Enjolras had been gone for close to three weeks now.
He was off in Toulouse at a month long symposium on French history—learning and collecting items for exhibits in the museum. Eponine was lonely. She had started sleeping in odd places around the apartment, because the bed, which was so hard to exit when Enjolras was in it, had turned into a mighty stranger without him. Last night, she had slept on the couch; the night before she had fallen asleep at her desk as she had struggled to edit pictures for her photography class. Truthfully, she had not gotten a good night's sleep since he had left.
Eponine had originally been supposed to go with Enjolras, but on the day they were to leave, Gavroche had come down with the flu and Eponine just could not leave her little brother to her parents' doubtful care. So, Enjolras had left and she had brought Gavroche to their apartment. The little boy had been sick for close to two weeks. It had been a scary and trying two weeks for Eponine, as she had tried to nurse him back to health. She had cried on the phone to Enjolras multiple times over those two weeks. He had tried his best to be there for her, but had been busy and distracted by all the interesting events he was going to. Thankfully, Gavroche was now healthy and back at her parents' home and Eponine was just mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. All she wanted was her lover back home and back in her arms, but his homecoming was still a week away. So, for the time being, infrequent texts and even more infrequent phone calls would have to suffice.
When Enjolras had gone on the trip alone, Eponine knew she would seldom hear from him, while he was gone. When he got to talking about French history, especially with other historians who actually cared about the subject, he could not be stopped. It was why he was so good at running the museum. She sighed as she trudged up the steps to their apartment. Eponine liked history too, although, not nearly as much as Enjolras—her real passion was photography. She had so wanted to go on the trip because Toulouse was home to the Galerie du Château d'eau, which was an excellent gallery that she had desperately wanted to visit. So now, here she was, not only greatly missing Enjolras, but also extremely bummed out over having to miss visiting the gallery. She was left to counting down the days until Enjolras returned home and then he could tell her all about his trip.
As she reached their apartment, she noticed a large box, wrapped in brown paper, sitting in front of the door. Drawing closer, Eponine recognized Enjolras' perfect scrawl on the label and saw it was addressed to her. Recalling suddenly that Enjolras had mentioned something about shipping his souvenirs home so he would not have to pack them, she grinned, her mood suddenly brightening, as she grabbed the box and dragged it inside. Setting it on the counter, she sent a quick text to Enjolras to let him know she had gotten his package. As she was retrieving a knife with which to slice the package open, her phone buzzed with Enjolras' reply. His message informed her "Be warned—there's something for everyone in there."Now even more curious about what was inside the box, Eponine cut through the wrappings and took the lid off the box.
Her grin widened as she realized Enjolras had taken the time to carefully pick out a thoughtful souvenir for all of their friends. Each item had a label, identifying whom it was for. Eponine began taking each item out and inspecting it.
There were drawing pencils in a nice leather case for Grantaire—because all he ever wanted was drawing instruments, since the amateur artist went through them almost as fast as he went through alcohol.
There was a new book on Descartes for the philosophy obsessed Combeferre.
For Jehan, there was a prettily decorated little journal that Eponine was sure the little poet would have filled with his scribbles in less than a week.
There was a knitted beanie for Courfeyrac to add to his collection of headwear that he was continually sporting.
For Joly, there was a portable hand sanitizer case that was decorated with French flags—it was germfree and patriotic and thus perfect for the pre-med.
Bossuet likewise received patriotic first aid products, as Enjolras had gotten the clumsy giant a box of bandages that had tricolors on both the plasters and the box that held them.
For Bahorel, who enjoyed drinking almost as much as Grantaire, he had acquired a nice bottle of Toulousean whiskey.
Fueilly obtained a t-shirt to add to his endless rotation of ironic graphic tees that said "My friend went to Toulouse and all I got was this shirt". Eponine chuckled at the shirt and she imagined Fueilly would wear the shirt the next day with pride.
For Marius, Enjolras had gifted him a t-shirt from the university at which the symposium was being held, for Marius was less eccentric and more sensible than the others and would enjoy something for simple like that. Eponine could picture him wearing it around on Saturday mornings as sipped coffee and read his business newspaper.
Enjolras had even remembered to get chocolate for Gavroche. Chocolate to Gavroche was like drawing pencils to Grantaire—everyone always got her brother the sugary treat, no matter where they went and he loved all the older boys for it.
Eponine smiled at the assortment of gifts splayed out on the countertop, amazed by how well Enjolras knew his friends. He was always best at showing how much he cared with little gestures like this.
Reaching into the box to pull out the last item, which she assumed and hoped, was for her, Eponine gasped as she found a very thick book that appeared to be all about the gallery that she had not been able to go to. She sank to the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets as she thumbed through the book. Her jaw dropped in amazement at the pictures of the stunning photographs that the gallery housed. Opening up to the front cover, Eponine noticed that Enjolras had written an inscription. As she read it, tears pricked her eyes—it made her all at once fall more in love with the man who had sent her the book and hate him for the fact that he had not given it to her in person, so she could throw her arms around him and show him how much she truly loved him. The inscription read:
Dear Eponine, I'm sorry you had to miss the trip and seeing the gallery. I know the last few weeks have been hard—they've been hard for me too. I miss you terribly and am counting down the days, hours, and minutes, until we will be together once again. The gallery was beautiful. You would have loved it. I promise to take you there sometime. For now though, this book will have to suffice. I will see you very soon mon cherie. Avec tout mon amour, Enjolras
Closing her new favorite book with a forlorn sigh, Eponine hoisted herself into a standing position, by pulling on the countertop. Still clutching the book, she grabbed her phone and went off to call Enjolras, reminding herself that they were one day closer to being reunited.