A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for all the follows and favourites, and also the reviews. Do keep them coming, I really appreciate it! I hope your barricade day was fab, I myself was busy celebrating my birthday. Anyway, here's chapter 2!
Eponine placed the shopping bags on the floor, propping her knee against them to ensure they didn't topple over. She shrugged off her backpack, positioning herself so that the canvas bag on her shoulder, now heavy with a whole different collection of books, stayed put. Taking her backpack in both hands, she shook it up and down, and listened out for that distinctive jingle that only your keys can make. Satisfied with her conclusion that they had made their way down to the bottom of her bag, she stuck her arm in and started to rummage.
Soon enough, she was turning the key in the lock of her blue apartment's door, and upon opening it, she was hit with the delightful smell of honeysuckle. Her eyes searched the apartment suspiciously, had she somehow miraculously opened the wrong door?
If anyone ever needed a definition of squeaky-clean, her apartment was it. The pairs of shoes that would have normally greeted her when she entered, were neatly stacked in the shoe-wrack that was usually piled high with junk mail that they never got round to clearing out, but that had now disappeared also. Realisation suddenly hit her, and with a sly, understanding half smile, she made her way through the hallway and into the kitchen, sliding one of the bags of shopping along with her foot, while the other two were in her arms.
"Food!" She yelled into the currently silent, yet sweet smelling space of the corridor that led to the 2 bedrooms and the bathroom, and put the shopping atop the shiny worktop in the freakishly clean kitchen.
"Are they gone?" Came the unmistakable, rough voice from behind a door.
"Jehan and Joly, I'm guessing?" She replied. She heard the padding of footsteps, and then saw Grantaire's head, with it's trademark bed hair, peeking around the doorframe.
"Yes." He made his way into the kitchen, sat down on the his usual chair in the corner, and kicked his shoes off, causing them to fly into the wall opposite himself and land in a heap on the floor. "Better," he sighed. It was then that his cloudy blue eyes landed on the bags of supplies Eponine had purchased, and he bounced up and out of his seat with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.
"Hello sexy," he picked out a bottle of cider and went off in search for the nearest bottle opener.
Eponine laughed at her friend for a minute or so as she watched him frantically searching through the drawers in their now not so freakishly clean kitchen, before grabbing the bottle from his hands - holding it out of reach when he made a grab for it – and tutting to herself, as she picked up her keys and skilfully pried the lid away from the bottle. She flipped the lid in her hand, smirked at Grantaire, and handed him back his drink. He took a sip and mumbled his thanks before walking into the second half of the room that was known by most as 'the parlour', I mean, they couldn't exactly call it 'the other half of the kitchen that is not in fact a kitchen', and then of course 'sitting room' was far too boring.
"So what happened with that holiday Courf was supposed to be sorting out?" He asked, literally plonking himself onto the sofa, careful not to spill any of that precious liquid he still held in his hand.
"He booked it and we leave tomorrow," Eponine replied. She was met with a short, coarse laugh, "Courfeyrac has booked for us a camping weekend." Grantaire shook his head with amused disbelief as he lifted the bottle to his lips.
"You'd better get packing," Eponine said, reaching over and patting the top of his head, "Apparently we're leaving first thing in the morning." This was met with a groan, to which she replied with an empathetic groan of her own. She'd never been a morning person, and neither had Grantaire, which led to their apartment's morning activity being virtually nothing.
"How are we getting there exactly?" inquired Grantaire, after having recovered from the idea of having to actually get up the next morning, that is.
"I don't know, Courf said he had it covered, and that someone will pick us up first thing." Eponine replied with a shrug, leaning on the back of the sofa that Grantaire had strewn himself across.
Grantaire let air pass through his pursed lips as he stared at a spec of dirt on the wall directly in front of him, in thought. Eponine eyed him with caution and intrigue as she walked around the sofa and took a seat next to him, putting her feet atop the old trunk that acted as a coffee table and crossing her ankles. That trunk had belonged to Grantaire. He has memories of sitting in it when he was a child, and one day he would be flying over the atlantic ocean, the next he would be zooming around a racing track, speeding past all the other cars. The trunk had later become a hiding place, a place where he could go when he wanted to be invisible. He would take his torch, a bottle of apple juice, and a comic book, and he could spend hours upon hours in there. It was a shame, really, that he could no longer fit.
A frown appeared upon Eponine's face, "I don't have a sleeping bag."
"Just take your duvet," replied Grantaire, "And blankets. Do we have blankets?"
"We have blankets." Eponine said with a nod. "And cushions."
"No painting peace signs on the tents though, that's just taking it too far."
Eponine let out a crisp laugh, and sunk back into the sofa, crossing her arms. Grantaire finished his drink with a contented sigh, and pushed himself up from the sofa, informing Eponine that he was hungry.
"Unnecessary information." Eponine yelled at him as he made his way to the kitchen. You see, he felt a hole in his person, a hole that can only be filled with pizza. He searched the fridge.
"One pizza?! Are you trying to starve me woman?"
"We're leaving tomorrow and we won't be taking food, therefore anymore pizzas would have gone to waste." Came Eponine's reply from the sofa. He heard the sound of a book page turning.
"Did you not acknowledge the fact that we would consume more than one?"
"Nope."
Grantaire let out a frustrated sigh, pulled the single, lonesome pizza out of the fridge, and slammed it shut. Or slammed it as much as he could without the milk flying from its place in the door.
"Temper!" Sang Eponine's voice from behind her book.
"Hungry!" Grantaire mimicked her tone, almost exactly, I might add; he had a rather convincing mock female voice when he put in the effort. He opened the box containing the doughy, tomato-y gift of mozzarella perfection bestowed upon us feeble human beings, and turned the dials on the small oven that conveniently was situated right opposite the fridge. Upon closing the oven door, with the pizza safely inside, he fetched another drink and congratulated himself on a job well done.
Back in her room, after Grantaire and herself had finished their token of a feast, Eponine stood now wearing her pyjamas in front of the well used, hastily patched up old duffle bag that was lying on her bed, taking in her options of wardrobe for the weekend. Not she had all that much to choose from...
She picked out her 1 dark grey hoodie, 2 t-shirts, one purple, one crimson, and 2 pairs of skinny jeans, one of which had a holes in the knees. She stifled a yawn as she folded up her selected items of clothing and slipped them into her duffle, along with 4 books, she was packing a 5th in her backpack, you can never be too careful, her phone charger, her washbag, underwear (but we shan't go into detail), a towel, 3 blankets, and a torch she had found in one of the kitchen drawers. It was most likely Grantaire's, but he needn't know. It was unnecessary information.
The next morning, Eponine slowly opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times due to the warm sunshine streaming through the gap in her thin, striped curtains. She lay there for a moment, not making any effort to move, enjoying that feeling of not having to get up for work, or college for that matter, what with it being the holidays, and Fridays being her day off. Still, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was supposed to be somewhere today. Wait, didn't I set my alarm last night? I'm sure- crap.
And then she leapt out of bed, and froze. The clock on her bedside table read 11:02am. "Fu...dgecakes"(she had recently been trying to reduce her language; the substitutes she would come out with sometimes were quite something). Her eyes frantically searched the room, looking for some good news. They landed on her duffle bag, thank god I'm already packed, and then she grabbed her designated outfit for the day. By wearing most of the clothes she was packing, she had reduced her luggage by almost a third, meaning all she was taking was her duffle bag, her backpack, as many cushions as she was capable of taking, and her green – or rather, brown - wellies, as she would be wearing her black hi top converse.
"'Taire!" She called out, throwing on her last item of clothing, still in the slow process of waking up. She grabbed a hair tie from her bedside table, "'Taire!" She tried again, hastily smoothing down her hair, not bothering to brush it, and pulling it into a side plait. She ran out of her door, tripping over her hairbrush lying on the floor. And just what do you think you're doing down there? She was about to kick in under her bed in frustration, but with a change of heart, she picked it up and lobbed it onto her bed, I might need that.
She then found herself at Grantaire's bedroom door, turning the handle and striding in, expecting to see, well, she didn't know what she was expecting to see, but it wasn't his empty bed. Confused, she turned 180 degrees and went out the way she came, "Grantaire!" He wasn't in the kitchen either, or the parlour. She poked her head into the hallway, no sign of him there. The bathroom? Nope.
Pulling out her phone, she furiously typed out a message.
Where the hell are you?
Letting out a sigh and chucking her phone onto the sofa, she went back into the kitchen, tugging on her braid in irritation. Realising that her stomach was making noises and calling out to be fed, she reached up to one of the kitchen cupboards; this particular one was painted bright red, and was home to various boxes of cereal.
Grantaire and herself had painted each cupboard and drawer a different colour, not only was this helpful in finding things, but it also looked fabulous.
Picking up a red and white striped china bowl from the drainer by the sink, she poured out her choice of cereal, which happened to be crunchy nut cornflakes, and turned to fetch the milk from the fridge. It was then that the doorbell rang throughout the apartment.
"What the hell..." She muttered to herself as she slugged towards the front door, her sudden wake up call slowly creeping up on her.
Obviously, it would be Courfeyrac there to pick her up. Eponine didn't even care to acknowledge that it could in fact be someone else. She opened the door and started to say something about her obviously not being the only one who overslept, but she stopped in her tracks once she registered the person that was currently standing in her doorway.
The blonde curls, the crisp white t-shirt that looked like it had never seen a single wrinkle in its short life, the red hoodie zipped half way up, need I say more?
"Good morning," Enjolras greeted Eponine with a curt nod.
"Mornin'," She replied with a questioning tone, narrowing her eyes at the man stood in front of her. He didn't look all that pleased to be where he was on that genuine, fine day, but he looked well practised at hiding such a thing.
"You weren't aware of the plans, were you?" He sighed, crossing his arms, his facial features holding their default stoney gaze.
Eponine shook her head, slumping her shoulders slightly as she turned and walked into the kitchen. Enjolras followed her in and waited politely in the doorway.
A short moment passed as Eponine went about her business. Enjolras stood there, watching her with careful patience and checking his watch every now and again, if anything to give his eyes something else to do.
"What is it with you and doorways? You're always in one." Eponine stated as she nudged the navy blue cutlery drawer closed with her hip, spoon in one hand and her bowl of cereal, now complete with milk, in the other.
"Don't bother answering that," She started to spoon the cornflakes into her mouth, eyeing Enjolras. "Help yourself to cereal, it's in the red cupboard." She offered, giving a physical indication of the one she was talking about with her eyes.
"I've eaten, thank you."
"Suit yourself," Her phone made a 'ding' sound, notifying her of a message. Grantaire. She left the now half empty bowl on the side and went to find her phone, now somewhere among the many cushions they had piled on their sofa. She picked up one of the last cushions remaining on the sofa, and of course, her phone was underneath.
I'm in Combeferre's car. When he arrived you were fast asleep so we let you be. He said Enjolras was driving on his own so we asked him to give you a lift instead.
Eponine frowned at her phone, let a huff of air out through her nostrils, and typed a reply.
I gathered.
She slipped her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans in desperate need of a patch up, and looked around at the mess of cushions that surrounded her person.
"How many of these can we fit in your car?" She asked the figure still standing in the kitchen doorway.
"That depends on how much luggage you have," Started Enjolras, but before he could finish, Eponine had dashed down the corridor leading to her bedroom. She returned soon enough, proudly bearing one medium sized, yet fit to burst, and incredibly worn duffle bag, and her backpack. She raised her eyebrows at Enjolras, and gave him a small, expectant smile, awaiting the answer he owed her on the cushions.
"Is that all?" He for some reason had it in his head that a girl was sure to pack more, but then this was Eponine.
"Yes, excluding my wellies, which should be behind you." He turned around and sure enough, there they were.
Enjolras nodded his confirmation. "Did you want to finish your breakfast?"
"You can grab some cushions, take my things to your car, and I'll join you in a minute." She walked towards him and held out her things for him to take, he did so, with what she detected as the slightest bit of reluctance, but who was he to make such a fragile creature carry her belongings – however if he had spoken such a thought out loud, he was sure she would have snatched them right back.
Eponine devoured the last of her cereal, gave the bowl a quick wash and returned it to its place on the drainer once more.
She exited the tall apartment building, closing the door shut behind her, "Later suckers," She whispered to nobody in particular as she made her way towards Enjolras' black car, now packed with her cushions. She couldn't help but giggle a little at the sight. Demanding her face to take up its previous blank state, she opened the passenger door and threw her backpack onto the car floor. Sliding in, she closed yet another door shut behind her.
"So, how long is this gonna take?" She asked as she clicked her seatbelt into place.
"A couple of hours, Courfeyrac chose a place near the coast." Enjolras started the engine, a faint feeling of uneasiness stirring in the pit of his stomach.
2 hours stuck in a car with the marble man. Thank god for books.