A/N: Thanks very much for the reviews and favorites! Aaaah I'm so happy you guys enjoy my writing, you don't even know!
There isn't much to say about this chapter, it's slightly filler-y, but I thought that Eponine needed a female friend in order to function properly around Les Amis aha!
Reviews and favorites are much appreciated!
After that night at the speakeasy, Éponine made it a point to visit it every evening and talk with the men. They seemed to quite enjoy her presence, mostly because every time she sat with them, the group made it a decision to take a break from their planning of a revolt and engage her in conversation. Normally, Enjolras would frown upon distractions like this, but he and Éponine did have very insightful and calming conversations that helped to wind his brain down after a long night of wracking it for ideas to evade the police. Sometimes, Enjolras even taught Éponine simple lessons in philosophy, literature, or just pitch ideas at her and she would pitch ideas back. He came to find that speaking with her was much easier than speaking with the other women in his lifetime, most of who were completely distracted by his looks and didn't seem all that interested in what he had to say. In fact, Enjolras found himself looking forward to Éponine's arrival and was always a little disappointed when someone interrupted their talks.
Every night, Éponine would enter the speakeasy, have a chat with Enjolras until someone interrupted them, have a shot or two of whiskey once in a while, make idle chat with the boys, and go home happier than she was when she entered. And the best part of it all was that her parents never found out, because they were asleep or committing a crime while she was out. However, she barely got any sleep as a result of staying out late.
Her parents demanded her to get up quite early every morning to perform the necessary chores or crimes, and lately, Éponine had been slacking due to her extreme tiredness.
"Éponine, why the hell are you slackin'?" Madame Thénardier demanded, shoving a pail and a mop in her daughter's hands, who was currently leaning against a wooden beam with her eyes half-open. "We may not own this house, but I don't want it lookin' like a pigsty if we're gonna be scammin' the riches tonight." She scowled.
"Right, the riches…" Éponine murmured, forcing herself to her feet and began mopping up the various stains on their floor. Tonight, a new night club was opening a few blocks from their home—the Chez Paree—and it was quite an expensive and grand place. There were many reservations to get into the beautiful club, and the best way to get there was through her neighborhood. The Thénardiers had concocted quite a plan to both get into the night club and to scam the people on the way there. Her mother often referred to people with a lot of money as 'riches', which Éponine didn't understand ever since Enjolras had explained to her so many things about their language. Her mother's speaking pattern got on Éponine's nerves now, mostly because what she said wasn't proper or her words weren't real words, such as the word 'ain't'.
"Did ya steal a dress for tonight yet?" Madame Thénardier asked. "You ain't gonna be showin' up in that excuse for a dress, that's for sure."
"Not yet, maman." Éponine responded, setting the mop and bucket aside as she held back a yawn. "May I go and steal it now?" She honestly just wanted to get out of the house and see if maybe Les Amis were at the speakeasy.
"Fine, just make sure you actually look good in the damn thing. And don't get caught, I don't wanna have to bail you out of jail." Madame Thénardier responded, and Éponine grinned, nodding and hurrying out of the house.
Once she was outside, she yawned and stretched, sighing happily after the mighty stretch. Éponine grinned, pulling her hair into a bun and pushed her cloche hat on top of her head, and made her way to the speakeasy.
"It was quite instantaneous, you see." Marius continued, his hands clasped around Cosette's as he stared at her with the most love a man could have. "As soon as our eyes met… We knew—I knew—that there could never be anyone else for me—for us. My life began as soon as I laid eyes on her."
They kissed again, and Jehan sighed happily. "You two are simply perfect for each other. Would you mind if I wrote a poem about you?"
"You may, if you please." Cosette smiled bashfully, and Marius smiled in turn.
"Why are you here again?" Enjolras asked irritably, his finger pressed to his temple as his elbow rested against the table.
"Because this lovely girl is going to get us into the Chez Paree without any hassle from the police!" Bahorel replied through a forced smile. Ah, yes, Enjolras needed reminding of this fact since his brain was being turned to mush because of all the silly love talk that was going on. "Cosette, you say your father overlooked the construction of this club, correct?"
"Oh, yes, it's such a lovely place! Very ritzy, I hope you all will be dressed for the occasion!" Cosette smiled brightly, and was about to go on about how it looked on the inside and what sort of bands would be playing that night, when Éponine entered the bar, pushing the door a little more roughly than she had intended. The door slammed against the wall, and she winced, quickly pulling it away from the wall sheepishly. Enjolras sat up a bit straighter, quite thankful and relieved that his friend had shown up right when he was about to kill himself from all the love in the room.
"Aha, sorry…" She grinned, but her smile disappeared as soon as she laid eyes on Cosette and Marius, their hands intertwined.
"Éponine! Bonjour!" He smiled brightly. "This is-"
"Cosette." Éponine breathed, her eyes lowering to the floor. "Yes. I, um, I remember you two."
"Was she the one who brought us together in the first place?" Cosette asked pleasantly, smiling to Éponine.
"Yes, my dear," Marius smiled, and Éponine numbly made her way over to her usual seat between Joly and Grantaire. Just as she was about to sit, Joly quickly spoke up.
"Oh, Éponine, I hope you don't mind, but Musichetta is sitting there." He said kindly, though the words did hurt her. Perhaps it was just because Marius and Cosette were there, but Éponine felt a bit sad that she couldn't sit there. That had been her spot for a week and a half, and now suddenly she couldn't sit there anymore? And who was Musichetta?
Still, Éponine smiled as sweetly as she could. "That's all right. I'll find another spot to sit."
"You can sit on my lap!" Grantaire piped up, and he and Courfeyrac laughed good-heartedly. Éponine blushed, shaking her head, still smiling.
"Aha, no thanks, I'll sit here." She proceeded to sit in the seat next to Enjolras, who was currently rolling his eyes at Marius and Cosette's seemingly constant kissing. If Éponine wasn't so hurt at the two of them being there, she would have made a funny comment about how Enjolras looked as if he were about to erupt into flames. Their conversations always started out with Éponine making a joke, and Enjolras almost wondered why she didn't say anything to him when she sat.
She had thought that if she didn't give the letter to Marius that Cosette had left for him, then Marius would forget about her and she'd still have a chance. But, alas, they had met each other again just this morning and Marius decided to introduce her to Les Amis. But Éponine wondered why Enjolras was putting up with it; he only put up with Éponine because she wasn't as much of a distraction, but Cosette and Marius were quite distracting and he didn't seem to be much enjoying their presence.
"Enjolras," She murmured in a questioning tone, "I know for a fact that you can't stand all this gooey love stuff, so why are you tolerating these two?"
Enjolras huffed, turning to Éponine, who held back another yawn. "Cosette's father is a wealthy businessman who built a very popular nightclub; perhaps you've heard of it? The Chez Paree, and it's opening tonight. All of the government officials and their wives will be there, which means-"
"You get an insight on whether they know about the planned uprisings or not." Éponine finished. Enjolras nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching in an almost smile. He appreciated Éponine's quick thought processes and how she could keep up with him so well. "But you can only get that information if you're inside the club. I heard the guest list was already filled up, so…"
"Well, Cosette told us that there were still a few spots open. In fact, that's what I was planning on asking you. Luckily, there are enough spots open for all of Les Amis, but there was one extra spot and I was wondering if you would like to fill it." Enjolras stated, his gaze holding hers.
Éponine almost smiled; it was kind of him to invite her to such a grand party, but she wouldn't be able to attend because of two reasons; 1) she didn't have the proper attire, and 2) her parents were already planning to use her in their plan to get into the club.
"Thank you for the offer, Enjolras, but I can't." She said, feeling even more empty now that she wouldn't be able to attend with them. And now that they were going to the night club, she would have to avoid them the entire night unless they wanted to be robbed by her or her family.
"What? Why not?" Grantaire piped up.
Éponine jumped, surprised that he had been listening in to their conversation when everyone was so interested in the beautiful Cosette. "I don't have the proper clothes." She smiled apologetically, and Grantaire huffed, standing up.
"Listen here! Éponine says she won't be able to come with us because she 'doesn't have the proper clothes'!" He put air-quotes around 'doesn't have the proper clothes', which caused a few people to laugh but Cosette to look at her in worry.
"Éponine! Why didn't you say so? Musichetta and I were planning on going shopping this afternoon, if you'd so like to join us!" She smiled cutely.
Éponine shook her head. "No, no, I don't have the money to shop." She turned them down once again. Why was everyone so bent on having her attend this party?
"Well, then I will buy you your clothes." Cosette said affirmatively.
"No, please, I don't want your charity-"
"What's this about buying other people their clothes?" A beautiful girl with caramel skin and bright eyes came and sat next to Joly, her hand intertwining with his.
"Musichetta, this is Éponine! We're taking her shopping with us this afternoon." Cosette smiled, taking a sip of her water.
"I'll say! Joly has told me about you, Éponine, and how you've managed to crack this marble statue." Musichetta grinned.
"No, I'm not going shop—wait, what?" Éponine asked helplessly.
"You've managed to make Enjolras smile! And you can hold a conversation with him without getting bored to tears. That, my dear, is quite an accomplishment." Musichetta said matter-of-factly, drinking some of her coffee. "So, Cosette, would Éponine look better in tiffany blue, or blood red?"
"Excuse me," Éponine mumbled, standing up quickly and walking off to the bathrooms in a rush as Cosette and Musichetta speculated on what Éponine should wear.
She closed the door to the restroom, leaning her forehead against the door and took a few deep breaths. How did Éponine manage to get into this mess? If her parents found out that she was going to the nightclub with a bunch of rich students—
Oh. They were rich. That solved everything, actually; part of the plan was for Éponine to slip in with a rich boy and help her parents enter through the back. She could still do that without letting Les Amis know, and at the same time she'd be able to keep them away from her parent's nimble, thieving fingers. There, problem solved! All she had to do now was get a proper dress (not one too expensive, she didn't want Cosette to spend much on the likes of her), inform her parents of how she had managed to get in with a rich boy, and protect Les Amis from her family. Plus, she'd have to avoid Marius and Cosette the whole night if she wanted to have a pleasant experience.
Speaking of Marius and Cosette, Éponine wasn't sure she'd be able to handle sitting at that table much longer. But she didn't want to just leave, that might offend Les Amis or cause them to worry about her, and she definitely didn't want their pity.
Éponine resolved to just engage someone else at the table in conversation and attempt to ignore Marius and Cosette, however much it hurt. Besides, she had to get over him at some point. Although, based on the pain she still felt after seeing him and Cosette together, she wasn't so sure she'd be able to get over him soon. She moved over to the mirror, and was once again disappointed in her appearance. Éponine's cheeks were hollow, her collarbones were quite visible, and her eyes had dark circles underneath them. She had only gotten about 3 or 4 hours of sleep each night since she began hanging out with Les Amis, but she didn't want to stop going to the speakeasy in the wee hours of the morning or late hours of the night to talk to them. Éponine sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get the dark circles off, but to no avail. She ran her hands under some water, brought the cold up to her face, and hoped she'd be able to stay awake through the rest of the day and the night.
In a few minutes, Éponine exited the bathroom and stiffened when she noticed that Marius and Cosette were kissing again. She didn't want to sit back down over there, not with all the pain she was still experiencing, so she resolved to make her way over to the piano that was currently unoccupied. Éponine sat down, her fingers going over the black and white keys with barely a sense of familiarity. When she was little, she would plunk out little tunes on the piano in her parent's bar. The customers found it adorable and endearing that a little girl would play for them, so she helped earn her parents some extra money. Once she grew out of the cute little girl stage, though, she was forced into the life of crime.
Although, perhaps she was born into it?
Absentmindedly, the brunette began to plunk out Mary Had a Little Lamb, humming to herself and occasionally hitting the wrong key to which she would pause and find the right one, and then continue on with her little song. Eventually she moved on to Row, Row, Row Your Boat, and then she just plunked out random notes; softly, so that no one could hear from over at the table.
But someone did hear; Enjolras had gotten so tired of hearing everyone ask questions about Marius and Cosette and their stupidly sweeter-than-honey answers, that he tuned everyone out and noticed that the sound of a piano was carrying through the bar. He sat up, looking to the piano and noticed Éponine sitting quietly there, in her own little world.
Enjolras felt a tiny smile form on his lips; for some reason, he didn't get up right away to talk to her or look away and find a book to read. No, instead, he just noticed her and kept noticing the little things she did, like if she made a mistake, she'd mutter "wait" and then eventually get the right note. Her other hand was gripping the piano bench, tapping out a slow rhythm or playing other notes in the air that she herself wasn't confident enough to play on the actual instrument.
Enjolras noticed himself noticing her, and forced himself to stop. Why was he noticing? There was no point at all; it wasn't like what she was doing was interesting, why did it catch his eye?
No, she herself didn't catch his eye; the instrument did. Enjolras was very practiced in piano playing, and since there was one sitting right there and his friends' conversations didn't interest him, it seemed to be quite a practical thing to go over and join Éponine.
And so he did; Enjolras stood up, quietly making his way over to Éponine and the piano, waiting a moment before he made his presence known.
"May I join you?" He asked. Éponine looked startled, but she nodded in consent, scooting over to give him room on the bench. "I didn't know you played piano." He said idly, placing his hands in position to play Mozart's 'Adagio and Allegro'. As he began, Éponine gave a small smile and looked down at her hands.
"Oh, I don't. I played as a child and earned a bit of money for my parents because people thought I was cute." She replied, and her eyes drifted to his hands, which were expertly moving over the piano, nimbly exploring the instrument as if it were terrain that he had known since birth.
"Well, it's much better than Jehan's pathetic attempts at love songs that he seems to write every week." He pointed out, to which Éponine chuckled.
"Every week? I've never heard one." She smiled, to which Enjolras smirked ever so slightly.
"Well, either he's written one about you and is too embarrassed to play it for you, or you're somehow lucky enough that he forgets to play it for you every time you're around."
"Was that a joke, Enjolras? Hmm, it seems Musichetta was right, I have cracked you!"
"Don't get too full of yourself." Enjolras raised an eyebrow, and purposely bumped shoulders with Éponine gently, in a joking manner. Éponine exaggerated her reaction, pretending to almost fall off the bench.
"Golly! You trying to kill me?" She grinned.
"Quite the opposite." He replied, his eyes focused on his hands. "Have you ever heard this song?"
"No, but is it… Beethoven?" Éponine tried, raising her eyebrows and biting her lip.
Enjolras smiled. "No, try again."
"Hmm… Mozart?"
"Atta girl." He leaned over her slightly to reach the notes in his right hand, and brought them back down to middle C, continuing the song in a softer tone. "Do you know the history behind this piece?"
"No, please indulge me." Éponine grinned; she knew that Enjolras would somehow work in an educational bit of information in every talk they had.
"Well," Enjolras began, slowing the song down so that he could concentrate on what he was explaining. "It was originally written as a funeral mass to be played on a mechanical organ clock for Field Marshal Gideon Baron of Laudon, but was later rededicated to Count Joseph Deym's Müllersche Kunstgalerie in Vienna. Although he intended the piece to be played on a mechanical clockwork organ, he wished later that it could be played on a conventional organ. In a letter to his wife Constanze, he wrote, "if only the mechanism were not merely miniature pipes that are far too high-pitched; they strike me as too infantile, not intended for playing such a piece". But after time passed he seemed content, saying later that the work and its installation in the gallery in "fruitlessness and purity and compatibility to the works of art eclipses anything that anyone has ever succeeded in producing". The piece lasts roughly ten minutes, however I am playing a shorter version because—well, 1) my fingers can't possibly last 10 minutes on a piano-"
"And what can your fingers last ten minutes on, monsieur?" Éponine interrupted, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Enjolras paused his playing, obviously trying not to blush. He visibly gulped, causing a great smile to spread across her face. Every once in a while, Eponine would make an inappropriate joke and watch in amusement as Enjolras paused to compose himself before continuing with whatever he was saying. He cleared his throat, and continued to play, shifting in his seat. "… and 2) I don't believe you'd want to hear ten minutes of my rusty piano skills."
"I think they're alright." Éponine shrugged, still smiling at him. She kept her eyes on his face for a moment more, and then looked back to his hands. In a minute or two, they finally plunked out the last notes and Enjolras sat back, seemingly quite proud of himself. "Can you play another song?" She asked, scooting slightly closer to him since she was almost falling off the seat.
Enjolras nodded, quite pleased that Éponine was both willing to listen to his playing, and listen to his somewhat useless information on various things. He began to play Piano Sonata No. 4, and looked to Éponine expectantly to guess who it was.
"Is it Mozart again?" She tried, and Enjolras shook his head, a small grin still on his face. "Beethoven? I really only know two, Enjolras." Éponine laughed, and Enjolras chuckled.
"Yes, it's Beethoven. Would you like-"
"Yes, get on with it; tell me the history of this piece." Éponine giggled, and Enjolras smiled wider.
"If you insist. I actually don't know much about this piece, other than the fact that it's sometimes nicknamed the Grand Sonata, and was dedicated to his student Babette Countess Keglevics." He said, and Éponine nodded.
"I see. That's quite fortunate that you don't know much about this piece, because the names people had back then are so mind-boggling, I don't think I'd be able to take another second of them. Hope you don't mind, but," Éponine yawned, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth and in turn cause Enjolras to smile yet again, "I'm quite tired." And she rested her head upon his shoulder, closing her eyes and focusing only on Enjolras playing the piano; not on Marius and Cosette, not on her family, not on how hungry she was or how much money she would need to make tonight in order to get a decent meal. No, the only thing she focused on was Enjolras, his warmth, and the music.
And the only thing Enjolras focused on was the music, Éponine, and her warmth.
A/N: My thoughts and prayers go out to those who have been affected by the Boston shooting. xo