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katerinap · 8 months ago

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One of my OC’s stories.

I’m only 13 so this might be pretty bland but I wanted to share this somewhere so obviously strangers on a mentally insane website was my best idea.

This goes with the movie version mostly.

Geneviève was part of the large lower class in France. Her father died of tuberculosis when she was 8. Being desperate, her mother sold her body to afford the two of them. After a year there, her mother died of an illness.

Vivi was completely and utterly alone.

She wandered the streets of Paris, stealing food whenever she could. Her clothes might as well have been considered oversized rags. Then one night when she was 13 she found herself outside of a place called the Cafe Musain. Cafe. Food. She was in desperate need of that.

She saw a bunch of students going into it, and while they were talking among themselves they left the door open enough for her to slip through. There was nothing downstairs but an abandoned tavern, but she looked through it anyways. When she found nothing, she went up the stairs to look up there. She hid on the staircase, watching the boys talk about revolutionary ideas.

When she hoped no one was looking, she ran behind a few tables and looked around. Nothing. Then just as she was headed back she noticed the talking had stopped. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Why’s there a child here?” She heard an irritated voice say.

“Enjolras, she could be lost.” Said another, clearly the more understanding one.

“What do we do?” Another asked.

“I can hear you.” She snarks.

She tried to run but bumped into a really big guy. “Seriously, little one?” He says, a small smile on his face.

She tried to push past him but he just picked her up and turned her around so she was facing the other, loosely wrapping his arms around her, almost like a hug.

“Look. I’m sorry for showing up to your revolution party,” she said, “but I was just about to leave.”

They all stiffened a bit at her words. Except the one in the back who was just drinking. Guess her knowing they were talking about another revolution was troubling.

“What? Revolution got you all paranoid?” Vivi said, a small smile forming, “Or does a little girl being able to understand surprising?”

She’ll admit, she’s not the smartest. But she is good at understanding things when she’s heard enough people talk about that subject.

The one who calmed the other down spoke. “It’s not that. Just…” He paused, “You’re… you seem too young to know about it.”

“Kids like me ‘ave known about it since we’ve been born,” she told him. She then craned her neck a bit to speak to the man holding her. “I ain’t gonna run anymore.”

“Bahorel, you can let go.” A new person said. He had curly brown hair. He seemed like someone who brought fun to situations like this.

The man, Bahorel, let go of her.

“Sit down.” She was instructed by a blonde man, seemingly the leader of the group. He was the one who had spoken before about why a child was here.

She sat down at a nearby table, a few others sitting down as well. The blonde and the one who reasoned with him. Someone was already sitting there, but he was too busy writing in his journal to pay any mind to her. He seemed to be blushing at mere nothing.

“What are you doing here?” The blonde asked her. It felt like a police interrogation. Clearly, he didn’t know how to talk to children, so he was treating her as an adult. No worries. She can be an adult for now.

“The sign outside says it’s a cafe. I thought there might be food in here.”

“And why are you looking for food?” He asked her, his tone firm.

She looked down at herself. Her clothes were slowly turning to rags, and they were covered in dirt. Her face also has dirt on it, but she’d grown used to that.

When she looked down, he seemed to understand.

She looked around the room. They all looked more well off than her. Privileged. There were only a few who didn’t look as rich as the rest. There was one who looked older than most of them. He was wearing what she’d seen workers wear often. Then there was the man who she’d seen drinking, who was now drunk. He seemed too messy and disheveled to be rich.

“How did you end up there?” The blonde asked her, softening slightly. Very slightly.

“Born.” She answered without hesitation. She can’t remember a time being in an actual home. They all studied her, then suddenly the drunk spoke up.

“Well, are we now going to get rid of her and continue with your nonsense?” He asked, drawing his words a bit.

“Grantaire-” the blonde started.

“Enjolras, what’s your genius plan?” Grantaire asked. “All we can really do is send her off with a loaf of bread.”

Enjolras, previously known as the blonde, sighed. “Try and think about this rationally through your drunken stupor.” Enjolras hissed at him.

“I am.” He grumbled. “ And it’s stupid. What do we do if we don’t send her off? One of us take her home? I can’t afford that. Feuilly can’t afford that. Courfeyrac can’t raise a child. You can’t raise a child.

The writer seemed to finally look up and notice what’s happening. He seemed to not like the idea of a child on the streets. “We can’t send her back. It’s cruel.”

She sat there as they talked, sighing and leaning back into her chair. She would have no say in what happened to her. She was sure of it.

“If you care so much, you take her, Jean.” Grantaire told the writer, who now is known as Jean. “But you can’t take care of a child.”

“Grantaire, it’s not your decision to make.” Jean tells him. “It’s mine.”

Everyone was a bit shocked. He was always so timid and quiet. Seeing him so determined on this was odd.

“Prouvaire,” Enjolras started.

“Enjolras, you have to trust me on this. You always talk about making change and making things equal for all. That’s what our cause here is,” She sees him ready to continue, ��And you know how bad it is for children out on the streets. Especially girls. Think of the bad that might happen.”

She is starting to get a feel for who this man is. He’s sweet, a softie. He knows about injustices for different groups, even though he’s clearly privileged.

“You better know what you’re doing.” Enjolras warned.

“I do. I swear I do.” Jean assured him.

Enjolras sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but Jean seemed determined to help. “If you believe you can…”

“I do.” He turned to her and smiled, his face turning slightly pink.

She smiled back, almost unable not to. “You sure you’re up for the challenge known as me?” She asked skeptically.

“Of course…” he paused in a way, silently asking for her name.

“Geneviève.” She said. She didn’t mind being called that, she just preferred to be Vivi.

“Geneviève,” He repeated.

The others seemed to try and remember that as well.

Grantaire just rolled his eyes.

“You got a stick up your @#$% or something?” Vivi asked Grantaire.

He seemed to have a small smirk on his face. “Oh, the small one’s feisty, I see.” He remarks.

She smiles at him. Maybe he’ll come around to like her. She certainly found him someone who would be fun.

“Looks like you’ve got a knack for making people soft.” The curly brunette from before spoke.

“Courfeyrac,” Grantaire started. “I’m not going soft.”

The brunette, Courfeyrac, gave him a wide grin. “You just can’t admit that a child makes you all sweet and mushy.”

Grantaire takes a swing of his bottle and gives Courfeyrac a glare and Vivi a dirty look before walking away, grumbling.

They all laughed at him, and she felt a sense of something. Safety, maybe. Or maybe, just maybe, she’s found a new family. A new life. She had to remind herself to think rationally, to not get ahead of herself. She’s only known these boys for a few minutes.

“Maybe…” The understanding one spoke, almost to himself. “Maybe Prouvaire, if things get hard for you or you can’t take care of her every day… one of us might take her? I’d certainly be willing enough if need be.”

They all looked at him like he was mad. “You’d take in a child?” Bahorel questioned. “You’re a smart man, Combeferre, but even that seems like a challenge.”

Combeferre looked at Jean. “If you need me, just ask.”

Jean nodded, giving Vivi a small smile, his ears turning a bit red. He was cute, almost like a giddy little kid.

“Well, with the child settled,” Enjolras said, trying to get the meeting back on track, “Let’s get back to our important matters.”

Everyone stopped and started to listen, even Grantaire, though he took a long swing of his bottle, as if he needed it to get through the meeting.

Enjolras started to talk. He started off with how class inequality was a problem they needed to stop (which she thought they all probably knew already), then started throwing ideas on how to improve society. Combeferre would keep him from getting too worked up. She gained a respect for Enjolras. He was so excellent at getting everyone’s attention and rallying them up.

She admired Combeferre. It was as if no one dared to talk to Enjolras when he was like this. The only other who did was Grantaire, but she just guessed that it was to rile him up.

After a while, things started to lighten up. Everyone started to fool around and make fun of each other. It was entertaining, to say the least. Combeferre leaned over to her, then pointed to everyone so she could learn all their names.

Enjolras, as we know, is a tall blonde man. He was definitely charming, but she was told he was capable of being terrible. That wasn’t too surprising for her, for someone leading a revolution must be able to stomach lots.

Courfeyrac was a fun fellow. He’s considered the center of the group. He keeps things fun and interesting. The lightheartedness of the group. He knows everyone on a personal level, and is almost like the heart of the group. The center.

Bahorel was the one who had been holding onto her. He was a big fellow, who thrived on conflict. He apparently went to law school, but never intends to be a lawyer. Geneviève found this a waste of time. Why go to school if you never intend to use the knowledge you gain?

Jean Prouvaire was the one who offered her a home. He is a softie. He blushes at nothing and cries at the smallest things. Vivi finds that adorable, smiling as Combeferre described him. Prouvaire is addicted to love, and writes poems. He has given everyone a small pot of flowers.

Feuilly was the one who looked like a worker. He was the oldest of the group. Unlike all the others, he wasn’t a student, but a worker. He made fans for a living. He didn’t earn much, but he worked hard for what he got.

Joly was another member of this small group. He studies medicine. He was always worried about everything, checking people’s temperatures and

Bossuet was a fellow who wasn’t present that day. Something had happened that made him unable to come. Apparently, that was just his luck. He was a good man, but had an unlucky streak. He was bald, and his actual name was Lesgles.

Now, among the descriptions, she also could put some things together about Combeferre as he was talking. He was definitely an intellectual, and was good at talking. He seemed about the same age as Enjolras. His job was to keep Enjolras in check, to calm him down from his violent tendencies. Combeferre has glasses and would constantly push them up while talking.

Last but not least, there was Grantaire. Grantaire was the skeptic in this group, constantly challenging what Enjolras had to say. He always drank. He has curly black hair, which is grown out a bit in the front. He wasn’t very handsome but Geneviève wouldn’t call him ugly either.

“Enjolras disdains him. He always scorns Grantaire for his drinking,” Combeferre told her. “But through all the rejection, scolding, and harsh treatment, Grantaire always comes back, admiring Enjolras.”

“Oh…” She mumbled. Combeferre didn’t seem troubled about Grantaire’s treatment. She found it rude, especially for someone who just keeps coming back. She could hardly believe that he admired Enjolras despite all the rejection and criticism he must get.

“He’s not the best influence,” Combeferre adds. “Not for a young girl like you. You keep your distance, you hear?”

She nods, though has no intention of listening to what she was told to do. He seemed like an interesting person, and she was going to get to know him.

The meeting started to wrap up, with people trickling out of the Musain.

Jean stood up and said goodbye to Combeferre before taking her hand and walking with her out of the cafe.

She got up and took it, and they walked out with Jean promising to take her to the next meeting, which would be the next day.

If this was good, let me know so I can post another part.

#les mis #les amis de l'abc #les mierables #jean prouvaire #Enjolras #Grantaire #oc #dont judge pls

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