Chapter Two
Ok, first of all, I am so sorry, I haven't updated in yonks! My computer conveniently crashed directly after Christmas so all my files were lost! It has taken me this long to rewrite the chapters I had (which is a blessing in disguise, really, because those chapters were only a very very rough first draft.) And it was my birthday on Thursday, so I received a new laptop! Anyway. I'll stop wittering and get on with the chapter.
(Oh, and it's a long one, so if you're going to read, you might want to get comfy.)
Oh, and also – even if I do a bit of Marius bashing in this chapter, I don't really mean it. I like Marius really, (and so does Enjolras) but I just thought that Enjolras' natural reaction would be to be jealous of Éponine's feelings for Marius.
Anyway. Let's continue.
There was a time when Enjolras was happy, and that time had been when he was going out with Éponine Thenardier.
Of course, they hated each other at first – the sort of hate that conceals the mutual attraction that both of them felt – and it was only fitting – well, rom-comesque fitting – that when Enjolras first met Éponine, he spilled coffee all over her.
She didn't scream, though he could tell she wanted to – the cold, strained smile she flashed him was loud and clear – and he quickly realised that she was restraining herself because of the presence of Marius 'Pontypants' (as Grantaire liked to call him) Pontmercy, who introduced Éponine to the group with the usual sappy, overenthusiastic Bonapartist tone he always used. He was like a little hyper puppy.
"Everybody, this is 'Ponine!" he cried, his arms flung wide in exultation. "She works here. She's one of my best friends in the whole world and I'm sure you'll all love her as much as I do in time!"
The group raised a unanimous eyebrow but smiled politely and invited Éponine to sit down.
"I would," she replied, smiling self-deprecatingly, "But my skirt is soaked through with coffee granules!"
She laughed then, a high, soaring laugh that made Enjolras dizzy and disorientated while the others roared with delight at his expense.
She's not even funny, he thought, frowning.
Éponine did sit down in her soaked skirt and began chatting to the group, learning names and numbers and degrees and interests and by the end of the afternoon, the group had assessed her and welcomed her into the Les Amis with open arms.
All except Enjolras. He was too busy finishing an assignment for class to listen to the mindless chatter no doubt coming out of that woman's mouth.
(Not that he was thinking about her mouth. Though her lips did look quite soft.)
He and Éponine were the only ones left in the café late that evening. She was putting money in the till and he was poring over his notebooks. Éponine had obviously forgotten the events of that morning, as she was humming while she worked and grinning to herself.
Enjolras didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he suddenly whipped around and said "Do you what I utterly despise?"
Éponine, looked up, clearly surprised that the question had been addressed to her. Her lips curved into a mocking smile.
"Oh, do tell me, bourgeois boy, what you utterly despise."
"Enjolras," he snapped. "My name is Enjolras."
"Oh, sorry," said Éponine, clearly not sorry. "Enjolras."
"I utterly despise rude women who judge people upon meeting them and won't accept a perfectly reasonable apology from one who made a mistake and then ignore that person for the rest of the conversation."
There, he thought. Chew on that for a while.
"Oh," said Éponine in a voice that suggested she was trying incredibly hard to contain laughter. "Well, bourgeois boy – sorry, Enjolras – would you like to know what I absolutely loathe?"
"Oh, please enlighten me, Coffee…..Girl."
Éponine stared at him. "Possibly the worst insult I've ever heard in my life but alright." She slammed the till and leaned her elbows on the counter. "I absolutely loathe men who think they know everything about everybody and yet have no social skills and haven't worked a day in their lives."
Enjolras scoffed.
Éponine shrugged, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Enjolras met her cold stare but faltered a little; her mouth was set in a hard line; her mocking smile showed off her crooked teeth; there were tangles in her hair and she had flour dusted all across her face and elbows and she had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.
And she was beautiful.
The illusion was shattered when she said "And you never apologised, bourgeois boy."
"That does not give you a licence to immediately think the worst of me, which you obviously did."
"I did not immediately think the worst of you."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Not immediately anyway. Don't worry, I do now, of course."
He couldn't think of anything else to say so he just scoffed.
"We're closing," Éponine said pointing to the clock on the wall. Enjolras stared. How had it gotten so late? He had better get home.
Instead he bristled. "You can't kick me out."
"Actually," said Éponine with a bright smile, "Under the rule of paragraph A, section 3 in the employee's rights handbook, I can and I will."
Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "You just made that up."
"Maybe I did," she shrugged "But I do know for a fact that the manager keeps a shotgun in the back and I have impeccable aim."
Enjolras' eyes narrowed further. "You're bluffing."
"Would you like to hang around and find out?" she asked sweetly.
She shoved him out the door, chucking him his notebooks and grabbing the cold coffee mug from his hand. As she slammed the door and flipped the 'WELCOME' sign to 'CLOSED', her cold eyes said 'Don't underestimate me, bourgeois boy. I'm onto you.
After that, he began noticing her on campus; in his political science class, wiping down tables at the Musain, laughing with Marius under the big oak tree outside the university, in the library studying late at night. When she spotted him, she never uttered a word, just rolled her eyes and turned away. Enjolras followed suit, turning in the opposite direction, scowling and cursing Éponine Thenardier and the day he had clapped eyes on her. She was a rude, ill-tempered, bad-mannered woman, and he shouldn't waste another second thinking about her.
She was always there though, in the back of his mind.
She was distracting him.
And he didn't like it.
It was at Cosette's birthday party when the metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan.
Cosette Valjean, another 'best friend' of Marius' and another honorary Amis, was turning 21, and her adoptive father had kindly forked over enough cash to let her rent out Café Musain for the night of the 1st of October. Éponine and Enjolras were both invited, of course, as were the rest of the Amis, Marius, a truckload of adoring potential suitors, a group of athletic cheerleader-y type people from Cosette's secondary school and some other squealy, giggly girls from Cosette's Art History class. Grantaire provided booze, Boussuet DJ'd and Joly handed out mini first-aid kits at the door.
Éponine ended up at the bar, searching through the margaritas and the cocktails and tequila until she found a bottle of Budweiser. She whacked the bottle on the edge of the tabletop, causing the cap to pop right off.
"Some party trick," remarked Enjolras, who appeared from the shadows behind her where he had lurked since the party began.
Éponine jumped, spilling half her beer in the process.
"What the hell?" she demanded. "What were you doing over there, spying on me?"
Enjolras laughed. "Don't flatter yourself. I was hiding."
"Hiding?" Éponine's nose crinkled. "Hiding from who?"
Enjolras shuddered. "From them."
Éponine followed Enjolras' eyes to a large group of women wearing cowboy hats and short skirts, all knocking down the vino and jumping rhythmically to whatever chart-topper was blasting out of the speakers.
"They haven't stopped pestering me all night," Enjolras told Éponine. "That's why I'm hiding here. I'm in self-defence mode. I was certainly not spying on you."
(This was only partly true. He had been hiding from the cowboy-hatted women, but he had also been watching Éponine since she came in the door, and had been wishing his hardest that she'd come over and talk to him.)
Éponine laughed and sipped her beer.
"You're scared of them aren't you?" laughed Éponine. "Don't worry, there's nothing to fear, they're just-"
"Nothing to fear!" said Enjolras. "They kept asking me if it hurt when I fell from heaven and if I was a parking ticket because I had fine written all over me, and was I wearing space pants because my bum was out of this world, and I'm telling you, there are not a lot of things I'm afraid of but those girls – those girls are terrifying."
Éponine grinned. "How much have you had to drink?"
Enjolras shrugged. "Just a beer. Or three. Look, it doesn't matter anyway. I can't stand parties like this, so I don't want to remember any of it tomorrow."
Enjolras chugged his beer. Éponine did likewise.
"So why'd you come then?" asked Éponine, leaning back against the bar. "If you hate these parties so much. Why'd you come?"
"Common courtesy," admitted Enjolras. "The way I was raised, if you were invited to a party, you showed up in your best suit in a horse-drawn carriage with the keys to a new Porsche for the host under your arm. You didn't not go to parties in my family."
Éponine smiled. "Knew you were a posh boy."
"The poshest of the posh," Enjolras informed her. "My sister had a pony growing up."
Éponine rolled her eyes. She was very pretty when she did that.
"Well, if it make a difference, I can't stand these parties either. In fact, I hate people who throw parties like this. I the people who COME to parties like this."
"So why'd YOU come then?" Enjolras slurred, moving on to his fourth Budwiser. "Something tells me it wasn't out of common courtesy." And then he added darkly, "Something tells me it had something to do with Pontypants over there."
Éponine looked across the room and sighed with relief when she spotted Marius, who had just come in the door. She raised her hand to wave him over, when Enjolras grabbed her wrist.
"Don't," Enjolras pleaded. "He'll only spoil it."
"Spoil what?" Éponine asked, eyebrows raised.
"You know..." Enjolras gestured at himself and Éponine. "This. the conversation. He'll just dry it up. Like he does with everything."
Éponine frowned. "I thought he was your friend?"
"He is," said Enjolras, rolling his eyes, "But he...he...he's awfully hard to take in large doses."
Éponine's brow furrowed.
"And - and besides!" Enjolras said. "You talk to him all the time. Why don't you talk to someone you don't know for a change." He paused. "Like me."
Éponine's eyes widened and she yanked her wrist from his grasp.
"Are you chatting me up?!" she demanded.
"What?" exclaimed Enjolras. "Are you chatting me up!? Do you like me or something?!"
"Ugh! No! I hate you, remember? You're disgusting!"
The worry faded from Éponine's eyes and she laughed. She dropped her arm and turned away from Marius.
"Alright. I'll talk to him later."
Yes, thought Enjolras.
"So," Eponine said. "Seeing as we've already started talking..." She stuck out her hand. "Temporary truce?"
Enjolras stuck her hand in hers. It was small and soft.
"Temporary truce for what?" he asked softly.
"For, you know. The whole guerrilla warfare thing we have going on."
"Oh, that's the way I treat everybody," he said dismissively.
Éponine scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Enjolras, finished his fourth beer, swiped the bottle of tequila and took a swig. He then passed it to Éponine.
So the two of them stayed like that for a while, giggling at the cowboy hatted woman on the dance floor, laughing at the truckload of suitors who picked Musichetta up and carried her around. Grantaire joined them, plonking himself between Éponine and Enjolras, taking swigs out of the tequila bottle and joining in the hysterical laughter whenever Enjolras and Éponine started. Suddenly, the party was fun, and Éponine's smile was growing wider with every minute and Enjolras was growing more confident.
"So tell us, Éponine," said Grantaire brazenly. "Why do you like our dear Marius Pontypants soooo much?"
Éponine blushed a beetroot red, obviously mortified. Enjolras yanked the tequila bottle out of Grantaire's hands, keeping his eyes trained on Éponine, waiting for an answer. "I don't like Marius," Éponine finally said.
Both Grantaire and Enjolras burst out laughing.
"What?" Demanded Éponine. "What? What is so funny about that?"
"Maybe it's because you follow him around like a shadow?" Suggested Enjolras.
"Or that you blush each time his name is mentioned?" Offered Grantaire.
"Let's not forget the way she laughs at every single thing he says!" Pointed out Enjolras.
Éponine glared at him. "You're just mean."
Enjolras shrugged. "It's a gift." He took another sip of his beer. "Anyway, Marius is all right, I suppose. If you like that sort of thing."
"What do you mean "If you like that sort of thing?" What thing? What does that even mean?"
"I mean," Enjolras explained patronisingly, "The thing. You know, where he's constantly happy, and talking about his feelings and blah blah blah blah blah..."
Éponine snorted. "I believe that thing is called being a normal, functioning human being."
Enjolras shrugged.
"I think he's charming," argued Éponine.
"I think he's daft," Enjolras shot back jealously.
"I think he's kissing Cosette," murmured Grantaire.
Éponine and Enjolras spun around.
Indeed, Marius was sitting on the opposite side of the room, across the tightly packed dance floor. He was being straddled by a petite blonde woman whom he was locking lips with.
Cosette.
Oh Lord.
Enjolras turned back around as quick as he could but she was all ready gone.
"Éponine?"
"She went that way," said Grantaire, motioning in the direction of the dance floor. Sure enough, Enjolras saw a flash of dark hair weave through the crowd before slipping into the ladies restrooms.
Enjolras groaned. "Oh Christ."
"Yeah I know. Lady toilets. Scary places, Enjy. You do not want to trespass on that female territory," advised Grantaire.
"I should follow her," said Enjolras, ignoring Grantaire. "I'm going to follow her."
He stayed where he was.
"Ok," said Grantaire gently. "Then follow her."
Enjolras stared at the door of the ladies bathroom.
Grantaire sighed.
Enjolras turned around. "But it's not really my place to follow her, is it, I mean I barely know her and I certainly wouldn't want to intrude if she wants privacy-"
"Enjolras, would you grow a pair and follow the woman, for Pete's sake!"
Enjolras pushed open the door of the ladies bathroom, feeling like an almighty twat as a pair of cowboy hatted woman at the sinks spotted him and frowned. Nodding politely and clearing his throat, he called "Éponine?"
No answer. Just silence.
He tried again: "Éponine?"
Still no answer.
One woman murmured "Weirdo," as she passed him and her friend giggled childishly, making Enjolras feel like a bigger tit than he already seemed. The door swung behind them as they left, and Enjolras was about to leave too, when a shaky voice said "A-are they gone?"
Enjolras sighed with relief; Éponine was here, proving that at least, his terrifying trek into the woman's bathrooms wasn't for nothing. "Yes, they're gone."
Éponine emerged from the very last stall at the end of the row. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red - obvious signs that she'd been crying. (Well, duh, Enjolras. Obviously she was crying, you dumbass.) It wasn't an attractive look, but Enjolras couldn't help but think that the red nose was just the slightest bit extremely endearing.
She smiled at him as she trudged over to the sink and began to wash her hands. Her hands were shaking.
"You do know that this is the woman's bathroom, right?" She asked him with a half smirk.
"Yes, yes, I figured that out somewhere along the way, but thank you for the confirmation."
Éponine smiled again. God, it killed him when she smiled.
A silence settled between the two of them. Enjolras watched carefully as Éponine washed her hands and then dried them.
When she was finished, she hopped onto the dry part of the marble counter and played with her hands, not daring to look at him.
Enjolras spoke. "Do you want to-?"
"Nope."
"Éponine, I'm sorry."
Éponine shrugged, still playing with her hands. "It's ok. It's not your fault, is it? And I knew - I - I - k-knew that h-he'd n-n-nev-ver go for a g-girl like me anyway so..."
Oh no. She was crying. Oh no. What was he supposed to do?
Enjolras feebly grabbed some toilet paper from a nearby stall and offered it to Éponine. She took it, blowing her nose loudly.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
They were silent again, until Éponine burst out: . "I mean, I always knew there was no chance that I'd ever get an oppurtunity to be with Marius like that... You know, as a girlfriend..but there was a part of me that always hoped, I guess, even though there is no possible way that a guy like him would ever like a girl like me - " and here she laughed a humourless laugh , "I mean, look at me!"
Yeah, Enjolras thought. Look at you.
She caught him staring at her and stopped. "Oh, God, sorry. I'm babbling. I must be boring you to death with all my low self-esteem issues."
"It's alright," said Enjolras quietly.
"No, it isn't," yawned Éponine. "It's self-centred and rude. Here, do you still have that tequila bottle?"
"Uh, I think Grantaire swiped that off me. But-" Enjolras reached into his pocket. "I did manage to steal his flask."
Éponine clapped her hands in delight. "OH, yes! That's where he keeps the good stuff, right?"
"Yes, I think so," answered Enjolras, taking a good long swig. "Uhmmm. Pretty nice. Though you couldn't be sure what else he's mixed in there, so be careful."
"Ugh, I couldn't even care at this point in time, to be honest," said Éponine, taking the flask from Enjolras and gulping it down. "So what about you, Enjy? D'you have a girlfriend? Relationship problems? D'you mind if I call you that, by the way? Enjy?"
"No, I don't mind." She could call him Marius, for all he cared, as long as she kept talking to him.
"So? Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Me? Me? No, no. I'm a bit, um... Inexperienced with woman, I suppose you could say."
Éponine cocked an eyebrow at him. "Virgin?"
"WHAT? NO!"
"Well, sorry! You said inexperienced, so I just assumed..."
"Well unassume, please. I was actually, um... A bit ahead of the rest of my peers in that department."
Éponine smirked. "Oh yeah? When'd you lose it?"
"I'm not telling you! That's private!"
"Oh, don't be such a girl."
Enjolras grinned.
"I don't usually do this you know," Éponine said, suddenly serious.
"Do what?" Enjolras asked.
"This. Question strangers about when they lost their virginity. Cry in a bathroom stall about a boy kissing another girl. Get drunk." She tossed him the flask. "That's more my parents sort of thing." She hopped down from the counter. "And I am not my parents. I never will be."
"I'm sensing that you, uh...don't get along with your parents."
Éponine laughed bitterly. "That may well be the understatement of the century."
"W-what?"
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Enjolras, I am telling you that I do not want to talk about it."
"Just tell me."
"You do realise I am giving you a strong eff-off signal right now right?"
There was another silence.
"Just say it. How bad can it be?"
Enjolras instantly regretted that question, because Éponine's eyes darkened and she fixed him with a look that would stop a wild boar in its tracks.
"It can be bad," she said in a dangerously quiet voice. "And believe me, this one is bad."
But Enjolras, who didn't know when to stop pushing, said "Just tell-"
"Are you a journalist or just plain nosey?" Snapped Éponine. "I can see the headline now: Éponine Thenardier had a shitty childhood! Extra, extra, read all about it!"
"I'm not dropping it until you explain to me why exactly your childhood was so shitty," said Enjolras stubbornly.
Éponine looked at him with a mixture of contempt and curiosity and then sighed. "You really don't know a lot about people, do you?"
"No," admitted Enjolras.
Éponine snorted.
"Well, Enjolras, let me put it simply for you... it's hard to get along with people who never show up."
"What...never?"
"Nope. Never. They left every night to go out to the pub - wouldn't come back until five o clock the next day, whereupon they'd hit me and go out to the pub again."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she wiped them away roughly.
"I had to take care of my brother and sister from the time that I was eleven years old. I had two other brothers too, but Mama...she sold them."
Enjolras' brow furrowed.
"S-sold them?"
"Yup," nodded Éponine, chewing her lip. "I don't know where and I don't know to whom, but I was only aware of their existence about a year ago."
Enjolras stared at her, unsure what to say.
"And - oh, and here's the icing on the cake, really Enjolras - my father kicked me out when I was sixteen."
"W-"
"Why?"
Enjolras nodded.
"He tried to force me into prostitution," Éponine replied matter-of-factly. "To pay the bills. And I refused. So he threw me out."
Enjolras gaped.
"Where did you...how did you -"
"The streets," shrugged Éponine as if it was the most obvious answer. "I lived under the bridge in a sleeping bag. I kept going to school, pretending everything was alright. When I turned 18, I applied for a council flat. I'm here on a scholarship, did you know that?"
"I-I -no-"
"So, yeah," said Éponine. "That's why my childhood was so shitty."
She raised her eyebrows. "I can't believe I told you that. I've never told anybody that."
"I'm...I'm sorry?"
Éponine smiled. "Again with the apologising, bourgeois boy. Like I said before, it's not your fault."
There was a silence.
"Was it...was it frightening?"
"What?"
"Having to do that. When you were so young. Was it frightening?"
Éponine shook her head. "Frightening? No. Difficult, and horrible, but not scary. I'm not scared of anything. "Only a kid, but hard to scare," that's what People on the streets used to say about me. Like we were a community. "Only a kid." She looked up at Enjolras and gave him a watery smile. "That's how Marius sees me. As a kid." And then the tears really did spill over, and she didn't wipe them away.
"I'm sure that's not true," Enjolras said. "I'm sure he doesn't think of you that way."
Éponine nodded sullenly.
"I think that Marius would be...well, I mean any man would be...would be incredibly lucky to have you as their girlfriend." Said Enjolras softly.
Éponine looked up.
"Any man?"
"Any man."
"Even you?"
There was a small smile playing on her lips.
Enjolras swallowed.
"Even...yes, even me."
And then he did something that neither of them had expected.
He kissed her.
When they broke apart, they were both grinning.
All of this is what flew through Enjolras' mind, like traffic that has been given a green light, in the split second after Grantaire said the word 'married' and in the split second before he dropped his teacup.
It hit the tiled floor and smashed.
Grantaire stumbled back ten inches; the rest of them came running.
"What happened?"
"Are you all right?"
"Did you – did you tell him?"
Enjolras sank back into a chair.
"What did he say?"
"He just…just dropped the teacup…."
Cosette knelt down in front of Enjolras. "'Enjy? Are you okay?"
Enjolras ran a hand through his hair and blinked. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
"Do you want me to make you another cup of tea?" Musichetta asked gently.
"Maybe we should get him something stronger," suggested Jehan.
"Uh, no, no. I'll be fine." He paused. "I'm just…in shock."
Cosette and Musichetta exchanged a glance.
"Brandy's good for shock," suggested Joly. "Marius?"
"It's in the cupboard," Courfeyrac said.
"No!" said Enjolras. "I don't want brandy. I ju- I just-"
"Do you want to call her? We can re
"Toilet paper her house?"
"We don't know where her house is."
"Or if she even has one."
"Combeferre!"
"I'm sure her new fiancée bought her one."
"Grantaire!"
"We were all thinking it."
"You're being a little insensitive."
"Oh, go put on some trousers, Marius."
"Cosette, where's the sweeping brush?"
"Here, I'll get it."
Enjolras stood up. "I'm going to bed."
The group stopped babbling and looked at him. Enjolras sighed.
"Guys. I'm fine."
Musichetta stopped sweeping. Cosette gave him an apprehensive look. Joly exchanged a nervous glance with Feuilly. Grantaire took a swig from his flask.
"Are you sure, mate?" asked Coufeyrac gently. "You seem sort of…upset."
"I'm not upset, I'm just tired." Said Enjolras lamely. "I am fine. Believe me."
None of them looked convinced.
"All right then," exhaled Enjolras. "I'm just gonna…go. Goodnight?"
"'Night."
"G'night, Enjy."
"See you in the morning."
He watched them over his shoulder, getting their coats, mumbling about Éponine and Enjolras and cutting sidelong glances at him down the hallway. He could hear them leaving even when he closed his bedroom door.
When they were gone, he heard Marius and Cosette speaking in hushed tones outside his room.
"Should we go in and talk to him?"
"I don't think so. I mean, he said he was fine, didn't he?"
Cosette hesitated. "I don't know. He just seemed so…"
"Stunned," agreed Marius. "I know. But it's understandable; I mean he had always said that Éponine was the love of his-"
"Sssssh! Lower your voice, he'll hear you!"
"Sorry, sorry."
A few seconds silence passed. Enjolras inched closer to the door to listen.
"You don't think he'll do anything…anything stupid, do you?"
"No. No. Of course not. He's Enjolras, remember. The wisest and bravest of us all!"
Enjolras could hear the smile in Cosette's voice. "You're right. You're right! Sorry, I was just being an idiot. Come on, it's late. We'd better get to bed."
He heard Marius plod away, and Cosette's dainty footsteps follow. He was alone.
Or so he thought.
There was a quick knock at his door and then Cosette's blond head popped around his door.
"Hey, Enjolras," she said in a breezy tone. "Just coming to check everything's ok." She paused. "Everything is ok, isn't it?"
Enjolras gave a wan smile. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you for asking."
"Ok. Ok." Cosette smiled back.
"And Cosette?"
"Yes?"
"You don't have to worry about me and…this. I'm fine."
"You're fine," Cosette repeated.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Right. Ok. Right. You're fine?"
"I'm fine."
"Right. Ok. Good. Goodnight Enjolras."
"Goodnight."
30 seconds later, Cosette popped her head around the door again.
"You're sure?"
Enjolras laughed. "Goodnight, Cosette."
As soon as she left, the smile slipped off his face.
Because he was lying. He was not fine.
At all.
