TWO
Eponine

As soon as detention was over, Eponine slipped quickly and quietly out the back door of the school without anyone noticing.

She sucked in a deep breath of fresh air the moment her face came in contact with the cool autumn breeze. She released it with a heavy sigh. Of all the days to get caught stealing something and earn detention for it, it had to be on the same day as her tutoring session with Marius. And now she was late for him. Lovely.

She closed her eyes and let the disappointments of the day dissolve like mist in sunlight.

"Hey, 'Ponine!"

She opened her eyes again. A smile burst across her face. Marius. He'd been waiting for her here, standing outside of the school. His dark hair was ruffled and the hole in his coat had reopened (Eponine had mended it for him last week), but God, he looked so perfect.

Eponine ran toward him, flames racing through her veins.

She breathed his name, and he enfolded her in a giant hug.

"God, it's so good to see you," he whispered.

"And you," she said.

Don't let go, she thought, and he held her tighter. He could read her thoughts like the pages of a book.

The hug only lasted for so long—after all, they still had to get home—but the heat still tingled on Eponine's skin as they walked toward the apartment.

"I wish I could see you more often," Marius murmured. He held her hand in his, rubbed it gently with his thumb. "I wish we didn't have to hide this."

"We have to," Eponine replied, her heart thrilling from the idea of a secret romance. "It would ruin your reputation to be seen with a girl like me."

Marius turned to face her, his eyes dark with intensity. "But I've told you. I don't care about my reputation."

It was so like Marius, Eponine thought, to always put others first.

"Trust me," she said, her voice filled with the melancholy and deep conviction of one who had lived for a hundred years. "You should definitely care about what others think of you. Besides, it's not—" The deeply convicted voice wavered. Eponine sighed and continued, "It's not right for someone like me to be with someone like you."

"I'm no richer than you are," Marius said softly.

"But you know how to fly," Eponine murmured. "That's the only thing that matters, you know."

At last, the apartment building towered above them.

Marius politely held open the door for Eponine, like he always did, and they both swept silently inside and crept up the stairs.

They reached the apartment door—the one a few doors away from Eponine's family (if one could even call it a family).

"Ready for your lesson?" Marius asked, glancing at the door.

"Always am." She flashed him a quick, nervous little grin and knocked on the wood.

"Who's there?" a voice behind the door called out.

She noticed that Marius' form was starting to grow fainter, like a ghost.

"It—It's me," Eponine said, her voice faltering. "Eponine."

"Oh, come in, then."

Eponine reached out to open the door, but Marius touched her arm. The touch was as soft as a breath of fog. "Good luck," he told her.

She gave him one last sad smile before he disappeared. Then she walked into the apartment where the real Marius sat.

He was hunched over his desk, staring at a textbook, when Eponine walked in.

Marius swiveled around as the door creaked open. "Eponine! What happened to you?"

He'd been concerned for her. "Oh, it was nothing. Just, um, got distracted on my way here." By detention, she added silently, burning with shame.

Marius didn't seem convinced. "Oh. Well, um, that's okay. As long as you're here now, I guess. Have a seat." He gestured at the navy blue beanbag that Eponine occupied every tutoring session.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she sank into the dark blue fabric. At least she wouldn't have to tell him about her little act of theft. Even though it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done. A pang of guilt stabbed through her chest.

You're nothing but a criminal—

"So how's school been treating you?" Marius asked, sifting through his mini fridge.

Criminal…thief…robber…

"Oh, it's been fine. Just, you know…a lot of homework, textbooks…"

"Same. Hey, do you want anything to drink?"

liar…murderer…

"I've never murdered anyone," Eponine hissed.

"What?"

"Um, water would be lovely."

"Sure."

Eponine stared at her lap, brow furrowing. "Hey, do you remember that story we read once? 'To Catch a Falling Star'?"

Marius handed Eponine a plastic cup. "That's that creepy one about the birds, right?"

Eponine smiled. "I thought it was beautiful." She remembered it vividly.

It was a fairytale of sorts, set in modern times. It was about a girl named Nessa who was paralyzed from the waist down and couldn't walk. But Nessa didn't care much for walking. Instead, she wished more than anything in the world that she could fly. She had been in an airplane before, but it just wasn't the same. Nessa wanted wings. With wings, she could fly wherever and whenever she liked. On land, everyone treated her as though she were some frail, helpless creature that would fall apart at any second. In the sky, she could finally be free from it all—the pitying glances, the patronizing murmurs.

Everyday, Nessa would roll outside in her wheelchair to gaze at the sparrows swooping and soaring across the great expanse of the sky. Her heart thrummed with a mixture of love, fascination, and pure envy. She longed to be like them. She longed to be them.

"Eh. Beautiful, creepy. Same thing." Marius sipped from his cup. "Anyway. What were you saying about it?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just seeing if you remembered. I've been thinking about it quite often, recently." She cleared her throat a little. "By the way. I talked with one of your friends today. Enjolras, I think it was?"

Marius started, nearly choking on his drink. "Enjolras? As in—Enjolras? You?"

"What's so shocking about that?"

"Sorry, it's not bad or anything. It's just—he doesn't really…he doesn't really talk to girls. What were you two talking about?"

"Um…nothing really. It was during—uh, English class. He was just trying to get to know me. I don't think it went very well, though. He probably thought I was strange." She smiled humorlessly to herself as she remembered their very brief exchange. Enjolras had stared at her first note—"I don't know how to fly"—for a good thirty seconds before he finally decided to grace her with a reply.

"Of course. And how exactly did your inability to fly earn you detention?" Enjolras' note had read.

Enjolras was, from what Eponine could tell, very intelligent. He was skilled at analyzing the pieces of literature they read in English class and had rather profound insights on what he read.

And yet. When Eponine looked at him, she saw someone she could never even dream of being. Rich, bold, virtuous, passionate. Incapable of being grasped or grounded.

Not a sparrow, but an eagle.

He wouldn't understand what a girl like Eponine went through, not truly. He couldn't.

And so she'd decided to refrain from explaining her metaphor to him. Instead, she'd carefully folded up his note, tucked it away in her bag, and continued writing her essay. Thankfully, he left her alone after that, but he'd made a point of blatantly avoiding her as they left the room. Eponine couldn't deny that it hurt, if only slightly.

Marius gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, don't take it too personally. It takes a while for Enjolras to warm up to people. I'm sure he'll like you once he really gets to know you." He didn't sound too convinced himself, but it was nice of him to try to comfort Eponine anyway. "Word of advice, though: don't tell him you like Napoleon."

"I'll keep that in mind." Eponine didn't care much for history, but she knew well enough about Marius' admiration for the French emperor. She also knew that Napoleon was a controversial figure—viewed by many as a villain. And Marius—kind, gentle Marius—actually held him in high regard.

Perhaps it seemed strange, but knowing this gave Eponine the hope that someone like Marius could love someone like her, just as he did in her fantasies. A wretched, tainted criminal of no virtue, yet he loved her, and saw the light that lay deep within her. He would slowly coax it out of its murky hiding place until she was free at last.

He may not love her now, she knew. She was too poor, too plain, too odd. But he knew how to fly, Eponine thought. And someday, she might know, too.