51

Walking back to her apartment was a completely surreal experience after the gardens; she felt dreamy and aware all at once, and somehow felt nervous what with Courfeyrac's presence beside her.

They did not talk much as they walked back, and their hands did not tangle again now that they were not alone. But they still walked quite close to one another, and she couldn't help but notice how small the space between them was.

Courfeyrac walked her back to her apartment, and left her at the bottom of the stairs with a quick kiss on the back of her hand as a goodbye. She climbed the stairs alone, and he hovered at the bottom, watching her progress and staying until she was through the door.

She closed the door behind her and then leaned against it, her mind a colourful whirl of thoughts and memories and the sweet and sour taste of fruit in her mouth and the warmth and strength of Courfeyrac's hand around hers.

A loud, heavy sigh dragged her out of her reverie. She started, surprised at there being another person's presence in the room, and saw Inès lying on her stomach on the sofa, her chin resting on the arm, her dark eyes narrowed beneath the yellow curls that fell onto her forehead.

"What's got you so happy?" she said, her lower lip wobbling dangerously close towards a pout.

Éponine's mind flicked back towards Courfeyrac in his alarmingly blue coat, and she shook her head. "Nothing," she said, and then pushed off the door. "You, on the other hand, look a bit sad. What's wrong?"

Inès blew out her cheeks until they looked far too full and round, and then let all the air out with an odd noise.

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered.

Éponine raised her eyebrows, and then remembered Inès clutching that dark pink book against her chest; The Art of Wooing for Young Ladies. With everything that had happened since then, it had completely slipped Éponine's mind. Now Inès' embarrassment rushed forwards.

"If this is about the book I saw you with," Éponine said carefully, "I don't –"

"I still don't want to talk about it," Inès said, sharply, her cheeks colouring immediately.

"That's all right," Éponine said. "I'd like to apologise for forcing the issue before and for invading your privacy as I did. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it. But, Inès, you know I am here for you if there is anything you would like to talk to me about – maybe not today, of course, but..." She trailed off.

Inès looked away from Éponine. She cleared her throat. "I know," she said, at last, after a few long, stretched out moments had slid by. "It's just...I'm not...Apart from Fan..."

Inès scrambled backwards and pressed a hand to her forehead. Éponine thought she knew what Inès was trying to communicate here – she'd only ever had Fantine before, so she was possibly still adjusting to Éponine's presence – that seemed to be the only way she could take it.

"I'm your friend," Éponine found herself saying, walking around to the sofa and taking the seat that Inès had just cleared by shuffling backwards. "Kind of," she continued. "Would you call us friends?"

With no hesitation, Inès nodded. "Of course."

Éponine realised that she was smiling. "Good," she murmured. "I'm glad."

Inès managed a somewhat hesitant smile, and then looked down at her lap. "I've also been thinking," she began.

"About what?" Éponine asked, cocking her head to one side.

"About this place," Inès replied, gesturing around at the room. "And what Éléonore suggested the other day – I mean, I'm kind of sick of sleeping on the sofa, but I like living with you, and I can't bear the thought of living in that other flat all by myself..."

Realisation dawned on Éponine. She nodded, and gestured for Inès to carry on talking.

"I know I had my reservations, but I think it might be best if...If we moved into the other flat," Inès said. "If that's all right with you."

Éponine looked around this room, which had become her home so quickly, with its white walls and little alcoves and colourful furnishings thrown here and there courtesy of Prouvaire, and the chess pieces and marbles scattered over the floorboards and smudges of pink icing on the wooden table behind them.

It was the first place since leaving the inn at Montfermeil that she'd felt truly comfortable in calling home, and she felt a certain amount of pride in the fact that she could call it hers – not her parents, but hers. And Gavroche's, too, she supposed, but that wasn't the same thing at all.

The thought of leaving brought a lump to her throat, and her eyes felt suspiciously hot. But there was no denying the benefits of living elsewhere – more room for the three of them, and it might make Inès happier...And maybe she could see if she could keep this apartment, maybe in case things changed, maybe if her and Courfeyrac...

She shook her head. Although she was still running on high from the stroll in the gardens somewhat, there was no point in getting her hopes up properly by running down that path just yet.

"Maybe you would like to see it?" Inès suggested, cautiously, "Before you make up your mind properly."

"Is it far?" Éponine asked.

Inès shook her head. "Not really. It's closer to your friend's flat, and to the Guardian's building, and round the corner from Éléonore's house. Really, this place is very out of the way," she added, adding a disapproving sniff for good measure.

Prickles of defensiveness rose up inside Éponine, but she tamped them down. She nodded. "Yes," she said. "I'd like to see it. I wish Gavroche was here – it would be his home too, I suppose..."

"He's probably with Courfeyrac or someone," Inès said dismissively. "You know what he's like."

Éponine fought back a smile, knowing that this was not the case, and instead shrugged. "I suppose you're right," she allowed. "He could see it another day, maybe? I mean, he should get a say in this, too."

"Of course," Inès agreed, and she clambered off the sofa. "Just let me get some shoes and a shawl, please, and then we can go – and I'll need to find the keys, I can't remember where I left them..."

"Try the pink pot on the side," Éponine suggested. "Prouvaire made it to hold 'important things' the other week. I didn't have the heart to tell him I'm not a fan of pink."

Inès paused in the middle of shoving a boot onto her foot to wrinkle her nose. "Uh, that might be unfortunate," Inès said.

"Why?" Éponine asked, curiously.

"You'll see," Inès said, a tad mysteriously, one of her little hands fishing in the aforementioned pink bowl. She triumphantly extracted a small silver key, and let out a loud crowing noise at the cleverness of her find. "Let's go, then," she said, and Éponine hefted herself off the sofa with a heavy sigh.

A/N: Sorry this took so long :( I really wanted to update this before now but I've had so much work to do. I'm also sorry about the length – I promise there will be some kind of action in the next couple of chapters :)