Sorry this one took a little while. I suppose that's what happens when the Spring Holidays end. Thank you to everyone who's sticking with this! Reviews and suggestions are always greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 9

"Tomorrow the people rise," Enjolras reminded the group of student revolutionaries, who were for once sitting about the café, listening intently. All of their usual distractions and mumblings were cast aside as everyone focused their attention on their leader. "We will honor Lamarque's name at his funeral procession, building our barricades on the streets we've been assigned. Do you all remember your placements?"

A collective nod seemed to circle through the group.

"France has been too long burdened by the bars its government forces around it. We will break those bars. We will fight for the people, for their country, for their freedom. France will be a prison no more, but a land we are proud to live in. Vive la France!" Enjolras shouted, raising a red flag high above his head. The café erupted in cheers. Courfeyrac and Combeferre stood, applauding. Eponine could see the excitement trembling in their fingers, the passion burning red in their cheeks. This was what these people were living for. She wondered if they were prepared to die for it as well.

Through the rampant cheers, Eponine noticed a slumped figure across the room. Grantaire was silent, his black eyes fixed solely on the man with the red flag. A bottle hung from his tired hand, his elbows resting weakly upon the bar. He took a swig of wine and swallowed harshly.

Eponine removed herself from her seat next to Joly and weaved through the students until she was standing in front of the black haired youth.

"Mind if I sit?"

Grantaire looked at her skeptically then returned his gaze to Enjolras, giving the girl a slight shake of his head. She slipped onto the stool beside him and followed his eyes to the boy, who was now discussing something quietly with Jehan.

"He's going to die," Grantaire said quietly.

"You don't know that," Eponine replied.

"But I do. Look at him. He's so passionate about this idiotic rebellion that he'll step in front of a gun just to leave some sort of imprint on anyone's mind," the boy brought the bottle to his lips but paused before drinking. "He doesn't understand that people simply don't care,"

"How can you say that? Of course they care. We all care. That's why we're here,"

"Not all of us," Eponine could barely hear the words escape his mouth, but they hung in the air for a few moments all the same. "I'm sorry I kissed you," Grantaire sighed and turned around, placing his now empty bottle on the bar. Eponine followed suit.

"It's alright,"

"No, it was stupid," he muttered.

"Why did you do it, then?" Eponine shot, somewhat annoyed. If she was really that undesirable that a frantic kiss was redeemed as 'stupid', there really was no hope for her and Marius. Her and anyone, for that matter.

Grantaire turned his head towards the small girl, staring her straight in the eye.

"Enjolras hates me. He's the only reason I show up to these idiotic meetings and he can't even look at me. There's something wrong with that. With me. I'm not supposed to care so much about a man, let alone that one," he growled. His voice was slowly rising. "Then there you were, telling me that I'm good and kind and not caring that I waste myself on absinthe and rum,"

Eponine felt her cheeks blush red.

"And you were understanding and beautiful and everything a man is supposed to swoon over, so I kissed you," Grantaire dropped his gaze, his fists clenched. There was a small pause as Eponine processed the words.

"But I'm not Enjolras," she finished.

"No," he admitted. "You're Eponine,"

"Just Eponine," she sighed. The girl was surprised to feel a hint of longing tug at her stomach. It wasn't that she had fallen in love with the drunkard. She was just so used to being exactly the opposite of what people needed from her that she had hoped, just once, that she could be the one to make someone happy.

"Just Eponine is good, though," Grantaire took her hand in his. "Just Eponine is different than everyone else. She is kind and intelligent and witty. She listens and forgives when there is no room for forgiveness. She accepts. And she loves,"

Eponine's heart sped. She had never been told by anyone that she was anything but a pest, a street urchin, or a thief. This was far too much for her to handle.

"Grantaire, I'm not-"

"You are. And one day, someone will realize that and love you in the way that I cannot," he smiled weakly. Eponine squeezed his hand and kissed him lightly upon the cheek.

"Thank you, Grantaire," she whispered.

"Thank you," the boy picked up a new bottle of absinthe and laughed to himself as he downed a couple of swallows. "Now I've just got to find a way to make Enjolras fall in love with me,"

"What?" a surprised voice came from behind the two at the bar. They turned in their seats to find a confused Enjolras standing uncomfortably within hearing distance of their conversation. He was staring at Grantaire, eyes wide and arms hanging limply at his sides.

"Enjolras," the boy breathed. Eponine's mouth hung slightly open as she looked from one man to the other, unsure of what to do. How long had he been standing there?

"Make me fall in love with you?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I…I don't…This isn't….I'm drunk," Grantaire scrambled for something coherent to say. The blonde was not amused.

"I've seen worse, I know you're fully capable right now. What do you mean, 'make me fall in love with you'?"

"Nothing," Grantaire swallowed another gulp of alcohol, but Enjolras grabbed the bottle from him mid-sip.

"Tell me," he insisted. Enjolras held his gaze as the other glared at him fiercely.

"Don't make me do this,"

"Do what?" the man asked, holding the bottle away from Grantaire. The drunk slowly rose to his feet and leveled himself with the scholar. His eyes were mere inches from the other's. Eponine mused that Grantaire could lean forward slightly and easily receive the kiss he so longed for. For a moment, she thought he might. Then he spoke.

"I'm in love with you," he said quietly.

"…what?" the man stepped back.

"I'm in love with you, Enjolras!" Grantaire laughed loudly, swinging his arms out as if he were going to hug the boy and allowing a broad smile to spread across his face. The room went quiet as Enjolras stared at him. It was he whose mouth hung open, now.

"Grantaire, don't be stupid. This isn't funny,"

"Oh, but it is! It's hilarious!" the man grinned and stumbled towards the shocked revolutionary. All the eyes in the café followed him. "It's funny because I love you…but you don't love me! And you're…you're going t-to die tomorrow," The alcohol was clearly reaching his brain, slurring his words together and exaggerating his movements. Eponine held her breath.

"You're going to d-die and I-I'm going to be so sad, Enjy. You know w-why? It's b-because…you're g-going to die…and it won't m-matter," the laugh that came from his lips was very nearly a giggle.

"Stop it, Grantaire. You've had more wine than I thought," Enjolras hissed.

"You stop! S-stop blaming everything I d-do on wine! I'm drunk but I'm right. I'm in l-love with you…I d-don't want you to go. Enjy, Enjolras, Enj…Enj…Please don't go," the man's smile was fading, his arms fell to his sides. "Please don't…please don't go," a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

"Go home, Grantaire. Sober up before tomorrow. We don't need a drunkard in our barricades," Enjolras turned to go. Grantaire squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head towards the floor, shaking slightly.

"Please don't go," he whispered. Enjolras froze for a moment, only a moment. Everyone watched as he took a deep breath, then continued out the door.