The century is young, and the Earth is old. Tensions and passions run high and flirt, entangle and love. Religions mix and mash, fitting together at odd yet beautiful angles that create a mosaic of life. Three children are born out of light into darkness as the century ages and the Earth ages still.
Her little sayings and phrases came from her Jewish mother, a stout woman who grew old with a bottle at her side. Her father, a devout Catholic, used to carry a cross with him wherever he went.
December used to be the month of memories…
(Until her father's business collapsed.)
(Until her mother took up drinking.)
(Until her father began beating his family)
(Until she wasn't sure what a family was anymore).
But now, the times are different, and the century is continuing its never-ending life. Everyone is at her apartment because, why not? It's spacious, and has enough room to cram everyone in (as has been demonstrated on multiple occasions).
Bahorel is belting out an off-key, off tune Christmas song, and a memory passes by unannounced through her mind.
Her father, with a smile. Her, on his knees, singing happily, as all little girls should. The song is a mix of Hannukah and Christmas, just like every December of her young life.
"Eponine, are you all right?" It takes Enjolras' voice (the one normally so full of fire, now a flickering flame that gives off just enough light to be comforting) to bring her back to the present, to her friends, her new life.
"Oh yeah, of course. I guess those drinks Grantaire brought were stronger than I expected." She smiles, a traditional system of defense that protects better than any halfhearted prayer that now passes through her mind. She lost her faith a long time ago, along with the magic that seemed to go hand-in-hand with belief.
Enjolras raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Eponine turns back to the fireplace and lets herself become engulfed by the vision of the flames moving ceaselessly through time and space, uncaring of the wood they were burning and killing in their wake.
All too soon, it's time for the dramatic unraveling of the Secret Santa gifts. Cosette is eight months pregnant, and since parties are no fun at hospitals, Courfeyrac decided to have one a bit earlier.
There is a plethora of colors beneath the tree, and even Enjolras cracks a smile as they all gather around, glasses abandoned on the kitchen table, and Christmas jingles stuck in their heads.
One at a time, they go up to the tree and scavenge for the colors that surround their name. Eponine ends up going somewhere in the middle, and she finds her name on a perfectly square, perfectly wrapped box. She shakes it a bit, an inkling of the child she once was oozing out to make itself known.
Eponine eagerly tears the wrapping off the box, destroying the neat pattern of color and causing it to cascade in waves around her. The box itself is simple and cardboard, and she is expecting nothing extreme, perhaps some chocolate-
It's a menorah. Inside the plain, brown box there is a gorgeous silver menorah with intricate designs engraved upon it. She turns and turns it, and she spots 'For Eponine. Happy Hannukah' engraved on the side. She can't stop grinning and she turns, mouth half open to thank whoever her mysterious Santa was. No one comes forward, but she notices how Enjolras smile a little wider, and how his hands relax to rest lazily on the couch.
The rest of the presents are sorted, but no one's grin is as wide as Eponine's. Not even Grantaire's when he uncovers a book of cocktail recipes with his name primed on it in neat, cursive letters. Cosette's grin comes awfully close when she uncovers a hand knitted sweater with the words "Blonde, And Still Smarter Than You" knitted into it.
Enjolras keeps his grin the whole night as Eponine sneaks glances towards him...and as he sneaks glances towards her when she isn't looking.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and some of the boys begin to drift off to their respective homes around two or three in the morning. In those dark hours, time stands still and loses all meaning.
Gavroche and Azelma stumble off to sleep as Eponine rubs her eyes and picks up some bottles and cups that'd found a home on her living room floor. She catches a glimpse of golden hair bending down behind the couch and smiles, grateful for the help. As Eponine works, she hums an old tune from her childhood.
"Thanks for the help, Enj," she says when the room is clean and she finds herself wishing for it to be a mess once more. It is, after all, more enjoyable to clean up a mess together, than to stare at an empty, spotless room by yourself.
"Anytime..." He says, and with a soft smile, turns to go-
"Thank you...for the gift." The words are loud and awkward, tripping over each other. She didn't want him to go, she wanted him to stay, 'please stay, don't leave me alone with my memories give me new ones with you-'
"You're welcome," he murmurs, and she can't help but notice that his voice threads its way through her ears like spun gold.
She shakes her head. "How did you know? I thought I left my past behind, that I'd run so far away, it could never catch up to me."
Enjolras gives a small laugh. "Grantaire told me, actually. He mentioned something in passing about how great it is that our group got a tiny bit more diverse. And then, he mentioned that you were Jewish, and that it was a shame your siblings were away during Hannukah..."
He rubs his neck and glances at the ground, his silver tongue seemingly broken and useless in this situation. Eponine is doing the same, because she is 'not' someone to be pitied.
"Well...thanks, Enjolras. This really means a lot." She doesn't want him to go, but she doesn't know what to say because he's the one with the pretty words, the gorgeous speeches, so what now?
He turns to leave and she makes her decision, tired of waiting and ready to act, so she runs up and kisses him full on the mouth.
For a moment, he doesn't respond, and thinks that this is it, here's another thing I'll have to run and hide from and leave behind-
But then he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her back and the moment is 'glorious.' Their night lasts for more than a moment, but it is the early morning, those hours when nothing happens, and everything happens, and even time sleeps.
But just like time, even they must sleep. And they do, with their limbs intertwined on the couch. The fire flickers and creates shadows that dance on the menorah, the tree that dance and make love all through the night.