Falling Slowly: Chapter 1 - Moonlight
The familiar fog tugged at her temple as Eponine struggled to focus on the presentation. Every sound had amplified and panic shortened every breath. Fuck. Her friends' faces swam in front of her, each word taking a few extra seconds to resonate. Time was lost. Memories and emotions distorted her perception.
"Ep?"
Courfrayac's voice was quiet in the midst of her mind's chaos, but she latched onto it and let it drag her to the surface.
"Eponine?"
Opening her eyes she took a quick inventory. Nail marks dotted her hands, legs were folded underneath her, muscles pulled taut, and ah the familiar shaking had returned.
Drawing a breath Eponine ran fingers through her unruly mass of hair. "Fra?"
"What's wrong? You all right? Should I call Joly?"
Blinking Courfrayac's worried face came into focus, ridiculous apple red glasses and all.
Shame snaked through her middle. "I'm fine." Unfolding herself from the desk, Eponine slipped into her bargain coat and rifled through her bag for her phone.
Nervously Courfrayac shifted from one converse clad foot to the other. "Are ya sure?"
His query fell on deaf ears as his friend's hobo bag spilled onto the laminated University classroom floor.
"Damn!" she cried, clenching her hands into fists.
Scrambling over, Courfrayac dropped to his knees. Hearing a sniffle, he noticed Eponine willing tears away by sheer determination and the occasional deep breath.
As she bent to reclaim a rogue tampon, her friend brushed her shoulder.
Flinching Eponine pulled away. "Don't." Her eyes darkened and Courfrayac nodded, retrieving the rest of her belongings that had rolled towards the door.
Fuck. Granted, most of her thoughts weren't G-rated, but this was insane. What time was it? Shit. Looking around the room, Eponine realized that everyone else had left. Dread pushed her to the floor and questions buzzed incessantly.
With his arms full, Courfrayac meandered towards Eponine wary of their last interaction. He paused watching her lips drop into a frown and fingers rub her forehead. In the minute it took to dump her remaining belongings in the frayed bag, Eponine's knees hit the floor in front of him.
"Fra, what happened?"
Maintaining a careful distance, Courfrayac explained that at the end of Enjorlas' presentation, the Les Amis had gathered and decided to head over to the Café Musain. Thankfully the proprietor favored business, as boisterous and chaotic as their gang was, over empty chairs and tables.
Drawing a breath, Fra addressed the floor "The gang left 'bout a Top Gear program ago."
Encouraged by her small smile, he offered his hands. "Shall we darling?"
"But of course ma chere." Eponine replied seductively, until her voice betrayed her with a hitched sob.
Shakily the stubborn 19-year old evaded concerns and subtle prying from her long time ami the entire walk to their usual hangout. Among the apartment buildings the wind pushed and pulled the pair, re-arranging their attire and whipping Eponine's hair into knots.
In all her years with the Thenardiars, crying was never tolerated. If anything it justified more abuse. Why now? Four months, nine days and ten hours. How long before Eponine could safely consider herself a free woman?