Chapter Thirty Six

The Green Light

In the basement of Irving's Castle was a bar, by the name of the Panther Parlour. Éponine had never been there before, making it possibly the only drinking spot in the entire city that she had never visited. But Cosette dragged her down there not long after they had cashed up, and they were soon joined by Musichetta.

The Panther Parlour was dimly lit, the walls painted black, filled with silver fittings and black leather. There was a huge set of shelves behind the bar that was backlit by a bright, bluish white that illuminated all of the different coloured bottles that filled the shelves; in one corner there was a pool table, and little booths were dotted here and there. Its playlist was strictly alternative – mainly metal, with some classic rock and punk.

It was probably a tad louder than Cosette had anticipated before making this plan, but three vodkas and oranges later none of them particularly cared.

"Well, congratulations to both of you," Musichetta said, raising her drink into the air. All drinks here were served in plastic cups, and the thin plastic buckled beneath the weight of Musichetta's fingers. "I am very proud of you both. Have I mentioned?"

"Only about three or four – no, maybe five times?" Éponine grinned at her.

"You can keep on saying it, though," Cosette chimed in. "I'm proud of us too!"

"We're just one bunch of proud," Éponine giggled.

"Pride," Musichetta said. "Shouldn't it be pride?"

"Who the fuck cares," Éponine said, gulping back her drink. The orange juice tasted as if it had been watered down, so it was probably going down way easier than it should have been.

"Good point," Musichetta agreed, and quickly the three girls drained their cups. Musichetta swooped, collecting their empties up and sliding off the short stool she was sat on. "My round!" she boomed, sashaying off to the bar.

"So," Cosette said, leaning towards Éponine. "What did Enjolras want?"

Éponine thought back to the somewhat awkward encounter. It felt like it had happened a day ago instead of just a couple of hours. She shrugged. "Just, to talk," she said. "He asked me to see Combeferre."

"And what did you say?" Cosette prompted.

"I said that if Combeferre wants to see me he should come and speak to me himself," Éponine said. "Which I think is fair, you know?"

"Yeah, it is," Cosette said. "Do you want to see him?"

"I'm not sure," Éponine said. "I can't – I can't make my mind up. On one hand I feel like being stubborn –"

"But on the other, you'd really like to see him," Cosette guessed.

"Yep," Éponine said. She sighed, and rested her elbow on the tabletop in front of her, cupping her face in her hand.

"Well." Cosette paused. "That's..."

"Shit?" Éponine shrugged. "I know. I mean, I guess the ball is in Combeferre's park at the minute. Despite my uncertainty, I've kind of...you know, given him the green light, so to speak."

"True," Cosette said.

"Given who the green light?" Musichetta said, carrying three cups and looking like she was about to drop one. Cosette stood up to take one and then sat back down heavily.

"Combeferre," Éponine said.

"Green light to do what?" Musichetta asked, handing Éponine one of the other cups and then sitting back on her stool.

"Get in touch," Cosette answered.

"About time," Musichetta grumbled. "According to Joly, he's been very –"

"Mopey?" Éponine said. "Yeah, Enjolras said."

"He just misses you," Cosette said. "You two got very close. And I know you miss him."

"I do," Éponine admitted. "I...I miss him a lot, actually. More than I want to let on."

"So what's the problem?" Musichetta said.

"I just feel so torn," Éponine said. "I made such a fuss about having my independence that now I've got it I want to enjoy it and make it worthwhile."

"Which is fair enough," Cosette said, her tone placating and almost warning. "No one wants to take that away from you."

"No," Musichetta said, "But no one would think you were weak or anything if you did get back with Combeferre."

"I'm not worried about that," Éponine said. "I'm not worried what anyone else thinks. It's what I think. I need to know that I can look after myself still – that's what I was scared of – that I was starting to rely too heavily on him. And that I was starting to dream stuff up, like I did with..." She trailed off before mentioning any specifics, but she knew they both knew that she was talking about Marius.

"Well," Cosette said, delicately, "At the end of the day, the decision is yours. We can only advise. Right now, I'd say that there's no real point in worrying about it at the minute. As you said, the ball is in his court now, so you'll just have to wait and see what he decides to do."

"Hmm," Éponine said, broodingly. She dipped the very tip of one finger into her drink and then licked it. "You know what doesn't help?"

"What?" Cosette and Musichetta said in unison.

"Combeferre made everyone visit today," she said gloomily.

"Who told you that?" Musichetta said. Her tone was a little screechy and very incredulous. "Because it isn't true."

"Enjolras," Éponine said.

"It wasn't Combeferre," Musichetta said, shaking her head. "They all agreed together, but it was Grantaire's suggestion."

"But Enjolras said –"

"Yes, Enjolras needs a kick up the arse to see the end of his own nose sometimes," Musichetta sighed. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she spoke. "Not that he doesn't mean well, but it probably didn't occur to him that you might have wanted his support. So he probably did need Combeferre's encouragement."

"True," Éponine murmured.

"Would it be such a bad thing if it had been Combeferre?" Cosette asked.

"Yes," Éponine said. "Because I was quite pleased with the idea they came because they were my friends, not because Combeferre put pressure on them to in some attempt to...what, impress me?"

"Well he didn't," Musichetta said, sipping from her drink in a genteel manner. "So that's an irrelevant point."

Éponine didn't answer; she just continued to scowl at her drink.

"Oh, stop pouting," Cosette said, jabbing Éponine in the shoulder. "We're supposed to be having fun. Celebrating our success!"

Éponine scowled harder and rubbed the spot that Cosette had poked. "Fine," she muttered, picking up her drink and taking a big gulp.

OOO

Éponine was not at all surprised the next day when she looked up and saw Combeferre stood in front of the counter.

Unlike the rest of their friends, he made no attempt to look as if he was examining anything in the shop. It actually took her a while to realise that he was there; she was in the middle of shaping a circle of clay so that the edges were smooth (Cosette had decided it would be good for business if customers could actually see them making their wares).

"Hey," he said, and he gave her a small, hesitant smile. It took her a few moments before she reminded herself that the polite thing to do was return the smile, but those moments were all it took for his to falter somewhat.

"Hey," she said.

Cosette cleared her throat. "I need the toilet," she said, sliding off her stool and leaving the shop.

"Is that true?" Combeferre asked Éponine.

"I doubt it," Éponine said. "She only went five minutes ago."

Combeferre looked pained. "Ah," he said.

"It's no big deal," Éponine said. "She just thinks she's being helpful." She returned to smoothing the edges of the clay, trying to take her mind off what was currently happening.

"And you?" Combeferre said. "Do you think she's being helpful?"

Éponine rubbed her fingertips together, the clay having dried out her skin.

"I suppose," she said. "And then again – not really."

"This place looks good," Combeferre said. She glanced up at him and saw that he was turning on the spot to look around the stall. "I always thought your jewellery was good enough." He paused. "I'm sorry for not coming in yesterday. It was hypocritical to make Enjolras go and then not show up myself."

"Only a little bit," Éponine said, smiling. "It's fine, Combeferre. I didn't expect anyone to visit, least of all you."

"Why least of all me?" It was possible that the expression that flitted over Combeferre's face as he spoke was offence.

"Well." Éponine bit her lip. "You know why. I don't really need to spell it out. It's the reason why you didn't come."

For a few moments, they both stared at each other, unsure of what to say. He bowed his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And I'm sorry for that," he said. "I should have come."

"It doesn't matter," Éponine assured him. "You're here now." She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth – they were too much, too cheesy, too...not what she meant.

She winced, both internally and externally, and opened her mouth to say something, possibly something even worse like take it back, but Combeferre looked too pleased and she didn't want to wipe a smile off his face more than once in a day.

So instead she closed her mouth.

"I also had an ulterior motive for coming in today," Combeferre said. "It's my younger cousin's eighteenth this weekend, and I'm visiting for the party, and I need a present..."

"So you want my advice, I assume?" Éponine said, cocking her head to one side.

"Yeah," he said.

"Does she normally wear jewellery like this?" she said. She was met with a blank expression that neared confusion.

"I'm not sure," he said.

"I gathered as much by your silence," she said. "Okay, I think I could pick something out..."

She eased herself off her stool, and hobbled around the counter.

"Should you be walking on that yet?" Combeferre frowned.

"I've had worse," she reminded him.

"That is not the point," Combeferre sighed, now completely scowling. "That is so not the point, Éponine, you could cause some real damage –"

"The thing is, not everyone likes wearing jewellery like this," Éponine said loudly, over the top of him. "Like, not everyone wants a necklace with a miniature cake stand as a pendant," she continued, catching said necklace with the tip of one of her fingers and gently lifting it away from the tree it hung on.

"No," Combeferre said, and he reached out and gently touched his hand to the underside of it, "But the skill in making something like that is impressive."

"That doesn't mean that a girl wants to wear it around her neck," Éponine said, hating the way that her cheeks warmed at the compliment.

Their hands were close, almost touching, and she could swear that she could feel the heat of his hand against her fingertips.

"So what would you suggest instead?" he said. His voice was warm, too.

She cleared her throat and let go of the necklace; it thudded dully into Combeferre's palm.

"Something a bit more neutral," she said. "Try flowers or hearts, and steer away from the quirkier stuff."

He frowned. "Okay," he said, dragging it out. "Like...?"

"Over there," she said, pointing. "And there are rings in the basket on the table, and earrings in that basket over there."

He nodded, and she shuffled back to her stool.

She watched him as he bent over the displays she had pointed him too, ignoring the half-made pendant sat before her. Cosette's head peered around the doorway, looking curious. When she saw that they were not speaking, and Combeferre was actually on the other side of the room, she looked downright disappointed.

"You cannot possibly need the toilet again," Éponine sighed as she saw Cosette begin to twitch backwards as if fleeing. "If you do, go to the doctor. Come back inside."

Looking somewhat like a scolded child, Cosette crept back into the shop. Combeferre threw her a glance over his shoulder before removing a necklace off the tree and walking over to the counter.

It was a simple, pale blue flower hanging off a silver chain. Cosette wrapped it in matching pale blue tissue paper whilst Éponine took the money for it.

"You know, Éponine," Cosette said. "You really should take a break for lunch."

"Our lunch break isn't for another half hour," Éponine frowned.

"Mine isn't," Cosette corrected. "This way, one of us can be manning the shop at all times."

Éponine raised her eyebrow.

"I thought we were going to try that café on the top floor?" Éponine reminded her.

Cosette managed to arrange her face into an expression of polite confusion. "I thought that was tomorrow?" she said innocently. "Marius made me sandwiches. He cut them up into heart shapes and everything."

"That is a lie," Éponine hissed.

"If you were looking forward to trying that café, I could take you," Combeferre said. She glanced at him. He was watching her carefully, like she might bite him at any second.

"Now that's an idea!" Cosette said. "Don't you think, Éponine?"

Éponine glared at her. Cosette smiled, and put the necklace she'd just wrapped into one of their paper bags and handed it to Combeferre.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Combeferre said quickly.

"Nonsense," Cosette said briskly. "Éponine, take your dinner break. I can handle the shop."

Éponine continued to glare at her, but it was pointless. Cosette was now humming and avoiding meeting her gaze.

So instead, Éponine let out a heavy, resigned sigh and slid off her stool. "Fine," she muttered, and then leaned in close to Cosette. "You owe me for this," she muttered darkly.

Cosette flapped a hand at her. "Stop being so dramatic," she said. "Enjoy the food! I hear it's lovely!"

OOO

"You didn't have to come if you really didn't want to," Combeferre said as they stood in the little, rickety lift taking them to the top floor of Irving's Castle.

"I know," Éponine said. "It can't hurt, can it?"

"No," he said. "I just don't want you to feel like –"

"I don't," she cut him off. "It's just dinner. I'm assuming you're paying?"

Combeferre grinned at her. "That wasn't what I offered."

She shrugged one shoulder and fixed her eyes on one of the peeling posters that was stuck to the lift's interior. It was advertising a burlesque show at some indie club in town, and it didn't really interest her that much, but it was better than looking at that warm grin.

"But I will," he continued.

"You don't have to, I was only joking," she said. "And I mean that. I'm paying for myself."

"Are you sure?" he said. "I really don't mind."

"You might not, but I mind," she said. The lift stopped, and the doors opened. Combeferre let her get out first, and she hobbled along, helped by her crutches. He then rushed around her to get the door to the café.

"Thanks," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, embarrassed.

The café spanned the entire top floor and smelled delightful. It was advertised as sourcing only the finest organic ingredients and prided itself on providing options for all sorts of different eating habits. As such there was no set menu, just a list of things they had, such as different types of breads and meats and cheeses, and you told the waitress what you wanted and they did it.

Éponine had never eaten here before, but the price list seemed reasonable and she'd often grown hungry smelling the scents that wafted down through their little window from the café.

There were a few different groups spread out across the room, each sat around a different mismatching table on equally mismatching chairs; the walls were covered with a mural of a cartoon fantasy scene that Éponine suspected was supposed to represent several fairytales at once; she could see Little Red Riding Hood at least, and a glass slipper over there, and a beautiful girl asleep in a bed, and three bears, and a mermaid – and others, of course. It was beautiful and colourful and Éponine knew that most of her friends would love it. She made a mental note to bring them all here at some point.

Combeferre directed them towards a small square table in the corner. It had a green armchair on one side and a red plastic chair on the other. He let her take the arm chair, removing his satchel from around his body to drop it on the floor. "Do they come to the table?" he asked, taking her crutches from her to balance them against the wall next to the table.

"Yes," a waitress piped up, appearing behind Combeferre. She had pink hair and a rainbow-coloured ring through her left nostril. She had two menus in her hand. She quickly explained the concept of the café to them, gave them a sunny smile, and said she'd be back to take their orders for drinks in a couple of moments.

When she did, Éponine asked for an orange juice and Combeferre a glass of coke, and then the two of them sat carefully reading through the 'menus'.

"It's quite cheap," Combeferre said, obviously doing calculations in his head. He sounded surprised.

"Yep," Éponine said. She glanced at him. "That's why I don't mind paying."

He gave her a small half smile, and then flopped the menu down on the table. "I think I've decided what I want," he said.

"Me too," she agreed. A moment later, the pink-haired waitress appeared once again with their drinks, and then took their order. Combeferre went for a Panini stuffed with peppers, cheese and chicken, whilst Éponine had opted for potato skins topped with goat's cheese, spinach and the café's caramelised red onions.

Éponine sipped from her orange juice and then settled back into her armchair. Combeferre was drumming his fingers on the table, and his knee was bouncing. She sighed. "Relax," she said.

"Hmm." He sat back in his own chair. It creaked ominously, and he gave it a somewhat nervous glance.

"This isn't..." She paused, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding mean. "This isn't a date, is it?"

He shook his head. "I was trying to be friendly," he said. "I've, uh, I know that's not what you want right now."

"It wasn't," she said. "I'm not sure anymore."

At that, Combeferre looked a little hopeful. She wasn't really sure what she was saying anymore – her mind was all over the place, and all it took from him were a few kind smiles.

"As I said before," he said, carefully. "Don't do anything you don't want to. I wouldn't...I wouldn't want that."

"And as I said before, I know," she said. "And anyway, this isn't a date."

He cocked his head to one side. "Does that mean you wouldn't be opposed to a date?"

"Hmm." She took another sip of orange juice. "I suppose it could mean something like that," she allowed, and then said, "But ask me properly another time, maybe?"

"I can do that," he said. He tapped his fingers on the table again. "So how are you?" He nodded towards her leg.

"I'm fine," she said. "As fine as I can be."

"Are you..." He paused, and then carried on. "How are your...?"

"Panic attacks?" she supplied. He nodded. "I haven't had one in a few weeks. I think I've been too distracted." She tapped the tabletop in front of her. "Touch wood, I won't have one anytime soon."

"That's good, then," he said. His body seemed to relax at the news. She wondered how much that had been plaguing him.

"I wasn't really in a good place before my accident, I guess," she said. "But I feel quite happy now, even if it is just because I'm...distracted."

"That's also good," he said.

"And you?" she asked. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he said. "Busy. Enjolras is organising another sit in protest at the uni."

"He tried telling me yesterday," Éponine said with a nod. "By that I mean he went on a rant."

"Yeah, he does that," Combeferre laughed. "But yeah, my time has been taken up by that."

Éponine didn't mention that Enjolras had said that Combeferre was distracted and not paying enough attention to his plans, and instead smiled at him.

"Good," she said. "I'd offer to come, but it's not my uni, and..."

"It'll probably be really boring," Combeferre said. "Last time, the football team brought along a Playstation and hooked it up to the expensive plasma screen TVs that Enjolras hates so much, and the only real excitement was when we all realised that the knitting club president had drunk too much Baileys."

Éponine raised her eyebrows. "Do I want to know?"

He grinned. "It's Courfeyrac's favourite story," Combeferre said. "Enjolras hates Baileys now. The poor guy was sick on Enjolras' feet."

"Nice," Éponine said, wrinkling her nose.

They continued to chatter like that until their food arrived, and it occurred to Éponine as they began to eat that she truly missed talking to Combeferre like this. In fact, it was quite easy for her to recognise inside her own head that she just missed Combeferre – she missed his voice and the way he talked and his smile, God that smile, she hadn't realised how fond she was of it – and it was all rushing back to her. Just how much she had liked him, possibly even loved him.

She winced internally, because it was loving him that got them into this mess.

So she pushed those feelings down and reminded herself that she needed friendship right now, not anything else.