The room Eponine had chosen turned out to be the smaller one. There was honestly nothing exciting about it; same white walls, same floor, but this time with a blanketless bed tucked in the corner under a window. A quick glance out the window showed her that there was an identical window across the way, which was only a distance of around ten feet. Another glance proved that it was exactly parallel to her window, and whatever creep owned the place could stare at her as much as he or she pleased, due to the fact that the window had no blinds or curtains.
Supposing that she could always tack up a sheet or something, she worked the blankets out of her duffle bag and laid them on the bed. Of course, she had never had the standard matching-sheets-and-comforter system; more like blankets she found lying around the house stacked on top of each other until she was relatively warm.
Still, she could remember walking past a furniture store once and seeing a fully made bed through the glass. It was a huge double bed, technically for adults, but even at age 12, her more childlike had been enthralled by it. Immediately going into the store, she had stroked the down comforter and stared at the five pillows. Five pillows? She had never seen five pillows on one bed. It was so impossibly enchanting that she began to climb onto it, wondering if the employees would just let her take a quick nap. It proved to be a false statement, because a person in a green apron came over and asked if her parents were here and interested in buying the bed.
She didn't know how to say that she was wandering a furniture store alone, so she simply ran out with no answer.
Maybe if she had enough extra money, she could track down that comforter and get it for her bed. It would look nice in this room, with all of the white.
The dream was cut short as an image of a stack of bills flew into her mind, and she threw the same old blankets onto the bed.
Cosette was confused when she saw her bedroom. Maybe not confused, but definitely surprised. As opposed to the rest of the house, the walls in this room were a pale green, a shade she had never thought that she would like. It was refreshing to see some color, though, and her bedding wouldn't clash, but the color was oddly familiar.
The bed was already tucked under the window, which thankfully had curtain rods so her curtains would have some use. A similar window was in the next row of houses about ten feet away, and she could see some movement inside. Curtains first, then, she decided.
Pulling the rosebud fabric out of her bag, she tried to examine the green on the walls a bit more. There was a faint idea whispering in the back of her head, but she just couldn't place it.
She had just barely pulled the curtains onto the rod when it hit her all at once: she had helped her father paint his room this exact color.
He had always liked green; he wore green, drove a green car, etc, etc. One day he had come into her room with three cans of paint and two rollers, and announced that they were going to paint his room.
She was 12 and in charge of mixing the paint, which was named Celery, as her father covered everything in drop cloths. Without waiting for his consent, she poured the paint right into the tin all at once, causing a bit of it to splash out and form a long, thin drip on the floor. Her father's back was still turned, so she tried to wipe it up from the carpet with the hem of her shirt, but he reached to get the paint and caught sight of it.
Worried that he would be incredibly angry, Cosette had frozen, the fabric of her shirt still bunched in her hand, but all he said was "I think it adds character to the room, don't you?"
Laughing in relief, the celery paint was coated onto the walls in less than a day, and the celery stain had dried into the carpet, still there to this day.
Honestly, Cosette hadn't realized how empty her apartment sounded. Every step she made echoed through silence. Did anybody even live in the building? Even if they did, they could be bitter, cold people that would never care about filling a void in her life. There was nobody here who cared about her, or who even knew her name. Never before in her life, not since before she was adopted, had she felt so incredibly alone, isolated.
Thoughts of being mature were wiped from her mind as she sat on the bed in front of the window. Instead of fighting the tears off this time, she let them go, letting them fall onto her round cheeks like beads of glass.
Eponine was halfway through getting her sparse amount of clothing into the closet when she heard a sniffling sound and paused to press her ear to the door. No, it wasn't Gavroche or Azelma, she decided. It seemed to be coming from the other half of her room, the window half.
She leaned down to peer out, and finally caught sight of her new neighbor. There was a blonde girl at the window, seated on her own bed, practically whimpering in pain. Tears tinged black from what Eponine assumed was mascara slid down her porcelain cheeks.
Half of her was curious, but the other half of her dismissed the girl with scoff and went back to folding clothes. It was probably some lovers' quarrel anyways; girls like that always seemed to be dealing with them.
The sniffling, however, gradually became more and more pronounced until Eponine finally couldn't stand it. At this point, she would stab an ice pick in her eye to stop the constant noise.
She probably should have been a bit gentler, looking back, but she threw up the window and rested her elbows on the ledge. "Hey," she said.
The blonde didn't look up.
"HEY," Eponine barked, rolling her eyes.
She managed to startle the girl, who ran her fingers under her eyes and sat up straight. "What, what?" she stuttered, squeaking her window open wider.
"What are you crying about?" Eponine asked.
"Huh?"
"I mean, I don't care, but you're awfully loud. " Hm, that's a bit harsh. "It's a bit depressing, 's all."
The girl, obviously a bit taken aback, sat up straighter. "Why do you care?"
Eponine fought the sarcasm creeping into her voice. "I already said I don't. Now what's your name?"
"Cosette."
"Right. Well, Cosette, imagine you're me," Eponine started. "I'm pretty new here, and I'd like to work out all the logistics. It's pretty important to know if you'll be doing this a lot, because my patience for it is, like, zero."
Cosette drew back a bit. "If you really need to know, I'm new too and it's just…." She trailed off, then came back with a burst of confidence. "Well, why are you so rude?"
"Genetics," Eponine tossed back. "And you still haven't told me the problem here. Is it about a boy? For the love of all that is good and holy, tell me it's not about a boy."
"It's not a boy," Cosette huffed indignantly.
"Thank God for small miracles. Friend troubles?"
"No."
"Even more miracles," Eponine remarked, not bothering to put away the sarcasm anymore. "Well, Cosette, dearest neighbor, we can talk about this later, assuming you're free."
Cosette looked at her like she was mad. "And where are you going?"
"Hell."
"I mean now."
Eponine sighed. "I've got to unpack. My sister and brother are waiting."
The girl nodded looking back down. "And your parents?" she said in a slightly quieter voice.
There was a digging sensation in Eponine's chest, but she squeezed out, "They're not here."
Cosette looked at her with new interest. "Wait, how old are you?"
Feeling as if she'd shared too much, Eponine drew away from the window. "Bye, blondie."
"Wait!" Cosette yelled out. "What's your name?"
Eponine laughed. "Feeling nosy, are we?"
Blushing, Cosette replied, "You asked mine."
"You drive a hard bargain," Eponine drawled, delighting in making Cosette blush more. "But that's information that I'm not so free with giving out. Outside circumstances. You understand. "
Before any more questions could be exchanged, she waved goodbye to the blonde and closed the window, just in case the crying started up again.
But all Cosette was concerned about now was what kind of criminal freak she had moved in next to.
Please R/R!
