Enjolras is on his second coffee in twenty minutes. He's fairly sure he can hear his heartbeat. He sits at a back table, alone, and tries to ignore Musichetta's sympathetic glances from behind the counter. Éponine surely did not stand him up. Perhaps there was a delay on the Metro. Perhaps she went to the bank. Perhaps a monster crawled out of the Seine and she was busy fighting it.
Perhaps she had stood him up.
He sighs and finishes his coffee, quickly glancing at his cell phone. Half past noon. Éponine is always a very punctual person, so her tardiness came as a surprise. He had tried texting her, but received no response.
Musichetta approaches him with a lemon square on a plate of chipped porcelain.
"On the house," she sets it down on his table with a compassionate smile. "And it's 'Ponine, she's not a bitch. There's totally a good reason for why she's late."
Enjolras thanks his friend with a nod. "This looks great 'Chetta, thanks."
"Don't thank me, I didn't make it," Musichetta pushes her bangs out of her face and saunters behind the counter. "That shit's store-bought, my dear."
Enjolras scoffs and nibbles at the pastry. It is sweeter than what he likes, but the sour aftertaste is pleasant. He has barely finished the first bite when his phone begins to buzz.
"Hullo?" He slides open the phone and runs his thin fingers through his pale hair.
"Hey," he recognizes the tinny voice immediately; Éponine. She's practically whispering into the phone."So sorry, but I'm doin' some work, and I can't make it."
Enjolras frowns. "Can I meet you where ever you are?"
"Can't we reschedule?"
"I was hoping to see you," Enjolras tells her, trying to keep his voice firm. "We, well, we ended pretty abruptly the other night."
"Like, after we fucked," she suddenly sounds very much like Éponine he knows. The turmoil of the world contained in a harsh sentence.
"Sure. That."
A loud sigh bursts from the other end. "Okay. Meet me outside my parent's place. Outside."
She rattles off an address and directions before hanging up without so much as a hasty goodbye.
The apartment where Éponine's family lives is not difficult for Enjolras to locate, as he had already been there. Marius had lived in the same building for a while, and when Enjolras had first met him years before, he had visited the decrepit little building on several occasions.
He waits on the sidewalk across from the building, firing off a quick text to Éponine to notify her of his arrival.
No response.
Not surprising.
Enjolras shakes his head. He likes her so much, but he will not allow her to lead him on, or whatever the fuck she's doing.
He crosses the street and pushes the door open. The lobby is a small room, bare but for a wooden chair and a list of the residents. There are ten apartments on the building, with 'Thénardier' listed as apartment 305.
He jogs up the stairs. When he reaches the top, he can hear voices shouting in slang that he can hardly understand. Éponine's rough voice is among them.
He creeps towards the door and pushes it open. Éponine is standing amongst shreds of paper, her hair a wild frame around her angry face. Five men are in the room, four of whom are middle aged and one who Enjolras recognizes as Montparnasse. He enters the tiny apartment, the door creaking terribly.
The six gang members turn, their faces alight with various degrees of surprise. Enjolras has never seen so many varied emotions on Éponine's face. She looks angry, terrified and relieved, her face tugging in different directions.
"Who is this?" One of the men turns to Éponine.
"A friend," she hisses back. "You don't know him and you never will."
"What's going on?" Enjolras frowns and sizes up the room's occupants.
"I know him," Montparnasse looks positively delighted. "He's the little fruit from the café—"
His words end with a groan when Éponine's boot connects with his shin. He doubles over as Éponine grabs Enjolras by the shoulder, pulling him backout the door.
"I'll explain later," she promises.
Enjolras is about to reply when he feels pain blazing down his left side. He cries out and slumps to the floor.
"What happened?" Éponine shrieks, falling with him.
Enjolras groans and reaches an arm to his side. It comes away slick with blood. A knife is embedded in his back.
Éponine lets out and inhumane shriek as Montparnasse stands above them with a smirk.
Outside, the sirens begin to blare.