I'm all out for the war,

I guess love wasn't what I'm looking for,

I don't care when you cry,

I think self pity is a state of mind.

x.

Eponine has been preparing what she must say for a full week.

For Eponine, that is huge.

Once Enjolras told her this rally was about the poor class of Europe, she knew what she had to do. If she got this right, then she had a chance of helping her brothers and her sister. She didn't even count her anger towards Enjolras as a distraction; it motivated her if anything.

She greets Combeferre at the side of the stage. He squeezes her shoulders as a quick 'good luck' before stopping her. He opens his mouth to say something as she keeps her eyes locked on him.

"Eh, Eponine…" He is obviously nervous, which makes her the same in return. She lowers her brows. "Yes?" He nods, swallowing. He is obviously afraid of her. She is unsure of whether to laugh or run.

"What did you do to Enjolras?"

She glares at him incredulously, before turning her attention to the blonde on the other side of the stage. He hasn't shaved, offering slight- yet noticeable stubble to his marble face. He doesn't look like he's very focused either; he keeps fidgeting and pacing. She wonders if she has done this to him.

"You don't know the effect you have on people, Ponine!" Bahorel chuckles, patting her back as he climbs on to stage. She runs her fingers through her hair, taking it all in. She has chipped a man compared to a statue. She considers her reasons for being angry with him, realizing how her pride has wounded her again. She catches his eyes, offering a look meant to say 'I'm sorry', He nods in return, and she steps up on stage to start her speech.

She is greeted with a few cheers and hollers, and she nods to them. She takes a deep breath, starting.

"I have spent most of my life trapped in the gutter with my siblings, unloved and uncared for."

He listens intently, not understanding why she is unloved. She is they symbol of everything he fights for. Everything she has endured can bring light to the people. She is his gamin martyr, even if she does not know yet that she is his. He is filled with nothing but selfish love. Only jealousy could fall in love with pride.

"We've been starved, beaten, and kept like stray animals." She continues. "I want a world where kids can live safely together."

Her speech is far from over, her head is filled with ideas and testimonials, but as she continues Enjolras steps on stage. He makes his way right next to her. She stops, turning to him.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Eponine, I—" He looks out to the crowd of people, knowing it is too late to back off. "I can't put this off any longer."He presses his lips to hers, pulling her close to him. She tenses, dropping her arms. He holds her too close for to escape, but for one brief moment she kisses him. He has had little urges to kiss her in the past, even before they were really friends. He would write the feeling off, blaming it on something else. But he is finally kissing her; a taste of blood and strawberries filling his mouth. He backs up to breathe and she forces herself out of his grip. His gaze is strong and he is so close to smiling, but her glare scares him. He frowns and she sends a sharp shove towards his chest.

She turns and runs.

He follows her, grabbing her arm as she runs past the boys. She tries to weasel away from him, not caring if she hurts him. He winces, but does not let her go.

"I thought you gave a shit!" She spits, violently trying to shake him off. "I thought you cared about what I had to say! All you wanted was to get in my pants this whole time? Were rallies some code for seduction or something? I thought you were my friend, Enjolras!" She is thrashing kicking and yelling. She is blind with anger.

She has lost it because a privileged boy decided to make her his.

"I care, Eponine!" He yells, trying to hold her steady.

"Then why did you ruin my speech? Why did you ruin my chance?"

"I—" She keeps interrupting him with exclamations and threats. "Eponine!"

Combeferre puts a hand on his shoulder. "Let go, Enjolras."

He reluctantly sets her free and she runs off. It pains him, but he does not let it show.

For once he has done wrong.

xii.

She makes three phone calls when she returns her home. The first is to Gavroche and Azelma, she barely avoids her papa when she rings them. They are apparently squatting in an old villa outside of the city. Gavroche nicked a phone from a poor old man and Azelma figured out a way for it to work. She will admit she is proud. She tries not to cry as she tells them that something went wrong and that they won't be safe just yet. She does not blame it on him, but never will she blame it on herself.

The second phone call is work. She begs Musichetta to give her the day off tomorrow and she obliges. Eponine knows that patience at the Musain is running thin, but so is hers. She can't live without a job, but part of her knows that she would feel better without one.

The last call is to Montparnasse. She asks him to come over and he doesn't even hesitate to agree. They kept an odd bond for their kind.

She lights a cigarettes she waits, moving her hair away from her face. She sits on her knees, almost curled in a ball, and contemplates a way to pass the time. Her apartment has no tv, nor bookshelf. It is a bed, a kitchen, and a separate bathroom. She is grateful of the view and nothing else. Her bed is nowhere near as nice as Enjolras', and her kitchen is crawling with cockroaches and spiders. She puts up with it, seeing as its what she deserves.

His knock awakes her from her thoughts. She puts out her cigarette and answers the door. No words can be muttered before his lips press upon hers. They both taste of blood and ash. They mix together, leading each other to her bed.

He has found a way to wash the anger off her lips and the regret off her tongue.

For a moment she is content.

Enjolras, on the other hand, is far from content. He cancels the rally, letting it turn in to a party of sorts. They drink, they dance, they scream- but he is too numb to enjoy it. He should have known it was he bad idea to kiss her. He knew this was important to her.

Halfway through the party Courfeyrac hands him a beer.

"I knew it." He says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Knew what?" Enjolras raises a brow.

"Knew you were in to her."

Enjolras grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. "I didn't realize it yesterday. I had convinced myself I was just fascinated with her. " He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm supposed to be smarter than this." He has never thought of anyone in the way he thinks of her before. He has always lead his actions his head, but never had he even considered listening to his heart.

Courfeyrac squeezes his shoulder. "She'll get over it! Don't worry."

He shakes him off, holding back a sneer.

"Leave me alone."

xiii.

"You've reached Eponine's voicemail! Stop calling me, Enjolras."

"Epo—"

"Your message has been deleted."