How to stay sane when being insane

Eponine POV

I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane.

That's what I keep telling myself, and yet I still find it hard to believe. I see things I probably shouldn't be seeing. I do things that normal people don't usually do…but I'm not insane. Although, mother and father seemed to disagree…that's why they're sending me there, you see. They first found out that I was 'insane' when I started talking to myself in my bedroom. Like I said, I see things that aren't there. It scares me sometimes. It gives me headaches.

When I arrived at the hellhole I now call my home, they asked me questions, took away my things and gave me a set of clothes that I was forced to wear. They then threw me into a room where they told me I must stay until told otherwise.

I always pictured it like this. Yellow bricked up walls and tiny beds. Air so damp you could practically see it. Filth staining the walls. Red. Probably blood. Green. Probably fungus. Brown. Probably mud.

A man, who I was most likely going to be sharing a room with, sat on one of the beds with a light blue ukulele in his hands. The ukulele was practically the only thing in the room with decent colour. The man was staring into space, strumming a little tune on his ukulele. It was a rather jolly tune for someone who was in a mental asylum. He hummed along to it, so quietly that I could hardly hear him. He had slightly curled dark hair and emerald green eyes, kind of like a snake. He wasn't bothering me in any way, so I decided not to say anything. I climbed onto my bed and curled up on one corner of the mattress. I sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment when the man suddenly stopped strumming his ukulele. The sudden silence slightly startled me. He turned his head to me and plainly said, "Hi."

I knew I was the only other person in the room, but I turned to check anyway. He might have been talking to…someone else. "Hi."

"You must be Eponine. They told me you're just as sane as I am." He said with a slight chuckle.

I blinked my eyes a couple of times. "I guess that depends…how sane are you?"

The man shrugged. "Well…I think of myself as sane. What do you think yourself as?"

I sat silent for a moment. Then I said, "Sane, but not normal."

The man seemed to like my answer. "You amuse me."

"…I like you too...um, sorry, what's your name?"

The man furrowed his eyebrows for a second, "Sorry what? I didn't catch that. I'm deaf in one ear."

I nodded. "What's your name?"

The man strummed his ukulele, "Nicolas Grantaire. You can call me Nicolas if you wish…but everyone calls me Grantaire…or R…most people call me R…or drunken cynic… or mad hatter… or just…creep…but R's fine."

I fiddled with my nails. "Well, I'm Eponine Thenardier. You can call me Thenardier, but Eponine's fine."

"Can I call you 'Ponine?" Grantaire asked.

I shrugged. "Sure." Grantaire smirked and continued to strum on his ukulele. "So…what do you do around here?"

"Sorry what?" he asked.

"What do you do around here?" I asked again.

"Well, we have group sessions. They basically give us medication…tell us to talk about our feelings...it's maddening…which is ironic really." I couldn't help but giggle. "We also have other things here…to entertain our brains they say. It sucks. The only time I enjoy being here is…" Grantaire then seemed to trail off and forget what he was going to say. He then went back to strumming on his ukulele. I sighed. "You make friends here though. People just like you and I. People that understand us."

"No one really understands me." I said honestly.

"That's what I thought before I came here... but here, I have people who think of me as family."

…

No POV

Later that day, Eponine and Grantaire were let out to go to session one. They were led by the guards to a large hall. The guards budged them inside and then shut the door. It closed with a loud echoed clank. Eponine felt a little awkward, not knowing any of the people around her. She stood there, looking around the room. It was simple really. There were a few tables and chairs, packs of cards, board games. Nothing exciting.

A group started walking over to where Grantaire and Eponine stood by the metal door. Grantaire smiled at the sight of them. "Hey R." A tall blonde, curly haired man approached the two, "Who's your new friend?" Grantaire let out a silent sigh and the blonde man embraced him. Grantaire purred quietly and hid his face in the man's shoulder whilst the blonde stroked his hair. Eponine raised an eyebrow. Attitude change much. The man smiled. "Sorry, I don't believe we've met." He said to Eponine. "You're Grantaire's new roommate I presume."

Eponine nodded. "Yeah. My name's Eponine."

"I'm Enjolras. These are my Amis. Combeferre, Jehan, Courfeyrac, Marius and Cosette." They all gave slight smile at the newcomer.

"Nice to meet you guys." Eponine said.

After a while of getting to know each other, they all went off to do their own thing. Enjolras and Grantaire sat by a table at the far side of the room with Grantaire's head nuzzled in the crook of Enjolras' neck. A blonde woman, apparently known as Cosette, and her freckled boyfriend, Marius, were doing a strange ballet style dance in the middle of the room. A young chap with honey coloured hair, Jehan, and a slightly older looking lad, Courfeyrac, sat by a different table, sharing a bottle of whatever, wondering if it was alcoholic or not. They could hardly tell these days. Eponine stood with her back against the wall, looking out on the people. The Amis seemed like the only slightly sane people around.

A young man with a pair of cracked silver wired glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose walked over to where Eponine stood and leant against the wall next to her. He cleared his throat and said. "Bonjour."

"Oh, hey." Eponine said back. "You're Combeferre right?"

Combeferre nodded. "Glad you haven't forgotten my name already." Eponine looked the man up and down. He seemed completely fine. Why was he here? Eponine shrugged and looked at the people in the room.

"What's the deal with Cosette and Marius?"

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "Huh, typical lovebirds. They were brought in on the same day. They fell in love and became inseparable. They're roommates. Happy as a pair of clowns…perhaps a little too happy for my liking, but whatever."

Eponine laughed. "And what about Enjolras and Grantaire. Are they a couple?"

"No one really knows. It's strange really. I've known both of them for quite a few years now. Before Enjolras came to the house, Grantaire was less…cheery, you might say. He came to this place emotionally unstable. He suffered from anorexia, bipolar, depression…all kinds of stuff. But then Enjolras got here and his world seemed to change. He loves Enjolras and Enjolras loves him, they just never tell each other so."

Eponine looked over at the two who sat at the table on the other side of the room with their fingers interlocked, sitting as close as possible, next to each other. "Well isn't that a sickeningly cute love story." Eponine then glanced at Jehan and Courfeyrac that were now playing a game of cards. "What about them?"

Combeferre smirked. "They're a cute couple indeed. Jehan's a poet you see. He likes to write poetry about Courfeyrac. They fell in love over a period of seven days. Courfeyrac got time out of the house for a bit for good behaviour. When he came back, he had one of Jehans' poems tattooed on his back."

Eponine giggled. "I don't get it. You guys all seem fine. I don't see why you're all in here."

Combeferre sighed. "…We're not as…simple as we may look, Miss Thenardier. We're all different in our own ways." Eponine looked over at Combeferre who had taken his glasses off and was fiddling with them in his fingertips. "Jean Prouvaire never used to be the happy young man that he is. Before he came here, he used to write poems for a news article. After a while, he ran out of 'happy' things to write about, and over time his poetry just turned into a form of expressing depression. I'm not sure if it's true, but there are rumours that he once wrote one of his poems on his bedroom wall in his own blood."

Eponine cringed. "Yikes."

"…It's probably not true though. I mean, can you really picture that man painting in blood?"

Eponine glanced over at Jehan. Joyful. Youthful. Playful. Those were the first words that came to Eponine when she looked at that man. "Well, what about the others?"

Combeferre shrugged. "They all have their stories."

"Eh, I'm sure they won't mind if you told me." Eponine said with a smirk.

Combeferre chuckled. "You're funny…well, Courfeyrac's in here for a number of reasons. Stuff like hallucinations. He can see stuff that's not there. It used to affect him pretty badly because he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. He's getting better though. Rumour has it, he'll be out of here in a couple of months."

"That's good."

Combeferre shrugged. "I don't know. Courfeyrac's grown to love the people in here. We're like his family. It wouldn't be the same without him." Combeferre sighed, placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "Cosette's in here for burning down her dance studio. She used to be a dancer."

"She burnt down her dance studio?"

"Yes. I'm not sure why, but, she did. They tagged her mad for it."

"And Marius?"

"Um…I'm not sure. You'll have to ask him yourself. Something to do with his grandfather." Combeferre replied with a shake of the head.

"Ok…what about the others then?"

"Enjolras is in here because he stood in the middle of the motorway for five hours shouting at the police who were threatening to shoot at him. He had ideas…great ideas actually, but no one wanted to listen to him. That's why he feels the way he does. Grantaire felt like he could connect with Enjolras because, in a way, they're not that different. They both have trouble expressing their emotions."

"Yeah...but at the same time they're complete opposites." Eponine said, watching them. Enjolras was loud and wasn't afraid to be, whilst Grantaire was quiet and socially awkward. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

"…And why are you here?"

Combeferre shrugged. "I was accused of something I didn't do." He said with a smile. "But it's in the past. I'd rather not talk about it."

Eponine nodded. "…Right."