"Will you take me to her, 'Ponine?" Eponine looked into Marius' hopeful eyes. He looked like an excited puppy. He smiled expectantly, his clean white teeth glimmering. His dark, sandy blonde hair fell into his eyes in curls, and he had an air about him that said he hadn't slept in days.
Grantaire let out a snore from where he lay on the mess of table and chairs. Combeferre, the only one who was amiable towards Grantaire went over to pull him out of the jumble and let him rest against the legs of an upright chair.
Eponine swallowed hard. She could feel her intestines wanting to crawl up out of her throat and choke her. She managed to nod during all this inner turmoil, even putting on a weak smile that the ignorant Marius took as a fully-willing grin.
"Fantastic! You are a wonderful friend, 'Ponine." Marius clapped his hands together once and prepared to depart.
"You blind fool." Enjolras broke in. He had a curious look on his face; half amused, half disgusted. He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but he caught sight of Eponine's glare bursting with deathly fire. Don't you dare, Enjolras, she thought.
Marius looked from Enjolras to Eponine, confused, but shook his head, quickly forgetting it.
Grantaire's eyes fluttered open when he heard Enjolras speak. He stared quizzically at him, then smirked bitterly before shutting his eyes once more.
Later in the evening Eponine was walking home, watching her feet make each step back to her parent's inn, when she came across Enjolras and Grantaire in the park.
"Is this revolution just a game that you play? Is it nothing more to you?" Enjolras hissed dangerously, his voice and eyes full of venom. "You are nothing but the village idiot, here to doom us all with your drunkenness."
"Oh, what is the use of all this, Enjolras? What are we putting our lives out there for? A better life for those poor sots who clutter the streets every night and day? That's a great ideal, but it's never going to happen. This world can't change the way you think it will. Doesn't happen like that." Grantaire snapped back, with surprisingly good articulation bearing in mind his earlier condition.
"We are fighting so that human beings who are equals to ourselves may have the life they are merited from birth. Our government wants to strip them of their rights so they may have greater financial gain. You yourself said this was unjust, Grantaire."
Grantaire seemed to have given up and fallen back into his drunkenness. He flashed Enjolras a goofy smile. Enjolras, pitying his problematic friend—for they were friends, despite all the bickering— placed his hand on the man's back and led him out of the park. As they were leaving, Eponine heard this exchange:
"How's that girl you were with today?" Grantaire slurred.
"Whom do you speak of?" Enjolras asked, seeming confused.
"That blondie that you were talkin' to at the market. I saw you guys."
"Oh, Margaret? She's an old fling from when I was a boy. I have no more interest in her than in any other girl in all of Paris," A relieved look seemed to wash over Grantaire's face. "I am faithful to one woman, and that is Patria, Grantaire. You know that." Enjolras spoke, a glimmer in his eyes appearing when he said "Patria."
"So you'll never love another person? You'll only ever love this country?"
"Yes. That is true."
"Don't get your heart broken, Monsieur Enjolras, Lady France can be more fickle than all the ladies of Paris combined," said Grantaire, searching Enjolras' face. "Besides, it's nice to be in love, wouldn't you think?" Grantaire asked thoughtfully, his eyes locked on Enjolras.
"Are you asking for me or for yourself?" Grantaire didn't respond. "Monsieur Grantaire, don't tell me you've been captured by the sickness of love as well! God save the woman you have your sights set on." Enjolras said with a laugh.
Grantaire was silent for quite a while. "Yeah," he spoke finally. "God save her."
Eponine couldn't shake the conversation she had heard between Enjolras and Grantaire out of her mind. She found it very curious, very peculiar, yet she didn't know why. She removed her overcoat and dusted excess dirt off it, where it fell to the floor of her bedroom.
In her bedroom were two hay-stuffed mattresses, the one pushed into the corner belonging to her. The other one, which sat right in front of the window overlooking the street below, had belonged to Eponine's younger sister, Azelma. Thoughts of Azelma now haunted her head.
She was shorter and rounder than Eponine, with smooth auburn hair and a beautifully crooked nose. Eponine was tall and lanky, with legs like a colt and a body like a boy. Azelma was always more feminine and curvaceous, even before she reached puberty. Boys always preferred Azelma to Eponine before they got to know Azelma's biting personality. She was very rough, naturally, but her parent's constant favoring of Eponine strengthened that trait in her. Eponine was similar in personality, but she was more sassy as to Azelma being just plain rude and unpleasant. They lived together in that room until Azelma was fifteen. Many nights they had spent awake, talking of life, talking of the unfairness of it all. Azelma had a side to her that she let none but her big sister see. Truly, she was very self-conscious and very unsure of herself. She relied on the one person she could trust, Eponine, and tuned all others out.
Eponine always felt slightly guilty of their relationship. Hadn't she been the one that had won out their parent's affections, leaving Azelma to be ignored? Azelma never seemed to acknowledge this, however. It seemed the desire to have a friend overcame her bitter feelings towards Eponine she had fostered in her early youth. Of course, they were both beyond the days when their parents cared about anything besides money
"Eponine, Eponine are you listening to me? Never reveal too much of yourself to anyone. Ever. You hear me? It only leads to trouble. It only leads to heartbreak." said Azelma one day, frenziedly throwing together a pile of things. She had run into their bedroom, breathless with tears flying down her face moments before. Eponine had been people watching from the window when she came in.
"'Zelma…'Zelma what's wrong? 'Zelma, tell me what's going on!" She grabbed the girl's arm, stopping the girl from racing back and forth around the room like a maniac. Eponine looked into Azelma's blue eyes, identical to her own, searching for explanation.
"I'm going, 'Ponine. I'm not wanted in this house anymore. Hah!" She let out an almost hysterical laugh. "I haven't been wanted in this house since I was born," True remorse swept over her face when she saw the sadness settle into Eponine's eyes. "God, I'm sorry, Eponine. I love you."
"Now wait a minute, Azelma Thenardier, you aren't leaving. Tell me what's happened!" Eponine demanded, a look in her eyes that froze Azelma to the spot she stood in. "Tell me!" She shouted fiercely.
A tear glided from the outer corner of her eye down to the bottom of her jaw. "I revealed too much." She then turned, a look of confusion taking over Eponine's face, and headed to the door.
"Azelma!" she shrieked powerfully, as though she could be commanding an army. Azelma stopped and stood silently, not turning around, not continuing out the door. "You step out that door, that'll be the last you hear from me. Don't ever expect sympathy or help from me again, you got that?" She was breathing heavily, and although she attempted to maintain a brave face, her voice cracked slightly when she spoke.
Azelma turned slowly, her face sadly calm, covered in lingering tears. She looked at her big sister for one last time, memorizing her face, her messy tangle of hair, her shapeless eyebrows, her heart shaped jaw, before turning back to the door, and walking out without another noise, her pile of belongings tucked under her arm. When she hit the stairs, Eponine heard Azelma break into a run, and then heard her slam the front door. Eponine when to the window and saw her baby sister run off, still in tears.
It was then that Eponine threw herself into her pillow, weeping. That day was the last time she had spoken to Azelma—though she saw her often begging for scraps around Paris—and that evening was the last time she had spoken to her parents, after she confronted them about Azelma and they had no explanation nor care. That day was also the day that the sadness that Azelma had put into her eyes took up residence. It would be a very long time before that sadness, that gloom, would leave.
It was now, alone in her room after having brought Marius to Cosette, that she thought of Azelma's words. Never reveal too much… Had these words not dominated over Eponine for long enough? She almost shouted in frustration. "Stop haunting me, 'Zelma." she said aloud. If it wasn't for her younger sister's words, perhaps she would have been brave enough to tell Marius of her feelings before he had fallen for Cosette.
Cosette. When she first saw Marius lock eyes with her, her whole world collapsed around her and her heart was screaming in protest. Cosette had been the little girl that had lived at the inn for a few years in their youth. Eponine had tortured Cosette and bullied her to no end. Now it was coming back to bite her. It wasn't enough that Marius had to fall in love with another girl, it had to be the one she despised most.
She thought back over her day: Marius in love, her own heart crushed, Grantaire in love, Enjolras swearing he'll never have a love. Eponine was beginning to hate love, it did nothing but destroy people and change them into something new and strange. Then, a thought dawned on her—a thought that terrified her and disgusted her and made her hate herself yet, in a small way, excited her. Perhaps there is a way for Marius and I to be together.
