Leave It All and Run

Chapter 1: Scraping the Asphalt

Enjolras had decided that driving a car all the way to New York City, and then keeping up with it, would be stupid and expensive. That's why he sold it in the end of February without telling his father. When he comes home, his dad throws a fit, saying it doesn't matter that the car was under Enjolras's name, it was his father who paid for it and Enjolras had no right whatsoever just selling it out of the blue and for what? Five thousand dollars? What was Enjolras thinking?

His son drops the ball then, telling his dad, "I'm moving to New York City. March 5th I'm taking a Greyhound. I have all of my own money, I'll be fine. You won't hear from me again-I'm done." Enjolras takes in a deep breath, his chest filling with anxiety because no matter what he's leaving-he just prays his father will give up.

Mr. Enjolras wavers, hints of emotion in his blue steel eyes that had once looked like his son's. The emotion doesn't stay long though, and his father prompts him, "You've been doing so well in therapy."

But the blonde hair boy closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. "No. I haven't." And that was that.

!&!

Greyhound bus tickets cost $165, which leaves Enjolras with a little under eight grand to survive on. He knows New York will eat at his pockets though, so he does what his favourite teacher had taught him everyday for four years: Budget.

The bus ride to New York City is a little over twelve hours long. He has to spend two of those talking to his cell phone carrier and convincing them that yes, he does what to set a limit to his phone calls and yes, he does want to only make it 500 minutes a month because yes, that is more than enough and yes, he understands it will be more expensive if he tries to change it later but yes, he really does want to set the limit and yes, thank you have a good day. He's always hated talking on the phone and the conversation with Lydia, the "helpful" customer service agent, hadn't changed his opinion.

He is so exhausted, that by the time the bus is in Virginia he opts to take a nap, securing all of stuff and dozing off while V for Vendetta plays from the front of the bus.

!&!

He's woken up an hour later when the bus hits a pothole and a body suddenly slams into him. He jolts awake, looking to his side and seeing a tangled mess of black hair smacked against him. He coughs and shifts and says, "Oh I'm sorry," even though it's really not his fault.

"Sorry!" the girl squeals and she pushes herself off the seat, another girl with wavy red hair helping her up. "Sorry!" the girl says again and looks at him, blue eyes shining. "I didn't mean to-oh gosh sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you-" he's interrupted by the redhead.

"Cherie honey, let's not worry about him- how are you guys?" The redhead looks down and Enjolras absentmindedly follows her gaze to the other girls stomach, which is just barely swelled.

Cherie, supposedly, swats away the girls touches and shushes her, "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm only four months along honestly." She looks back to him and Enjolras snaps his eyes back up, his cheeks warming a bit. "I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Her hand is reaching to him, and he gets the thought that she'll be a great mom, worrying about complete stranger like this. Then he notices the wedding band and hopes the kid is raised happy, and hopes she does worry over it.

He nods. "Yes, I'm sorry."

She smiles brightly, perfectly straight teeth and her eyes glitter. "It's okay. Again, I'm sorry." She faces her redheaded companion, who's been watching them carefully and Enjolras throws her a polite nod. She returns it, her light auburn hair bouncing in the movement, her brown eyes glowing in the low lighting of the bus.

Cherie grabs the girls hand, interlocking their fingers and pushing her into a seat a few rows behind Enjolras while saying, "Come on, let's go sit, Azelma."

!&!

Cherie and Azelma get off in Pennsylvania, which he only notices because Cherie throw him a polite smile at the bus stop as she's helped into a cab. Azelma throws him no look, and Enjolras doesn't think much about it after that.

He's mostly left alone for the rest of the ride, only being asked a question or two by a nice looking old lady a seat diagonal of him. She asks if he's ever seen the Eiffel Tower, and he tells her that no, he's from Tennessee and the closest he's ever gotten is the tourist spot in Paris, Tennessee. She giggles good heartedly, and it makes him feel good so he smiles.

"I've seen it-the real one, that is-a few times. My brother use to take me all the time to Europe, he loved it very much. He liked seeing all the churches-he was always quite religious. He wanted to be a priest, but the cards never fell in his favour. He was still a good person though-very good. I loved him very much. He died last week, did you know?" She seems to be lost, rambling in mourning and Enjolras is taken aback, quickly sucked into this woman's tale.

"No, I didn't," he answers. He shifts, staring at the old woman worried.

"Yes. Just in his sleep-I hadn't heard he was sick, so I couldn't be with him and that's probably the only part I don't like. The nurse told me though that his last words had been beautiful-very beautiful. She says they're so beautiful she can't even tell me over the phone." She sighs, then coughs. "She'll tell me though, she swears by it. Tell me, where are you going?" He tells her. "Ah, do you have an address?" He shakes his head. "Well, that's a shame. I'd love to tell you the words. I want to share them. I'm getting old myself."

Enjolras reaches for words and pulls out, "I'm sorry," but the woman shakes her head.

"No need. If you're meant to hear them, you will. I don't doubt."

They didn't talk much after that, and she gets out in New Jersey, and Enjolras falls asleep, feeling an anxious pulse fill his veins.

!&!

Eponine's has to rub her eyes furiously before she can open them because they're swollen shut by sleep dust (as Jehan likes to call it). When she's able to open them fully, deep brown eyes flickering in the light pushing through the curtains, she can't help but smile at the pile of people on top of her. Grantaire is wrapped around her from behind, Jehan has his head resting on her waist, Courfeyrac is spooning Jehan but his hand is resting gently on Eponine's thigh. She tries to move her other hand, but quickly notices Joly is still holding a (now warm and limp) icepack to her bruised knuckles. She shifts, and feels Bossuet's bald head resting on her calf and she can see Bahorel's mess of hair sticking up from from the bottom of the bed. On a chair beside the bed with his feet perched on the pillows by her face, Combeferre sleeps soundly. She chances it, one look up and she can't stop her smile when she sees Gavroche curled up above her head and nothing makes her smile more.

Even after a night of uncontrollable sobbing-so bad her eyes are still rimmed red and her throat is sore- she wakes up feeling okay. Better than plausible, because her boys are there. And yeah, she has to pee, but she can hold it because she doesn't want to wake them up, not after last night where they coddled her until she finally fell asleep. So she can hold her bladder a little while longer, anything for the boys who've helped her more times than she can think.

!&!

First it's Jehan, then in turn it's Courf, and they get up and walk into the living room for one reason or another. Combeferre enters this state of kind-of-awake but clearly is trying to go back to sleep, but is failing badly. After a rather loud clatter from the other room she doesn't bother to think into, it's Gavroche, who knocks Grantaire, who kicks Bossuet, who falls off the bed, and then Bahroel is up and laughing, with Joly jumping up and accidentally squeezing Eponine's hand a little too hard.

"Joly," she says and winces. "Joly, let go of my hand, please."

He jumps again, and immediately releases her hand, apologizing and letting the melted ice pack fall to the mattress. He grabs her hand again, though gently, and inspects the bruises carefully. He tsks and Grantaire and Eponine share an eyeroll.

She asks, "What's the diagnosis doc? Am I gonna make it? No? Oh dear as me, someone call the town crier, tell them that poor little Eponine won't make it-oh, I can feel my heart slowing now!"

Joly makes a noise to protest against these childish actions, but Grantaire pops right in, grabbing Eponine's free hand and holding it to his heart. "Oh, how tragic! The loss of such an innocent young soul," Bahorel's snort is loud and Eponine giggles in turn. "How will we go on? Oh doctor, say it ain't so!"

From the other room, Jehan makes loud, fake, obnoxious sobbing noises and wails, "Oh no! Like a mist of rain after a thunderstorm, our dear Eponine is doomed! Courfeyrac, how will we go on! How can we part with the pureness that is our little 'Ponine!"

Bahorel snorts again and even Joly cracks a smile. The rest of the boys make loud sobbing noises, hollering to God, Allah, Shiva, and Beyonce that there is no justice in this world and Eponine gives a lovely goodbye speech before fainting onto her pillow. They stop the play when Feuilly bangs on the door and tells them to shut up, there are other people in the building. They burst out laughing, for far longer than necessary.

When they're done though, Joly speaks, in his high pitched voice, "Yes, well, you'll be just fine. Not even a fracture." And they start to laughing again.

!&!

Her knuckles do hurt though, and she lets Joly wrap them and puts ice on them even though it still stings. Grantaire gives her some "medicine" as well: coffee with Bailey's in it and she thanks him and drinks it all. It definitely helps.

It's seven in the morning and Eponine is sighing dramatically and yelling at Gavroche to finish getting dressed because it's Friday and he does have to get to school. No amount of protesting or busted knuckles will let him skip again.

"I'll drive him," Courfeyrac offers, and Eponine smiles and decides it's okay-Courfeyrac knows how to get Gav to school and can't be conned into letting him skip, but will probably bend and buy him a few donuts.

Everyone's busy getting ready for work or classes or, if your Bahorel, working out. It's only Grantaire and Eponine left laying on the couch and he brushes his knuckles against her shoulder and asks, "How are you doing?"

She feels tears prickle, but she doesn't let them run because her eyes just stopped hurting a few minutes ago. She replies, "Fine. Sore. Tired. God I'm tired, but there's no way I could find the energy to sleep."

Grantaire nods. "I get you. Don't worry, Musichetta gave me the whole day off. I'll be here." He's not really like this-not on real occasions. Eponine is teary from his sudden caring, and she crawls over, tucking herself in his side. She mumbles a thank you and he takes a drink of a beer he's working on. "It's okay-you'll be okay. I promise you will. You always are."

She closes her eyes to stop the tears and feels an anxious pulse fill her veins.