocolate and a bottle of cheap rosé (which she would constantly say outshone any other type). She had almost choked upon seeing him walk into the store, that dimpled smile he had missed gracing her face upon digging into the bag. "Wow, what's this? My birthday?" She had scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head. "But in all seriousness, thank you, Gabriel. You didn't need to do this for me, you know how I get sometimes. I was gonna say something, reach out and say sorry for how bratty I was being but, hey, I s'pose I'll just take this instead." With another smile, she had thrown her arms around him in an embrace for the very first time, and he went home thinking about it until he had went to sleep that night.

He had no interest in any sort of romantic relationship, always deeming himself too busy for them, much to the dismay of his family. No one had caught his eye nor interested him, and he had been fine with that up until Éponine had become this force in his life to reckoned with. It was pathetic how long he thought about that hug for, about how nice it was to be entangled with her in such a manner, about how comfortable it was, about how warm she felt, about how much she smiled afterward. It was thought after thought after thought, and they were definitely not going to let up. Five months now of knowing Éponine and she had him completely wrapped around her finger, he would go so far as to even message her during his breaks after lectures, it was becoming a bit too much to the point where he knew she ought to have realised something. Everyone that knew Enjolras prior to meeting Éponine knew, he was perfectly aware, and they chose to say nothing, because they knew he knew, even the loudmouth Grantaire, of all people, had not harassed him about this. This was suffocating, suffocating up until that six month point where he was there with her at the club after her performance, he completely broke and had blurted out to her, "Do you want to have dinner with me on Friday evening?" She let out a breath in return, deep dimples with that beautiful, breathtaking smile.

"Who do you take me for, Gabriel Enjolras?"

That Friday evening, they enjoyed a night in his apartment with Chinese takeaway and movies; sure, it wasn't anything fancy, but Éponine had wanted this, and who was he to refuse her? At some point in the night, she had rested her temple against his shoulder, getting comfortable, and he was suddenly very hyper-aware of the fact that Éponine Thénardier was in a close proximity to him, leaning on him, his heart almost skipping a beat when her hand began to rest atop his knee. He seemed to be frozen in that moment, he knew what she was doing; she was making the first move, and yet he sat there like a marble statue, unsure of what to do with the beautiful woman that was currently getting comfortable on his couch. His palms surely sweating, he reached out to place his hand over hers, locking their fingers together. He swallowed harshly, heart racing. This was it, he had to admit to himself how he felt, that he was absolutely head over heels for Éponine in the most uncharacteristic fashion. In response to their entwined fingers, she only got more comfortable, a dreamlike sigh escaping her.

Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head, heat engulfing his whole form, his face burning. Éponine broke their hold, and just like that, her lips were pressed against his, the coldness of her palm resting against his cheek greatly appreciated in that moment. Embarrassingly enough, he had no recollection of the last time he had kissed someone, but hopefully for her sake, he had not become an awful kisser in the time he had for the lack of a better word, abstained from the act of doing so, though he did return her kiss with the same sort of vigor, an arm wrapping around her waist. He was nervous, probably messy - but she didn't seem to care, smiling and giggling to herself more times than he could count on one hand during their shared moment of passion. When they finally parted, Éponine merely looked up at him with that cheeky catlike grin on her face that he couldn't help but adore. "God, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

He could most definitely say the same.