A/N: WOW! I'm absolutely floored by the responses to the last chapter! Thank you so, so much for all your feedback! I continue to be amazed by the response to this work, and your reviews, recommendations, and fav'ing mean so much to me. :)
Unfortunately, things are pretty hectic for me right now, so I may have to put off the next chapter to two a little longer than I would like. While I appreciate that many of you want more frequent updates (I do try to stick to my every 3-4 day posting regime), I simply need more time to write right now. So, this is just a head's up that, while I'll certainly do my best to keep the updates to the time frame that they've been, if I have to slow down for a little while, *cough* blame my place of employment, not me! ;)
Disclaimer: Les Misérables is copyrighted to and belongs to Victor Hugo. I'm just playing in his sandbox and receive no financial gain from this. Rats.
Chapter 11
"Will you take your place with me?"
-Les Misérables
Breakfast was uneventful with a distracted Éponine, too preoccupied by the unexpected, yet pleasant, early morning she had had to think on food. More than once, Monsieur Gillenormand asked if she was unwell, but, judging by her glowing smile and rosy complexion, it was obvious that the young woman wasn't ill.
Enjolras was his normally reserved self, every so often chancing a fetching glance at Éponine. Perhaps that was what put her in such a good mood—catching the swift glimmer of amusement in his eyes before it vanished and returned to its usual brand of seriousness.
But that kiss...
They had another lesson today, and Éponine had wondered how that might go over. Whatever was happening between them, they would surely need to address it, wouldn't they? Éponine could only hope that Enjolras wasn't intending to ignore the issue altogether, as she was quite adamant to discuss where they now stood.
Is it an 'issue'? she found herself questioning throughout breakfast. It shouldn't be, should it?
"Oh, Éponine," Cosette's sweet voice interrupted her growing concerns, "I nearly forgot! I have some exciting news for you. Marius, Monsieur Gillenormand, and I have been invited to a Masquerade Ball next week. You both are coming with us!"
"Oh?" Éponine couldn't contain her surprise, which was soon followed by panic. "That sounds lovely, Madame, but—"
"No," Marius chuckled with a firm shake of his head, sensing what was coming on Éponine's part, "we insist that you accompany us. No excuses!"
Éponine smiled politely, though her insides were churning, along with her nerves. She was grateful in that moment to not have consumed much of her breakfast.
Unaware of Éponine's reeling mind, Marius narrowed his eyes teasingly at Enjolas, "That means you, too, Enjolras," he emphasized with a smirk.
If Éponine was surprised to receive such a lavish invitation, as well as apprehensive about being introduced to the toast of high society, Enjolras was altogether cool and calm by comparison. He almost looked disinterested in the whole idea. He finished his bite of food before addressing his friends.
"I cannot dance," he answered simply, to which Marius reacted with hearty laughter.
"Well, of course, we know that!" Sensing that Enjolras wasn't going to take part in the humor of it all, his smile lessened. "Oh, come now, Enjolras, it'll be fun! No one's going to force you to dance, if you don't want to; but you must come and enjoy yourself."
"And who will Mademoiselle be in all of this?" he pressed quietly, nodding towards Éponine across the table. "How do you plan to introduce her to everyone?"
"As a distant cousin," Cosette answered with her pretty smile, "who has come to stay and live with us permanently." She added as an afterthought, "Oh, and your parents are dead. We'll figure out the details later."
Éponine brought her lips together to keep from snickering. Evidently, Cosette was trying to maintain the same decorum. Enjolras, however, was the only individual at the table missing the amusement passing between them all. He laid down his utensils with a deeper scowl.
"And her inheritance?" he asked.
"A healthy sum that shall come from me," Monsieur Gillenormand gruffly answered, smirking at Éponine, who turned her gaze to him in amazement, "whenever that conversation arises, naturally; but that's not something we need to hammer down right now. Sometime in the near future, perhaps."
Enjolras gnawed at his food more attentively. Éponine would have liked to protest to any lump of money from the old man, only she preferred finding a more private opportunity to do so; drawing attention to his kind act of charity, particularly in front of everyone else, would do her no good, she knew.
"Do you really think I'm ready?" Éponine whispered, wishing to be reassured.
"Absolutely!" Cosette confirmed, giving her an encouraging grin. "You've been ready. Now it's time to show you off. I think you'll like our friends."
"Not all of them," Marius muttered under his breath, giving Éponine a satisfied smile of his own.
Overhearing her husband, Cosette playfully nudged his arm. "Perhaps not all of them, but most are good company."
"Speak for yourself," Éponine vaguely heard Monsieur Gillenormand mutter into his glass of water. No one else seemed to pick up on the remark but her, though.
"Who's hosting this event?" Enjolras questioned once some time had passed in silence.
"The Beaumonts."
Éponine caught the curious, all-knowing exchange between Marius and Enjolras, and that was all that was said. Not wishing to be rude, Éponine didn't pry further, though her intrigue was heightened by the silence that followed. Although she was nervous for her first real social outing amongst the elite, she could feel the excitement and anticipation building already, and breakfast wasn't yet through. When she remembered that Enjolras was invited and would be attending as well, Éponine felt much more at ease.
Later, in the midst of a rather awkward and tense-filled lesson, Éponine chanced inquiring, unable to stop herself, "Who are the Beaumonts?" The curiosity had been eating at her since breakfast, but she was also determined to put aside whatever strange tension hovered in the air.
"Why do you ask?" Enjolras returned, giving her a funny look over.
"No matter; I was just curious is all. You and Marius seem to know them."
"And what gave you that impression?" Enjolras returned with a clenched jaw; his terse reply was jolting, and caused Éponine's worries to increase.
"The way you both carried on after Marius said their name, as though there was nothing else to be said."
Enjolras's features hardened. "Monsieur Beaumont's son, Marcel, attended university with us, and considered our political views—well, mine more so than Marius's, as I was much more outspoken—a folly. He ridiculed our efforts at every turn. I'm sure, at this upcoming ball his parents are throwing, he won't let the opportunity to tell me yet again go amiss."
"I see..."
"Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to attending," he grumbled, appearing quite put out over the matter. "I find balls in general to be tiresome and tedious."
Éponine couldn't help finding the pout he wore captivating. "Well, regardless, you'll have to hold your tongue, won't you?"
Her light teasing caught Enjolras's eye. His face slowly relaxed, and the two of them shared a comfortable, shared smile before lapsing back into a peculiar silence that Éponine, for one, didn't like. Since Enjolras hadn't brought up the kiss from earlier, Éponine found herself increasingly torn by his silence. She had hoped he wouldn't act as though nothing had happened, because it did! her mind fumed. In fact, she feared just such an aloof reaction but tried to think better of her own misgivings during breakfast. You're prone to thinking the worst, Éponine, she told herself in an effort to stay calm. Don't rush to conclusions.
Ever since her lesson started, however, the subject hadn't yet surfaced, and, by mid-morning, it was driving Éponine around the bend. Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she decided to quietly push her book away. The curt gesture made Enjolras's eyes flicker in confusion.
"Are we going to talk about..." Éponine's started before her resolve faded; she waited for Enjolras to say something, anything.
"I had hoped we might avoid this," came his carefully drawn reply, which caused Éponine's face to turn a shade whiter, until he leaned in and whispered adamantly, "Not here, Éponine. I have no wish to brush off the matter, but not here."
Well, that's a relief!
Befuddled, Éponine shook her head. "But... If not here, then where?"
"I'm not sure, but in a different setting. Not during your lessons, at any rate. We need to carry on as if everything's normal."
As if nothing happened, she began to panic and inhaled slowly, staring at him without blinking.
"I understand that, but we're alone now, Enjolras."
"That doesn't matter. Here, I'm your tutor, and you're my pupil."
"But—"
"Read me this sentence aloud," he disrupted her train of thought rather too harshly for her liking.
For added emphasis, Enjolras pushed the book back towards her, leaving Éponine in disbelief where she sat with her mouth hanging open. Éponine sensed her emotions getting the better of her, and her breathing quickened in an effort to hold back fresh tears.
"You regret it, don't you?" The words, filled with unmistakable hurt and rejection, tumbled out of her before she could find the will to stop them.
Enjolras, though cross, eased his gaze a little. "No, of course not—"
"It's because of who I am, isn't it?"
"What? No!"
"I'll always be that grimy, ugly hussy from the gutters to you, won't I?"
"Éponine, what's come over you?"
He reached out to take her hand, but she swiftly slid out of his grasp and pinned him in place with a tormented glare he had never witnessed before. He could see the tears forming in her dark eyes and drew back, quite shaken and alarmed. His arm was still half extended out to her, but the intensity between them was so heavy now that he didn't chance reaching for her a second time.
"Why did you kiss me?" she all but hissed at him.
"Éponine, slow down—"
"Why did you kiss me?"
In the back of her mind, Éponine sensed she was probably acting irrational, but the bewildered expression Enjolras wore wasn't helping matters, nor the fact that he either refused, or, worse, couldn't supply her with an answer. Instead, he stared at her, aghast, his mouth opening and closing several times.
"I..." he started and stopped. "Well..."
He doesn't have an answer, she concluded, a pain unlike anything she had felt in a long while taking hold of her chest. He does regret it.
Éponine couldn't withstand the painful silence. Shooting him down one last time with tear-filled eyes, Éponine scrambled out of her chair and ran out of the parlor, not caring whom she might come across along the way back to her room, her only destination in mind. She wanted to be alone, to yank the lovely accessories out of her hair, to rip at the luxurious fabric of her new, cream-colored dress.
You idiot! You should know better by now! Why couldn't you be more guarded with yourself, Éponine? You're cursed in love, you know that? Cursed!
It hadn't even occurred to Éponine yet what she had just admitted to herself in her head, so she forced herself onward, not paying attention to where she was going, too busy wiping furiously at her eyes to care. Unexpectedly, she collided with Molly as she turned a corner, and the pair of them stumbled backward against opposite walls. Molly began ranting and raving immediately, cursing at her and telling her to "watch where she was going," but Éponine ignored her heated shouts and took off at a full run, not stopping until she reached the sanctuary of her bed chambers.
Throwing herself inside, Éponine slammed the door and collapsed onto the floor, letting go of herself at last and allowing the tears to fall freely. She tore the hair accessories from her scalp and tossed them aside, and her long tresses tumbled every which way to her shoulders. Her emotional display was messy but heartfelt, unpreventable and unforeseen.
You've been a complete fool, Éponine, and this is nothing less than you deserve. You let yourself fall again, and now look at you! Back exactly where you started. Idiot, idiot, idiot!
Hours later, Éponine was startled out of her woeful stupor by an excited pounding on her door. She shot to her feet, having sat on the floor for so long that her limbs were stiff and nearly gave out on her. Her heart began to pound furiously.
"Éponine? Éponine, are you in there?"
Cosette.
"I... Erm, yes," she called back, though her voice was strained and worn down. It dawned on Éponine then that she had been crying for quite some time.
"Can you open the door, please?"
Sucking in a breath, Éponine quickly wiped at her eyes again, brushed out her hair, and did as instructed. She found the blonde-haired beauty standing worriedly, or confused, in her doorway. She eyed Éponine up and down.
"Is something wrong?"
"I..."
"You never came downstairs for our afternoon lessons, so I've come to fetch you. I would've sent Molly, but she said you ran into her earlier, and she was in such a tether over your run-in that I didn't bother sending her up here."
Éponine's cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Cosette. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
"Waiting?" she giggled, which eased Éponine's nerves a tad. "That was hours ago. It's concern at this juncture. Did you fall asleep?"
"I... Yes, that was it," she lied through her teeth, too tired to care. "I'm really sorry—"
"Oh, don't be. This must all be very overwhelming for you, getting your bearings and all. You must be exhausted by now. You've done remarkably well, though, Éponine, truly."
Éponine hung her head, unable to mask much of her heartache. "Thank you."
"Are you all right? Is something the matter?"
Cosette strolled halfway into the room and stopped, reaching out to take Éponine gently by the arm. "Nothing, I'm fine," she tried to fib again, sensing she wasn't at all convincing. "I'm a little tired, actually. Would you or Monsieur Gillenormand mind if I skipped dinner this evening? I think I'd like to lie down."
"Not at all," Cosette reassured her and quietly guided her to her bed. "I'll have Molly send up something for you. Are you feverish?"
"No, no, nothing like that. I think I'm just a little run down is all."
And I want to bury myself beneath these covers and never reemerge, she concluded miserably.
"Please don't send for Molly," she added; the last thing she needed was more aggravation and drama right now.
"But you must eat something!"
"No, really, I'm fine, Cosette. I should be well by tomorrow."
Not a chance, her mind snorted; not that she needed convincing.
Cosette nodded compliantly but didn't seem put at ease and only moved away once Éponine sat down on the edge of her bed and began to undo the back of her dress as though Cosette weren't there. She halted in the doorway and turned around.
"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Éponine weakly shook her head, which somewhat appeased Cosette, until she additionally said, "Only Enjolras was looking rather upset this afternoon, too, when I saw him..."
"Oh?"
Éponine prayed Cosette would simply leave and let her be for a while; she couldn't talk about Enjolras right now, and, frankly, she didn't give a damn if he was upset. He hadn't answered her question, and his silence spoke volumes in her opinion: he didn't fancy her one bit, and that was that. His kissing her had been a misjudgment on his part, and he was now having second thoughts about his actions.
"Yes," Cosette continued, unmindful of Éponine's ill feelings, "he wouldn't elaborate, but I could tell something was troubling him. Did something happen during your lesson?"
"No, nothing," Éponine insisted and shrugged it off, praying against hope that her vacant expression would put an end to the woman's unwanted inquiries.
"Oh, well," Cosette sighed at last. "Get some rest, and we'll check up on you later."
With that, Cosette gave her another soft smile and left the room, closing the door behind her. It took all of Éponine's depleted energy to slip out of her dress, and even more energy to rack herself free of her damn corset all by herself; but, at last, she was stripped bare of all her pretty things, which she didn't bother to hang up or drape over her chair. She left them all in a heap at her feet and climbed into bed in her nightgown, prepared to sleep off the rest of the day, which had started out with such promise but was ending in unwarranted misery and disappointment.
How could things drastically change so quickly? I thought... I thought there was something there...
"Strange that she hasn't come down, isn't it? First, dinner, and now breakfast. What could be wrong?"
"I think we should call Dr. Roux," Marius suggested to his grandfather, but Cosette patiently patted her husband's hand and addressed all three concerned men, which included Enjolras, sitting silently across the table from the others and not looking much better himself.
"She isn't sick, my love. She's tired. There's a difference. I think we should wait. She'll probably be fine in another day or two; more rest will put her body to right."
"If you insist," Monsieur Gillenormand consented, but with evident reluctance.
For a time, the only sounds were the clinking and clanking of utensils as everyone took time to savor their food silently. Enjolras had been the quietest of the group, however, both throughout dinner the night before and this morning. He had spent the past many hours cursing himself for not giving Éponine a direct answer to her question; and anyway, why was it so difficult to verbalize?
'Why did you kiss me?'
It was a legitimate question, after all, and one Enjolras had wrestled with since it crept up the previous day. It was only once he awoke with a fresh conscience and a clear head that morning that the answer finally hit him like a hard punch to the stomach. He sat up in bed and hitched a breath, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him.
Yes, you know the answer...
"Monsieur?"
Enjolras was jolted out of his contemplations by Molly, the maid, who had set a cup of hot coffee down before Marius but lingered at his side, fidgeting strangely with her hands. Enjolras watched her with curiosity; there was something puzzling in her shifty, dark eyes that had put Enjolras ill at ease ever since he arrived at Monsieur Gillenormand's estate. He certainly had no reason to dislike her—she had always been courteous enough to him—but there remained something lacking in her character, and in that seemingly forced smile of hers, that made Enjolras mistrustful of the old woman, whatever her intentions may be.
"What is it, Molly?" Marius asked, all but ignoring her as he took a sip of the coffee she had brought him.
"Might I have a word with you, Monsieur?" Her eyes darted about the room first before she added, "Alone?" with more emphasis.
Marius peered up at her, intrigued, as did the rest of the table occupants. "Is it something pressing, Molly?"
"I'm afraid so, Monsieur."
Marius shrugged and made a face. "Then certainly it's not something that the rest of the table can't hear, surely?"
"I really must insist, Monsieur."
Enjolras drew back a little when the woman's eyes locked on his for the briefest moment before looking away, her harsh mouth lined in a deep-seated frown. Marius consented and excused himself from the room, along with Molly, whom Enjolras watched go with uncertainty.
"What do you suppose that's about, my dear?"
Cosette glanced at Monsieur Gillenormand, perplexed. "I'm not sure, Monsieur." She casually turned her gaze to Enjolras. "Do you?"
"No," Enjolras confessed, his eyes fixated on the door that separated him from Marius and the sketchy-looking maid, "I haven't a clue..."
Enjolras, completely absorbed in his thoughts that had much to do with a certain attractive, dark-haired young woman, was interrupted during his carefree stroll of the house by Marius, who caught up with him halfway down the hall, heaving excitedly once he reached him. "I see you're hardly leaning on that anymore!" Marius chimed, pointing to the cane in his friend's hand.
"Yes, well, it's about time," Enjolras smirked, slowing his pace so that they could walk together.
Marius latched his hands behind his back and eyed Enjolras sidelong a few times before speaking up, after catching his breath, "Since Éponine's indisposed at the moment, and you're on your own for the day, I thought we might chat before I head off to university?"
"Of course."
"The library?"
Enjolras agreed with a quiet, "Lead the way."
Once safely tucked inside the elegant room that towered from floor to ceiling with book shelves, Marius motioned for Enjolras to sit in one of its many furnishings, propping himself down on the sofa. Enjolras took a seat nearby in a chair and leaned forward, finding his friend's sudden twitching and shifting about rather peculiar.
"Something on your mind?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is." Marius glanced over at Enjolras, skepticism or puzzlement marring his brow. "Can I be frank with you?"
"Of course you can, Marius."
"Because Molly, our maid, has informed me of something she saw yesterday that had her greatly alarmed..."
Enjolras gave him an unknowing look. "Oh?"
"Something about... Well, you."
"Me?" Enjolras arched an eyebrow in surprise but waited for Marius to explain further.
"Yes, you and Éponine."
Enjolras tried to act indifferent, but his stomach was suddenly doing somersaults at the mere mention of her name linked with his. "What about us?" he asked as casually as possible, though the grip on his cane had unconsciously tightened.
Marius took a moment to scratch his head first. "She told me she saw Éponine exiting your room at dawn in nothing but her nightgown, and that she retreated to her room thereafter." He paused, allowing his words to sink in, before chancing a glance at Enjolras, who was still as could be. "Is this true?"
That wasn't the real question Marius was asking, however, and Enjolras was no fool. Marius was indirectly asking if they had slept together, and Enjolras wanted to be infuriated by such an insinuation, both regarding his character but also Éponine's. That bothersome maid—sticking her nose into our business as if she had any rightful place to do so!—aggravated Enjolras to no end, but he knew that he couldn't deny what was partially true about the old woman's story, and one that could easily be misconstrued: Éponine had been in his room all night and left at dawn. Convincing Marius that their sleeping in the same room together was an innocent gesture of kindness, and that nothing happened, would take a bigger hurdle of convincing, however.
"She slept in my room, yes," he drawled quietly, keeping his voice controlled, "but we didn't sleep together, Marius, if that's what you're trying to get at."
Marius angled his eyebrows, unconvinced. "You didn't? I'm not sure I follow..."
"She slept in the sofa chair, and has done so on several occasions since—"
"Several occasions?"
"Yes, whilst I slept in my bed. We haven't done anything, Marius. I wouldn't ever take advantage of yours or your grandfather's hospitality like that—"
"But you—"
"Nor would I do Éponine such a dishonor to her person, as your maid has so grossly implied."
"Erm, I don't think she meant—"
"But you don't believe me, do you?"
"I'd like to, of course, but Molly—"
"Saw Éponine coming out of my room," Enjolras issued with more emotion than before. "As I've previously stated, Marius, she slept in my sofa chair all night and not in my bed."
Marius scooted to the edge of the sofa, looking suddenly shamefaced and embarrassed that he and his good friend were even entertaining this discussion. He clamped his jaw, unsure of how to continue, when the questions eventually made their way out.
"How long has this been going on?"
Enjolras truly didn't know the answer to that question, and it showed in his marred, facial expression. "A month or two, perhaps?"
"Really?"
"Don't look at me like that, Marius," Enjolras chided through a snarl.
"But... Why? Why is she spending so much time in your room?"
"If you must know," Enjolras managed through clenched teeth, "I'm prone to nightmares."
"Oh... Well, yes, I'm well aware of those. I've woken you from them several times myself, remember?" He scratched his head again, still not making heads or tails of their encounters. "As a matter of fact, I thought those had stopped?"
"They have, mostly..." Enjolras took a deep breath to will the words out, no matter how weak they chanced making him sound. "With Éponine's help, they've lessened considerably. She's just down the hall and hears them every other night or so, Marius. Sometimes I hear hers as well. She started coming to my room to calm me down."
Marius raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And stayed in your room?"
"It's not that indecent, Marius. We don't sleep together, I don't bed with her, we only..."
Enjolras cut himself off, realizing he was chancing saying too much, but it was for naught. Marius inched forward on the sofa, hanging onto every word, wishing to know what Enjolras wasn't sharing with him.
"Only what?"
With difficultly, Enjolras blurted out, "We hold hands." He awaited Marius's reaction, but when his freckle-faced friend simply shot him a blank stare, Enjolras explained, "It calms us and helps us to sleep. Don't ask me why. I haven't figured it out myself, but I'd be a hypocrite if I were to sit here and tell you that it hasn't helped me immensely—"
"Do you fancy her?"
The question was so unexpected that Enjolras fumbled not to lose possession of his cane, which nearly toppled to the ground before he managed to catch it. His cheeks flushed a deeper red, the sentiments beneath the surface emerging on his face despite his efforts, conveying to Marius their meaning without Enjolras having to utter a word.
After a stifling pause, Enjolras issued a calculated breath and raised his head. "It's isn't like that, Marius..."
"What on earth do you mean?" Marius's serious face transformed into a surprisingly pleased grin, lifting the atmosphere around them in its wake. "There's nothing wrong with it, Enjolras. If you fancy her, you should tell her!"
"You're putting words in my mouth—"
"How long are you going to deny yourself?"
"Deny myself what exactly?"
"You know of what I speak..."
Enjolras grunted and turned away, unable to look Marius in the face any longer. He could feel his cheeks burning, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation here and now. The silence between them stretched out for too long, but Enjolras wasn't willing to press onward. Marius was cutting too close to the heart of the matter, and Enjolras didn't appreciate it one bit.
"Enjolras, please," Marius pleaded after a time; Enjolras slowly met the man's imploring gaze. "If you fancy Éponine, you should tell her. Don't confuse the poor girl, I beg you. You've both been through enough turmoil."
"Marius—"
"I'd like to see you happy. Don't you want the same for yourself?"
To this, Enjolras frowned, the deep lines around his mouth echoing the burdensome weight of the situation. "I couldn't make her happy," he whispered back, the words pain-sounding and difficult.
"How can you say that? Does she return your affections?"
For a moment, Enjolras couldn't answer. Perhaps he didn't want to believe it; or maybe he wanted to believe it so desperately that he couldn't think of anything else for the past several days.
You know which one it is, Enjolras...
"I believe she does," he finally replied, to which Marius's grin spread wide across his handsome face.
"Well, well, well. This is quite a surprise! You, my friend, are in love."
"Who's to say I'm in love?" Enjolras retorted in haste, which only made Marius burst into robust laughter.
"Enjolras, don't deny it to yourself, or to her!" He cocked his head to one side, staring at his curly-haired guest with a newfound curiosity. "Was it your tutoring sessions that brought about this interest; or something else?"
Choosing to ignore Marius's earlier remark about being in love, Enjolras muttered, "I'm not sure," and absentmindedly twirled his cane on the floor.
"Well, in any case, I still say you must tell her—"
Enjolras cut him off, however. "Marius, I haven't been entirely forthright with you..."
Marius's smile flipped upside down. "Oh?"
"Yes..." Enjolras inhaled through his nostrils before continuing, "This morning, before your maid caught Éponine leaving my room, I..." Enjolras swallowed; had the room grown stifling all of a sudden, despite the winter gust that blew outside, or was that his imagination? "I kissed her."
Marius's eyebrows rose high on his head. "You did?"
Enjolras narrowed his eyes, warning Marius not to make a joke of the matter. For a second or two, Marius gaped at him, stunned into silence. Then, that amused glimmer resurfaced and danced across his eyes.
"My, my... Enjolras!"
"Ne fais pas le con!" *
"And?" Marius ignored Enjolras's remark with a snicker, far too eager for more details.
Enjolras's jaw tightened. "And when she asked me later that morning why I kissed her, I couldn't provide her with an answer."
Marius's smile lessened, though it didn't vanish entirely. "Oh... Well, I think that's because you're only now coming to understand the 'why,' Enjolras." Seeing Enjolras's furrowed brow, he humorously shook his head and chuckled. "You're in love, my friend, and you're going to need to reconcile with that fact, whether you like it or not, first, by telling Éponine."
"I can't," Enjolras grumbled, internally struggling against his feelings. "She's angry with me for not giving her an answer, and rightly so!"
"So, put things to right."
"You're not at all put off by this?"
"Why should I be?" Marius returned simply, not looking at all disturbed as Enjolras anticipated. "I have nothing against Éponine, nor you, so wherein lies the problem?"
"I... I don't know."
Marius regarded his troubled friend more thoughtfully, his eyes scanning Enjolras with a mixture of admiration and continued amusement. "There's nothing wrong with caring for another, Enjolras. You have so much to give, my friend. Don't do yourself a disservice by pushing her away."
Marius quietly rose from the sofa and walked to the door, leaving Enjolras where he sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room, Marius's insightful words still ringing in his ears. To Marius, the man looked truly lost amongst the elegant furnishings, worn books, and massive painting hanging on the wall behind him. The lonely, sad sight it projected gave Marius pause.
"Thank you for telling me what happened," he offered, filling the silence for his friend. "I confess, I'm glad it was me whom Molly came to instead of Grandfather."
"I'm admittedly grateful for that, too. He probably wouldn't believe the truth."
"I wouldn't go that far, but he would certainly be upset." Marius turned the door handle when a thought struck him. "I suggest we keep this between us. I'm not sure Cosette would take too kindly to it either. She's understanding but the two of you sharing a room together and not being intimate...well..."
"She wouldn't believe it either," Enjolras finished grimly.
"I'm not quite sure."
Wishing to reassure his friend, Marius shot Enjolras a devilish smirk before quietly leaving the wrestling revolutionist to his private musings. He mulled things over in silence in the library for quite some time, never moving from his chair, though his mind kept drawing the same conclusion. Was he in love?
How can you deny it? That kiss... Those lips... Her face... That wonderfully open face...
Deep down, Enjolras already knew. He did fancy Éponine and she openly returned his sentiments, even if he hadn't figured out why she had come to think twice about him. Not that he was an unsightly fellow...
But I'm stubborn and broken and troubled! he cursed his rotten luck. What the hell could she be thinking?
Acknowledging his heart's desire, as well as those faults with which he detested, Enjolras could sense himself beginning to feel again—for a living, breathing thing rather than a faceless ideal—and confronting those sentiments, he knew, were going to be his greatest testament yet.
He snorted aloud. Taking on the French army was a walk in the park compared to dealing with this—with such messy troubles that were of sentimental concern. Dealing with matters of the heart was not Enjolras's forte.
'Put things to right,' Marius had told him, and quite adamantly.
Yes, Enjolras resolved, the conclusion forming on his stern, marble face, that's exactly what you must do...
* Translation: "Don't be an ass!"
A/N #2: What's life without a little angst?
Shameless plug - If you're enjoying Beyond the Barricade, why not consider reading one of my other stories, which involve a different pairing set in the Harry Potter world, but...still? The ship may seem odd or even off-putting to some of you unfamiliar with it, but I advise you to at least give them a chance before writing them (and me!) off. Just a friendly suggestion, that's all. :)