Hello! It's me again, sorry I've taken so long, but I've been busy with stuff.
I am so pleased with the level of response this story has gotten. Even though I haven't updated for a while, I'm still getting review/favorite/follow alerts. I just want to say thank you to each and every one of you.
In honor of the tenth chapter, I want to give a few shoutouts and reply to some reviews!
AccioNevilleLongbottom - I was actually very pleased with myself when I read your review, it made me laugh
.stuff - You basically summed up everything I like most about this particular story. Thanks!
Eirini - you review made me both very happy and a little scared...
AnneMarie24601 - lol Liam Neeson, though I think I could handle him.
Thank you to everyone who compliments my writing style, the way I have progressed the e/e relationship, Azelma in general and her and Grantaire, and my added characters, particularly Nicolas and Pierre! You have no idea how much it means to me! So thank you all. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, but I would enjoy some reviews.
This is the tenth chapter, and it's a doozy, strap yourselves in. I'm adding dates to this chapter because it takes place over the course of a week. I just thought it would make things more clear. Enjoy!
The late evening of December 18, 1831. Seven days 'till Christmas. The Cafe Musain...
"Are you quite sure you haven't had enough already Combeferre?" Azelma asked, "I've never known you to drink in such exorbitant amounts." Azelma placed the glass in front of the student, who lifted it to his lips immediately.
"I'm feeling slightly wound," Combeferre said after downing half the glass.
"Fine," Azelma said, "One more glass, but after that I'm ceasing your supply." Combeferre groaned dramatically, feigning utter devastation by the turn of events.
"Cheer up," Feuilly said; clapping Combeferre on the back, "It could be worse, you could be Bossuet." Combeferre and Azelma roared with laughter as Bossuet looked appalled. However he further proved Feuilly's statement by tripping on a barstool and hitting his side on the counter in front of Azelma.
"I take offense to that," Bossuet said, running his hands through his prematurely balding hair, "However, I can't very well argue with you."
"Are you alright?" Combeferre said, passing Bossuet a brandy.
"Nothing's wounded, except my pride," Bossuet replied taking a swig.
"Why?" Grantaire slid into the last unattended barstool, ordering his own drink, "What has your monumental bad luck cursed you with this time?"
"Only a bruised rib," Azelma said, passing him the drink.
"How's your side?" Combeferre asked. Anyone other than the observant medical student wouldn't have realized she was injured. But he noticed her slightly stiff movements, and the semi-pained way she walked.
"Getting better every day," Azelma said as she began to wipe down the counter with a rag, "Ponine's sick of me complaining about it."
"Well she's never been one for subtleties," They were joined by Enjolras who, after noting that there were no more available stools, settled for standing stiffly behind Feuilly.
"Where is Eponine?" Combeferre asked. Azelma rolled her eyes.
"Careful 'Ferre," Azelma teased, "You ask about her so often people may start to think you're in love." All the boys, with the exception of Enjolras, laughed at Combeferre's blush.
"What's the joke?" Bahorel and Joly finished collecting their items at their table and came to join the group.
"Just Combeferre's nonexistent love life," Azelma said, serving them too.
"Are you referring to your sister?" Prouvaire asked, the last of the Les Amis to add to the substantial crowd at the bar, "Oh Combeferre, imagine you and our lovely Eponine, you would have to blunt the knife she has for a tongue, but I think you could."
"Ever the romantic Jehan," Bahorel said, rolling his eyes, "It would take quite a bit in order to tame 'Ponine, she's fiery."
"I don't see why it is necessary for one to 'tame' a woman," Enjolras said, "If you are to waste time on such a ridiculous relationship, you at the very least should care for her the way she is." There was an uncomfortable silence at Enjolras' statement.
"I had no idea you felt so strongly on the subject," Joly said.
"I don't" Enjolras shrugged on his coat, "But we come here each evening, preaching about injustice. How can you justify your beliefs if you don't even treat women as your equals?" They were spared yet another awkward silence by the arrival of a wind-swept Marius.
"Marius, you insufferable fool," Enjolras said, "You're beyond late, you missed the entire meeting." Enjolras' stern gaze trailed on Marius, who had the decency to at least look ashamed.
"I'm sorry," Marius said, "I was-"
"With Cosette," Everyone finished for him, with the exception of Enjolras, who was too angry, and Azelma, who didn't care. Marius looked embarrassed, before ordering a drink and telling everyone about his day with Cosette, how deeply he cared for her, and her overwhelming perfection. Nothing they haven't heard countless times before. Enjolras rolled his eyes at his friend's gall. Not caring to hear his pointless rambling, Enjolras made his way out of the cafe. There was one last thing he heard however, just as he was exiting, that made a small part of him hurt for Eponine.
"I love her; I think I may ask her to marry me."
XXXXXXXX
Meanwhile...
"How many more days now Pierre?" Nicolas asked as Eponine tucked him into bed.
"Only one more week," Pierre said as he laid down next to Gavroche, "Seven days."
"What's in seven days?" Eponine asked.
"Christmas," Gavroche said, taking of his cap and tossing it to his bedside table, "Nicolas can't wait for a visit from Father Christmas." Eponine's heart sank to her stomach. Shit, she had completely forgotten. Father Christmas hadn't been a part of her life for years. Ever since her family made the move to Paris, Eponine's Christmases had been a freezing night watching jealously from the shadows as other children joined in the festivities that played out all throughout the streets of Paris, and her father and the Patron-Minette getting more drunk than usual. As she grew older she also became the object her father gambled away for the night in their game of cards.
"Of course Nicolas," Eponine said, tucking the blankets up to his chin and kissing his forehead,
"But you must be a very good boy if you want a present from Father Christmas, so no talking, go straight to sleep."
Eponine softly closed the door to the room, listening as Nicolas told Pierre and Gavroche to be quiet. The brave young missionary's efforts were to no avail, Pierre and Gavroche were to talk long into the night, ignoring the complaints and thin threats the dark-haired servant of good and presents offered.
"Hello," Enjolras greeted as he entered his flat (Though he hadn't needed to use his key because Grantaire broke the goddamn door). Eponine glanced up from her book, giving him a grunt of recognition.
"How was the meeting?" Eponine said, marking her page and setting the novel aside.
"Fine," Enjolras said, "Nothing remarkable, Bossuet and Marius acted like total blokes, Grantaire was drunk, Azelma sarcastic."
"Just a typical day in the life of a revolutionary," Eponine said, "So nothing else of interest?"
"Well..." Enjolras was unsure of whether to tell her of Marius' plans of engagement. She would find out eventually, may as well find out from him, "Marius had some news, he... er... He stated that he wanted to ask Cosette to marry him." The words spilled out of Enjolras' mouth mercilessly, he mentally kicked himself for not offering any sort of emotional buffer. Eponine seemed unresponsive for a moment. When she spoke, her voice sounded hollow and emotionless,
"Well, I suppose that's it then, isn't it?" She said, standing up slowly, "It's really happening."
"Are you alright?" Enjolras asked awkwardly.
"Of course!" Eponine's voice was far more high pitched and cheery than her usual witty rasp, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because it's Marius," Enjolras said.
"Well, it wouldn't make a difference, would it?" Eponine said, tears began to fall from her eyes, she wiped them away hurriedly.
"Eponine," Enjolras started.
"Don't" Eponine said, "I should have seen this coming, even if he wasn't with her, he would never want me. Who could blame him? No one would want me; I'm just a common whore."
"No, you're not," Enjolras said, trying pathetically to comfort her in any way. Lord, he had no idea what to do with women.
"I can't imagine what I was trying to make myself believe," Eponine said, "All those years, hopelessly pining over him. It was stupid. A stupid mistake made by a stupid girl." The tears fell freely now, she didn't bother trying to wipe them away, but she turned away from the immeasurably uncomfortable Enjolras, still subconsciously relying on her gamine instinct of hiding all emotion. Unsure of what else to do, Enjolras stepped forward slowly, placing a hand on her arm.
"Eponine," He said as he turned her around. The look on her face was one of confrontation, her expression seemed to dare him to try to comfort her, make her feel in any way better about her pitiful situation, and fully confident in his failure. Enjolras sighed,
"I'm sorry," He said.
"I know," Her voice was barely a whisper, any softer and he wouldn't have heard.
Eponine met his gaze once more, a silent instant of understanding passed before she turned away. The moment passed.
XXXXXXXX
December 19, 1831. Six days 'till Christmas. The Cafe Musain...
Azelma yawned and rubbed her eyes. While the work she had to do at the Cafe wasn't particularly difficult, but the hours were long. She was the first to arrive in the mornings, and the last to leave at night. There is not much room for sleep. But, she wasn't complaining, this was heaven compared to her methods of employment in the past (of which Eponine shared as well). She was just in the process of removing the bar stools from the counter when she was interrupted by a shrill voice,
"Hello!" Azelma jumped three feet in the air, swearing profusely and dropping the stool.
"I'm sorry," the voice said, "I'm sorry, can I help?"
"I've got it," Azelma said, fixing the stool and turning around, "May I help you?"
"I didn't startle you, did I?" The voice belonged to a young woman possibly a few years older than Azelma. It was hard to tell, she seemed an exotic creature, like a gypsy. She had thick hair as dark as 'Ponine's and bright blue eyes contrasting starkly with her tan complexion. "I'm such a fool, I should have knocked." Azelma thought she resembled a deer; her eyes seemed to take up an exuberant amount of her face.
"We aren't open," Azelma said.
"Oh, I should probably introduce myself," The girl stuck a dainty hand in Azelma's face, "I'm Musichetta, Victor's niece."
"Well, he's not here either," Azelma said, not shaking her hand, "And we still are not open."
"I'm not a customer," Musichetta giggled, "Uncle Victor gave me a job, I start today."
"Is that so?" Azelma said sarcastically, "Well I'm so glad he told me, I love being snuck up on so early in the morning."
"Where do I start?" Musichetta said brightly. Really, this girl's optimism is sickening. Azelma tossed her a cloth.
"Wipe down the tables," Azelma said.
XXXXXXXX
Midday the same day, the Cafe Musain...
"Who's the new girl?" Annette lifted Nicolas to help him perch on the stool, "She's quite bubbly."
"Yes, quite," Azelma said, serving her brother's their dinner, "Honestly, I'm convinced her smile is a permanent fixture of her face."
"I quite like her," Annette laughed.
"You would," Azelma said, "You're so sweet I would bet my month's pay that you sweat sugar."
"And what of you?" Annette asked, her perfectly straight teeth visible through her red lipped smile.
"Acid," Azelma said, "If you will excuse me for a moment." Azelma walked around the counter to the visibly flustered Musichetta.
"Use your upper arm to balance the plates," Azelma said, modeling the most efficient way to clear a table, "And use the tray for glasses."
"Thank you," Musichetta said, "I'm so clumsy, I will undoubtedly break countless dishes."
"Looking forward to it," Azelma cleared the table and was back manning the bar in record speed.
"So what do I do now?" Musichetta asked. Azelma tossed her a paper and pen.
"Go in the back and take inventory," She replied. Musichetta's figure had hardly disappeared through the back door before the midday rush entered from the Parisian streets. Made up mainly of the les Amis.
"Hullo 'Zelma," Joly greeted as he entered with Bossuet and Grantaire.
"Fondest greetings ma cheré," Grantaire said, grasping Azelma's evasive hand and kissing it.
"I ain't anybody's cheré," Azelma said, serving the creatures of habit the same dinner they eat every day.
"Why did 'Taire kiss you 'Zelma?" Nicolas asked, "Are you in love?"
"Eat your dinner," Azelma said.
"Any new adjustments?" Bossuet asked.
"There's a new girl," Annette said, "Her name is Musichetta."
"Really?" Grantaire said, "And how is that adjustment love?"
"Fine," Azelma said, "Just fine."
"Really?" Grantaire said again, "I find that hard to believe, you don't particularly enjoy interaction with fellow human beings."
"I like her fine," Azelma said, "She's frustratingly difficult to dislike, much like Cosette."
"I think she's lovely," Annette said.
"Well of course you do," Joly said, "You love everybody, and the feelings are mutual." Annette blushed a soft pink at the compliment.
"You flatter me," Annette said, wiping Pierre's mouth.
"No," Bossuet said, shaking his head, "We understate your attractive qualities."
"Sorry boys," Azelma said, "But Annette is smitten with Enjy, your flattery will do you no good." Though fully aware the blonde was jesting, Annette still blushed deeply, staring intently at her perfectly shaped fingernails. The boys and Azelma found substantial joy on her discomfort.
There were no secrets within the les Amis.
"Azelma," Musichetta appeared from the back room, "Did you mean for me to take inventory of everything?" Azelma rolled her eyes.
"Of course," She said, "Who else is going to do it?"
"Hello," Musichetta smiled sweetly at Grantaire, "I don't believe I've met you before." Her eyes flickered to Joly and Bossuet, before returning to Grantaire's. Azelma stifled at the sight of Musichetta's hand in Grantaire's face. She walked swiftly round the counter, sitting down on Grantaire's leg and wrapping an arm around his neck. Grantaire looked surprised at her actions, but was altogether pleased, wrapping an arm around her slim waist and extending his other hand to Musichetta.
"Grantaire," He introduced himself, "Pleased to meet you." Musichetta smiled widely, turning to Joly and Bossuet in turn, introducing herself quickly before scurrying back to work. Joly and Bossuet seemed oddly silent, simply shaking her dainty hand mutely, an identical dumbstruck look gracing their features.
"Who is that angel?" Bossuet asked, the same time Joly chimed in,
"I have never seen such a magnificent creature before in my life!" They looked quickly at each other, their love struck expressions (Which rather resembled Marius) changed to those of shock. Azema and Grantaire looked between them, identical smirks forming on their lips.
This was going to be most enjoyable.
XXXXXXXX
Later That Evening...
"I suggest we go to live in a convent," Eponine sat on a barstool, brushing away a piece of flyaway dark hair that had fallen clear of the pins pulling her waves back.
"I completely agree," Azelma said, "I don't even need context. Let's leave tomorrow."
"So it's decided," Eponine said.
"What is decided?" Combeferre asked.
'Ponine and I are giving up the life of luxury we have experienced living in a cramped apartment to live a life of religious piety," Azelma said. Both sisters laughed at Combeferre's dumbfounded expression, "Tough day at work 'Ponine?"
"That doesn't even begin to describe my situation," Eponine said, "A convent sounds nice, Cosette lived in one, and she turned out fine."
"Never mind," Azelma said, "We can't live in a convent, I'll go madder than her."
"Too late," Eponine said, "But I suppose it's for the best, you wouldn't be able to leave Grantaire." Eponine teased, countering Azelma's glare with a self-righteous grin.
"You should have heard Nicolas today," Courfeyrac said, "He can hardly wait for Christmas morning."
"He'll be one disappointed little boy when he awakes and there are no gifts," Eponine said, "I haven't any money to spare."
"He'll be crushed," Combeferre said, "We can't allow that to happen."
"I have a thought," Courfeyrac said," What if we throw a party here at the Cafe? That way, they get the celebrations and gifts without any added costs to you. It's not charity," Courfeyrac said quickly, noting Eponine's glare, "It's a celebration."
"I think it sounds like fun," Azelma said, "Come Eponine, you may even enjoy yourself."
"Well I know the boys would love it," Eponine surrendered at her sister's plea, "Alright, but it had better be the party of a century!"
"Nothing but the best!" Courfeyrac said, "I'll speak to Victor immediately."
"Please do," Grantaire said, arriving just in time to hear the end of the conversation, "I have some complaints, the service here is horrid." Azelma shot him a glare and childishly stuck her tongue out at him.
"You try dealing with you," Azelma said, "It's impossible."
"Can't be that bad," Grantaire said, "I'm irresistible." Azelma scoffed,
"And where did you invent such a fantasy?" Azelma asked.
"Can't call something a fantasy if you believe it yourself," Grantaire said, kissing her cheek, "I'm going home, goodnight all." Azelma rolled her eyes, staring after him with an annoyed expression. She turned to meet Eponine's knowing (and oh so damn smug) look.
"Knock off," Azelma said, "Get out, everyone. We're closing."
Once outside, Combeferre turned to Eponine,
"Why is Azelma closing so early?" He asked.
"Because I'm right," Eponine quipped, "Goodnight, 'Ferre."
XXXXXXXX
December 20, 1831. Five days 'till Christmas. The Market...
Eponine re-buttoned Nicolas' jacket for what seemed the millionth time,
"Don't pull on it," Eponine swatted his hand away, "Let it be, it's freezing!" Nicolas rolled his eyes, he actually rolled his eyes! This child was taking after Gavroche and Azelma in terrifying extremes.
"Alright Maman," Nicolas said, "May I go now? Gavroche is already way ahead." Eponine huffed, sending him to scamper after Gavroche, who had long since disappeared into the swirling mass of people.
"You can take the urchin from the streets-" Eponine muttered.
"But not the urchin from the boy," came an icy voice from behind Eponine, "Or a whore, for that matter." Eponine whirled around, judging whether to run or fight. Babet seemed to know what she was thinking, grabbing her arm roughly before she could turn away.
"Get away, Babet," Eponine growled, "Don' think fer a second I can't make ya." Babet grinned manically, his putrid breath nearly making her faint.
"You do tha' an' yer never see yer boy again," Eponine whirled her head around, scanning frantically for Nicolas, spotting him outside a shop selling candies. Her skilled eyes could see Brujon, waiting for a signal to grab the child.
"What do ya wan'?" Eponine spat.
"Let's have a chat," Babet said, leading Eponine to what she knew to be a rarely occupied alleyway. Once out of sight of the street he threw her roughly against the wall, "Yer father's angry 'Ponine," Babet said, "An' you know what he does when he's angry."
"I can see his handiwork," Eponine smirked, eyeing the gash across Babet's forehead, "Wha's wrong Babet, too much for ya? Pa gonna send you to the whore house? That's where the bitches go." Babet slapped her face, his eyes malicious with rage. He always was the easiest to rile up. Eponine spat on his boots to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. He grabbed her by the neck, holding her against the wall.
"Yer gonna pay for that you little whore," Babet said, he tightened his grip; ceasing all airflow to Eponine's lungs.
XXXXXXXX
Meanwhile...
"Enjy!" Enjolras turned at the sound of his horrid pet name to see Nicolas outside a candy stall, "Will you buy me a sweet?"
"Sorry, Nicolas," Enjolras said, ruffling Nicolas' locks (he needed a haircut). He truly did detest that nickname, but he must admit when called that by Nicolas or Pierre, it was nearly endearing.
Nearly being the operative word.
"Aww why not?" Nicolas said, sticking out his lip.
"Eponine would send me to an early grave," Enjolras said.
"We don't hafta tell her!" Nicolas insisted, "It'll be our little secret."
"Sorry," Enjolras said, "The answer is no."
"Nicolas, did you get lost again?" Gavroche appeared suddenly, heaven knows from where.
"No!" Nicolas said, "I was talking to Enjy!"
"Oh, 'ello Enjolras," Gavroche grinned, he was missing a tooth towards the front.
"Where is Pierre?" Enjolras asked scanning the crowd in anticipation for the rascal. He would never admit it, but if he had to pick a favorite, Enjolras would choose Pierre in a heartbeat. He was fond of the boy, he was remarkably intelligent.
"He's holed up at the flat," Gavroche said, "Reading one of those books you got him."
"I could teach you to read as well," Enjolras offered, "I'm sure you would like it."
"Maybe later," Gavroche said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm a little busy right now."
"Where is Eponine?" Enjolras asked.
"She's right behind me!" Nicolas turned to point her out, but found she was no longer there, the smile slid of his face and was replaced by a look of confusion, "She was there," Nicolas pointed four stalls down, "Just a second ago, I swear it." Enjolras looked to where he was pointing, no one was there, it wasn't like Eponine to let Nicolas leave her line of vision. Something was wrong.
"Gavroche, take Nicolas" Enjolras said, "Stay together, and go back to the flat. Azelma wants you home." He added quickly, he didn't want to worry them. They sped off towards home as Enjolras navigated the large crowds towards the stall. There was no sign of her anywhere. He walked to the next, and the next.
"Enjolras?" He jumped ten feet in the air and spun around to find the owner of that rasp, who was currently unsuccessfully holding in her laughter, "I didn't scare you, did I?" Eponine asked, tears filling her eyes from laughing so hard, "You look as if you've seen a ghost!"
Enjolras glared at her. How could she always do that? She could appear from nowhere, she may as well have been a ghost.
"Where were you?" Enjolras said.
"Getting the necessary items for supper," Eponine said plainly, "Where are Nicolas and Gavroche?"
"I sent them home," Enjolras said, "Don't bother with supper, just come to the cafe."
"Wonderful, I will see you there Enjy," Eponine winked. Enjolras watched her go, melting into the crowd effortlessly. It wasn't long before he lost her.
"A ghost maybe," Enjolras muttered, "one minute there, then gone the next."
XXXXXXXX
Later That Evening...
"You're looking lovely this evening," Joly sent Musichetta a warm smile from behind his spectacles, "Having a fine day I hope?"
"Well enough," Musichetta smiled back from the seat they had offered to her, "An average day, nothing spectacular."
"Azelma hasn't driven you insane yet?" Bossuet added.
"No, I think she's an absolute dear!" Musichetta laughed, "But I must get back to work, lest I desire a lecture from her."
"She is exquisite," Joly said, gazing after her, his expression matched by Bossuet's.
"So I've heard," Grantaire murmured, taking a swig of his absinthe.
"Why is it that everyone likes me?" Azelma slid into the seat previously occupied by Musichetta, "I'm openly hostile towards everyone!"
"Not me," Grantaire slid his arm around her.
"Especially you," Courfeyrac laughed as Azelma slapped Grantaire's arm away.
"Maybe you possess more redeeming qualities than you think," Annette said. After a moment of silence, everyone in attendance burst into uncontrollable laughter. Even the marble man cracked a grin. Annette blushed deeply and grinned at their response.
"I'm serious!" Annette said, "You don't give yourself enough credit Azelma."
"Now I know you're crazy." The group turned enthusiastically to greet the next arrival of their little group.
"Hullo 'Ponine!" Grantaire said boisterously, passing her his drink, "Sit down, have some absinthe!"
"Anyone who believes Azelma is worth saving is mad," Eponine laughed, accepting Grantaire's offer and taking a swig.
"Look," Courfeyrac said, pointing a finger at Eponine and facing Azelma, "You sister smiles, why don't you?"
"I'll bet she has dimples like her as well!" Jehan added, balancing his head on his hands and looking at Azelma with pleading eyes, "Show us 'Zelma!"
"Oh, I hate all of you!" Azelma yelled biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, "You're all terrible!"
"She does!" Jehan said, throwing up his hands with a whoop, "How delightful."
"Careful," Said Feuilly, "Azelma will probably kill you if you write a poem."
"Don't you dare!" Azelma screamed after Jehan, who was scampering away to do just that "I will murder you as you sleep!"
"Calm love," Grantaire managed to choke out, as he was laughing hysterically with everyone else, "Red doesn't suit you."
Whilst this drama ensued, Enjolras had made his way over the bar to find a quite (erm, quieter, as the les Amis and company made the cafe perpetually noisy) place to review his notes from that evening's meeting.
"Hello, Enjolras," Combeferre slid into the stool next to him, "How is it coming?" He gestured to the expanse of papers spread out in front of Enjolras.
"Speeches," Enjolras grunted, hardly glancing up from his work.
"That's pleasant," Combeferre stated awkwardly, nodding his head slowly. Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"Look Combeferre," Enjolras said, "It's not that I don't enjoy your company, but I have a lot of work to do-"
"Of course," Combeferre said quickly, "I don't mean to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something. It's rather urgent." Enjolras put down his pen, the more he paid attention the sooner he could solve whatever his friend's problem was, then get back to work.
"What's this about?" Enjolras asked.
"It's about Eponine, actually," Combeferre said. Enjolras turned to glance at the said woman, who was laughing jovially with the group. He knew she would excuse herself the moment Marius walked in, making up some excuse that wouldn't fool anyone. She caught him looking and smiled, raising an eyebrow in question. He shrugged to tell her it was nothing and turned back to Combeferre.
"What about her?" Enjolras asked.
"This seems so odd to say," Combeferre grinned sheepishly, "Just a matter of months ago she was just Eponine, very witty, with a sharp tongue, but nothing more. But lately," Combeferre stole a glance at her, "I rather, fancy her." Keeping his friends feelings in mind, Enjolras stifled his snort in a cough.
"Eponine?" Enjolras after Combeferre clapped him on the back, "Are you raving?"
"I don't know!" Combeferre said, head in hands, "Tell me what to do Enjolras."
"Why me?" Enjolras shifted uncomfortably, "I don't care about your romantic life."
"You're her friend correct?" Combeferre asked, "What does she like?"
"Combeferre," Enjolras warned, "Be careful, Eponine's... complicated. She loves Marius, everyone knows that."
"Come Enjolras," Combeferre said, "She's so guarded, but you must know something." Enjolras sighed, looking back towards the table where Eponine sat.
"A rose," Enjolras said as he collected his items, "Get her a rose."
Because I'm much busier and this is taking a LOT longer than I anticipated (and it's pretty long already), I'm splitting this into two chapters, the next one will be up ASAP and I really hope that it's soon.
On a happier note, who didn't love Sammy as Velma Kelly in Chicago!? I love her to death, I'm so proud *sobs*
Aaaaannndd, does anyone watch Graceland with Aaron? If you don't I highly suggest you do, it's great and Aaron is so beautiful!
Ok I'm done boring you now, leave me your thought (via review or PM) and until next time!