It seems as if Fanfiction is not yet done with me! This is my first attempt into the Les Misérables fandom though. I've been a big fan for years, and have seen a ton of different adaptations. And of course, I love the Brick, which I've read a couple of times. As much as I've tried to modernize Les Mis and tell my own stories, I'm hoping to include elements from the book and musical, as well as notable character traits, etc. Let me know how I do, and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: If Found Please Return
When the doorbell unexpectedly rang, Éponine Thénardier burrowed further into the couch cushions and debated not answering it. She had only just returned from a four hour shift in the Writing Center, helping students with their crappy essays, and her editorial homework was still glaring at her from the coffee table less than a foot away. Maybe if she ignored them they would just go away, she thought, and squeezed her eyes closed in hope.
If it wasn't the highest paid student job on campus, then she liked to pretend that she'd quit. Days like today, when Éponine had to smile and put up with irritable, Adderall-addled, procrastinating shits, just wore her down until she was too exhausted to begin to think about her own work. After days like today, she would just collapse on the couch with her laptop and her ex-boyfriend's Netflix account and hiss at anyone who interrupted her.
When the doorbell rang a second time, she groaned, and threw her shoe at the door, seriously hoping that it wasn't those douchey frat guys from two buildings down. Or if it was, that they'd get the message.
Only when the soon-to-be dead man started ringing the bell to the tune of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance," did Éponine accept that she would have to move. With a groan and several cracks from her back, she stood up, pulled her three inch pocket knife out of her pocket, and headed to the door. Her head already rattling with the noise, she yanked the door open, well aware that she'd left the chain in.
"What?" She snapped irritably.
The boy on the other side of the door didn't seem fazed in the least by her reaction. He had a sweet face with dark brown hair and a wide smile. He even had the nerve to laugh at her, though not meanly. In any other circumstance, Éponine would've even considered it friendly. But he was keeping her from a BBC marathon, so she had every right to hate him on sight.
"If I'd known I was meeting the hot Writing Center girl, I'd have dressed up more," the boy said cheekily.
"Wouldn't have helped," Éponine shot back dryly, quickly losing patience with him. "Did you want something?"
"Yes! I've brought you your drunk," he replied cheerfully. And it was only then that Éponine noticed the limp body that the boy held in his arms. Immediately, she shut the door, removed the chain, and reopened it to let him in.
"I like your style, with the dog tag," he said conversationally as he dragged her roommate and lifetime best friend into the tiny apartment and towards the couch. Éponine sighed, stared at Grantaire's drunken sleep, and accepted the fact that her peaceful night was over.
The student was talking about the cheap dog tag necklaces Grantaire and Éponine had both agreed to get when they had started renting this dinky little apartment together. The tags read "If found, please return to" and listed their new address. Since neither could keep track of the other, it was easier this way.
"Thanks," Éponine said with a guarded smile, and went to the kitchen to grab the Advil, water, and a wastebasket. "Where'd you find him?"
"As far as I know, he approached us. Us being that student activist group determined to cover the campus with posters," the boy explained jovially. "He stirred up quite a commotion amongst the ranks bursting in on a conversation about the death penalty, then just turned around and challenged a friend of mine, Bahorel, to a drinking contest. Tiny, wiry thing that he is, none of us thought he'd get so far. Dude's like a sponge."
At that, Éponine finally had to laugh. That sounded exactly like the Grantaire she knew, and she was relieved to know that this boy hadn't just found him on the street and saw him as a cash-in. Grantaire was only slightly below average height, but coupled with that underfed look, he did look much smaller than he should. Even she had an inch on him, and he was never allowed to forget that inch. Of course, she also knew Bahorel. The guy was in a few of her classes, and he was built like a freaking brick wall. The guy had at least a year on Grantaire, and twice the body weight. Convinced that he was just being friendly, Éponine subtly closed the knife and slipped it back into her cargo pants.
"Well, as far as I know this idiot doesn't have a political bone in his body, but boy can he argue."
"Well, he deserves some kind of award in my book. For a second, we all thought he was going to make our noble leader burst a blood vessel. If he could rustle Mr. Yoga-and-Anarchy's feathers, then he's welcome to drink with us anytime."
"I'll let him know," she said, before finally holding out her hand and introducing herself. "Éponine."
"Courfeyrac," the boy responded with a grin, shaking it. He seemed to sense her exhaustion though, because he mercifully continued. "I should probably head out though, those bastards elected me DD for the night."
Again Éponine smiled and let Courfeyrac out, thanking him again for bringing her idiot roommate back. The moment the door shut behind him, she let out a sigh, and plopped down on the one square of couch that Grantaire wasn't collapsed on, rustling the drunk's hair playfully.
That gigantic red couch was probably their one luxury in the world. They had only just barely moved into the questionable little tenement and had been hunting for necessities when Éponine stumbled across it in the store. The cushions practically swallowed them, Grantaire was positive he would never choose to stand up again. The monstrosity could hold at least six people, making it perfect for them, since both were sprawlers. Unfortunately, the price was just as insane as the magic cushions, so Éponine had eventually dragged Grantaire away.
Then, one day came back to the apartment after her high school had let out one day and just found it in the middle of their living room, Grantaire grinning at her from it, his arms out in a "ta da" gesture. How he got it up two flights of stairs and through the door, she never found out. She had just started sobbing right there, because the tenement apartment finally felt like theirs. The drop-out and the runaway had finally found themselves a home. It didn't matter if their beds were just a mattress pad and an air bed on the ground, or that Grantaire fed them almost exclusively on what he could swipe from the sandwich shop he worked at for the first year and a half. What they'd managed to build here was more than Éponine ever had at home.
Just as she was about to reach for her laptop, try to ignore Grantaire next to her and watch her Doctor Who, said idiot decided to stir. Instead of just shifting and dozing off, he rubbed at the tight black curls of hair that always hung in his eyes, and tried sitting up. That was it; she finally closed the laptop and slid it back where it belonged, underneath the couch. She was done trying to relax for the night, and would just consider herself lucky if she could get him onto his dinky little mattress pad, and get to sleep.
"'Ponine?" he asked blearily, the word slurring for one reason or another. His freakishly blue eyes were surrounded with a dulled red, and Éponine could no longer tell the difference between drugs and sleep deprivation.
"You going to throw up?" she asked with a sigh.
He paused to think it over for a moment, lips pursing tightly in concentration, before nodding and attempting to stand. Éponine helped him to the bathroom, and swept back the thick mess of his hair as he vomited into the toilet.
"'Ponine, I think I met a fucking god," he announced drunkenly when he finished. He flushed and stood up, not looking the slightest bit surprised at the water bottle and toothbrush Éponine offered him. He took a long swig of the water, and then plucked his toothbrush from her hands, and made his way to the sink, before continuing. "An actual Greek God lowered from Mount Olympus to shine a light on the world around us."
Éponine, now sitting on the toilet seat while he brushed, quirked an eyebrow up at him questioningly. To this day, she still regrets reading him that book on Greek heroes back in elementary school. For the next several years afterword, she was worried every time she found him trying to read the Greek mythology books that he would break something in his head. He always wore that angry-looking, concentration scowl, trying to decipher the words. The fifth grade field trip his class took to the museum didn't help matters.
"Oh really?" she asked skeptically, just about ready for bed. "A fucking god, or a God of fucking?"
He swatted her on the arm, but she couldn't really take it as any sort of admonition when he dissolved into giggles over it.
"A golden God, sculpted from the finest marble. Apollo in all his glory," Grantaire continued waving his arms wildly to emphasize his words. With the toothbrush in his mouth, she got a lovely view of the contents of his mouth, as did the mirror, since he was too drunk to care about the flecks of toothpaste flying out of his mouth.
His eyes shone brightly in a way they hadn't in years, and finally Éponine took pause and really looked at her best friend. There was something wild in him tonight that worried her. Forget that he had a good understanding of his limits and went overboard in a way he hadn't in a while. Forget that a stranger had to carry him home. Forget that he's been working himself ragged lately because winter was on its way and he was trying to afford real heating for them, and a new down coat for her this year. Something had changed, that she couldn't identify. He spat out the toothpaste, and rinsed one last time before turning to look at her. Those ridiculously blue eyes looking much clearer than they should have.
"Fuck Ep, it felt like I knew the guy," Grantaire said softer. He snorted, trying to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but it lacked the edge that most of his self-mockery held. And his eyes kept begging her to understand. "Like, I saw him and something in me just went; oh. Like if words just suddenly started making sense."
Éponine didn't know what to say, especially with the comparison he made to school. So instead, she stood up, kissed his forehead, and focused on the easiest task at hand. She could deal with this new boy in her best friend's life, their ever-present money issues, and her editorial homework tomorrow.
"Okay R, you can tell me all about him in the morning. Let's just get you to bed now," she said, and walked him across the hall into the room that they occasionally shared.
Since both of their beds were easy enough to move around the apartment if one of them wanted space, they usually just split the single bedroom. Other times, one of them would move their makeshift bed into the tiny little eating area. At the moment, both of their beds were in the same room, and with the ease of practice, she maneuvered Grantaire down to his mattress pad, lay him on his side, and covered him with his ratty blanket. Within moments, he was out again.
Eponine sighed, determined not to think too much about this Apollo until she talked to Grantaire in the morning, and went to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed herself. Before she forgot, she grabbed the Advil and water from the coffee table in the living room, and placed them a foot away from Grantaire's head. She was done trying to relax, and was just ready for sleep. Her dinky air mattress was covered by the spare sheets she'd nicked from the freshman housing storage room, but just about anything seemed comfortable at this point.
Her editorial homework could wait until morning.