Eponine slouched in the doorway of Marius' apartment, chewing on her lip. The hallway was dim and reeked of Lysol; the carpeting beneath her feet was torn and stained suspiciously. The landlord who owned the Gorbeau tenement wasn't exactly fastidious about upkeep. She squinted, hesitant, and knocked again. The door opened with a stentorian groan. Eponine watched Marius' wary expression relax into a half-smile as he recognized her.
"Eponine! I didn't expect to see you…I mean-"
"What took you so long? I've been standin' here for at least ten minutes-"
"Come on, don't exaggerate."
"I'm not!" Her tone became childish, petulant. She watched as Marius took in her muddy high tops and torn leggings, her gaudy makeup, her greasy hair. She flushed under his gaze.
"Well, ain't you gonna let me in?"
She edged past him and entered, crossing the living room to toss herself onto the couch. Marius followed. He pushed aside a pile of papers and perched on the edge of the coffee table. Eponine dug a stick of gum out of her pocket, popping it into her mouth.
"No cigarette today?"
"I quit. Remember?" She smirked, searching his face for approval. He grinned.
"I was just making coffee for myself when you knocked. Would you like some?"
"I guess - if you don't wanna drink it all."
He snorted and stood. Before leaving, he patted her hand. "I've missed you, 'Ponine."
Eponine fidgeted in her seat, biting her tongue to keep from laughing aloud.
"So, how's your sister?" Marius entered, a mug of coffee in each hand. Eponine winced and lowered her eyes.
"You didn't hear?"
"No." His pale eyes went to her face, soft with concern. "What happened?"
"They caught her with a couple grams of pot. She's gonna go to a special school…"
"She was expelled?"
"Yeah." Eponine fell silent, staring out the window. It was raining; watery light filtered through the open shutters. She noticed that the lower pane of glass was missing, replaced with wet cardboard. The sill was coated with dust.
Eponine was suddenly uncomfortable with the long silence. She scooped up a stapled sheaf of papers and began to peruse them. Marius' brow furrowed.
"That's just some research I'm doing for a class…"
She raised her eyebrows coyly, deciding that puzzlement suited him. He stared at her blankly.
"I can read all that highfalutin stuff, too. Watch!"
She scanned the first page. "…Such law shall apply as would be applied in determining the… devolution of interstate personal property by the courts of the State in which the insured individual was domiciled at the time of his death.…"
Marius laughed. "I never doubted you, 'Ponine."
Eponine kept reading, running a thin finger over the page, chattering distractedly.
"So how are those activist friends of yours? You gonna overthrow the government anytime soon? 'Cause-"
"We're a chapter of Amnesty International, not Les Amis de l'ABC!" Marius rolled his eyes good naturedly, snatching the paper from her grasp.
"Lay what?"
"Les Amis de l'ABC…oh, never mind…"
Eponine took a sip of her coffee, grimacing as she tasted the chalky sweetness of powdered creamer.
"Don't like it?"
"I hate creamer."
Marius shrugged. "Sorry. Would you like a new cup?"
"Nah. I'm okay."
He drew a hand over his eyes. "Well, what brings you here? Other than a need to insult my coffee-"
"You remember the police raid on our apartment?"
"How could I forget? You were right next door."
"Yeah. Well, the apartment was subsidized. We got our voucher terminated." She slapped her palms angrily on her knees.
"So how did you find a new place?"
"We couldn't. We've been livin' in our car…"
"Eponine!" He laid a hand on her shoulder.
" …but the brakes went out a couple of days ago. And-" she licked her teeth "—we need money to fix 'em."
Without hesitation, Marius produced his wallet, dumping its contents on the table before them. There was a wad of dollar bills, a carefully folded twenty, and a heap of greenish pennies.
"That's all I have," he said ruefully, rolling a coin between his fingers. "Take whatever you need."
Eponine slid to the edge of her seat, turning half away from him, blonde hair hanging like a curtain around her face. She stuck an arm out, quickly sweeping up the bills.
Eponine crossed the street with a furtive look over her shoulder, the musty smell of wet concrete filling her nose. It had stopped raining; the sky was colorless and empty. She stepped deftly over the trash-filled gutter and onto the sidewalk. She could hear the shrill of sirens from a few streets over, mixed with a cacophony of angry shouts. Unperturbed, she pulled her hood over her head and shoved a hand into her pocket, smiling guiltily at the feel of the bills against her fingertips.
Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, lips curling into a snarl. Montparnasse stepped back.
"Whoa, Eponine. It's just me."
She squinted, not really surprised. "Did my dad send you?"
"Nah." Montparnasse was scowling, night-black hair hanging in his eyes. His forehead was slick with sweat.
"You been in trouble?"
"Kinda." He flicked his eyes in the direction of the sirens, breathing raggedly.
"Babet lives about a half-mile from here. Are they lookin' for you? We could-"
"—Yeah."
They sprawled on the floor of Babet's living room, an untouched bottle of vodka between them.
"So how much did Rich Boy fork over?"
"Thirty bucks. I told him about the brakes - he paid up, as usual."
"He's a sucker."
"Yup. But a nice sucker, at least…"
"What are you, his-"
She slapped him playfully. "I'm his friend."
"More like his charity case-"
"Don't say that, 'Parnasse."
"Just did."
Eponine's voice took on a shade of genuine anger. "He likes me. He said so!"
"Uh-huh. Them do-gooders are all the same. He'll lose interest soon…"
"Marius isn't like that, he-"
"—Marius just likes that you owe him now-"
"—Shut up!"
Eponine closed her eyes, remembering the gentle weight of Marius' hand on her shoulder, the play of muted light across his features, the automatic way in which he had emptied his wallet. Her nails dug savagely into her palm.
Montparnasse elbowed her. "'Ponine?"
She reached for the bottle of vodka, getting unsteadily to her feet. Then, without hesitation, she hurled it against the wall, where it shattered.
"Eponine!"
The floor was littered with lucent shards. She turned her back on Montparnasse, and left.
A/N:
Hi! Thanks for reading Till Human Voices Wake Us. The title, if you're wondering, comes from T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Feel free to review; feedback is much appreciated!