So... Um... This chapter is very... physical, and since I am a human potato and repel boys (i made milkshakes and all i got in my yard was ants), I have never really experienced this, so... Yah... this probably sucks.

"Enjolras…" She said, hesitantly. He looked up at her, attempting to hide his slight flush of embarrassment by glaring at her with his cold eyes.

"Jondrette." He responded. She came into the room and carefully set her backpack down on one of the chairs. Enjolras was pouring over notes for his newest protest against cameras in the classrooms, and he didn't appear to be ready to pack up anytime soon.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Her voice was slow, labored almost, because he was surprisingly in-shape and God damn…

"Why am I shirtless?" He asked, a sigh on his lips. She nodded, biting the inside of her mouth to keep a sweat from forming on her brow. She'd never even felt like this around Marius… What was this intense burning in her chest, and why did she feel feverish? She'd never been like this around Enjolras before…

"Yeah. It's just a little… Surprising." She realized how her tone may have been taken for flirtation so she quickly attached a joke to the end of it. "The king of celibacy usually goes fully clothed."

Just as she expected him to, his jaw tightened and he rolled his eyes. He chose wisely to not answer, plunging the two of them into awkward silence. The only sound in the classroom was the soft scratching of pen on paper and the occasional click as Enjolras googled something on his phone (regarding the 9th amendment about privacy).

Éponine finally couldn't take sitting there so still. She stood and drifted over to where the drama teacher kept a random piano in her classroom. It was an old thing, quite poorly made. It was a yellow color, the way unpolished wood is, and the keys were made of cheap ivory. The sound was always the smallest bit out of tune, and there was a certain key towards the higher end of the scale that one had to slam to get to make the tiniest noise.

The silence in the room was broken by the single, lilting sound of a note played. It washed through Enjolras' aching head, soothing him quite quickly. Éponine saw this from her stance over the keys, and so she played another note, watching in amusement as his shoulders gradually released tension. For just a moment, staring at his back, she wished that her hands were running over the pale muscles that spanned across his shoulders instead of piano keys.

It was in this train of thought that Éponine's hand slipped, playing a sour note. Both she and Enjolras winced. Now successfully distracted from his work, he carefully shuffled the papers into a folder. Éponine continued carefully pressing random keys in no particular pattern. Maybe it was the lull of such innocent music, or maybe it was the rose playing it, but Enjolras felt confident enough to step up behind her.

When Éponine felt his hot breath on her neck, she withheld her squeak of surprise. She was quite nearly trembling with this new feeling when Enjolras slid his arms on either side of her and slipped his hands beneath hers. With her considerably smaller fingers guided by his, he began to play 'Ode to Joy'. It was sloppy, given not only the years since Enjolras had last played but also the current position he was in.

He smelt his own conditioner on her hair, and his chin came to rest on her head when he leaned forwards. She felt right in his arms, and her back fit into his chest as nothing else ever had. Indeed, she was leaning into his warmth without realizing it, and when he finished the song she was fully depending on him to stand, her knees too weak to support her.

She leaned towards the piano in a moment of clarity, and as she did so her ponytail shifted, revealing the purple monstrosity that colored the skin on the back of her neck. She heard him inhale, but he said nothing at first. A sudden, strange feeling tickled her nerves, and a familiar medium carefully brushed her bruise, and Enjolras pulled his lips away from her neck and rested his forehead against the back of her head.

"Montparnasse?" He asked, an angry undertone in his gruff voice. She sighed and didn't answer, instead gently tapping her fingers against his. Finally, she spoke in a lighter tone, changing the subject quickly.

"I thought you said you didn't play." She accused, her voice sounding breathy and unfamiliar. He smirked against her hair. She felt it and an unfamiliar shock ran down from her scalp.

"I don't." He said, reluctantly pulling his face away from her hair. "Not really. That's the only song I've ever been able to play."

"Oh." She said, the single syllable all she could manage. It was wrong, she knew it was. He was basically her guardian, and it was with this thought on her mind that she peeled herself from her spot in his arms. Éponine had to ignore the hurt that flashed across the marble features. "So… Where's your shirt again?"

Enjolras obviously respected her attempt to restore the comfortable acquaintance-ship, for he gestured towards an empty bucket and the trashcan, full of wadded-up, sopping-wet paper towels. Then he nodded towards an empty desk nearby, over which his wet, red polo shirt was spread.

"What?" She was confused, so he reluctantly explained it as the two of them stepped back to where their stuff was.

"Courfeyrac and Bossuet planned to play a prank on Joly by performing the classic bucket-over-a-closed-door gag, but I came to the meeting right before Joly, thus resulting in…" He spread his bare arms around the classroom in a grand movement.

She threw back her head and laughed. It wasn't a pretty laugh like that of Cosette or a proper lady. Nor was it the raspy, sarcastic chuckles of the druggies. It was a throaty, hearty sound that was one hundred percent Éponine. Her eyes were bright with laughter and her cheeks were dimpled with her wide grin.

And in that moment, Enjolras couldn't help himself. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them and smashed their lips together, her mouth still open from laughing. He shocked himself, and he froze as he felt the rough texture of her lips against his. Why did he do this? Why did he ruin everything?

She shocked herself when she shyly responded, standing on her very tip-toes so that Enjolras didn't have to lean down so far. They enjoyed their chaste kiss for only a moment, her hands ever so lightly resting on his bare chest and his gently cupping her face. But the sexual tension that had been lingering between them finally broke, and suddenly they were a flash of tongues and teeth as Enjolras deepened the kiss and Éponine responded with a sudden gusto.

His hands roughly (albeit clumsily) made their way from her jaw to her waist, his hands nearly encircling her. Her hands kept running over his bare chest, leaving trails of electricity. Going on what he'd seen in movies, he reluctantly kissed his way away from her mouth, starting first at the corner of her chapped lips and proceeding to suck on her jaw and then her pulse point in her neck, biting slightly there. From the way her breath hitched, he was doing something right.

Her thin fingers carefully wound themselves in his corkscrew curls and she yanked ever so slightly, causing their hips to roll together. His lips teasingly joined her mouth again and he picked her up to get at a better angle. Éponine kept her hands firmly on the back of his head, keeping their faces together lest he decide to leave her panting again.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, his rolling again to meet hers and heat exploded below their belts. His hands ran up her back, feeling the smooth fabric of her old t-shirt against his pen-calloused hands. He stumbled with their combined weight, terrified of dropping this broken girl in case she shattered again. With some senses numbed (and others terrifyingly increased), Enjolras couldn't sense the piano.

He ran her into the piano, and the loud clang of the keys broke the steamy air, tearing the two of them back to reality. They jumped apart, Enjolras leaping away from the piano and Éponine as if they were both on fire. Éponine fell to the ground, crawling away from Enjolras, looking at him with wide eyes.

He did his best to ignore the way her lips were flushed and moistened, and the way her chest heaved as she caught her breath. She tried to ignore the thin sheen of sweat that coated his bare chest and the way his hair caught the fluorescent lighting, setting him on fire as he stood above her.

"Fuck." He cursed. She stood with some difficulty, for her legs seemed to remember his body as the two of them were entwined. He reached out to help her, but she shrugged away his hand and leaned casually against the piano, ignoring the sour sound that ripped through the stifling air.

"Fuck." She agreed. Éponine took a shaky breath as she tried to reconcile what happened. "It was nothing…. It was just…" Unable to continue, she went to get her backpack but was stopped by Enjolras' hand on her elbow.

"Whatever… that… was," Enjolras looked scarily serious, almost to the point that Éponine would laugh if she wasn't so shaken by what had just occurred. "It sure as hell wasn't 'nothing'."

"It could be," Éponine said with an uncertain finality. "We could make it that way. Friends hook up all the time…"

"How would you know?" Enjolras snapped, and, realizing the way that could have sounded, retaliated. "How would I know?"

"I hook up with my friends." Éponine, always stubborn, insisted.

"Me, obviously, and…?" He said, and when she averted her eyes, he remembered the bruise and anger filled him again. "Montparnasse." When she didn't answer, he knew he was right. "Look, Éponine," He didn't see the way her head shot up with the casual use of her first name. "I don't care if Montparnasse is your 'boyfriend', he sure as hell isn't your friend."

"How would you know?"

"I would never hit my friends."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, choosing to keep to herself that Montparnasse usually didn't directly harm her. It was her father or someone else. Never Montparnasse.

"Enjolras, can we please forget about this? Please?" She begged, and he almost considered. However, his eyes caught the hickey forming on her neck and he was all too reminded of the taste of her skin.

"Why are you with him?" He asked, suddenly, and Éponine shook her head in response.

"I'm scared." She whispered, but he caught it. He stepped forwards and carefully took her lowered face into his hands.

"We would protect you, Jondrette, you know we would." He insisted, and she felt her heart sink the slightest bit when he returned to her (false) last name.

"Maybe I don't want protecting." She hissed, pulling away from him.

"Just let someone in, damn it!" Enjolras cracked, slamming his fist on the piano, the sound loud. Éponine jumped. She began trembling again, but not from lust. This time from fear. There was a dangerous gleam in Enjolras' cold, blue eyes, and it chilled her to the bone. "We're your friends. We wouldn't let him touch you or Gavroche. Maybe you need protecting, did you ever consider that?"

Enjolras got close and her shaking became obvious to him. His glare softened, and his frown deepened with worry instead of anger. He took in her wide eyes and the way her mouth quivered. Her knuckles were white as she balled her hands into fists.

"I don't need protection." She squeaked, her husky voice rising several octaves. He stepped closer to her and she reacted negatively. She very nearly stumbled over her chair in her haste to get away, and his frown melted off his face. His expression resembled that of a kicked puppy.

"God, I wouldn't- I would never- I'm not like that-" Enjolras stuttered, and she grabbed her backpack in her shaking hands. She quickly crossed the room to the door. As Éponine placed her hand on the knob, she spared a glance back in his direction. He was standing with his hands dangling at his sides, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. Paired with his hurt face, he was a strange and yet extremely endearing sight.

"You know," He spoke, his voice tired. "If you leave, I'll just follow you."

"Don't bother." She snarled, throwing the door open and running down the hallway. Ducking into a doorway, she sank against the doorframe, her shaking overtaking her entire body. It was only a few minutes later that she began sobbing upon the heat-breaking realization that Enjolras listened to her; she was alone again.

DON'T HATE ME. Next chapter will be worse, I promise you that much.