28

Éponine woke the next morning and immediately felt embarrassed.

She had felt like that before, of course. A night of heavy drinking and embarrassment go hand in hand, she'd learned that well enough from her time alive. However, she hadn't felt embarrassed here, after drinking Bliss. She'd woken the morning after her other nights drinking feeling no different than she had before, but this time was a complete exception to that.

She opened her eyes and immediately her mind went to Enjolras. Sober, she could see that he had been incredibly perturbed by her behaviour, which was enough to make her feel awkward. She remembered how happy she had been, how she had been prancing and dancing through the streets, almost singing when ever she spoke.

And then there was the nail in her coffin on embarrassment, one phrase shouted out to the night and now being screamed in her head: I think you're handsome.

Éponine pressed her hands over her eyes and curled up into a small ball, wondering what on earth had made her say that to Enjolras of all people.

XXX

She decided to go to the library. Gavroche was in one of his more giddy moods, and was, for once, unwilling to wander around the streets; he had been pestering her for an entire morning. Finally, she threw a shawl over her shoulders and left the flat.

Now she was alone, thoughts of the night before pressed forwards, forcing her to relive every second. Then she had been happy, giddy, revelling in the fact she could tease Enjolras and delighting in the obvious discomfort her words brought. Now she just felt stupid.

He was a handsome man. No one could deny that, not once they had seen him. Handsome wasn't even the right word – beautiful was nearer the mark, as there was something distinctly feminine in his looks, but also something very masculine. It was hard for her to define, but she knew he was definitely the most physically attractive man she had ever seen in her life, even more attractive than Marius if she was completely honest with herself.

But the difference between Enjolras and Marius – the difference between Enjolras and other men, let alone just the object of her affections – was he was definitely unobtainable. A lot of his friends were handsome enough; Courfeyrac had a lovely smile, and Combeferre was easy enough on the eye in his own bookish way.

However, they were warm, open people. Enjolras was a kind man, in his own way, and she had observed many a time when she was alive that he could be very warm-hearted indeed when it came to his friends, particularly Combeferre or Courfeyrac. And who could forget the times when he went off on a tangent about Feuilly? But she had never, ever, not in all of her times at these meetings, seen him show any of that warmth towards a woman. There were always women present at the meetings, despite the nature of what were discussed at the meetings. Women drinking, dancing, engaging in frivolities with the students. Enjolras ignored all of them. He'd ignored her. The first time they had really spoken was when they died.

He was simply not the sort of man one told he was handsome. It seemed so silly – so trivial – and she hated the fact that Bliss had loosened her tongue enough to say it. There was also a worry for her that he would read into it. What if he thought she held affections for him? What if he thought she'd replaced Marius with him?

She wasn't even sure she liked Enjolras as a person, let alone harboured feelings of a romantic nature towards him. She certainly didn't want to see him anytime soon.

She was caught up in this muddle of thoughts as she walked into the library. She found herself in the romantic fiction section, running her fingers aimlessly over the spines of books. None of it appealed to her at the moment, not whilst her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Hello, Éponine," a voice cut in. She looked up into the smiling face of Combeferre, partly surprised and partly happy to see someone.

"Hello," she replied.

"You look very distracted," Combeferre observed. "Is everything all right with you?"

"I was just…thinking," Éponine muttered.

"Yes, that much was obvious." Combeferre had three books tucked under one of his arms, and his eyebrows were raised in her direction. "You know, one of the men I live with was sporting a similar expression to yours this morning."

She turned her attention back to the books in front of her. "I wasn't aware Courfeyrac was capable of deep thinking."

"Very amusing, Éponine, but I was referring to the other one," Combeferre said, gently. "As I'm sure you know."

Éponine groaned. "What of it?"

"He came home last night and said he walked you home," Combeferre said. "He said you'd been drinking, and were behaving rather oddly. I think he was worried about you."

"He had no need to be."

"Yes, I said that to him," Combeferre nodded. "You can take care of yourself. But Enjolras has always been one to worry about his friends."

"We're hardly friends, Combeferre," Éponine pointed out. "We barely speak, and when we do, we tend to end up arguing."

"Enjolras would not have walked anyone home," Combeferre said. "I know him well. I also know him well enough to notice that Enjolras was blushing when he spoke of you last night." Now Combeferre's eyes were twinkling. Éponine felt the mortification rise up once more.

"I may…I may have said some things," she said, haltingly.

"Such as?" Combeferre prompted. "Enjolras was rather tight-lipped about it all."

She shot Combeferre a reproachful look. "Then maybe I shouldn't say something. Clearly, he doesn't care for you to know."

"True," Combeferre said, "But he doesn't have to know that I know."

Éponine sighed. "I told him I thought he was handsome," she said, in a voice so quiet she was sure Combeferre had to struggle to hear her. Her fingertips pressed harder into the spine of one of the books on the shelf.

"Excuse me?"

"Combeferre, I know you heard me, so don't make me repeat it," Éponine hissed.

"I heard you say you told Enjolras he was handsome, and wondered if I might have misheard." Combeferre shook his head, like a dog shaking water out of his fur. "Judging by the blush on your cheeks right now, I did not overhear." His face softened. "Oh, Éponine. Why are you embarrassed? It's normal to find people –"

"It's Enjolras," she burst out. "He's – I can't explain it – he's just one of those people I don't think needs to know I think he's handsome. He was very obviously embarrassed about it all –"

"He gets embarrassed when any girl refers to his looks," Combeferre said. "He always has done. Enjolras is a very clever man, he has read a lot, knows a lot, but the opposite sex are a definite mystery to him. For a long, long time I wasn't even sure he even realised that women existed, but then one night he drank too much wine and..." Combeferre shrugged.

"And?" Éponine prompted.

"Enjolras saw women as temptation – distraction from his mission to stop oppression," Combeferre explained, bluntly. "So he avoided women. Actually, I'm going to say avoids women, because I'm not sure where this thing translates to the grand scheme of things now he's dead. But the point is, Éponine, women have always made Enjolras feel uncomfortable."

"He never looks me in the eye," Éponine murmured.

"You're a woman," Combeferre pointed out. "You're tempting."

Éponine snorted. "Please, Combeferre. I'm anything but tempting. When I was alive I was a dirty gamine, underfed, too skinny, and I'm missing teeth, and I look older than I am. I doubt there's anything tempting about me to someone like Enjolras." I never tempted Marius, a nasty thought spat at the back of her mind.

A sort of sadness flitted over Combeferre's face at her words. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Éponine," he said quietly.

Embarrassment tied itself into a tight knot in her stomach. She swallowed. "Don't be," she murmured. "I'm not."

Out of her corner of her eye, she saw Combeferre's hand raise into the air and reach towards her shoulder. But then he dropped it, and adjusted his grip on the books he was carrying instead.

"Would you like company on your walk home?" Combeferre offered, clearing his throat.

"Yes, please," Éponine said, grateful of the change of subject. "I won't be a moment, I just need to pick a book."

"Of course," Combeferre replied, bowing his head. "Take as long as you like…"