The Marble Man
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
AN: Happy one year anniversary to this fic! A lot has happened in that year!
Also, more importantly, happy birthday to the lovely Hiyas, who is a treasure and a delight and I am the luckiest bitch in the world because she's my friend.
Also, dedicated to Hannah, for coming to see my stupid face IRL, and to Christine, who'll never stop supporting me. I love you all!
Chapter fifteen:
True to his word – did she actually ask him to keep quiet, though? – it has been a day since Enjolras saw her so vulnerable, and Jehan and R still remain blissfully unaware of the reason for her pain. She is sure that her red-rimmed eyes are the topic of many of a secret discussion, but no one will find out the real reason for her sad look until she tells them herself.
Enjolras is still keeping an eye on her, though, in his typical obnoxious way. The level of concern he projects in her direction is simply stifling, and it has taken him less than 24 hours to drive her crazy with his constant hovering – it seems he has to follow her everywhere she goes. So far, the bathroom appears to be the sole exception.
Strangely, Enjolras' constant presence is comforting as well as occasionally seriously annoying. Sometimes, when her grief threatens to overwhelm her again, it is as if she can feel him next to her, his thumb running soothing circles on her hand.
"Is everything ready for tomorrow?" Enjolras brings up the only topic of conversation the guys seem interested in – the cleanup event.
"Pretty much," Jehan shrugs as he goes over his list again.
The living room is filled with lists upon lists – that's actually a nice change from all the random cleaning supplies that started filling the house over the last few days. Sure, it must all be necessary somehow, but it would be nice not to trip over random shit whenever she has to go to the bathroom – or when she just wants to stretch her legs and see if her faithful guard dog follows her again.
"Will you be there tomorrow, Éponine?" Enjolras' tone is rife with meaning.
How is she doing? Is she going to keep lying to his new friends? Is she going to pretend that she is fine now that a new day has started? Is she going to need his presence by her side again? Will she require a confidante? Has anything changed since yesterday?
"Yes," is all that she says in return.
Jehan and R keep trying to figure out what is wrong with her, and she does not want to give these guys any more ammunition. She has to be strong – it is bad enough that she showed weakness to the damn marble man.
Really, why is she even still here? She could be looking for her siblings right now, trying to find Gavroche and convince him that she hasn't abandoned him after all – even though she really did. She's been a shitty sister and this is as bad a time as any to try and make up for that. Can she even make up for it? Probably not.
But why this damn town? What is the draw? Why has she stayed here even though there are no obligations to fulfill? Why doesn't she just pick up and go? She could do it – there is absolutely nothing keeping her here. Right?
"Éponine," Enjolras says, and she takes a deep breath.
It's because he knows now. She is fundamentally different from the smartass he first met and the Judas from the meeting just a few days ago. In just one moment, after just one damn phone call, everything changed. Nothing will be the same again.
"I think these lovebirds want to be left alone," R winks like the tool he is.
Jehan and R practically skip off together, and she almost throws out a 'look who's talking' in their direction. She only stops herself because it would probably hurt Jehan's feelings and embarrass Enjolras, and she is tired of only ever hurting people. She knows that she is not a good person, but maybe she can be different.
God, that's a fucking pipedream!
"What a tool," she mutters.
She doesn't even know if she's talking about R or about her stupid self.
"How are you?" Enjolras asks.
"Same as the last five fucking times you asked," she bites at him.
Seriously? The answer is not miraculously going to change just because he asked the same question again. She feels like shit, she is going to keep feeling like shit because damn it all, her mother is dead!
"There is no need to be rude," Enjolras tries to pacify her.
"There are a ton of reasons to be rude," she is not in the mood for any more of this stifling behavior. "I don't even know what I'm still doing in this damn town!"
It would be best to move on – he already knows too much about her. Maybe she should just head outta town before it gets any worse and she actually starts caring about some of these people. Heck, she's already censoring herself to keep Jehan's feelings from getting hurt, and she considers the former marble man some sort of friend of hers. Has she ever let herself make a friend before?
That never should have been allowed to happen. She is Éponine Thénardier, the lone wolf, and she will be damned if she needs anyone – she has been alone for years and that has suited her just fine. Don't go changing now!
"You like it here," Enjolras speaks blatant untruths.
"As if," she rolls her eyes at him. "This shithole means nothing to me. I cannot wait until I leave and find some place better. Maybe Paris. Paris would be nice."
The Louvre alone would be a whole new world for her to examine and fall in love with, and if any city is to keep her interest long enough, she imagines it would be ever-changing Paris. There is always something new to see, and strangers to stare at, and more art to be made and watched – there is inspiration everywhere, and no more statues that entangle themselves into her life.
"I have heard that Paris is lovely," he agrees with her now.
"Stop humoring me," she is in no mood to listen to his pity.
See, it really was a bad idea to let herself be vulnerable in front of him – now he is going to think that she is a weakling who needs help and pity all the damn time. He has that exact same tone in his voice that all the others used to have when she was the little girl wearing worn-down clothes as she took care of her younger siblings. She hated that tone of voice then, and nothing has changed. Sure, her wardrobe is marginally better than it was then, and she turned into a crappy sister, but the feeling is still there – the feeling of being made into something weak and lesser than the others.
"I am still merely trying to be your friend," Enjolras keeps his voice steady, even though she can see the tension creeping into his body. "Just like I offered to be your friend yesterday, I aim to do the same thing today. I am not naïve enough to assume that your pain could fade away so easily. A death can leave marks on your very soul."
That's some poetic crap she doesn't care about hearing.
"Don't you think I know that?" she lashes out again. "My mom is dead!"
Instead of responding, Enjolras just steps closer to her, taking her hand in his to steady her with his warmth and strength. And damn him, it does feel a little less terrible now, because there is someone standing next to her – she does not have to carry the weight of the world solely on her own shoulders this time. Whatever she decides to do, this idiot is going to support her in that decision – no matter how stupid that decision may be. It's positively terrifying.
"My brothers are going to think that I don't even care," she sighs, pondering what could be going on with the rest of the Thénardier family. "I haven't contacted any of them in so long – Azelma didn't want me to. They must think I hate them."
Not that she was a good person to be around these kids – heck, she still isn't anywhere near good enough to be allowed near her brothers, but she is considering giving it another try. She was a terrible sister when she was around them, and her distance has probably only done them good – she has tried to convince herself of that tons of times, but she knows her father well enough to know that the boys will have had quite a hard time growing up with him around. Would it have been easier for them if she had stuck around? She doesn't know. She can't change the past.
"You could attempt to contact them if you want," Enjolras is still holding her hand.
"They deserve better," she knows that much.
Even though Azelma is the kind of person to blindly do whatever their father asks of her, she has still been a better sister than Éponine could ever be. So yeah, maybe staying away would be the best choice here – maybe it is just better for everyone's sake that she moves on from everything and leaves this town behind, and her family with it.
"Excuse my colloquialism," Enjolras starts, "but I have to call bullshit."
Well, there is a stunning turn of events. She probably should not have let Enjolras spend that much time playing stupid games with R, but she was not expecting the cursing to hit him this fast. This here is the same guy who took like a week to start calling her by her first name? And now he's cursing? Wow, this era does corrupt – fast.
Her grip on his hand loosens for a short while, and then she grips him tighter.
"Your friendship has been invaluable to me over the last two weeks," Enjolras appears to be gearing up for another one of his big speeches, now grasping her hand between two of his own. "You have supported me just about every step of the way, taking the time to explain things to me that you normally take for granted. You have kept me safe, put a roof over my head, got me a teacher, made sure I had a purpose and that I made friends. Not to mention that you are the reason that I am no longer made of solid marble. I owe you so much. There is no one better."
Well, this is just awkward. Here he is, giving her the kindest and most heartfelt speech that she has ever heard, and she is just completely dumbstruck. She is unable to speak a single word after he just basically laid his heart bare for her.
Enjolras actually values her friendship and holds her in high esteem. The mere idea of it should be absolutely ridiculous. Here is this man who should by all accounts hate her, or at least look down on her torn clothes and vulgar language and rudeness. And somehow, for some stupid reason, he actually thinks that she, Éponine Thénardier, is the greatest person he has come across in these two long weeks.
Has it really only been seventeen days since she found him at the museum? It seems almost impossible to her that he has become so important to her in such a short amount of time.
"You don't owe me a damn thing," she finally finds her voice. "I've been rude, and selfish, and almost cruel with you. I've been harsh and impatient, and I've teased you mercilessly just for the fun of it. If you don't know anyone better than me, I suggest you open your eyes to the rest of the people in this damn town."
No fucking way! There is just no way that she is the best person in this stupid town – there is a list a mile long of people who are better than she could ever dream of being, and this town isn't even that big. Is he really that naïve?
Why hasn't she pulled her hand away from his yet?
"My eyes are wide open," Enjolras proclaims softly, almost as if he is just talking to himself.
But she can hear him, and she can see him blushing. He is realizing that he told her this out loud, when it seems like he didn't mean to do so. And the meaning behind those words absolutely terrifies her – which makes it time to leave.
She does not own a lot of material objects – which makes it easy to stuff everything into a few big bags. It will only take her an hour to pack, maybe less. The real problem would be getting anywhere from this town – there are no buses, and the nearest train station is miles and miles away. Even hitchhiking is best done a few miles out of town, where there is actual traffic. This damn town is dead.
So she can wait until the morning, when everyone will be at the cleanup event, and she can hook her bags onto her shoulders and walk right out of town. It might take her as little as an hour's walk to get to the –
Enjolras' eyes on her almost leave a physical weight on her shoulders. She can feel him watching her, and so she has to look at him.
When she does, it feels as if he can see right through her. Does he suspect? Can he tell that she is thinking about leaving him behind without another thought?
"I should just leave this damn place," she ignores the pounding of her heart, "before any of you get too attached to me. I am just going to fuck it all up."
She is feeling more and more inclined to just pack up her stuff right now and to walk away before this mess gets any bigger. As is, she is already worried about Enjolras not letting her leave him alone – and yeah, she wanted him to be a little more settled in before she left him behind, but she can't stand being hovered over and stifled and cared for. She is not going to be able to keep this up for much longer.
And really, why should she?
"There is so much you can do here," Enjolras is trying to persuade her. "I'm not just talking about me, or even about tomorrow… You can have a life here."
"Who says I want that?" she asks him, pulling her clammy hand from his grip.
Stuck in this town? Building a life in this shithole? Sure, with the statue coming to life and the ensuing intrigue, it has not yet been completely boring, but she hasn't stayed anywhere for long – with college as the only exception. She hasn't been able to stay anywhere for very long, and if she were to find a place she would not get bored of, it would probably be far away from here.
"I do not mean to presume," somehow Enjolras has gone right back to being a proper gentleman. "I would never pretend to know what you wanted."
Damn him and his good manners – she almost wanted him to be a jackass about this, so that she would have an excuse to be angry. It is better to be angry than to be hurting so badly without anything to ease her pain. No night on the town, no bottle of booze will fix any of this mess – a complete escape seems to be the only solution that will fix even part of her problems. And she is somehow reluctant about that.
"I don't even know what I want," the fight goes right out of her. "I can't stay here."
Really, that is the only thing that she does know – that she needs an exit before everything gets worse. Hell, whether she goes to find Gavroche and her brothers or not, staying in this town just isn't an option any longer.
So on Saturday, she will get up early and walk away. It will be that easy.
"Stay, please," Enjolras resorts to plain begging.
"I can't," she stands completely still.
She hates herself for the way those damn eyes of his threaten to weaken her resolve. It should not affect her like this, the way his body leans into hers, and the way his bright eyes soften with his pleas. He may not be holding out his hand to her, in the way that all the romance novel heroes do, but he is gravitating towards her, hoping that his soothing presence would somehow make the choice easier for her.
When the sight of his eyes pleading with her proves too persuasive, she focuses her eyes somewhat lower instead. His dark t-shirt, on loan from Grantaire judging by the paint stains, seems like a harmless place to focus her attention. But it only takes a second for her to be looking into his eyes again.
"Stay the weekend," he pleads with her. "If I can't convince you to stay in town when Sunday is over, I will not stop you from leaving. I just hope you will let me persuade you to, as you would say it, stick around."
There is just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and she really appreciates how Enjolras has learned to use his own typical brand of humor to deal with this modern world. He may not use all of the right idioms, and he may not know how certain things work, but he's sure as hell going to make it work.
"Two more days," she ponders.
Can she take this for two more days? It's only Friday now, but there's the cleanup tomorrow, which will keep Enjolras much too busy to work too much of his persuasive powers on her. She can stand to stick around for two more days if that means that he will help her leave without much fuss from anyone. She can't stand goodbyes, and she just wants to make a clean break here.
Maybe she'll call Musichetta from the road, apologize to her for leaving her without an extra waitress. The other woman deserves that much from her. Heck, she could even leave a note for Jehan and R – but that's all she is going to do.
"You can choose to help with cleanup," he tries to sweeten the deal. "You're free to spend your Saturday in whatever way you choose. I would like to spend Sunday with you."
Why? What is he planning? Does he have some big gesture planned for Sunday? Does he have one big moment prepared that is sure to change her mind about leaving this town behind? Does such a moment, such a plan, even exist? Is there something that can change her mind? Is there an idea that can change a lifelong habit of running?
"Two more days," she agrees, and seals her fate.
Judging by his relieved sigh, he never even expected her to say yes.
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She is woken up ridiculously early on Saturday morning by an enthusiastic Jehan, practically throwing himself onto her bed and jumping on it. He is like a little kid, or a puppy, with boundless enthusiasm and too much energy for her to deal with before noon on a Saturday. What is there that could possibly inspire this kind of behavior from the usually so mellow Jehan? What the hell happened?
"Too early," she mutters, trying to kick him off the bed.
"It is a beautiful day," Jehan avoids her uncoordinated kicking with deft precision. "The sun is shining, the cleanup is planned, and I am in love."
None of this is news to her – even the latter part has been ridiculously obvious to her for weeks now. Now if only Grantaire would figure it the hell out already, because the current mess is getting a little tiring to watch. Sure, Grantaire is dealing with things way beyond this possible romantic relationship with Jehan, but she really wishes he would not leave Jehan so uncertain about his feelings. A simple "not now" or "I'm not ready" would suffice – it would at least acknowledge that there are actual feelings between the two men. Jehan has been a little worried that it was all one-sided.
"What happened?" she groans.
"We had a moment just now," Jehan has a grin from ear to ear.
Her bleary eyes hate the sight of so much happiness so early in the morning, but she can push that aside because Jehan's happiness is the nicest thing she has seen in a while. It should help her, to see that life goes on even when her own world stopped turning for a little while. It should show her that there is still good in this world.
But right now, Jehan matters – she can forget her pain for a little while.
"Tell me everything," she rubs her tired eyes and sits up straight.
"So, I've been up for ages, right?" Jehan sits across from her, eyes shining with glee. "I've been working to get everything ready for the cleanup. I may have had too many energy drinks, but that's not the point here."
Wow, yeah, that certainly explains a lot. She remembers the pressure to get everything done in time from her few shows in college, and she has no fond memories for the taste of whatever cheap beverage would keep her going the longest. She is no stranger to the all-nighter, and now that her eyes are wide open, she can spot all the signs on Jehan. It's in the red rimmed eyes that are just a little too wide, in the twitchy movements that seem to occur without his permission. He is much too cheery.
"Of course it's not," she humors him.
"So, finally I see R coming downstairs," the grin on Jehan's face as he mentions R's name is just too fucking precious. "And I mean, it is pretty much the middle of the night. I think it was maybe five in the morning and he still hadn't slept. I think."
R not sleeping is probably not a very good sign, since it's only drugs or painting that keep him up late – and there has not been a lot of painting done without him being high on something or another. It pains her, because she has seen with her own two eyes just how talented R is – and it hurts even more because she thought that R was actually moving off drugs. She thought that he was finally getting clean. Sure, she didn't talk to him about it, sensing that he did not want to make a big deal out of it, but she could tell from his body language that he was no longer under the influence.
"And here I thought he was actually sleeping last night," she frowns.
"Oh, maybe he was sleeping for a bit," Jehan frowns, his jittery body fighting against clear thought. "Maybe I woke him up. That could have happened."
Seriously, now Jehan is under the influence and R is the sober one? This is the weirdest reversal of roles she has seen in this damn town – and she's seen a lot. Sure, Jehan's love for energy drinks should only be temporary, but she worries a little.
"So what happened?" she would like to get to the bottom of this.
"He came to talk to me," Jehan grins happily. "He seemed almost interested in the stuff I was doing. You know, the cleanup preparations. I thought that was a good sign. I mean, shouldn't it mean that he's doing better? That he's ready to be better?"
The optimism is kind of killing her – she knows about addicts, and she knows all about how it can seem like they are doing better. She knows that they can even get better for a little while – but that the lure of the drinks or the drugs or the gambling is always going to win out in the end. She wants R to be different, but she can't actually believe that.
"I hope so," she tries not to get too excited about this.
"He's going to participate today," Jehan is practically bouncing on her bed. "That is more than I ever could have hoped for. So when I told him that him being a part of this would make me happy, he just… Oh, Eponine, you are not going to believe this!"
Jehan needs a friend, someone to gossip with about the boy he likes, and while she is not able to be a friend to anyone, she is going to try. After all, she can still listen to his story and respond in all the proper ways – she can't ruin this light moment for Jehan, because he deserves all this and more. He deserves a better friend than her.
"Tell me," she playfully pushes him.
"He said he likes making me happy," Jehan pretends to faint. "He actually said that, to my face! I can't believe it! But that isn't even the best part!"
They've shifted positions so that she is leaning against the makeshift headboard and Jehan is leaning in her direction, still in his faux-fainting position. She knows that in the movies, the two friends talking about boys always end up side by side, or laying in the bed, face to face as they whisper about what happens next.
"You're killing me here," she makes room for Jehan right next to her.
"So, the best part came next," Jehan settles in, still grinning widely. "Here I was, smiling like an idiot because the dork is actually giving me a hint of his feelings. I mean, finally, right? I thought it would never happen! But yeah, I'm smiling, and he sits down next to me. And he just smiles. God, he has the most beautiful smile!"
The swooning has commenced, and that is always the most awkward stage for her. She never knows what to say, and so she has to settle for nods and vague sounds that are supposed to signify agreement. It has worked for her, at least so far.
"Stop stalling and talk," she chooses to say instead.
"So I tell him that," Jehan hides his face to keep the blush from showing. "I actually tell him that he has a beautiful smile. I don't know what I was thinking, but I did it. And he kept smiling! And he's sitting next to me, and our thighs are brushing and his breathing is getting faster, and he leans in. He fucking leans in!"
Okay, this really is starting to feel more and more like a scene from a romantic comedy, in which she's playing the part of the dutiful best friend. She is good at playing a part, heck, she is even good at playing that particular part – but the thought of continuing to play a part in front of Jehan is making her nauseous. She has grown to like this Romantic, and if she were a better person they might actually be friends.
"Did you kiss?" she is stunned at how far R let this go.
Is R actually ready to pursue this?
"Enjolras came in," Jehan is not completely crushed by that, though. "It looked like we were finally going to kiss, but your friend came in. I mean, sure, when he noticed what was going on, he turned around and left. But of course it was too late."
Damn that marble man and his crappy timing. That is something that she still has to teach him, how to walk away before ruining an important moment of any kind. It is not just about this lost moment between Jehan and R, but also about all the times in which he hovered or when he said something that made her feel off. Sure, this "off" was not necessarily a terrible feeling, but it was surprising and not entirely welcome.
"But you almost kissed," she feels like shouting. "That is huge!"
At least someone is experiencing moments of romance and excitement. Romance is not for her, but she longs for moments of excitement and held breaths before someone finally makes a move. She hasn't made a proper move in ages, and no one has made a move on her for much longer. It shouldn't feel lonely – she does not mind being alone – but her bed has been cold for far too long. There are no options here; she forces herself to remember that. After this weekend she should move on.
"I know," Jehan is grinning like a lovesick fool.
But right now, she is just going to relish in the happiness for a little while longer.
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After a few more hours of dozing off and intermittent giggling from her temporary bedfellow, it was time to actually get started on the day's activities. The cleanup would not start itself, and even though she has considered dropping out, she is still up and ready for whatever the Amis want her to do today.
If she stays inside, if she stays by herself, the temptation to pack her bags and head out of town without another word will be too great. And she did make a promise she intends to keep. After all, in the grand scheme of things, what's another two days?
It is merely forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours of trying to keep her pain hidden and not talking to anyone about her mother or her family – with Enjolras as the sole exception to her every damn rule. She would muse about how he came to be in that position if she actually planned on staying past those two more days. If she were planning to stick around, she might actually have to start thinking about all of the ways in which Enjolras is like no one else – mostly in what he means to her, because she already knows that it would be possible to write a whole book just about the experience of knowing a man outside his town. He is different to her.
She is trying not to admit just how much it bothers her, so it might be best for her to avoid his direct presence at least for the day. Twenty-four more hours gone, and she can handle one damn day with him if she can forget about everything for now. Maybe a lot of physical labor will make her forget a whole lot of things.
Really, she is just assuming that this cleanup thing is just about physical labor.
"Time to get started," Jehan is dressed and ready.
"I know," she simply says, rubbing the last bits of sleep from her tired eyes.
An event with the slogan "clean up our town" would have to involve a lot of cleaning and heavy lifting and hard work – and maybe that is just what she needs right now. She cannot stand having the time to think about anything too deeply, because that is only going to force her to start dealing with her grief.
Thinking about her mom is just way too painful for now. Avoidance is the solution.
"It means a lot that you're helping," Jehan practically drags her down the stairs and out of the house. "I know Enjolras feels much more at ease when he has you nearby. You've been very supportive of him, and even though he doesn't talk about it, I know he really values that support. I'm sure telling you that just wouldn't be proper."
If only Jehan knew just how improper Enjolras was willing to get with her – oh God, that isn't even half as dirty as it sounds. The marble man has consistently bent and broken the rules for her over the last few days. It worries her a little – he should not be getting this attached to her when she's leaving in two days.
"You know Enjolras and proper," she quips as Jehan locks the door behind them.
Wait; are R and Enjolras already at the event? That is completely unexpected – R's presence, not Enjolras'. She figured that the other artist would show up late and only help out to appease Jehan – apparently she was wrong about that.
"The town hasn't really responded to us so far," Jehan sets a brusque pace as he gets her up to speed. "They're pretty old-school when it comes to stuff like this, so you shouldn't expect a lot of help from anyone not related to our group."
The change of topic is exactly what she needs right now, she assures herself as she runs her hands over her worn-down clothes. There are holes in her jeans and torn seams in her crappy t-shirt – and the entire outfit is covered in various art-related stains. She doesn't work with paint a lot, but this is the outfit she wears when she does. When she gets to the work site, she expects R to wear a matching outfit.
"That is kinda disappointing," she tries to empathize.
"That is just the way it is," Jehan shrugs, still walking too fast for her to be comfortable, her shorter legs unable to keep up with his long strides.
She watches the streets change as they get closer to the edge of town, and closer to a set of dilapidated houses that should have been torn down a long time ago. She sees some colorful hardhats in the distance, weaving between the houses. Some of the guys are already working on tearing down some structures, while others are still pushing some people away from the buildings.
"The first house has been given the all-clear," R is the first person to walk up to them, a yellow hardhat on his dark curls. "Feuilly is coming in with the bulldozer."
Feuilly is probably the best choice to operate any kind of heavy equipment – she cannot even imagine the disaster that would occur if Bossuet were allowed to go anywhere near this kind of machinery. Also, she wonders just how terrified Enjolras is gonna be of the bulldozer when it gets here. She can already hear the rumbling in the distance, and she looks around frantically trying to reach her friend before it gets here.
"Don't worry," R notices what's up with her. "I already explained to him what a bulldozer was and just how huge it was going to be. And then Combeferre joined and it turned into a detailed discussion of vehicles and machinery. Too boring for my taste."
For a second there, she wonders just how R was able to read her mind – and then she realizes that she is just that damn predictable when it comes to the marble man. God, she really despises that stupid nickname.
"Thanks, R," she makes it a point to smile at him.
"I wasn't going to have him running away with a terrified look on his face," R winks at her, and she has to try not to laugh. "Him screaming of monsters would not exactly keep the whole thing low-key. Javert and Tholomyès are already up our asses about this cleanup. We do not want them to catch wind of Enjolras."
That would be a whole new level of nightmarish, and something she hadn't even considered in her freak-out – she was way more focused on Enjolras and his personal wellbeing than the risk of being found out by the cops. The old Éponine never would have done that, which makes it just another reason that she should get the hell out of town before it's too late. Or before the gendarmes figure it out – whichever comes first.
"What assholes," Jehan mutters under his breath.
"Where is our protesting man anyway?" she asks ever so casually.
She is not worried about her friend. She is not worried about her friend. She is absolutely not worried at all – and he isn't even her friend, because Éponine Thénardier does not have friends. And once again, Enjolras is the exception, when she knows so little about him. Heck, he still hasn't even told her his first name, or just how his damn curse came into being. He knows too much about her, and she too little about him.
"Leading the pack," R shrugs, not nearly as worried as he should be.
"What can we do?" Jehan changes the topic, away from her friend.
"Get some gloves and a hardhat from Bossuet," R points them in the direction of the bald guy. "And when Feuilly is done bulldozing, you can start the heavy lifting, and carrying the used wood and such into one of the huge containers over there. Easy as pie."
Yep, she is going to be aching at the end of the day – which should hopefully numb the stupid emotional pain she is trying not to think about.
"Let's go!" at least Jehan is properly motivated for this shindig.
So she follows, trying not to look for a familiar head of blonde hair in the small crowd of hardworking men. She fails.
"Let's get you suited up," Bossuet smiles at them when they reach him. "I've been placed here 'cause it's where I can do the least damage. And also 'cause I happen to know a little too much about safety. I just, I always take the right precautions."
Bossuet's bald head is not covered by a hardhat of his own, but he is wearing old work pants and heavy-duty gloves to keep himself protected. He has a whole table of hats and protective glasses and a stack of gloves that Michael Jackson might be jealous of – even though they probably aren't the right style for the King of Pop.
"I can't let you leave without the proper protection," the bald guy says, and she snickers, remembering a similar line from a teacher's sex talk.
Jehan is looking at her funny, and she shrugs before putting on a silly yellow hardhat – she will be damned if she picks one of the pink ones that Jehan so happily chooses. The glasses take some time to figure out, because her face is not wide enough for most of the scratchless pairs. When she finally finds a decent pair that actually follows the shape of her face, she is pleased enough not to refuse the girly gloves Bossuet hands her.
"No sexism intended," he tells her when he catches her frown. "Not on our end anyway – because the local stores only had smalls in that color."
Since she is too tired to start a serious diatribe about sexism in branding, she just smiles in thanks and curses the storeowners in her head. It is not Bossuet's fault that people don't understand women like to do physical work as well – and that not all women like the color pink. Seriously, that is just so stereotypical.
"Ah, Feuilly is here," Jehan screams over the sound of the nearby bulldozer.
"Let's get started, then," she replies. "Thanks Bossuet."
Perfect! Hard work and no questions about her emotional state. This is just the kind of avoidance she really needed.
e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Of course Enjolras finds her a couple of hours into her work and has to ask her how she's doing, with the same concerned look in his eyes that has been driving her crazy since she told him about her mother. She's helped clear at least four houses so far, and no one has asked her any questions she did not want to answer.
She knew that was too good to last.
"I'm fine," she is curt with him.
This does not fit into her big avoidance plan, and while she does not mind seeing him today – his shirt is clinging to his skin and she vividly remembers the times she has seen him without one – she would rather he just shut up about the stupid emotional stuff and let her lug around heavy objects instead. The heavy lifting is calming the stupid voices in her head, at least for a little while, and she needs that right now.
"Have you eaten anything since this morning?" Enjolras plays mother hen again.
"I'm fine," she ignores her growling stomach.
"You're white as a sheet," he has to argue with her. "Eat something. We have a whole buffet – and mademoiselles Cosette and Musichetta are splendid cooks."
So she is the only woman at the worksite? She really thought that there was a tiny girl around earlier, struggling with a heavy piece of wall. She doubts that the town came through, so this has to be one of the boys' friends – or girlfriends.
Do they even have girlfriends that she doesn't know of?
"And Combeferre brought his friend," Enjolras continues to talk. "I believe this is the same Valerie he mentioned when he asked for your advice."
Her fist pump may look a little ridiculous in her current outfit, but she really does not give a shit about that. If Valerie is actually here, it means that Combeferre has made enough progress with the girl that he actually talks to her about the things that are going on in his life. And really, the girl would not have said yes if she were not interested in the goal or the man trying to achieve it. She has to see this with her own two eyes.
"Awesome," she is grinning at him now.
"Will you please eat something?" Enjolras tries a different tactic now. "I am worried about you. And I'm sure you could interrogate Valerie over a late lunch."
That little wry comment still surprises her, because no matter how often Enjolras displays a hint of wry humor, she cannot wrap her head around the stodgy marble man joking about things like this. It would not be proper to interrogate a friend's date, she is sure of that, yet he encourages this behavior in her.
But is it really that strange? In his day, he must have had friends, and these friends must have had lovers or women they were betrothed to. She is sure that Enjolras would be the kind of man to make sure that these women were a part of these relationships for all the right reasons. He would be the kind of man to worry about his friends, and to look after their future happiness. And he likes Combeferre, so why not do the same for him?
"I'm blaming you when 'Ferre finds out," she jokes.
"He would never believe it," Enjolras is quick to respond.
And he's right about that, because Enjolras is not the kind of person to get involved in stuff related to matchmaking and relationships. He is simply not interested in dating and modern romance – even though he will give decent advice when pressed.
"You are smarter than people give you credit for," she is still smiling. "And I mean that in a strictly appreciating of your evil genius kind of way."
It does not seem like he completely understands what she is saying, but at least he seems to appreciate the sentiment behind it. It is nice to be joking like this – even though she can't help but feel guilty about feeling joy when she, by all rights, should still be mourning over her mother's death. It is terrible timing – it's so soon.
"Thanks, I think," Enjolras cocks his head, trying to get her to come to lunch.
Actually, it looks a bit weird, him frantically moving his head to the side and back, trying to make her move without ever touching her. She sort of likes that he is trying to keep his distance, but his insistence on not touching her kind of makes things more awkward than they need to be. Either way, things would be weird no matter what he did.
"I'm going, I'm going," she decides to just put him out of his misery.
The speed at which she heads towards the food area might be a little ridiculous, but it is probably better for her to be with the group – they will not ask questions about her family and her future, or anything else that she does not want to talk about. Avoidance is working out pretty well for her, and she is sticking with that plan for the rest of the day.
"Tell me there's still food left," she pleads when she arrives.
"Of course," Courf has a full plate next to him. "Right here. With your name on it."
Wow, they actually made a little nametag for her – sure, they made one for everyone but she really appreciates the gesture. Even Valerie has a card of her own, carefully folded and placed in front of her as she eats.
Her own place is next to Courf, but right across from Valerie and Ferre, so she has enough chances to start her little interrogation. It may be weird timing, so shortly after Jehan and R's big moment, and she never planned on being this involved in the local romances, but she kind of had a hand in this getting started. She wants to see what came of it – and this is probably going to be her last chance to do so.
Would this be the last day she spends with the Amis? Should she do something to make them remember her? Should she just leave it be and sneak away on Sunday like a thief in the night? It is probably better that way – she shouldn't try to make them care about her if she is just going to leave in less than two days.
But she doesn't say anything. She just sits down in her designated seat, right between Courf and Enjolras. She wonders who made that happen – and she wonders if Enjolras has something to do with it. She'd say something if only she couldn't feel his arm brush hers with ever breath she takes.
"Thanks Courf," she smiles as she tears off a piece of a roll. "Looks good."
After that, she tries to follow the conversation at the table while she stuffs her face like an idiot. There's just so much food and it all tastes so good, and she's been working so hard that she could eat a horse. The croissants have chocolate in them, and the marmalade is homemade and seriously how fucking perfect can Cosette be? She is trying not to hate Enjolras' relative, but every single time Cosette shows another side of perfection, she feels a little more imperfect herself.
So yeah, if these guys have the epitome of perfection, why would they want her anyway?
Another brush against Enjolras' skin brings her back to the present.
"So, Valerie," she finally finishes most of the food. "How are you holding up?"
After all, it is Valerie's first time around all of the guys – at least, she assumes as much – and that is never a calm experience. Maybe she can teach the girl a few tricks before she leaves, so Valerie can fill the hole Éponine might leave behind.
Though she wonders if anyone can fill the holes in her own heart. As corny as that sounds, she might not want to forget about these people when she goes.
AN: Soooooo, talk to me, tell me what you think!
Tell me all the things that you loved about this fic – from last year to now!