Éponine fought with her conscience for hours, deciding whether or not she should go to the café today. Did a day bring enough time for both of them to cool off? She could still feel his lips against hers, the pleasant humming beneath her skin at his touch.
She had never felt so foolish about any man before.
And she was almost certain that Enjolras had never felt the same way about any woman.
As long as she faked ill and incapable of working for her parents today she would avoid any humiliation with Grantaire that she knew was coming. Perhaps he would harass Enjolras and be told well off. She knew it was his plan, but she wish that he would just let her work her magic. Her heartbreaking magic. Her "magic" that could easily destroy a pure hearted man.
He only wanted to show her true caring.
And she only wanted to be paid.
She couldn't bear to tell Grantaire that she did not want the handsome payoff any longer, it would be too humiliating. Too disastrous. She needed the money worse than she needed to finally be with someone without money looming above the bed.
She wasn't faking ill anymore, that very thought made her sick to her stomach. She ached to be with Enjolras, but at the same time she ached to let him go. She wanted the money and she wanted him, but not for the same reasons. She wanted the money to make it better for them to be together, free of her parents. But to get the money she would have to betray his trust. Even if he never knew.
As long as Grantaire kept his mouth shut she could have her cake and eat it too.
To be with Enjolras was to have the money and to have the money was to be with Enjolras. It was simple enough. Muster the courage and delve into the overwhelming desires that coursed through her body. The very thought of being desired for who she was, was enough to set her body afire with happiness. Happiness.
Oh she had never known happiness! Life had been so run-of-the-mill. Ever since she had turned fourteen; life had truly been about one thing. Making money for her greedy parents.
A trait she found she now had inherited.
She prayed that Enjolras would not be unsure of himself. She had only once been with an unskilled man and it had been her own first experience. Her own forced experience. She hated the very thought of that night. Her birthday evening. It had been nothing like she had expected. Nothing romantic, though she thought that she had loved Montparnasse. Nothing slow and gentle. Nothing enjoyable and pleasant.
Her first taste of another's pleasure for payment.
Lying back and pretending.
But with Enjolras she wouldn't imagine that it were anyone else. Because lately, he had been her image that she had clung to. A dream made real.
And a payment.
Everytime she convinced herself to rise from her bed, go to the café, and let what was going to happen happen she got cold feet. She couldn't hurt Enjolras like that. She had to tell him! At the risk of losing everything.
Everything.
He wouldn't want her knowing that it had been for money. Even if it was no longer about the money. Even if it were now about him and her. Not the money. Not so much, at least anymore.
But if she didn't tell him she could have it all. All.
~o~
He didn't drink, but at times like this he wished that he did. Perhaps, like Grantaire, he could drink himself into oblivion and be able to sleep at night. Because last night, there was no rest for him. Only many, agonizing hours, wishing that he were not alone. In twenty-seven years he had never once wished to go to bed with another living soul.
Perhaps a creation of fiction. But never a real woman. Never one so close and yet so distant.
For a woman such as Éponine, he could not fathom why being with him seemed like such a nuisance. She slept with men for a living and would have the audacity to turn him away! When he promised to be kind with her. He was well aware of what went on behind the closed doors of a bedroom. What would happen when two people were stripped to the primal level on man and woman.
He was not a skilled lover, but he was certain that he would be diligent.
His fitful night of sleep was followed by a day that saw his concentration obliterated with thoughts of Éponine.
"What seems to be the matter, Enjolras? Have you been wooed by fair maiden?" Grantaire mocked, sneaking up on his "studying" friend.
"Damn you." Enjolras gritted, smacking Grantaire's hands away. "Leave me be. You take on the image of a horsefly, irritating and bothersome."
"Ouch, I am wounded. What truly has gotten my dear rebel's pantaloons in a bunch?" Grantaire quipped, pulling up a chair beside Enjolras. "Does the images your books paint for you equal to that of a real life situation?"
"What do you mean?" Enjolras snarled, slamming his book shut forcefully, questioning whether or not he should use it to swat the horsefly.
"Do not pretend that you were not kissing Éponine when I happened to enter-"
"We were not." At that particular moment kissing as if our very lives depended on it.
"You both were all to focused on acting as though you were not, to have not been. And look at you, riled up as though your very own rebellion is going on in there." Grantaire tapped Enjolras' chest. "Or perhaps here." He tapped his head next.
"Dammit Grantaire, when will you learn to keep that waterfall of a mouth shut?"
"When a heat wave dries up every last drop of water and forces the fall to cease its flow."
Enjolras pushed himself up from the chair, marching across the room. "Perhaps I do care for her, but do not get such fanciful thoughts of romance into your mind. She does not have interest in me."
"You are mistaken." Grantaire snapped.
"Am I?"
"You must be." His eyes narrowed, "Perhaps you should pursue her. She may not know how to go about it. She does after all-"
"I am well aware of this. Am I a fool to have feelings for a woman who sells herself to whoever passes by that night? Am I a fool, Grantaire?"
"Not bad for a school boy's first infatuation." Grantaire snorted, "If you hadn't been so pious for the last, what? ten years you might be up with the game of crinoline chasing. Maybe moving on to more prestigious women of elegance. Women of the night are rather decent starters."
"Éponine's not like that."
"Oh?"
"I'm not just going to be with her for my own satisfaction. If she had been raised right, she could have been the most beautiful girl in Paris."
"Sweet." Grantaire spat.
"She's a little rough around the edges. Perhaps, if she were able to pry herself from the jaws of her family I could help her become the girl that I see inside of her."
Grantaire rolled his eyes. Enjolras was far too soft. "Suit yourself."
A/N: Eeekers, what is to befall our barricade babes? Don't be so quick to assume you know what's to happen. I'm one of those, sneaky authors. ;)