She had sex with him, because she felt guilty. She had sex with him, because she regretted what she said to him. She had sex with him, because she wanted to absolve the hurt she caused. That's what Eponine convinced herself; she had sex with him, because she didn't know what else to do. And she tried not to think about it, to treat the sex they had as if he were any other costumer, but it was impossible. He wasn't just any other costumer. He satisfied her. That was far more than any of the horny costumers could ever do. But as much as it surprised her, she couldn't help the smile and blush that crept across her face when she thought of that moment. She was bewildered by how wonderful he made her feel and his eyes shimmered—not just with lust, but something she didn't recognize—as he smiled up at her.
She enjoyed it. She couldn't deny that. After he had taken over, lavished her mouth with kisses as his hands roamed her body, she couldn't think of Marius no matter how hard she wanted to. He vanished completely from her mind, and focused solely on Enjolras and the immense pleasure he was giving her. Not only was he able to please her, he was affectionate with her as well. And that scared her, scared enough that she was afraid to let him kiss her. When he forced her, refused to let his lips leave hers, her heart pounded in her chest, thudding out of control she was sure it would beat its way through her ribcage.
But days had gone by since that night. Her cheeks heated while her body rushed in excitement as she thought back to just how forceful he was with her that evening. Even as she rode him, he was able to dominate her, and that thrilled her, thrilled her enough to stop her dead in her tracks at the feel of her own creeping arousal.
"Damn him," she thought to herself.
As she tried to ignore the heat coming from between her legs, she looked about herself, remembering where she was. The sky above the city was white and the snowfall was very light. But where was she? Eponine could hear the sounds of construction ringing and pounding not too far away where Enjolras supposedly work. That's right. She was looking for Enjolras.
Turning down an alleyway, she found herself walking faster at the thought of catching a glimpse of him at work. The bangs and clangs of building were closer, loud enough that she was sure she would see the unfinished cathedral on the other side. Slowly, she kept herself close to the wall, trying to keep her red dress as tucked away as possible to refrain from drawing anyone's attention, but more specifically, his attention. She peered from the corner of the wall, her dark hair spilling off her shoulders while a few strands remained in her face. The skeleton of the soon-to-be grand cathedral, and the many construction workers were there. She searched each face for Enjolras', half-expecting not find him at all, that the so-called job he had was nothing more than a lie to convince her to stop whoring. But he had not lied. Her eyes locked on him when she found him.
He was shoveling snow. A brown cap, one that reminded her of the one she wore in Paris, was on his head, his blond curls spewing out from underneath it. He was dressed warmer than she was, a dark jacket to cover him and a black scarf around his neck. She eyed the scarf, wishing she had one of her own, and her eyes traveled up at stare at his face. His face was pale, and his cheeks were red. His mouth was open as the white of his breathing puffed out, spreading across his cheek before disappearing. Even from her distance, she could see his serious, determined expression. She admired it.
It was a different expression from this morning. For the first time in a long while she sat down with him for breakfast at the dining table. He did not acknowledge her presence and bore that same hard, impassive expression he wore when they first started living together. He reverted back to this state the morning after she slept with him. After all the progress she and Enjolras had made, Eponine was saddened to see him turn back. She shouldn't be surprised. She hurt him. She wasn't oblivious to it. Even so, she did not regret what she did. She watched him as he ate, hoping he would speak, cut open and tear apart the silence, but he never did. He didn't even look at her. She shifted in her seat. She didn't want to talk about that night, but she would be willing to talk about anything else, even fight about the brothel if it meant he would speak to her. She wanted to rid the quiet, tell him of her troubles even. She wanted confide in him, disregard his warning, and tell him of Marius. But she could not find the words no matter how hard she tried to form them.
Eponine snapped out of her thoughts when a worker called Enjolras' name. She watched his head turn to look, and she disappeared behind the wall, hoping he hadn't seen her. Having no desire to be seen by him, she left, continuing through the city. She avoided the police whenever she saw them, certain they were searching for thieves, possibly even her. She pick pocketed when she was sure there were no police, no victims that would chase her or put up a fight. She was very careful, so careful that she hardly made enough to satisfy her. Annoyed by that fact, she decided to head home.
"He was telling the truth. He does have a job," Eponine thought to herself as she walked, feeling lighter as if a weight had been lifted. Enjolras will be able to bring in an income, surely more than she would from the brothel. She won't need to worry as much about money anymore. So why not quit prostitution? It will make Enjolras happy, and he will stop pestering her about it. She won't have to spend the night in other beds for degrading pay. No more Severin, no more Lady Mistress, no more customers.
She shook her head at the thought. No, she can't stop. Prostitution is her job. Stealing is her job. Enjolras can't supply enough on his own. He needs her help financially just as she needs him. She can't stop, at least not now.
Hours passed before Enjolras had come home, and to her surprise, he arrived earlier than expected. Eponine wouldn't need to leave for the brothel until the sun went down, and the afternoon had barely begun. She had been attempting to read, listening to the wind as it slowly began to howl as she waited for his returned, and she did her best to contain her anxiety as she heard the front door open. She laid the book on the sofa and stood up, turning to see a disgruntled Enjolras as he tossed aside his hat and scarf. He shook off the snow on his jacket. She glanced outside to see the snow blowing fiercely through the air. She may not have to go to the brothel after all. She looked back at Enjolras. He must have left early due to the storm. Eponine stared at him, wanting to say something to keep away the silence. There were purple rings under his eyes, she noticed.
"Enjolras," she said, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowing.
Ignoring the warning darting from his eyes, Eponine walked around the sofa, her expression calm and gentle as she tried to unravel the words in her mind.
"Enjolras I—"
He raised his hand, his forehead wrinkling in annoyance, "Eponine stop."
She frowned, "You don't even know what I want to say."
"I don't care," He said, "I don't want hear it."
Her brows furrowed at his callousness though it did not irritate her as much as it usually did. To her surprise, his terse, forceful voice sent a shiver up her spine. It excited her. Her cheeks heated. She didn't want to think about that now.
But before she could say another word, he walked away from her and into his room, shutting the door as he went. Eponine's heart sank when the door closed. She walked back to the sofa and sat down, staring at her unfinished book. Her eyes went from the book to Enjolras' bedroom door, then back to the book. She fumbled with her hands, not sure what to do with herself. She picked up the book and tried to read again. But images of that night flashed in her mind, his body of strong marble as he pressed himself against her, his warm hands, deep blue eyes, his voice groaning in her ears. How was he so skilled in pleasing her? She glanced at his door again.
The house was silent. She hated it. But she despised his cold demeanor more. Tossing the book aside, Eponine did not think as she headed towards Enjolras' room. Even if he did not speak to her, she would break the silence.