There was barely anything in his room. Why would there be anything, really? He was blind.
He had no photos or posters decorating the cream wall of his studio apartment. There was no plant sitting by the window, no books or newspaper littering about the living room. He only had the essentials: a bed, a couch with some pillows, a coffee table, and a desk. It made sense. At least he had a turntable with a small collection of vinyls.
His grip on her waist was tight, but not tight enough to prevent her from escaping. Not that she wanted to leave. She would love to stay with him on his bed, curled up next to his warm body, with his strong arms wrapped around her. The heat of his skin contrasted with her cold limbs, and it was nice to feel a bit warm when ever day she spends her time out in the cold night air. But she's a cold blooded killer, he can't change that by just engulfing her in his warmth, in his light. She belongs in the cold, and in the shadows.
Come dawn, she would leave him. She had to.
But at the moment, with their limbs tangled together, she just wanted to pretend that she wasn't Javert's assassin and he the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. In that moment, they were just Enjolras and Eponine.
She was the girl who had a serious crush on the weird blind kid during their second year of college. Sure, she may have thought Marius was cute at some point during their first year, but he was dating Cosette and she liked Cosette.
Well, she didn't immediately develop a crush on Enjolras at first sight. She was annoyed by him when they first came into contact with each other. They way he spoke about justice and preached equality every moment of every day just made her want to punch his face.
"What the hell do you know about equality?" Eponine spat at him once during a dinner party. "And justice! What the hell do you know about people receiving the justice that they deserve?"
"And what do you know? You're just a rich girl with everything available to her."
She raised her hand to slap him, and was surprised when he caught her wrists seconds before her hand met his cheek.
"You don't know anything about me."
"And you don't know anything about me."
She ripped her arm from out of his grip and turned to the bar. The bartender kept to himself, though she could see the way he would lean in every time they uttered a word. She ordered a tequila, and stood there waiting, waiting for the drink and for Enjolras to leave.
But he was still there, right next to her.
He placed a hand on the bar and smiled at her. It wasn't a friendly one. She wasn't sure what kind of smile it was. "You know, I probably know more that you think."
Eponine tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "And what could you possibly know?"
"I know you like to play indifferent, as if nothing could phase you. As if you have no emotions at all." The bartender places a shot of tequila in front of Eponine. He waits for the bartender to leave before he continued. "With all your expensive things and all your high society friends like Pontmercy and the Fauchelevent, you try to act as if you're above everyone, which could be true. You've probably seen more than what everyone could ever possibly imagine."
He leaned in a bit closer, his breath right on her ear. In any other situation, she would have pushed the poor chap away. But for some reason, she gravitated toward him. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to stare at his blue eye, hidden behind his sunglasses, which were not staring back at her.
"Deep inside, really deep inside, you feel. A lot."
She didn't say anything, but smiled.
She didn't develop a crush at the start. But somehow, he crept up on her. In the brief moments that they interacted-where she would throw harsh words at him, and he would simply smirk and make a remark on her privileged lifestyle-they came to an understanding.
They understood each other in ways that nobody else could.
She was gone before he even woke up, though he did hear her leave while he slept. His ears were attuned to her heartbeat, always listening to its steady rhythm even in slumber. He imagined that it started back in college, when he held her every night and listened to the sound of her heart beating against her chest, like a lullaby. It even had its own tune, distinguishing it from everyone else's.
Or maybe that was all in Enjolras' head. But he was always able to tell which heartbeat, which sigh, which footsteps were hers.
Pushing thoughts of her aside, Enjolras forced himself out of bed and go through daily, early morning routines. If it weren't for scratches that stung on his back, he would have thought that last night was nothing but a dream. It was hard for him to remember a time when Eponine was a part of that routine. It was a lifetime ago. But he did remember hearing laughter. Happy, untainted laughter.
He was brushing his teeth when his phone rang suddenly, with the robotic female voice that kept repeating Combeferre.
Without a glance, he grabbed his cellphone and held it to his ear. "What is it, Combeferre?"
"You sound tired out. Don't tell you me you overworked last night?"
"Something like that."
"Are you on your way to the office?"
"No, I overslept."
"You better get your ass here fast, then. We have a meeting with a client, remember?"
Enjolras sighed. "Yeah, I remember."
"Have you ever thought about killing him?" Eponine asked one night. They sat on the rooftop of their dorm room. The night air was icy and it made her shiver. At that point in her life, she was not yet accustomed to the cold. She still had a bit of warmth.
"Kill who?" He kept his head up, as if he was staring at the few stars above them. She knew better though. He was staring at nothing, but listening to everything.
"The man who murdered your father."
"Have you ever thought about killing your father?"
After two heartbeats, she responded with, "I used to. Now I just don't care. I just want him away from me and my siblings."
Enjolras leaned his head toward the direction of her voice, right beside him. "You're strong, Eponine. Much stronger than you think."
Eponine allowed herself myself, comforting herself with the fact that he couldn't see it. "I have Cosette and her father to thank. If it weren't for them, I don't know what would have become of me."
And that was true. And if everything had remained untainted, if violence and blood didn't get into the mix, they could have been happy.
She was there strictly for business. She won't admit that she missed him. But Javert indeed ordered her to keep an eye on the crazy man with the mask, the one they called Daredevil. He still did not know about the vigilante's true identity, which she kept to herself for the sake of keeping Enjolras safe.
Sure, they were fighting on opposing sides. But everything was always complicated with them.
Eponine did have the habit of crossing lines and doing the opposite of what she should do. Like last night, for example. That should not have happened. But she sometimes slips into old habits, even when they bring back painful memories. Like humming Azelma's favorite lullaby, eating pizza that was half cheese and half pepperoni on a Friday night, and watching The Twilight Zone during Thanksgiving. Getting into bed with Enjolras was a very bad habit to fall back on.
Standing on the rooftop just across from his apartment building, she was even tempted to just go to him.
She forced to keep her feet still. Tonight she was not a lover.
She was a mercenary, a bounty hunter.
An assassin.
Song: Moondust (stripped) by Jaymes Young