A/N: Just a little modern Enjonine short story I've been working on. Enjoy!
When she is at her lowest point, he is the one to bring her back up.
-Bryn
~~0~~
Eponine Thenardier sat against the side of a building, head leaned against the worn brick. The streetlamp flickered in the midnight darkness, brining no comfort to the girl who so very needed it. Her hair was a mess, tangled beyond belief, and her face was hidden by her hands, as she willed herself not to cry.
You're stronger than that, she told herself. What's the point in crying now? What can crying do to help? But as she shut her eyes, and clenched her fists, trying her hardest to fight the tears, they came anyway.
Her white shirt and short, dark skirt were caked with mud from the alley where she sat, and her left sleeve was stained red from the long cut on her arm. It was thin, but lord, it hurt. This was not too uncommon of her. Sitting in the alley to hide, and wait until morning came. What was different was the crying. Why the crying?
It had been another one of papa's jobs, a gift for one of his very important friends. He wasn't that different than the rest of the men papa sent her too. Fat. Drunk. Violent. And all threatened they'd do worse than kill her if she told. Papa said the same.
She very gently moved her right hand to her pocket, trying not to disturb the left arm, and reached for the old cell-phone she had gotten from the amis for her twenty-first birthday. It wasn't very fancy, but it worked, and that was all she needed. Shakily, she flipped it open and called the first person on her contact list. Marius.
But, of course he didn't pick up. He never did. She quickly hung up before she could leave a message, because what could one do with a message? He probably would delete it anyway.
She closed her phone, gripping it tightly in her left hand, and pushed herself up slowly from the ground. She couldn't stay here, no. The one who had cut her would find her. Or papa. She shuddered at the thought, and stood quicker, but winced as her arm hit the side of the building. Hesitantly, she rolled up the sleeve to find the long cut, but also a pattern of bruises across her forearm which closely resembled finger grips. She rolled the sleeve down again.
Continuing down the alley, she walked with a very slight limp, a consequence from one of her papa's previous jobs, which was healing ever so slowly. She nearly turned the corner before she heard the sound of footsteps echoing on the other side of the corner. She turned as quick as she could, her heart beating rapidly. He had found her. Or maybe it was papa. Oh, how she didn't want it to be papa. He would be ever so angry. And he was terrifying when he was angry.
His voice echoed inside her head.
"Hideous"
"Slut"
"Traitor"
She walked as quickly as she could in her ridiculous heeled shoes, but tripped on a cobblestone, falling right onto her injured arm. She let out a sharp cry of pain.
The sound of footsteps stopped, and she knew she had it coming. She shut her eyes, preparing for the booming shout of her name, or a kick to the gut, but it never came. Instead, came a different voice.
"Eponine?"
She froze, momentarily forgetting about the pain in her arm. No. It couldn't be him. They were never supposed to know about her father's jobs, or the lies of why she couldn't make it to the parties. No, they were never supposed to know.
Her eyes flickered towards Marius' golden haired and blue eyed friend, Enjolras.
She felt his hand on her shoulder and she flinched, turning her head away. "Leave me alone" she snapped, voice rough from the crying.
He frowned. "C'mon, let's get you up."
She protested, but weakly, and he picked her up gently, eyebrows furrowing at the red on her shirt sleeve, and he didn't say anything for a few moments. He then murmured, quietly, "who did this to you?"
She did not reply. Instead, she buried her face into his shirt, and let out short sobs as he walked towards the flickering streetlamp.
~~0~~
The memory of how she got to be sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, wearing a pair of his pyjama pants and his university sweater was a bit of a blur. She remembered him putting her in the backseat as he drove through the darkness, not another car in sight. She doesn't remember walking up to the apartment, but she does remember him stitching up her wound in silence as she stared at the wall, unmoving. And now she is curled up in a blanket, staring at a fire, warm.
She doesn't remember the last time she was allowed to be warm by a fire. Maybe when she was younger and when things were happier, but those days were long ago. Mama was better back then, and even papa. But papa was never that much better.
Eponine lifts her head at the sound of him rummaging around in the kitchen, and a stab of embarrassment hits her right in the chest. None of them have ever seen her cry before, not even Marius. Crying into the marble man's chest was never something she considered. Hell, she was still wondering if it was even possible that she had done it, or if it was just another lie from the blur of what had happened earlier.
He walked back into the living room holding her cellphone, a package of cigarettes and a lighter. "This yours?"
Eponine nodded, and took the objects from his hand, and pulled a cigarette out of the package. "This okay?" she asked, and he gave a nod. She placed the cigarette between her lips and pressed on the lighter.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Nothing happened.
She let out a sigh. "Fuck. It must've gotten wet. You gotta light?"
"Yeah" he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a very expensive looking lighter. Actually, all the things in his apartment looked quite expensive. She suddenly felt very, very intrusive.
He handed it to her, and she pressed on it, but failed once more. It hadn't been the moisture affecting the last one, no. It had been the shakiness of her hand that lead her to fail in lighting the cigarette.
"Need a hand?"
She found herself startled whenever he spoke, as if he had just appeared into the room. It felt like that alone with him though. He was observant, not talkative. She was thankful for that at the moment. If it had been anybody else they would probably be bombarding her with questions. But he was Enjolras. And he had his own way at dealing with things, she could see.
She gave a quick nod, handing him back the lighter. He leaned forward and lit it in one go, sitting back down opposite her on the couch. She murmured a soft 'thank you' before breathing in, then letting out a breath of smoke.
They were silent.
"It's an expensive habit" she said after a pause, "I wish I could quit."
"Then why don't you?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I've tried, I just can never seem to stop. It happens when you start young. Wish I had never picked up the first damn packet. What about you?"
"I don't smoke?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Then why do you have a fancy-ass lighter?"
"Never know when you're going to need something like that, you know? I like to think myself as a prepared person."
"Well, you sure know how to stich up a wound, I'll give you that." She paused. "Thanks. You know, for that."
"It was my pleasure."
Silence.
He looked at her, brows furrowed, arms crossed.
She took another breath, and looked back at him. She let out the breath. His brows furrowed deeper. "What were you doing out there?"
She let out another puff of smoke. "A job" she replied loosely. He didn't buy it.
"What kind of job gives you that?" he said nodding in the direction of her injured arm. She momentarily looked down on it. The swelling had stopped, but the bruising had gotten anything but better. It looked almost worse than it felt.
"It's just something I need to do, okay? I need money. It's just a job. You have a job, and I have a different one. It's simple."
"I wouldn't exactly call it simple"
"I give what they want. They give me money. Simple."
"You can't actually want to be doing this, Eponine. What is it that's making you do this? Is it financial? Because you know we'll all help you out…?"
"I don't need your charity" she snapped, more forcefully than she had intended to.
"Is someone forcing you to do it?"
"No, it's just…" she trailed off.
"It's just what?"
"Forget it."
The silence fell again.
She took two more puffs, before letting out a loud sigh. "You wouldn't understand, okay! You all have everything. School, fancy clothes, apartments, money, stable families and jobs, and I've got shit! I can't do all of the things that people like you and Marius can do. I've got to provide for myself."
"So you sell yourself?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, "yes! Because what else can I do? And if you have an idea, I'd really love to hear it, trust me" she said with a bitter laugh, looking off in the direction of the fire once more.
He let out a sigh. "You could ask one of us. I'm sure Musichetta could get you hooked up with a job at Musain…"
She let out a snort. "Like anyone there would ever hire me? And you know what, I could be doing something else as equally as horrible, but I do this because I'm not terrible at it. Hell, I'm actually pretty damn good! Put on some makeup, strap on a pair of heels, and bam! There's your food for the next few days."
He just looked at her, with an almost pitying face. Pitying wouldn't help. She didn't need his pity. She deflated from her earlier anger, into a slight slouch.
"I don't know what to do anymore, you know? Maybe it would be worse if I didn't do the job, considering what I'd have to come home to…but sometimes it feels like it would be worth it just to stop. For the pressure to be gone" she took a long drag of the cigarette, and stared off towards the fire. She needed to forget about all of this, even if it was just for a minute.
"Do you have any booze?"
He nodded.
"Good. Bring out the strong stuff, and two glasses."
She didn't know how much she had drank, but it was definitely enough to make her a bit woozy. Enjolras had brought out some fairly weak rum that she wasn't very fond of, but she didn't really mind at the moment. Her head was in a completely different place.
He hadn't had much. Maybe one shot, and that was because she had forced him to take it. Actually, by the looks of it, he hadn't filled his glass since. She was slightly disappointed that he had to see her in this state, but it was his fault he hadn't drunk as well.
She brought the glass to her mouth again and took a swig, letting out a sigh afterwards. "You really need to buy some stronger stuff. Like, this stuff is designed for fourteen year olds trying to rebel against their parents and shit like that. Where's your big boy stuff?"
"I'm not one to drink liquor often. The feeling of intoxication isn't something I enjoy" he replied.
She rolled her eyes. "Look at you with your fancy words." She filled the glass to the brim, and shoved it towards him, some of it splashing onto her shirt, not that she really minded. "Have it. You're no fun at the moment."
"I'm perfectly fine…" he began, gently pushing her hand away, but she cut him off.
"C'mon. Drink up."
He sent her a stare that wasn't exactly angry, and wasn't exactly annoyed, but somewhat more exasperated. He took the drink and held it in his hands for a few moments before looking her in the eyes.
She nodded her head. "What are you going to do? Stare at it all day?"
He sighed, and brought the glass to his lips. He downed the shot in one go, and cringed slightly afterwards. Eponine smirked.
"What?" he snapped.
"You're so innocent" she said, shaking her head. "You're so pure. Mr. I'm-going-to-save-the-world-with-my-pretty-hair-and-ridiculous-speeches."
He frowned slightly at the nickname. "And your point is? So what if I don't care for alcohol?"
She let out a chuckle. "I mean, how did you spend your early university years? Locked up in this apartment studying?"
He didn't seem to understand the sarcasm. "Mostly, yes."
Eponine rolled her eyes. "That is not what most people do, you are aware, right? Most people spend their first year getting loaded and signing up for way to many eight o'clock classes."
"I guess that would be true."
"Have you ever even been drunk before?" she asked, suddenly curious.
He grimaced. "Yes. A few times. I wouldn't exactly call it an ideal experience. It takes you out of your mind…away from who you are…" He looked up at Eponine.
She took a sip of her drink. "Exactly."
They were quiet for a few moments, as Eponine drained her glass. She was starting to feel the effects now. She felt relaxed, and a little fuzzy, but that was okay. She drank too much, she knew. But it was better than the alternative.
She looked across the couch at the golden haired and blue eyed fellow in front of her. She tilted her head. The girls around town called him "The Marble Man". Beautiful, artistic, but completely unbreakable. He was kind of statue-like when she thought about it. He was guarded, she could see, much like herself. But he was much better at it. He could easily put on a façade. A charming smile and a rousing speech. But here, well, here he was different. He was so unlike the Enjolras she had though she had known before.
She didn't really know what to make of it.
"You're not a virgin, are you?"
His eyes widened. "Pardon?"
She repeated the question with ease. "Are you a virgin?"
He seemed slightly frazzled at the question. "I don't see why this is a necessary question."
Eponine smirked at his unease. "I mean, you don't drink, you don't party. It seems almost natural that you wouldn't be that caught up with sex and lust. Nothing that would…ah, what did you say earlier? Take you out of your mind?"
He looked at her, brows furrowed and lips parted. "You aren't the one to sugar coat things, I see."
"What?" she said, placing her glass down on the coffee table. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. She cocked an eyebrow. "Does it?" she pushed.
He cleared his throat. "I am by no means uncomfortable…"
She moved closer towards him on the couch. He stopped talking. "What are you doing?"
She didn't really know what she was doing, to be completely honest. But she felt a sudden urge to prove a point. What she wanted to prove, she did not know.
Her body was draped over his, and her right hand grasped his shoulder. The other one was planted on the couch beside him, holding up her body. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Completely entranced, and completely terrified.
"What are you doing?" he repeated.
"Does this make you uncomfortable?" she breathed. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. She leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. He quickly pushed her away, and bolted upright. "What are you…?" But he had pushed her into a position where she straddled his hips, and had quite the upper hand. She pulled him back to her, twisting her good arm into his shirt.
He was unresponsive for a few moments, and for a moment she thought he would not respond at all. She was about to pull away before she felt a hand move down her back hesitantly. He seemed unsure, so Eponine moved in closer to him, as if to give him permission.
God, even in this he was still a gentleman.
She brought her hand up to his hair, and weaved her fingers throughout his curls, pulling him closer. He started to kiss back with much more fervor, and Eponine felt herself falling far away from proving a point and much closer into what was happening in the moment.
She had only meant to make him a little tense. She hadn't meant for it to get like this. But, god, she wasn't going to stop now.
His hands grasped at her hips, and both of her hands were knotted into his golden locks, as she fought to get closer and closer to him. She wanted to feel, and she wanted to be felt.
She heard as his breath turned uneven as she parted his lips with her tongue. One of his hands moved to grip her inner thigh, and she let a quiet sigh pass between their lips. Her fingers pulled hard at his hair, that she thought she must be hurting him, but he didn't say anything. Nothing at all.
She rocked her hips into his and he let out a soft groan, filling the otherwise silent room. She kissed at his neck, before opening her eyes to see his eyes open wide. "No" he said, voice slightly raspy. "Eponine, stop"
She moved from his neck to look down at him. "What's wrong?"
His fair skin was flushed, and his shirt was ruffled. He didn't look as though he had wanted to stop, and he certainly hadn't sounded like he had wanted to.
"You're not…you're not thinking properly…you've had far too much to drink…"
Her lips hovered above his as she spoke, "I think I can be the judge of that." She kissed him again, and he let her for a few moments, and she thought he was going to give him, but there was no luck. He gently pushed her away and shook his head.
"No. You're hurt and you're trying to distract yourself, pretend I'm Marius, maybe…"
Something snapped inside her when he mentioned Marius. She pushed herself off of him, back onto the other side of the couch. "Don't you think you know anything about me or what I'm thinking, alright!" she snapped. "You are nothing like me, and you don't know how I fucking feel!" She stood up from the door, and marched towards his door.
He sighed, exasperated. "Where are you going?"
She pulled on her heels. "Maybe I'll go home. Maybe I'll go to Montparnasse's. I don't know!" she angrily snarled.
His brows furrowed, and he sat upright on the couch. "Eponine, he'll kill you!"
She didn't know if he was talking about 'Parnasse or her father. Maybe he didn't know either.
"Not your fucking problem is it? Thank you very much for saving my useless life. I hope you feel gallant." She was almost yelling now.
He rushed towards her as she opened the door to leave. "C'mon, Eponine. Don't go back there, you're not safe. Just stay here…or at R's…you know there's a place for you."
She ripped her arm from his grasp. "Goodnight, Enjolras!"
"Eponine…!"
She slammed the door behind him and walked quickly out of the apartment building. Her heart was beating quickly, in time with her heels hitting the floor.
She was so confused. So, so confused? What had just happened? What was this whole night? Why had she blown up? And of all people, why at him?
She wanted to go back. To apologize. To do something. Because he didn't deserve all this. He didn't deserve to be burdened with all of her problems, and he had just been trying to help, and he had even patched up her wound…
But she didn't turn back. She walked down the lonesome street, with not a person in sight, and cried for the second time that night.
~~0~~
Hope you all enjoyed this first chapter.
Please let me know in the reviews if you would like to see more, as I would love to hear from you.
This'll probably be a short story. Only about three or four chapters about this length.
Thanks for reading :)
-Bryn