A new story! So this popped out of my head just this day, and when it did; I immediately typed it out... Soo feedbacks please! I'm still thinking if I should continue this or not. Lalalala Enjoy! By the way, this was from my Fanfiction, I just posted it here to get feedbacks from people.
Chapter I: Void
"Then from those profound slumbers we awake in a dawn not knowing who we are, being nobody, newly born, ready for anything, the brain emptied of that past which was life until then. And perhaps it is more wonderful still when our landing at the waking-point is abrupt and the thoughts of our sleep, hidden by a cloak of oblivion, have no time to return to us gradually, before sleep ceases.
– Marcel Proust
Void.
There was nothing but absolute darkness in the dwelling place where he was sent, and this was all that he remembered. There was darkness everywhere, the place was as silent as a tomb, a deafening quietude growled at him like a roaring lion, it consumed him. And even for once, he feared. He feared the darkness, he feared the silence. Not even the word profound could describe the depths of this devastating sorrow gave him. Not any word.
But somewhere in that pitch blackness, there was a little voice screaming. A voice wanting to be heard, but some barricade restrains it. At the thought of the barricades, he shuddered. Wake... He heard it speak, in obscure words or word. Wake up... A gray light covered the dense and absolute darkness as the voice became clear to him. He was now standing in solid ground, but he sees the pavement invisible. He runs endlessly but finds no objects barricading it. The gray light was slightly lighting in the form of a lighter illumination. "Enjolras, wake up!" the bartender screamed as he splashed an ice cold water at Enjolras' neck. He woke. "You're already way past your paid time!" continued the bartender.
"What did I pay for anyways?" asked Enjolras, stopping for a moment, rubbing his eyes as it fixated around the environment. He looked around him, and saw different things. It wasn't the France that he last lived on. He looked at his clothes; it was so much different than what he last wore.
"You paid for an overnight, but I last remember that you paid that the day before yesterday!" the bartender said, but still not catching enough attention from the blonde-haired man who seems to be surprised at everything. "Eh, what are you looking at?" asked the bartender whose a little uncannily clean shaven for a man of age. "Ahh, you haven't taken a bath yet!" once again, Enjolras didn't seem to mind him. "Oi boy, girl problems?" said the old man, still attempting to catch Enjolras' attention. Enjolras looked at him, with a glance that passes through the man and to the unknown. He silently shook his head, not really hearing what the man said; but concluded it as a question. "Fine, I'll let you go for now. Wish you luck son," concluded the bartender, and this brought Enjolras back to his senses.
"Wait! Where do I live again?" this brought the head of the bartender slightly tilted and questioning, "Ahh, is the young boy in love? I know that love does stupid things to people! Ahh, to be young again." the bartender jumped into conclusions. "No, it's just that, my sleep was too... good..." Enjolras reasoned out.
The bartender moved back to his drawers and took a chain of keys, "Lad, be careful. You're home is far from this place, this disgusting place." He said, with unintentional venom in his statements. "Your home is located in New York. That's the only thing you've told me before, but you probably even only said that because you were too drunk! Haha," he added, with a gleaming cheer upon his face. Having no other clue but the word New York, Enjolras bid the bartender farewell and went out of the bar, standing opposite its doorstep. Enjolras was a well-taught man during his lifetime in Paris; he was taught about America and that he is in the continent of America.
Enjolras looked around him again, trying to visualize the old structures from France, what he was used to see. It's all gone. The barricades, is gone. But at a sudden swift did the thought about the barricade enter him, and in a sudden swift a pang struck his heart with an excruciating pain; unparalleled to anything he ever experienced. Maybe that's how I should have felt, what I should have felt when I locked the wine shop's door. In the splash of memories, his vision started to blur and sink into oblivion.
"Enjolras! Open the door! Please, don't let us end like this!" Courfeyrac screamed, heavily knocking upon the wine shop's charred door along with the other members of "The Friends of ABC"
"Enjolras! We swore together! We would never leave each other even when the sun stops giving us hopes! Let's not end like this, Enjolras!" Combeferre's now cracked-up voice was ringing through the wine shop as he stared at the tiny hole and saw them bloody. "Enjolras!" he heard their cries.
He ignored them.
He heard everyone screaming for their leader's name.
He ignored them.
He remembered every speech of his that they cheered unto along with the masses' voice ringing in chorus.
He ignored them.
He watched them as they were struck one by one by the muskets and blades, and as it pierced through their parts everywhere.
He ignored them.
"Enjolras, please..." he heard that one last fading whimper.
He ignored them...
Enjolras' eyes started to water: with anger, with frustration, with grief and most of all, regrets. But alas! There was no time to be wasted; he needed to find out who he was and why he was here. He saw a moving vehicle, an upgraded vehicle from what he last saw. Could it be that...? He saw the wheels move with swift and agile speed. What I suspect, could it be? He saw the people walk in a new fashion that he has never seen before, one similar to what kind of modernization he was wearing.
Fortunately, a swift vehicle stopped in front of him, opening its windows, "Lad, do you need a ride? You seem lost in here. The urban area is pretty far, where's your destination?" he was dumbfound, and he hated it. He used to be the kind of person who has brilliant comebacks for every statement; dumb or clever, witty or unamusing.
"New York," he said, with the same old stare to some place that was exactly not from his century. Could it be that I'm inside a new century? How? Why? He had so many questions, but the thing is; there was no one at the very moment to answer his questions.
The taxi drove as fast as it could to reach the certain destination which was hours from where they currently was. Enjolras was in the passenger's seat, still dumbfounded, but now filled with so many memories recalling the last incidences of his life that he described as wasted garbage. The way he watched the boys as they planned the proper execution for the June Rebellion, the way he held into each one of them closer than a brother, the way he never wanted a mistress because he was way too busy for his patria unlike the boys, the way that a strange scrawny figure that looked like only an overcoat and a newsboy cap tailed alongside Marius Pontmercy, the way Marius blabbered endlessly about Cosette. He missed them all, and he blamed himself.
He stood quiet for the whole ride. The driver wondered why, but shrugged off the thought and continued to drive with quietude lingering across the taxi. They reached their destination. It was filled with colours and things that he has never seen in his lifetime: the way that every structure had some advertisements attached to it and it's moving with vibrant colours, the way that the city was so dense that even a needle couldn't fall into the ground. Where am I? Who am I? He looked at is palms, as if waiting for something mystical to suddenly happen.
While he was busy staring invisibly across his palm, an unfamiliar figure approached him, panting, "Enjolras, you're needed at the meeting of Advocate, we certainly need you." He didn't look at the man, but when he did, he remembered Joly, "...Joly?" asked Enjolras, in the tone of an unaligned question or simple figuring. The man smiled at him, "You called?" said Joly in a cheerful expression as he led Enjolras out of the crowd and into a garret. "Where are we going?" asked Enjolras, leaving Joly with a confused face, "What's wrong with you?" but gleamed up yet again with, "Oh! You're making those silly jokes again, come let's go!" he said as he pressed the hidden elevator in the opposite of a bookshelf before the disguised trapdoor. Enjolras made a reply of silence as they descended to the fourth basement.
When they reached the base of the so-called organization that Joly mentioned, everyone greeted Enjolras with a smile, and each of their faces resembled someone in the old group: The Friends of ABC. This left Enjolras with a shock, yet he reciprocated each greets with a smile; a smile that never reached to his eyes.
They all started discussing, about some kind of government and planned rebellion.
Déjà vu.
He sat in one corner and took one of the books in the shelf, trying to act like how he did during the days when they were planning the rebellion, but this time; he observed to gain information from everything that was happening. Everything was like before, just the new settings and a new rebellion in a new century in a new country.
The meeting ended as everyone started to leave, he wondered why, but it turns out to him that the base of this "Advocate" is his home, and he is the leader. He needed air, he needed enough to swallow and take everything that was shoved down his throat by destiny. He quickly went to the person who seems to be Grantaire before he even left, "Grantaire!" called Enjolras, somehow unwillingly gaining the old familiarity between them. Grantaire looked back and raised two of his brows; which meant that he is stating the question "what". "Could you point me where the tavern is?" asked Enjolras, earning a confused look from Grantaire. "Enjolras, tavern is a rusting term; you want to go to the bar." Said Grantaire, drinking what's left from his bottle of whiskey. "So do I lead you to your favourite coffee bar or...?" he smirked in the unpronounced statement of his.
"My favourite," answered Enjolras, trying to sound normal; he needed to take chances. Grantaire left him at the bar's doorstep and shoved him, "Enjolras, your favourite bar is far, well there's women here anyways!" exclaimed Grantaire with the wicked old smirk. And now, he didn't know what to do. Women were dancing around, in poles and seductively inappropriate clothing that lovely ladies during his time didn't wear. "Wow..." he mouthed in an unexplained fascination between the statement, "what a waste" and "Is this the new world, I want go back to my world." This isn't what he fought for, and this isn't what he wanted it to be. This may not be France, but he fought for the world in general: for freedom in general.
But as quickly as he the words fell from his mouth; as quickly was the proximity of time before a lady shoved him to the wall and pushed her chest into his, he looked at the girl; she was staring at him like she knew him for so long. She placed her hand to his arms and danced a deadly seductive dance touching his body; raising the temperature. He looked at the girl ever clearer than he did the last time, it looked like Eponine, but an Eponine that looks well-fed and more dangerous, and... "Listen," said the girl pulling his leather jacket to her and whispering to him, "Usually the girls would charge you a hundred dollar or more, but I'm the best in here, and let me tell you," she leaned closer to his neck rather than ear, sending hot breathes through the cold room, "For you, entirely free." Enjolras fixed his leather jacket as cold sweat dropped from his face; this made the girl smirk in wickedness.
Hot Eponine, hehe! Anyways, Review! Thanks for reading!