Inspired by a short film my cousin and her friends made. It's called Misconception, check it out on youtube! (I'll post the link on my profile.) Trust me, it's worth it if you watch it through to the end.

Enjolras sipped on his customary beer, scribbling in his usual notebook. It held the notes of revolution and the brilliant ideas that coursed through his mind day and night. His hand writing was legible only to him and one other person. As a matter of fact, he was waiting for her right now. Well, he wouldn't admit that he was. It was a sign of weakness. Instead he resorted to glancing out of the corner of his eye, trying to spot her tattered rags which she called clothes, and her mess of chocolate brown hair. She never failed to catch his eye, as she did with his heart. It was inevitable.

"Hey kiddo!" The burly woman behind the bar counter bellowed as she wiped her grimy hands on the rusted apron she wore, "How long 're ye planning on sittin' there? Our rush hour is about to come and we want all tables clear."

Enjolras stopped his work mid-sentence. It was a mere seven thirty but he knew she was right. She usually arrived at around seven, but she was late. He gave the woman a once over, thinking of his response, "Once I am done, I shall leave."

The woman grunted in discontent before continuing with her duties.

It wasn't long until she finally walked in. The gamine was in her usual, brown dress. Her hair fell past her shoulders, which looked large since the bone wildly protruded from her slim frame. Her face had even lit up once she spotted Enjolras.

"Ah! Monsieur!" She smiled, taking the seat in front of him. Her teeth were rotting from the unhealthy foods she had to live with, when she had any, that is.

Enjolras, too, had lighted up quite a bit. At least for him. His eyebrows raised in pleasure and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He immediately dropped his pen. He watched happily as she ordered herself a beer. She pulled out a handful of sous when they questioned her payment. She wasn't known for honest trade.

"Éponine," He was about to comment on her late timing but stopped himself. He didn't want her knowing that he kept track of their nightly visits, "What's brought you here at this ungodly hour?"

"I just wanted to drop by." She grinned, "Plus I've earned myself a fair wage!" Éponine held out the leftover sous she received from the barmaid.

"I can see that." He smiled proudly, "And what was this from? A day as a seamstress? Perhaps an errand girl? Or even giving the local messenger a hand? He does look quite busy these days."

"It's a secret!" She giggled, bringing her finger to her lips, "But I promise it is both moral and honest."

He trusted her wholeheartedly.

They drank with light speech. Éponine happily commented on Enjolras' plans and ideas, and Enjolras gladly listening into her day. Of how she had spent the morning with Gavroche, something that's becoming more scarce, and even how Monsieur Marius spent the afternoon trying to get Éponine to warm up to his new wife.

"Monsieur!" Éponine jumped in front of Enjolras, interrupting his afternoon stroll, "G'morning, monsieur! Such a fine day, is it not?" She smiled just as brightly as any other day.

"Éponine, it's past noon. It's afternoon, not morning." He corrected her sternly.

"Oh monsieur." She gently pushed his shoulder jokingly, "You're too serious!" She continued to make faces and odd sounding noises. Anything to make the man in front of her at least crack a smile and show some teeth.

"There's no such thing as too serious if it's for a good reason, Éponine."

She rolled her eyes, "You always have a good reason. What is it this time?" She pouted slightly.

Enjolras eyed her lip which stuck out in disappointment. His thoughts quickly escaped his mind. "Mon dieu! Now I have forgotten." He sidestepped her and continued to walk down the dirty streets of Paris. The girl was not far behind.

"Perhaps it was school work?"

He shook his head, "No."

"The revolution?"

He winced, "No."

She paused, letting Enjolras pass her, "Love?"

He, too, paused. He quipped over his shoulder, "Never."

Éponine quickly picked herself back up and caught up to Enjolras once he started walking again, "Then what of?"

"I guess we'll never know."

All her remembered was that it was a somber thought. Filled with melancholy and despair. Either way, he didn't want to think of it. So he didn't.

There was a panicked knocking at his door. That's what woke him up. He was most sure of that.

He got out of his stiff mattress, rubbing his eyes. His bare chest felt cold without his sheets. Another set of knocks came. He stood up, mumbling that he'd be there in a minute. He stumbled through the small flat that he inhabited and cranked open the door. Éponine stood in front of him, constantly checking behind her.

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Could I stay here for a bit? No more than an hour! I promise!" She continued to glance behind her.

"Yes," Before he finish, she ducked under his arm and into his flat, "But why?"

"There after me, Monsieur!" She sobbed, taking a seat on his couch. She dropped her head into her hands. "The man had said it was an honest job! It's not my fault monsieur! Please!"

Enjolras sat next to her, wrapping an arm gingerly around her shoulders then waiting for her reaction. She leaned into him, crying into his side. "Why are they after you Éponine?"

"That job I told you about! I couldn't read, and all he asked was for me to copy what he had written onto other sheets of paper! I don't know what it says or what it means or why they're after me, but they are!" She raised her head to look him in the eyes before returning to his ribs to cry a bit more.

"Éponine," He softly ran his fingers through her hair, trying to sooth her, "It's okay. I will talk to them. They'll realize that it's all a misunderstanding."

She pulled away from him, sniffing and drying her eyes. She looked up to him, "Really, monsieur?"

"Really."

He didn't add on, and she didn't say anything back. He gave her a reassuring smile before gripping her chin and placing a light, chaste kiss on her lips. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the most intimate.

Enjolras was about to knock on the front entrance of the local police post when it opened.

Marius stood there in surprise, "Ah, Enjolras. I haven't seen you in quite the while." He smiled brightly, "What's brought you here?"

"Éponine-"

"Éponine? Enjolras, is this about the revolution?" Marius sighed and gripped his shoulders, "You need to move on, Enjolras. All those deaths weren't your fault. They were just as dedicated as you were. Feel lucky that you're alive."

"No! That's not why I'm here!" He yelled, frustrated at the memory.

"Look, Enjolras. I've heard that you've been having a hard time coping since then. Cosette and I are here for you."

"It's fine! I have Éponine."

Marius froze, "Éponine?" It was silent for a moment, Marius' arm falling to his sides. He looked so pitiful, "Enjolras. Éponine died at the barricade."