The title is taken from the lyrics of the song Up In The Rafters by Lady Lamb The Beekeeper, which is not only a beautiful song, but also gives me a LOT of Éponine/Cosette feels.
"Did you hear?" Courfeyrac leaned over the back of the sofa and tried to look at what Grantaire was writing on his laptop. "Marius is in love."
Éponine looked up. "What?"
Both boys grinned at her and she pulled a face. So she had pined for Marius for most of their first year only to sleep with him and realise that she was actually gay. So what?
"Who's the next prospective lesbian?" Grantaire asked. Éponine hurled a cushion at his face, which he deflected.
"Did you go to the choir thing in town?" Courfeyrac asked. Grantaire shook his head, screwing up his face.
"I don't remember any singing."
"You stayed at the café with Enjolras," Éponine reminded him. "Mooning over him again."
"I do not moon." Grantaire affected a dignified tone. "I admire. Mooning's what you did over Marius."
"Shut up. What about the choir thing?" She had gone. Jehan had tried to drag all of them along, but Enjolras had considered it too frivolous and Joly hadn't wanted to go out in the cold air. Bossuet and Musichetta had tried to persuade him to no avail, and in the end they had left him to his studies. The rest of their little group had allowed Jehan to lead them to the church where the university choir was singing, and they'd had a surprisingly good time.
"Remember the blonde angel?" Courfeyrac grinned.
Éponine remembered – the girl who had sung the beautiful solo in Latin or Italian or some other language. "Yes."
"Apparently Marius was utterly star-struck. He hung around afterwards to try and catch another glimpse of her – you know how shy he is – and she saw him and asked him if he was lost. He must have practically fainted!"
Grantaire snorted and started to resume his typing.
"Anyway," Courfeyrac continued conspiratorially, "somehow the angel coaxed him out of his shell and they arranged to meet again. But that's not the best part. You'll love this."
"Do tell." Grantaire said dryly, not looking away from his laptop.
"He forgot to ask for her name! He doesn't even have her number!"
"How very Marius," Grantaire snickered.
Éponine rolled her eyes and sank back in her chair, trying to get back to reading her book.
"So uninterested, Éponine?" Courfeyrac teased.
"Disinterested," she corrected.
"Actually, it can be either," Grantaire told them. They deferred to the Creative Writing student and didn't pursue the issue.
"Why shouldn't Marius get a girlfriend?" Éponine shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me."
"Liar, liar," Grantaire sang.
"Pants on fire," Courfeyrac finished, coming round to perch on the arm of her chair and drape an arm around her shoulders. "We're always available as shoulders to cry on, you know."
Éponine stifled a smile. "How sweet of you."
"We are very kind," Courfeyrac agreed.
"The kindest," Grantaire nodded. "Although, I think it would be a little awkward if we beat Marius up for breaking Éponine's heart, since we'd have to keep living together."
"Especially since she's the one who broke his heart." Courfeyrac smiled as Éponine shoved him off her chair.
"Shut up. I didn't break anybody's heart. And he didn't break mine either."
"Bottling emotions up is very bad for you, you know." Courfeyrac pulled a concerned face.
"Don't tell Joly," she said snidely, and Grantaire chuckled.
They all looked up when the front door opened. It slammed closed, and a moment later Marius came into the living room, flushed from the cold. He looked incredibly excited, and incapable of speech.
"Go on then," Grantaire gestured imperiously to the chair next to Éponine's with his foot. "How did the date go?"
"What's her name?" Courfeyrac grinned. "Unless you forgot to ask again."
"Cosette." Marius spoke the word with rapture. "Her name is Cosette. Don't you think it's a beautiful name?" Courfeyrac had to pull his coat off and nudge him in the direction of the chair to get him to sit down. Éponine exchanged a glance with Grantaire – Marius seemed almost drunk. "She's a music student –"
"You don't say?" Grantaire raised an eyebrow, and it was a show of how distracted Marius was that he didn't pick up on the obvious jibe.
"– in our year, I don't know how we haven't seen her before," Marius continued, not seeming to hear him. "She lived in halls last year with four other girls, and now she lives on the other side of the river. Cosette Fauchelevent. She's truly an angel."
"Does that make you a demon, do you think?" Grantaire grinned when Marius gave him an offended look. "Oh don't worry, I was joking. I think it's wonderful that you're in love."
"He only met her last week," Courfeyrac snorted. "You can't be in love with someone after one date."
"Why not?"
"Because you don't know them properly. You have to know someone to be truly in love with them."
"Bullshit." Grantaire set his laptop aside and went into the kitchen. There were the familiar sounds of the fridge opening followed by a bang and snap as Grantaire opened a beer bottle against the counter and let the fridge door slam as he came back into the room, already holding the bottle to his lips. "Bullshit," he said again, flopping back onto the sofa. "I fall in love all the time."
"No," Éponine rolled her eyes, "you fall in lust all the time."
"How dare you degrade my affections so?" Grantaire said in mock outrage. "I adore each and every woman I kiss."
"And take to bed," Courfeyrac grinned.
"You adore them?" Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Tell me the name of the redhead who used our shower on Tuesday. Or the name of the girl you picked up at Barricade's last weekend."
"Names are unimportant." Grantaire waved his bottle and shook his head at Éponine and Courfeyrac's tutting. "No, no, listen – and don't you tut me!" He pointed indignantly at Courfeyrac. "You sleep around just as much as I do! I may not be able to tell you what the lovely redhead's name was, but I can tell you what noises she made. I could describe the shape of her legs and the curve of her back. Aren't they just as important?"
"No," Éponine said flatly. "Tell us more about Cosette, Marius."
Marius' whole face lit up, and the other boys both groaned. "She plays the piano, she told me – that's her primary instrument, and she also plays the violin, and the flute, though not as much. And she sings."
"We know that," Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "We saw her perform, remember?"
She'd had a voice like the warbling of a bird, Éponine remembered. A real trill. She'd never heard anyone sing like that before.
"She lives with her father, and he's a bit old-fashioned, but she loves him very much."
"She loves him very much?" Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Who says that on a first date?"
"Her parents are divorced?" Courfeyrac glanced at Grantaire, who kept his eyes down. They all knew his parents had gone through an extremely messy divorce, and he didn't like talking about it.
"No," Marius shook his head, "her mother is dead, she told me. Died when she was very young – she doesn't remember very much of her."
Courfeyrac's phone buzzed and he held up a hand to pause Marius as he checked it. "Combeferre," he told them. "Are we going over tonight?"
"Definitely." Grantaire closed his laptop with a grin. "I can't wait for Marius to tell everyone about his new girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" Marius seemed taken aback by the idea.
"Maybe not yet," Courfeyrac allowed.
"Did you kiss her?" Grantaire leered.
Marius blushed to the roots of his hair, and even Éponine had to laugh at the sight. "No."
"Did you make plans for another date?" she asked.
Marius nodded and smiled shyly. "On Thursday. She has the morning off."
"But you don't." Courfeyrac nudged him.
"We all skip enough classes anyway because of Enjolras' protests." Grantaire stood up and stretched lazily. "One more won't make any difference."
"Not for you, perhaps." Courfeyrac pushed Grantaire so he fell back onto the sofa. "Creative Writing isn't as tough as Law."
"Or Anthropology?" Grantaire asked snippily.
"Or English and Drama," Éponine added. "Face it; you and Jehan have the easiest deal out of any of us."
"Please." Grantaire snorted and got to his feet again. "I don't think I've ever seen Bahorel go to a single one of his History lectures. And Political Science can't be that difficult if Enjolras can miss all of his classes and still get a first. The bastard."
"You're just bitter because you got a second last year." Éponine pulled her shoes on and laced them up quickly. She could read just as well at the big flat as she could here.
"First year doesn't count anyway." Grantaire pushed a hand through his curls. "Are we ready?"
"We're going now?" Courfeyrac huffed.
"No time like the present." Grantaire clapped him on the back. "I'm going now. Anyone else?"
"I'm ready." Éponine stepped over Marius' legs. "See you guys there."
"We're ten minutes behind you," Courfeyrac told them.
Éponine grabbed her favourite scarf from the banister as they left and wound it twice around her neck as Grantaire closed the door behind them. "Very nice," he said appreciatively.
"Thanks." She slid an arm around his waist and set a brisk pace. The night air was bitingly cold, and she knew her nose would be bright red by the time they got to the big flat, even though it was only a few streets away.
"Did you see Marius in there?" Grantaire tipped his head back and laughed, breath steaming. "He's like a ghost! Hardly said a word unless it was about whatshername."
"Cosette."
"Mmm. I wonder what Enjolras will say. Oh – can we stop at the shop on the way? I'm out of wine."
"You alcoholic."
"Alcoholics go to meetings," Grantaire corrected her. "I am a drunk."
The big flat was full of warmth and noise when they arrived. It was their favourite place to congregate because it was so large – there was only one main room from which the bedrooms branched off. A small kitchen tucked in the corner to the right as one entered, a small table, and in the far left corner a small TV and a large L-shaped sofa.
When Éponine and Grantaire came in, a few of the boys cheered, obviously tipsy already. Éponine rolled her eyes and went to perch on the edge of the sofa near Enjolras. He hardly drank at all, and projected a sort of steely calm that made for a quieter atmosphere conducive to her reading.
Joly and Bossuet were there as well, she noticed, but not Musichetta. The other girl's absence was both a relief and a loss – Éponine didn't always get on particularly well with her, but it was nice to have another girl around. She often felt greatly outnumbered when she was on her own.
"Where's Chetta?" she asked Joly when he passed by the sofa.
"Working on an assignment of some kind," he sighed. "She's been putting it off for two weeks."
"When's it due?"
"Two days' time."
"Give her luck from me."
Joly smiled. "I will."
It was second nature by now to sink into her book and tune out the rowdy background noise of the boys talking and drinking and arguing. She was a member of the ABC society, and technically interested in what they spoke about and protested against, but she didn't need to devote her every living moment to it the way some of them did. She intended on graduating with a first-class degree in English Literature and Drama, and woe betide anyone or anything that got in her way, even the liberation of the working class and blowing the whistle on police brutality and media cover-ups.
A gust of cold air from the corridor outside announced Courfeyrac and Marius' arrival, and Éponine looked around briefly, but quickly went back to her book. What did she care if Marius had fallen head over heels for a singing music student? It didn't matter to her.
Though if she was being honest, she didn't know what he saw in that girl – that Cosette. She hadn't been that pretty. Quite boring, actually. Long blonde hair and ivory skin. Who went for that sort of thing anymore? Did Marius think they were living in the seventeenth century?
"Too studious for us tonight, are you?" Bahorel interrupted her thoughts by leaning over the back of the sofa and grinning in her face. "What's that you're reading?"
"Poetry," she said shortly, closing the book on her finger to keep her place. "What's the topic tonight?" She reached out and snagged his bottle of cider, taking a drink as he spoke.
"The police, again," he took the bottle back and gulped at it. "Bastards are getting really cocky. More unwarranted spot-searches, more embarrassing treatment. Especially for the women they pick up."
Éponine hummed non-committedly and looked over at the rest of the boys, crowded around someone's laptop and gesturing angrily to whatever was on the screen. "Spoiling for a fight?"
"Always." Bahorel grinned nastily and finished his cider in two gulps. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, thanks."
"Go back to your poetry then," Bahorel straightened and clicked his back.
"Poetry?" Jehan looked around. "You're reading poetry?"
"Now you've done it," Éponine sighed. "Yes, poetry. For my course."
"Who?" Jehan came over, smiling broadly. He wrote poetry and read everything.
"Pope." She held the book up for his inspection.
"Oh, Pope's good," Jehan nodded enthusiastically. "Excellent Augustan poet. Have you read Eloisa to Abelard yet?"
"I don't think so." She flicked through the pages with a frown.
Jehan put a hand on his chest and turned his eyes heavenward. "How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each prayer accepted and each wish resigned."
"Isn't that from a movie?" Bossuet came up behind him and poked his head.
Jehan scowled and smacked him lightly across the face. "Unlettered peasant! I was quoting from an excellent world-renowned poet, not a Hollywood blockbuster!"
"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind wasn't a blockbuster." Éponine rolled her eyes.
"Shakespeare?" Bossuet grinned and darted backwards as Jehan began to swat at him furiously. Bahorel and Éponine laughed as they ran around the room until Enjolras stopped them.
"What's wrong with Marius?" Joly's voice rose above the din, and everyone turned to look. Joly laughed and pointed. "He's dreaming, look at him!"
Marius blushed, but didn't deny it, and Grantaire grinned and flung an arm around his shoulders. "Hasn't he said? Marius is in love!"
Éponine gave up on reading and went over to get a drink. "With a singer," she added as she took Grantaire's wine bottle from him. There were glasses in the cupboard. She knew her way around the big flat as well as the house she shared with Marius, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire.
Marius was immediately surrounded, and Éponine rolled her eyes as she poured herself a glass of wine. "What's her name?" Bossuet asked.
"What does she look like?" Bahorel shouted.
"Her name's Cosette," Marius spoke quietly, forcing the others to stop shouting in order to listen to him. "She's a music student."
"The blonde angel from the choir thing," Courfeyrac supplied helpfully. "The one who sung the Latin solo."
So it had been Latin. Not that Éponine really cared.
It took a while for Enjolras to turn the others back to the subject at hand, and he was clearly annoyed at Marius for distracting the others. Éponine shared Grantaire's wine and got numb fingers when she walked home between him and Marius, Courfeyrac ambling behind them. She hadn't read enough poetry, and she was irritated at herself for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on.
She only realised as she was taking her make-up off for bed that she was jealous. It made no sense at all – she truly didn't think of Marius that way anymore, and she knew she had no claim to him – but it was still there. Figuring it out only made her more annoyed, and her sleep was restless and troubled.