Ok, so I didn't get one up before London... sorry!
The West End production of Les Mis is INCREDIBLE if anyone is able to go, I highly recommend it.
Still don't own any of this.
Enjolras still hadn't managed to get the topic back to the important matters, but every time he saw Éponine across the table, throwing her head back laughing at something stupid Courfeyrac or Grantaire had said… he didn't mind. OK, he still minded a BIT, who was he kidding, but significantly less than usual. After half an hour or so he was even starting to see the funny side of that little stunt of Grantaire's.
God, what was HAPPENING to him?!
Turning his attention back to his best friend, he smiles and said ruefully "I'm not getting any more intelligent conversation out of this lot tonight, am I?"
"'Fraid not." Combeferre replied sagely.
"Hm… Beer?"
"Please."
Enjolras wandered over to the bar to find Musichetta and Bossuet locked together against the back counter, apparently mauling each other's mouths with enthusiasm. "Surely this violates the health code?" he asked loudly to get their attention, only half joking. It worked; Musichetta jumped back and turned to face him, while Bossuet fell in the sink.
"Your face violates the health code" grumbled the unfortunate man, his thick hair falling into his eyes as he tried to clamber out of the sink. Musichetta laughed and high-fived him.
"I'll leave you be" he promised with a wide smile "as soon as I get two beers."
Musichetta moved to the fridge, popping the bottle caps off two beers without comment. She handed them over and took his money. Then,just as she went to give him his change, she smiles devilishly and said "It's so nice that you're buying TWObeers, Enjolras. So gentlemanly. Almost romantic, one might say…"
Bossuet looked thoroughly bemused as Enjolras raised an eyebrow and sent death glares towards the smirking Italian as subtly as he could. "I'm glad you noticed, Musichetta. I feel I might die waiting for Combeferre to!" he sighed dramatically, channelling Pontmercy as best as he could. Chetta just grinned, turning her attention back to her lover, whose head looked as though it might explode from confusion. He took the change from the counter and returned to sit by Combeferre.
A moment later, his pocket vibrated with a text. It was from Musichetta, and read simply: Touché.
Éponine tried to glance surreptitiously at her phone to see the time without Bahorel noticing. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in the story, just that she was dog tired… who knew getting a boyfriend would be so tiring?!
(I have a boyfriend. Hee hee.)
"- so then he punched me in the face and I was like "BAD MOVE DUDE" because it was, I was really ready for a fight, right, so then I just nailed him, right in the jaw, like BAM. And then he was out cold. I was kind of disappointed actually. Anyway, so that's why I'm banned from the cinema on Rue Champollion. In my defence, they shouldn't hire homophobic assholes." Bahorel finished.
"I wasn't really offended by him" admitted Jehan "but there is something nice about someone being knocked out on your behalf."
"He called you Mademoiselle" retorted Bahorel. "And you weren't even in drag that day. Dickhead."
Jehan just smiled, so Éponine decided to exploit the break in the conversation for all it was worth. "Guys, I think I'm going to head. I'm beat."
Jehan, Bahorel and Courfeyrac booed loudly.
"Sorry, sorry! It's just been a weird day and I'm really tired!"
"BOOOO!"
"guyyyyyyys…." She whined
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" (by now, Feuilly and Joly had joined in)
"Shut up!"
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"I'm leaving, whether you boo or not!" she laughed as she stood up.
"…boooooooo!"
"I'll come too" said Grantaire, chugging the last of his beer and rising from his chair. "I have a painting to ruin."
"BOOOOO!" Courfeyrac chipped in.
"Piss off, Courf."
"You're going?" she heard Enjolras ask, his voice determinedly casual.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm beat… I'll see you at home?"
"Yes."
"Bye then?"
"Goodbye."
"Bye guys!"
"BOOOOOOOO!"
"Love you too!" she shouted back with a laugh as she and Grantaire reached the top of the stairs.
They strolled out into the deserted Paris streets, shoes sliding slightly on the frosty ground. R took her arm with a grin, and they started off in the direction of home.
"Soooo, Mademoiselle Thénardier" he began. "How are you?"
She half laughed, half groaned. "Can we start with a simpler question, Monsieur Grantaire?"
"If you insist…hmm… oh, well done for yesterday. The news guys all thought you were incredible."
"Aww, thanks! Hey, speaking of the new guy… you seemed awfully pally. Any errr… story there?" she asked teasingly, nudging him and wiggling her eyebrows.
"Ok, he's cute, I admit it… I was mostly just amazed he was gay, to be honest."
"Why?!" Éponine laughed.
"Because he followed you into doing something stupid, which usually happens because the guy wants to bone you."
"WHAT?!"
"Let's not even pretend you're not one of those irritatingly sexy little imps who just swans around town like an oblivious little Pied Piper, charming all the hot guys with your hot flute of sexiness."
"You have lost your mind. On so many levels."
"It's true! I'm only immune because I'm already well under the influence of our own dear leader's sex flute."
Éponine's heart sank. "Still, huh?"
"Still. Probably always."
"But Pierre!"
"Is cute, and funny, and smart. But not even a patch on Enjolras."
Feeling the dead weight of guilt landing heavily on her shoulders, Éponine grasped desperately for a straw with which to let her best friend down gently. "What is it about him that you like so much?"
"Everything." Grantaire replied, his eyes sparking as they only did when he spoke of Enjolras. "The way his hair falls in his eyes when he's reading. That stupid little frown he gets when he's confused. The way his eyes are almost too blue, like they're just filled with the ocean, or some gemstone, or… something. How his jaw tenses up when he's mad. His hands.GOD, have you even seen his chest? Perfection. And it's not even just physical – it's the way when he speaks, you can just see that he really cares about it, with every fibre of his being. He just exudes passion from every pore… he's the only guy in the world who makes me believe in stuff, you know? Or at least someone."
He paused for a second or two before continuing. "You know how I knew I loved him? We were in the supermarket of all places, all of us together buying stuff for a picnic. So then we heard this man in the next aisle telling his kid he couldn't have this flying Action Man thing, because it was a gamin's toy, and he had to have something better, because he was a special, important boy. Enjolras just marched right around there to tell this guy what he thought, why he was wrong, but the rich guy was having none of it and started getting really aggressive, so Enjolras just punched him in the face - even Bahorel was impressed – and said "THAT'S FROM THE POOR, WHO ARE NO LESS DESERVING OF RESPECT THAN ANY OF US, AND PROBABLY MORE DESERVING THAN YOU". And then he bought the kid the toy without another word. He just… cares. It matters to him, when it has no reason to. And I love him for it."
Éponine was fighting back so much guilt she thought she'd be sick. What could she possibly say? How could she let him down gently, point out some obvious flaws, when she agreed with every word that he said? The reasons Grantaire loved Enjolras were the reasons she lo- really liked him, too.
Grantaire wasn't done. But this time his tone was different; much sadder and yet heartbreakingly hopeful. "And I KNOW, I KNOW he's mean to me and doesn't even LIKE me, much less feel the same way. I hear him every time he says I'm useless, and good for nothing, I believe every word that he says, because I believe in him. So I realise that all of this is probably pointless, and it's a REALLY long shot, but fuck it, it's worth a go. As long as there's even the slightest chance, I'll be right there by his side. As long as he needs me, right?"
She had nothing to say, could do nothing except say quietly "you really love him, don't you?"
Grantaire pulled out a sketchbook from his bag and handed it to her. She flicked through carefully, taking in the beauty on every page: A close up of strong, safe hands with long, graceful fingers; details of golden, wind-teased curls; endless practise of eyes, of smiles, of a lean but powerful body. There were full scenes too; scenes of the Musain, of the Paris streets, of parties. Her gut twisted when she found herself confronted with her own face, leaning against Enjolras' chest, dancing together. Grantaire really was an amazing artist; they seemed to almost breathe, transporting her back to the night of Feuilly's wedding and the first time she and Enjolras had had prolonged physical contact that didn't involve serious physical injury on her part. "These are beautiful, R" she breathed.
"Nahhh, not really. I can't quite get him right somehow. The… glow isn't there." He shrugged as he took the book back. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying."
They had reached her apartment, and she gave him a hug goodbye with a small smile. As she turned the key to open her door, she spun, shouting for him to stop. "R!"
He turned, eyebrows raised.
"Don't… don't let this become everything you are, ok? Just don't… don't do what I did with Marius, don't let yourself think you're nothing more than a shadow. Because you're so much more than a shadow, Grant. Really."
He smiled at her gratefully, but he couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes. It had been there too long. "G'night, Pony."
"Night, Grantaire."
Closing the door behind her, Éponine collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh. What am I going to do about R? How can I tell him, when I know it'll break his heart? Rubbing her eyes, she remembered how tired she was, and tried to push it to the back of her mind as she poked her head into Gavroche's room (they emptied the big cupboard off the living room and decided to pretend it was a box room), and found her little brother fast asleep on top of the covers. Smiling to herself, she gently lifted him up and tucked him in, laughing under her breath at the grime covering his face as she smoothed back his hair. I guess he managed to keep himself busy, even without school she thought wryly. Moving quietly into her room, Éponine changed and climbed into bed, falling asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Unusually, Enjolras was not the last to leave the Musain that night. Around half an hour after Éponine, he too announced he was leaving (to similar booing). The walk home seemed somehow shorter than usual, and he barely had time to enjoy the clear winter night sky. There were no stars – too many lights in Paris – but it was beautiful nonetheless. A void of midnight blue darkness.
Gently closing the apartment door behind him, he sat down on the sofa with a tired sigh, running his hands through his hair. All in all, he'd had a pretty great day.
As he sat contemplating, he heard a whimper cut through the silence. It came from Éponine's room. He strained his ears to hear any more.
There it was again. He stood up, frowning, and crossed the room to Éponine's closed bedroom door, hesitating for only a second before entering. He looked down at the bed to find Éponine wriggling around, loosely in the foetal position, her face screwed up as though in pain and her body drenched in sweat. Moving to stand at her hair, he stroked her sweaty hair and gently shook her awake.
"Éponine… Éponine, wake up, you're just dreaming. Éponine." Her eyes popped open, wide and full of fear. "It was only a dream, Éponine, you're ok." He soothed, as the tiny figure almost jumped up to hug him tightly, grabbing at his back desperately. He held her tightly until her breathing levelled, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear.
After a minute or two, she whispered "please don't leave me". He'd never heard fear in her voice before ,and it broke his heart.
He planted a kiss on her head with his eyes closed. "I'll never leave you" he replied, and meant it.
"Can I sleep in your room?" Éponine asked shyly, pulling back to look him in the face. "Not in like a sex way just… I don't want to be on my own."
Smiling back in what he hoped was a reassuring way, he replied "of course."
So, after five more minutes of room switching and (for him) changing in the bathroom, Enjolras found himself, for the first time in his life, wrapped up in his own bed with a beautiful, wonderful (if currently terrified) girl in his arms. He looked fondly down at her freckled face, suddenly peaceful as it rested against his chest, and that image filled his mind as he fell asleep.
He'd never slept better.
More updates soon, Easter hols are coming up. Love you all, please review! :D
