So, this is a prompt that I filled on Tumblr. I didn't plan to make For One Second... end happily but I kind of got the inspiration when I received that prompt. And I thought it would appease some of my friends.

It's not part of For One Second..., but it can be read as an epilogue if you need an happier ending.

Until The Last Second

He knew it was a bad idea, but what was he supposed to do? Combeferre had been his best friend since childhood, and had save his arse more often that he would admit. So here he was, next to his very nervous best friend. More nervous that he had never seen him. Never ever, and in a way, it was a big surprise. This whole affair wasn't a big deal, it wasn't Combeferre's style, nor his fiancée's. It was all very simple and pragmatical but full of sentiment. Real, honest sentiment.

Yeah, maybe Combeferre's nervousness was normal.

He knew that they had experienced some ups and downs before today. At the time of Marius and Cosette's own wedding, the relationship had been close to a disaster but Combeferre had done everything he could to save the situation and now they were in that, he had to confess, very beautiful place, which reflected both their personalities. Simplicity and Sensibility. No priest, no long white dress. There were at best fifty people attending –and there will be even less at the reception– only their closest friends and family members were invited. Which had been the cause of some drama, he had heard, but he trusted that his friend's fiancée had managed it efficiently. He had a hard time getting along with her, mostly because she was one of those people with a strong personality, and occasionally quite pig-headed. But, most of the time, she was smart and sensible, very similar to Combeferre and they had some very interesting, yet heated, conversations about political and social issues. The engagement had been a long one. The wedding would have never even happened if it wasn't for the discrete bump under the woman's green dress. It seemed that Combeferre was eager to do the right thing.

If he had to give his very (in)adequate opinion, this wedding was way more romantic than any he had ever attended. However, it only reminded him that he had missed two of his friends wedding and, contrary to popular opinion, he felt really guilty about it. But at the time there were more important things… Or so he tried to convince himself. He had missed so many things living abroad and, on his hardest days, even good work couldn't compensate for those. Looking at his friends in the assemblee, with their wives, husbands, partners, or even kids, wasn't really helping. At all. Gavroche was almost taller than Bahorel, which was quite impressive, and reality hit him even harder.

Then his eyes fell on her. On her perfect smile. Her bright eyes. Nothing, nothing at all, could indicate that he had broken her heart less than a year ago. He knew she was the strongest of them all, but, God! This was hard!

At the time, until the last second, he hadn't realised how hard it was. And, even there, he was absolutely certain that it was still the right choice.

Except it wasn't.

He had thought that night would resolve everything, exorcise his demons. It didn't. He had thought he would move on and, at last, focus on his job. He didn't. Every day, every hour, even minute and second, she was there in his soul. And every day, it felt like she weighed more and more.

He had accepted it. He had accepted the fact that he would be haunted all his life. But the idea that, for her, it would be a quick blow and not a long and painful agony helped him deal with it.

Except it wasn't.

All their friends, every single one of them, even if they apparently didn't know the whole story, had told him how hard that last year had been for her. She had apparently only mentioned that she had met him at the train station. They told him how she had put on a brave face but none of them had been fooled. Every single one of them had written him saying it was certainly his fault and that he had to fix it. Even Gavroche, who had simply but efficiently, sent him a text: "You stupid dickface".

Now, she was looking at him.

And he felt… naked?

Not it the hot way, but the terrible, awful, way that only Éponine was able to provoke. There was suddenly an intense sadness in her eyes and he felt even worse, if it was even possible. But how? How could he fix this mess? He had looked all aspects of the problem and it seemed that there were no solution. But seeing her today, in that very disturbing, deep red dress made him…

"Enjolras? Enjolras?" Combeferre was calling him.

Oh, it was his turn. The registration officer was done detailing the spouses' rights and duties and it was time for the witnesses to sign the register.

Once everything was done and both friends were standing next to each other again, Combeferre whispered to the best man.

"Don't screw it up this time."

"Trust me, I won't."