Hello again, dear lovelies! I was full of inspiration last night and cranked out this chapter in an hour and a half. I'm sorry, in advance, for the sadness. But, that is Les Miz for you. I promise, once we get to Chapter 20, it will be better.

In apology for the sadness, I have added an E/R moment in the end. After all, who doesn't like bromance? Anyway, enjoy!

Oh, and also, the results for the poll were as follows:

Barricade Boys We Would Date

Grantaire

Courfeyrac

Enjolras/Joly (Tie)

January 10

Dear Diary,

Today, the school announced tryouts for the spring show, Broken Like Glass. Musichetta told me that I should try out, because apparently the main character is just like me. Well, I am a big theatre lover, so I guess it wouldn't hurt…

Tryouts are on January 20th. We have to sign up by the 13th, so I guess I'll go do that tomorrow.

The strangest things keep happening to me! I keep thinking that I see Enjolras in the hallway! Or one of the others. Sometimes it's Courfeyrac. Sometimes R. Sometimes Joly. I even thought I saw Marius once, but mostly it's Enjolras. I keep thinking that I see a blond, curly haired guy in a red jacket, but when I look again, he's gone! Oddly enough, it's always when I'm walking to lunch…

'Chetta told me that I should go and see if it was really him, but I don't have the heart to. I don't have any heart anymore. He stole it, fixed it, and then broke it again. I don't even know where all the pieces are anymore… I just don't trust him! I thought he liked me! He let me in! Then, he shut me out again…

Well, there's not much more to say, so I'll stop writing now, I guess.

Eponine put down her pen and closed her diary, setting it down on her nightstand. She sighed and stared out the window. The stars shone brightly in the sky, and she could see the faint silhouette of the Eiffel Tower in the background. I need a breeze on my face, I need vertigo, I need a respite from these overwhelming thoughts.

Her mind made up, Eponine rushed out of her large room, grabbing Azelma. "Where are we going, 'Ponine?" asked her sister, confused. "Eiffel Tower. I need to clear my head."

Eponine shouted that they were going out for a while and shut the door behind them. She started at a brisk walk down the street, not waiting for her younger sister. Azelma had to run to keep up, and soon they were walking down the street, side by side, hoods up.

Eponine was about to turn onto the Rue Montemarte, it being the more direct route to the Tower, but Azelma grabbed her arm and turned her onto another street. "This is a shortcut." Eponine nodded, her mind lost in thought. They continued down the quiet side street. The only sound was that of a loud voice coming from in front of them. Eponine strained her ears and discerned a few snippets: "We need to find her!" and "R, it's your turn to go to Corinth next," and "Put the bottle down!" Eponine was confused for a spilt second. The voice sounded familiar, yet more commanding and full of life. But she couldn't place it.

It wasn't until she rounded the next corner and saw the lights of the Café Musain, and, clearly visible in the upper window, was Enjolras. She stopped in shock. Azelma didn't notice for a second, so she continued walking. But when she noticed that her older sister had stopped walking, she stopped also. "Eponine?" she asked, voice full of concern.

"Zelma, it's… it's…" Eponine couldn't speak, she was stumbling over her words. "Eponine?" asked Azelma again. Suddenly, she heard a voice from the window, Marius's: "Hey, Enj! I found her! She's down there!" All color drained from Eponine's face, and she tried to run, but found that she was so terrified that she couldn't move.

She heard a loud crashing noise and suddenly, all the Amis were at the window, staring straight at her. Then, she heard the sound of running feet and they all vanished from the window. That was when Eponine found her feet. She ran, as terrified as a rabbit in the face of a lion. She heard their voices, heard criesd of: "Ponine! Don't go!" But she didn't listen. She sprinted up and down side streets, not knowing or caring where she was going.

To her surprise, she found herself again in the park where she had fled to after Marius had broken her heart, the park where Enjolras had found her. And only one thought was in her mind.

Dear God, I'm afraid of him.

She sank, dejected and broken, onto the grass below an oak tree. Tears began to crowd her eyes, blurring her vision, and then flooding her cheeks. And the fact that she couldn't stop them made her cry even harder.

With shaking fingers, she drew Enjolras's The Republic out of her jacket pocket and turned to a random page.

"You know that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken... Shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up?"

"We cannot..."

"Anything received into the mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts..."

And so she sat, tears running down her face, sitting under an oak tree, reading The Republic until the rosy light of dawn touched her.

….

Enjolras ran through the street, after the fleeing dark haired girl. One glance and she had run. God, I really hurt her, didn't I? He tried to pursue her, but she vanished a few streets in, leaving him standing alone and empty on a Parisian street.

He trudged back to the Musain, ignoring his friends' concerned glances. He grabbed his stuff from the café, and without a word, walked away from his friends and toward his flat.

Enjolras was sitting at the kitchen table, with his hands buried in his hair, when the knock came. His heart leapt, but fell again just as fast when he heard the voice of Grantaire.

"Go away, R." he muttered. He heard Grantaire's laughter, only slightly muffled by the door. "You forgot, Enj, you gave me a key. I'm just knocking out of politeness." Enjolras sighed and ran his hands through his hair. I do hate Grantaire sometimes…

"What do you want, R?" asked Enjolras impatiently, turning around in his seat to face the drunkard. "You screwed up bad, Enjolras." said R. "But," he continued. "That doesn't mean that I won't help you fix it." The wine cask sat down on Enjolras's damask couch, patting the seat next to him. Enjolras sighed, and got up from the table to sit down next to his friend.

Grantaire affectionately threw an arm around Enjy and drew his friend close in a tight embrace. They stayed like that for a moment, and Enjolras closed his eyes, in an effort to fight tears. But it didn't work.

And so there they stayed, late in the night, the drunkard holding the marble man as tears ran down his cheeks, tears of sorrow, of anger, of apology, of mistakes. That night, Enjolras's cracked, marble heart did something no one expected it to do.

It shattered.

Question of the chapter:

If you could go back in time to the time of the Les Amis (1830s,) what would you do there and why? (I will post my favorite answers at the A/N for next chapter.)