A/N: Hello there lovely people. Slightly more uplifting today, I'm in a good mood so here you go. I'm in a very write-y mood, so hopefully I can finally get past the writers block I've got for Madness, and I've also had a couple of one-shot ideas, so I'm gonna be casually typing away whilst ignoring stares from confused diners over dinner XD Ah well...hope you enjoy! :)

7th January 1832

My Dearest Marius,

Gosh, isn't it chilly? I'm positive the nights are getting colder and colder. Our flat is freezing, which isn't fun as we have no fireplace. I hope you're alright.

I didn't see you until late afternoon, which had me worried. Normally I see you around midday, but it was half past four when you turned up. I asked you what had kept you, and you said you'd had a job interview, which surprised me - not that I don't think you're capable, just that you're still studying for another couple of months, and you've already had one, which I thought you would have stayed with. To celebrate, you asked me to go out to a proper restaurant with you, to my disbelief.

I wasn't sure what to say. My eyes must have looked comparable to some kind of saucer, they were so round. We've been to a small café or two before, but never to a proper restaurant.

"I-I can't. It's too grand for me" I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. "I'll be seen with you and nobody else" you told me, and how quickly my heart began to beat I could not tell you. After at least ten minutes of coming up with various excuses of why I should not go with you (not because I didn't want to, you understand, but because I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come or if you were saying it out of politeness). You had a counter for each, however, and I eventually gave in.

I went to wash my hair in the river almost immediately, wanting to make an effort. I managed to get all the dirt out of it, though the tangles took forever. I couldn't believe what I saw, my hair ended up being a nice, chestnut-brown falling in loose waves to about my waist. I'd never seen it in such good condition, and can only wish it didn't take two and a half, nearly three hours to do.

I wasn't too sure on what to do clothing-wise. I dug around our house for a bit until I found one of Mama's old blouses, from years ago, when we owned the inn. She was a lot skinnier then, I must admit. I swear she spends any money I earn on food for herself and my father. But never mind.

I dug around a little more and found a skirt too. It was a bit big for me, so I rolled it until it reached my ankles, using a slightly rusty clothes-pin keep it from unravelling. I don't think I looked too bad actually.

And neither did you, for when I met you, your mouth dropped open. At first I was worried, but then you reached out to touch my arm, now scrubbed clean and at least three shades lighter than the dirt had made it. "Éponine, you're beautiful" you told me, causing me to blush. My whole life (excluding the inn) people have told me that I'm hideous. So to hear something so different from you, the man I love, was a feeling I simply can't put in to words.

You'd even put on a suit for the occasion, and I have to say you looked very handsome. I leaned up to straighten your tie, and you kissed my forehead, which came as a shock. A happy shock, but a shock. You offered me your arm, which I took, and we set off.

I must say, I was expecting something nice but the place you chose, well, I was not expecting it. It was so grand, I can't begin to think of how much it cost. I know you very, very rarely chip in to your savings, but you must have done.

The waiter eyed me up rather doubtfully, but you shot him a rather stern glance, and he pursed his lips, showing us to a table by the window, bringing us a couple of menus.

I've always been very proud of my ability to read. A lot of us in the slums can't. Reading through the menu proved a bit of a challenge though, as fancy dish names were not something I'd come across before. What on Earth was 'bubble and squeak'? You told me it was an English dish. Interesting choice of name, I have to say.

In the end, I went for some chicken, potato and some kind of pudding, a Yorkshire pudding was it? I can't remember. You decided on some fish (cod or salmon, I can't remember that either) and potatoes, ordering a salad bowl for us to share.

We made conversation whilst waiting for our dishes. When they arrived, I think my eyes must have widened even more than when you asked me to join you in the first place. It was the biggest meal I'd ever seen in my life, not that I minded.

I dug in almost immediately, forgetting to look at you for help with proper table manners. I couldn't help it. I don't think I'd eaten in about three days. You reached across and placed a hand on my wrist. "Don't eat too fast" you told me. "You'll be sick."

I did as you said and slowed right down, remembering to look to you for help. I copied how you were holding and using your cutlery, and finished my meal in about half an hour.

We chatted for a bit afterwards, until you paid, and left. It must have been about nine in the evening. I stopped off to take the money I'd stolen on the way back (I've stopped feeling embarrassed about it now, I know you won't judge) to keep my father happy.

We reached the Gorbeau tenement before too long. I thanked you several times, and you smiled. I decided to throw caution to the wind and lean up to hug you. I half expected you to recoil, but to my utter delight, I felt your arms come to wrap around my waist. I've never felt happier. I know you've hugged me before, but each time just feels so much more special than the last.

I bid you a goodnight and leaned up to kiss your cheek, giving you one last smile as I entered my flat, having to lean against the wall for a minute to catch my breath.

All my love,

Éponine