21

Éponine jumped to her feet the minute that Gavroche disappeared from view. She heard his booted feet thudding on the stairs and made to go after him, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

She stared down at Enjolras' hand banded around her arm and resisted the urge to punch him in the face as Gavroche had done. "Get off me," she said, keeping very still. Enjolras' grip tightened for the briefest of seconds before he let go of her.

He walked past her to shut the front door. "Give him some time," he suggested. "He's had a shock. He needs some space."

Worry and anger that had built up inside Éponine since she'd left the Guardian's building suddenly burst forth. Enjolras was standing there, daring her to tell her how to deal with her own brother?

"This is all your fault," she said, voice very quiet in the stillness of the room.

Enjolras kept his face impassive. "How so?"

"You and your pointless revolution!" Éponine shouted. "Revolution – it was nothing! It achieved nothing! You have ruined everything! Because of you and your speeches my brother is going to remain a child for – for God only knows how long! You killed him! And you killed me, you killed me too. You stole our lives the minute you began to build that barricade! Because of you, he will never – we will never get to live. And what for? Your supposed revolution achieved nothing, Enjolras, it achieved nothing. We all died for a fantasy!"

Enjolras barely flinched during her tirade, but his eyes had narrowed considerably and his hands were clenched into fists. "Don't you think I know that?" he spat. "Don't you think I've realised? I hate myself, Éponine. I can barely look at my friends sometimes without thinking about what I've done. You're right – I have condemned you all to live in this – this hell that is supposed to be some kind of heaven. I hate it here. I hate it here, I hate myself, I hate looking at everyone. And I will never be able to look Gavroche in the eye ever again."

He was breathing heavily, and so was she. Her hands itched, itched to smack him.

"You should hate yourself," she bit out. "I hate you. I hate you."

For the first time, Enjolras flinched at her words. He took a step backwards, but that was when the front door was shoved open and Combeferre stepped inside, his arm wrapped around Gavroche's shoulders.

The boy had his face pressed into Combeferre's side, and Combeferre was looking at them with concern and confusion etched across his face. "I found him outside," he murmured. "He was very distressed…I thought he might want you, Éponine…"

Gavroche tore away from Combeferre and flung himself at his sister. Éponine folded her arms around him and stroked his spiky hair. "Thank you," she said to Combeferre, nodding her head.

"I could hear you shouting from downstairs," Combeferre said, looking between Enjolras and Éponine in a very pointed way. "That's why I thought it best to interrupt before you both said something you might regret."

"I don't regret anything I said to him," Éponine said harshly. "I do hate him, and this is all his fault." Against her, Gavroche's entire body shuddered.

Enjolras pursed his lips. "I won't try to help you again," he said, his tone as cold as ice. For the first time, his eyes met hers. A jolt shot through her entire body. "I will stay out of your way, Éponine, and you would do well to stay out of mine."

With that, Enjolras turned on his heel and stalked out of the flat. Ignoring his exit, Éponine led Gavroche to the sofa and sat down on it, hugging her brother against her.

Combeferre hovered near the arm of the sofa. "Éponine…"

"Please go," she said, not in the mood for a scolding. "Please. Just leave. Thank you for bringing Gavroche home, but I have everything under control now."

She wasn't sure that was the truth; in fact, it felt like everything could fly away in seconds. But she could keep a hold on it if she just kept her arms around her brother. As long as he didn't fall apart completely, neither would she.

She turned her eyes to gaze upon the wall opposite, her hand still smoothing down Gavroche's spikes of hair. She could see Combeferre stood nearby out of the corner of her eye, but after a couple of minutes passed he turned around and left her flat without speaking. He shut the door behind him quietly.

She pressed her cheek against the top of Gavroche's head. "It's going to be okay," she promised him. "It will sort itself out."

The words, although intended to be given in comfort, felt cruel on her tongue, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. She had no idea how to sort this situation out. It was completely beyond her control, and she knew that both of them knew that, but she couldn't let Gavroche cry anymore. She was the adult here, and she needed to reassure the child in her arms. It was her job.

Gavroche shuddered again, his small hands clawing into the fabric of Éponine's dress and holding on tight. She wondered when the last time was someone held him like this, to comfort him. Their mother had never been the comforting type, she knew that well, and he hadn't lived at home long enough to receive this type of affection.

Thoughts like that were dangerous, though, because it reminded Éponine of the childhood Gavroche had never had and the adulthood he was never going to get.

She pressed a kiss into his hair. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I don't want to be a child," Gavroche said in a broken, garbled voice. He still had paint all over him, she thought, raising his head to look him in the eye. Her thumb brushed over a smudge of orange underneath his eye, the dried paint feeling rough beneath her skin.

"It will be okay," she said again, her voice a lot fiercer now. "Gavroche, I am telling you, everything will be better. We…We will work it out for you."

He blinked his overly bright and damp eyes more than once before burying his face back into her body. She rubbed his arms as she felt his body begin to tremble with sobs again, wishing there was something she could do now instead of whisper what they both knew were empty promises.

After some time had passed, she felt his body relax and slacken against hers and she realised he'd fallen asleep, exhaustion having clearly taken before. Gently, she eased him backwards so he was lying horizontally on the sofa, and stood up.

She made her way into his bedroom, where she gathered some blankets off his bed. Tucking them around him on the sofa, she dropped a kiss onto his forehead and stepped back to look at him.

She felt a furry body wrapping itself around her ankles, and then there were small, sharp teeth nipping at her calf.

"Hyacinthe," she admonished in a soft voice. She bent down to pick up the scrawny kitten. Hyacinthe meowed in an expectant manner, placing her paws on Éponine's shoulder.

"What are we going to do?" Éponine murmured, tilting her head forward so that the kitten could nudge her. "We're in a right old mess, aren't we, Hyacinthe?"

The kitten began to purr in response, and Éponine hugged her little body closer, wishing that she had someone else to comfort her that was not an animal.