: Yeah, these are going to be at the beginning now. I find that putting them at the end can ruin any ~dramatic effect~ the end of a chapter can bring. Okay, back to business. Sorry I'm late (we had a crapload of tests to study for past few weeks), thank you so so so much for the overwhelmingly (seriously, you guys are amazing) kind reviews, please review again if you feel so moved, etc etc, enjoy the chapter!
Enjolras was confused. "You have a sister?" He asked bluntly.
Eponine rolled her eyes. "Obviously, dumbass." She turned to address the girl in question. "You got someplace to go?" She asked gently.
"No," she said forlornly. "Dad kicked me out last night. I was just going to sleep here, but, uh, that actually might have been a really bad plan."
"Addy, what were you thinking?! You could've just asked me!" Grantaire asked a little more forcefully than was necessary.
"I'm sorry," she replied with a cracking voice. "I didn't want you to be mad at me or anything."
"I'm not mad," he yelled. "I'm just scared for you. Anything could've happened!"
Musichetta stepped between them before it got any worse. "Grantaire." She said in her best "disciplining a bad dog" kind of voice. "Hey Addy, would you like to come stay with us girls for a night? I'm sure the others wouldn't mind an impromptu movie night."
She smiled. "Yeah. Could I, R?"
"Yeah. They should take good care of you."
The ride back to Musichetta's house apartment was a bit tense. No one knew what to say, so they just settled for not saying anything.
That is, until Cosette had had enough."Come on, guys! Is this the best we can do?! We just had tons of fun at the fair, one of our best friends has a secret sister, and all we can do is friggin brood in silence?! Pardon my language, but hell no! Be happy! Tired I get, but depressed? Come on!"
She would have continued, but Addy herself interrupted. "It's okay, what's-your-name blonde person," she laughed. "I don't mind quiet. And I know, this is kinda awkward, me asking for your help when I only know you guys by report."
Cosette huffed, but settled for turning the radio to an 80's hits station.
Once they had arrived at Musichetta's house, the chosen place of meeting, and settled in, Addy began searching through Musichetta's extensive movie collection. "No way!" She exclaimed, holding aloft Barbie As Rapunzel. "You still have this?!"
She laughed. "Those movies were my childhood and I will never get rid of them."
"We gotta watch that," Azelma concurred.
"Obviously! It's a classic!" Cosette added. "Put it in already!"
And so the five girls sat on the floor covered in every blanket they could lay eyes on, wolfing down obscene amounts of popcorn, singing along to the badly animated movie, enjoying every second of it.
After the credits rolled, Azelma rolled over to face the others. "Okay guys. Are we gonna talk about how Eponine was all huggy with Enjolras?"
"Are we going to talk how you spent thirty bucks on winning that goldfish for Jehan?" She shot back.
"No, actually, we aren't," she deflected. "Because you were hugging into him for dear life, and I was just trying to impress Jehan."
"Wait," Addy interrupted. "Enjolras is Mr. Angelic Blondie my brother never shuts up about, right?"
"Yeah, that just about sums him up," Musichetta responded.
"Oh yeah, Eponine. Eponine? Is that it? Yeah, I saw him looking at you, Eponine, he was all googly-eyed, it was disgusting."
She nearly spit out her drink. "What?!"
"He's into you, Eppy. What's so confusing about that?" Cosette asked.
"Everything! Enjolras interested in a girl? Have you ever met him? Have you ever seen him show even a passing interest in anyone in particular?"
"Yeah, you."
She gave Addy her best death glare. "He's just a good friend, guys. That's it. I'm scared of heights, and he happened to be the unfortunate victim of that, but he still helped me. He was just being nice," she refuted, but mentally, she wondered if they were right, an if she wanted them to be.
"Well, we're getting nowhere with that line of questioning, so" Azelma said, turning towards Musichetta. "Any news with you and Joly?"
She snorted out a derisive laugh. "Nope. No news at all. Absolutely nothing has happened with me and Joly in the past few weeks."
Cosette was confused. "And this is bad?"
"Yeah, he's pretty much ignoring me! I get that his studies are important, and he's working pretty long and hard at the bakery, but I'm his girlfriend! Hell, I'd be his fiancé in a heartbeat if he asked, but no! I'm just the chick he sleeps with on occasion," she moped.
"You wanna know what I would do? I would fake dump him and see if he cares or not, and if he proves himself worthy or whatever let him back," Addy suggested.
"And break up over text so he knows how bad it is," Eponine added. "They hate text, makes them feel too unimportant for an actual conversation."
"Yeah," Musichetta nodded. "Because I he doesn't want to get me back, he doesn't deserve me in the first place!"
They set about drafting the text, trying to get the right about of "you messed up" and "try to win me back" in it. Finally, they came up with the result, a text they all could be proud of.
"Joly, I hate to have to say it, but we're through. I don't want to be ignored any longer. You can pack up all your shit in the morning. It's not me, it's you."
Joly, who was staying with Enjolras that night to give the girls space, panicked. This wasn't exactly unusual, so Enjolras was unworried. Once he did ask what the problem was, he became concerned as well. He obviously was concerned for his friend, but he would have to move around the schedules at work to avoid putting the two at work together, which would be problematic. He suggested calling a conference of the Amis to settle the issue, who all came as soon as possible.
First, they analyzed the text itself.
"She hates to say it, and she feels ignored, so I say you try to get her back. Go aggressive," Bahorel offered.
"No, don't chase her!" Feuilly countered. "She said no, so just leave her alone! It's her choice."
"But apologize," Jehan added. "You don't want to alienate her completely."
"But, like, a really loving paying-attention-to-her type apology so that she comes back," Courfeyrac said.
"Write it like a love letter, with the 'my dearest Musichetta' and all, it'll sweep her off her feet," Grantaire suggested.
"Or write an actual letter for one of us to give her," Combeferre said.
Joly nodded. "Could you help me write it? I'm not so good with words in these situations."
They, of course, agreed and, as a comitee, wrote out a love letter which could move the hardest hearts.
He signed it in his best swoopy calligraphy and gave it to Combeferre, a universally trusted messenger, for delivery.
Now all both parties could do was wait.