Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, I am playing with other people's toys.
Author's note: Okay I'm back and I am so sorry it took me this long school has been driving me crazy but I finally earned a reprieve to finish this chapter before finals. Yay! And I have to go ahead and say that this chapter will not be a two shot as originally intended but a multi-chapter so hopefully I can work more on this story soon.
Also I have to say that this chapter took a different turn in the middle than originally intend but I hope that you guys are all okay with what happens so um yeah.
Anyway I should mention that the third person portions can switch between Enjolras, Combeferre and eventually Grantaire based on the section but anytime its first person it will always be Eponine. Okay that's it! Enjoy!
...
When the group got back to the car, Enjolras surprised Combeferre by asking for his keys. Their leader was a man of the people and, as such a strong advocate of the public transportation system, didn't even own a car. Combeferre thought to deny him, as he wasn't exactly level headed at the moment, but after taking one look at the set of Enjolras' jaw, Combeferre surrendered command of the vehicle over without a word. He then proceeded to ease Eponine into the backseat with the help of the unusually silent Grantaire.
The whole drive back, Enjolras was quiet, though his eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror to check on Eponine. Though Grantaire also mute, Combeferre could see him splitting the entire ten minute journey staring out the window in a disconsolate fashion and flicking his gaze nervously to the now dozing girl beside him as though he were checking that she was still breathing.
When they arrived, since both of his companions seemed so altered from their normal behaviors, Combeferre took it upon himself to carry the now unconscious Eponine up to their apartment and into the room Courfeyrac used to occupy before getting a place with Marius. Enjolras and Grantaire followed behind him the whole way like somber shadows.
His medical training kicking in, Combeferre focused all of his attention on his patient as he retrieved his first aid kit from the bathroom across the hall. It was nowhere near as extensive as Joly's own kit but it would get the job done.
Grantaire and Enjolras, by unspoken agreement, decided to hang back in the living room so Combeferre could do his job without their radiating concern distracting him from the task at hand, which he appreciated. After bandaging the head wound the best he could with all of her hair in the way, he checked her arm and other vitals. Then, feeling awkward about leaving her just on the bed he proceeded to tuck her in before leaving her to her rest and deliver his prognosis to his waiting roommates.
"She'll be fine," he assured them immediately, being mindful of his volume so as not to wake her up. "The gash was superficial and her responses are normal. Her arm is bruised but they didn't pull anything, so that's a plus. She's a little out of it, but that's more to do with the alcohol than the assault itself."
At this, Grantaire ducked his head as another load of guilt added to his growing pile of shame.
Combeferre noted this and tried to be kinder about it, but he had to tell the truth. "All she really needs right now is rest and, when the morning comes, some Asprin. But she shouldn't need a hospital, and that's good. I'll try to keep an eye on her for a while but I don't want to leave her alone. I know we all have class tomorrow, and normally I'd stay here anyway, but I have to give a presentation that's worth half my grade. I guess I'll call around and see who is free to come sit with her."
"I'll stay home tomorrow." Grantaire spoke up almost immediately causing both of his flatmates to look over at him- Combeferre with understanding and Enjolras with a mixture of surprise and grim approval. Neither said anything though, they could sense his feeling of responsibility for the troubled girl.
There really wasn't much left to say. Enjolras shot Grantaire a slight glare that really said everything he felt about R's part in the situation but he was trying to hold back until he was in a better frame of mind. Grantaire, meanwhile, bore the angry look without even so much as a hurt expression as he might have done in days past. The slump of his shoulders spoke of a man defeated that Enjolras might not have noticed in his present state of mind but Combeferre certainly picked up on.
As for Combeferre- a man who appreciated philosophy- he could see both points of view. On one hand, Grantaire could be a frustrating person to share an apartment with. He left dishes everywhere, he smoked in the living room when the others weren't there, his art projects were messy and took up a lot of space, and then there was his excessive drinking and constant cynicism. He could be a pain, there was no denying that; but he was also human and clearly had a lot of shit he was trying to bury beneath the alcohol and cigarette smoke. Combeferre could tell from Grantaire's current expression, however, that there was nothing he could say that would help and it was best to let him be.
So the three men went their separate ways: Enjolras and Combeferre to their own bedrooms while Grantaire, however, could barely bring himself to move and simply shuffled to the couch on the far side of the room. And there he sat in a numb manner- not to sleep but to stare into space.
He was still there 5 hours later when Enjolras and Combeferre emerged to go to class. There were bags under his eyes that left the inescapable impression of a man who hadn't slept. Combeferre surreptitiously hid the alcohol before he left and set a mug of coffee on the table by the couch instead, not daring to attempt to rouse him from his current stupor.
He then shook his head sadly at the whole situation and followed the silent and surly Enjolras out again, wishing there was more he could do.
-O-
I had no idea where I was when I woke up the next morning but, considering the marching band going in full swing in my head, it wasn't exactly my first concern. Groaning, I buried my head in the pillow that was far too plump to be my own. When the drums had died down some, I finally emerged from the pillowy depths to gain my bearings. Forcing my eyes open I was greeted with the sight of a piece of paper with my name on it and a glass of water on the nightstand. Rolling onto my back, I slowly rose to sit up so I could quench the burning in my throat. That was when I noticed soreness on my upper arm and saw a large hand-shaped, deep purple bruise forming there. I stared at it for a good minute, trying to remember where it came from but couldn't so I hoped that the paper would explain. After downing half the glass, I finally took the note in hand, my desire for answers growing the more I woke up.
It read:
.
Eponine,
I hope you are feeling better, last night was pretty rough. Sorry I'm not there to tell you in person. Enjolras and I had class, but Grantaire should be there if you need anything.
I've left you some Aspirin on the nightstand and there should be some coffee in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. If you need something, my number is on the fridge that you can text. Please make yourself comfortable and stay as long as you want.
Combeferre
.
As I read over the note for context clues, a few of the missing pieces as to how I ended up in this extraordinarily comfy bed came flying in to hit me in the face.
Oh god, I'd been drinking. A lot.
I cannot remember a time I'd drunk that much before.
Oh, and there'd been dancing. And singing.
Why the hell did I think that was a good idea?
Oh right. My parents. And Marius. And Gropey McAsshole. Did I have some sort of shit magnet I wasn't aware of? In any case, I no longer questioned why I would have drunk so excessively. In fact, I almost wished I was the blackout kind of drunk so I didn't have to remember.
Seeking to fudge over such memories I ran my hands through my dirty hair exasperatedly. Ow. Okay, that should not have hurt.
Probing carefully, I ran my hands along the back of my scalp once more. And there I found, where something definitely hadn't been last night, a very small amount of gauze applied to the top of the back of my head and what felt like very sensitive skin underneath. That certainly explained the entire percussion section of the symphony orchestra camping out in my head earlier. What the hell did I do to myself?
I downed a couple of the Asprin mentioned in the note and spent the next 20 minutes lying in bed rereading the message to try to figure out what exactly happened the night before to lead to a head wound and me spending the night in the abode of some of my favorite regulars.
Fortunately, after that I could finally contemplate the idea of standing up without feeling ill, so I reluctantly left the cozy confines. Of course, as soon as I stood up, my stomach decided to revolt, and I found myself running out of the room looking for a bathroom, glad to see one just across the hall. After emptying my stomach and washing out my mouth in the sink, I realized that I'd probably spectacularly announced my presence to Grantaire and realized there was no point in hiding out in my borrowed room. Besides, the promise of coffee and the possibility of more answers drew me out.
I'd never been to the apartment of any of the Amis before, so after leaving the bathroom, I supposed the open archway on the right side down the hall would lead to the living room and the kitchen. I was right and soon I found myself in the doorway to a decently sized common room with a view of a connected kitchen across the way. I vaguely noticed the large bookshelves with countless tomes, the easel in the corner with a display of oil paint all around it, and the beer bottles scattered all around; but they were all secondary observations to the occupant of the love seat pushed against the far wall to the right.
There sat Grantaire, staring but unseeing. He didn't even look up at my entrance. His hair was a wreck, and there was a dead look in his eyes. He was wearing the same Salvador Dali shirt I'd noticed last night and unless he was sleeping with his eyes open, I didn't think he'd slept at all.
"R?" I called hesitantly from the doorway. As if emerging from a trance his eyes slowly found mine and for half a second I saw a flicker of emotions at seeing me, but then it was gone again as quickly as it had come.
I'd never seen him like this and half of me wondered if it was because I'd never seen him this early, but I highly doubted that. I mean, there was a difference between not being a morning person and looking like you hated every second of your existence. Besides, there was a weight to his shoulders I'd never seen before and it worried me. I found myself inching forward slowly as if afraid he might run. But there such a fear was completely unwarranted as he showed no signs of going anywhere anytime soon.
There was a cold cup of coffee on the table that I passed on my way to him and that more than anything made me feel like something was very wrong.
"Are you okay?" I asked hesitantly once I was standing beside him.
A silent shoulder shrug was all I got in reply.
He was clearly in some sort of mood he didn't wanna talk about, so I plopped down beside him and tried to distract him as he had done for me the night before.
"Whew," I exclaimed, leaning against the couch back, hoping to strike up an amiable topic. "How much did we drink last night?"
Normally the discussion of alcohol or revelry of any kind would open him right up but now, for some reason, I could see something crumple in his face when I spoke.
"How much do you remember from last night?" he mumbled at last.
"Well," I began with a grin at my small victory of getting him to talk before I tried to wrack the scrambled eggs of my mind to answer. "I remember the Jaegerbombs and the drinking contest. Oh and the "You're the One That I Want" duet- you've got an impressive set of pipes, my friend." I grinned before pausing as I entered to fuzzy territory. "Then I think we were gonna set up a barricade- after that… did we go to a circus?"
He didn't answer right away but instead buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes to brace himself. "I was the one who built the barricade because you disappeared."
He halted, bringing his hands down to meet my gaze with haunted eyes. "When we found you, you were in an alley with two creeps. They had a knife but you were so out of it I don't think you realized. We managed to scare them off but you banged your head pretty bad when they were running away. We didn't know what to do since you refused the hospital, so we took you back here."
Well, it certainly made sense. My hand found the gash on my head as I thought on the context of such an injury.
"At least that explains the mystery bandage." I said it with a smirk but he didn't look like he'd be smiling anytime soon. I nudged his shoulder playfully. "Hey, it's fine. I'm fine. What's got you so down?"
"It was my fault." He said it so quietly I nearly didn't catch it.
I narrowed my eyes at him. So that was what got him so down. "Did you bang my head against the wall?"
He gave me a funny look out of the corner of his eye. "Well, no."
"I see. Then did you happen to befriend a couple of local lowlifes and recruit them to attack me?" I inquired in a mock reasonable fashion.
"No," he replied with mild irritation in his voice.
"Oh wait! I got it! You were the one to kick me out of the house! Right! That must be why this is all your fault."
"Eponine," he interrupted angrily. "Be serious."
"Yes because blaming yourself for a string of circumstances completely beyond your control is such a serious occupation," I snarked right back.
"I'm the one who got you drunk!" he finally snapped, throwing his hands down in agitation.
"You know what, those memories are actually pretty clear and I don't remember you forcing any drinks down my throat!" I countered.
"No but I suggested it to you!" he said. "It was my idea!"
"We were in a bar. I'm pretty sure the idea would have come to me anyway." I saw his mouth open to argue but I cut him off. "Forget it, R. I'm a big girl and I make my own decisions, not anyone else. And it was my decision to get shitfaced last night. Besides, from what I do remember, I had a really great time and I don't regret it. And anyway it's because I was so drunk that I don't even remember the whole 'threatened with a knife' bit so I call that a plus. Could you drop it now? It was not your fault!"
He took a deep breath but I could tell he wasn't over it.
"Why can't you let this go?" I couldn't help but ask as I bored my gaze into his troubled face.
"It wasn't supposed to be like that," he said after a brief period of silence. "Alcohol was supposed to be an escape from everything. I'm the only one who was supposed to be affected by it. No one else was supposed to be hurt."
I sighed impatiently. Who knew such an easy-going, party person could carry around such guilt and angst? This was ridiculous. With no further thought I leaned forward and lifted up the back of my shirt.
"You see this?" I asked to get his attention while pointing a scar on the right side of my lower back. "I got this two years ago when my father thought I was withholding my paycheck. He shoved me into the kitchen table, accidentally breaking one of our few glass dishes into my back. There was no alcohol involved there, just an asshole and the world is full of them so I'm used to it. Shit happens, R, and most of it is not your fault. I make my own decisions, not you. I decided to stockpile money then to help pay for Gavroche's schooling and I decided to drink way more than I needed to last night. Why do you insist on taking responsibility for shit beyond your control?"
I looked back finally to see his eyes glued on the site of the old stitches with a look of morbid fascination, his hand hovering just above it when he finally broke away and met my inquiring gaze.
He breathed haltingly before he finally spoke, though not in the direction I was expecting. "You're a good sister. I've seen how much you try to take care of Gavroche and that's a good thing. It's just- it reminds me too much sometimes that I wasn't as good of a brother to my little sister."
My jaw dropped. In all the time I'd known and hung out with him he'd never given any inclination about siblings or any family members at all actually. I'd always assumed he was an only child or an orphan or just didn't get on well with his family at all.
"You have a sister?"
He leaned back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling with regret. "Had. I had a sister."
To say I was simultaneously floored and heartbroken was an understatement. I let my shirt drop and moved back to join him. I didn't know if more questions would be too probing or not, but he had been the one to bring it up and I felt an urge to know more. "What happened?"
"I was a dumb teenager," he began with a sad shrug and though there was some quiet emotion bubbling beneath the surface he relayed it as methodically as if relaying current events as if he was trying to distance himself from what he was actually saying. "I was thirteen years old and I thought there couldn't be a worse chore than looking after Jacquelyn. My parents were very busy and didn't have time for us, so I was left in charge a lot and I kind of hated it. I was at an age where it wasn't cool to hang around with your silly little seven year-old sister. I wanted to be left alone to listen to the angsty music I didn't understand yet and play my video games with my friends. That day she decided to put on a show in the backyard and, since she wasn't allowed outside on her own, that meant that I had to join her out in the hot sun, so I was pissed about that and in retaliation I decided not to watch after all but instead listen to my music and play my Gameboy. I wasn't paying attention and she knew it so she kept trying to do tricks: dumb little ballet twirls on the back porch while I sat in the yard."
He paused for a moment, trying to find the words before trudging on with desperation in his voice as if trying to get me to understand but still wrestling with the idea himself.
"She was trying to get my attention and I wouldn't give it to her so she started doing more tricks, I could see her twisting about from the edge of my vision but then one trick went wrong and she flipped off the porch. It wasn't even that high. Maybe 2 feet or so and I thought she was fine, just faking it but she wasn't moving. I finally put down the damn game and went over to her."
Grantaire stopped to calm his breathing as it was clear some sort of emotion was building within him and was reaching up to choke him. I didn't want to push him. The desperation that had bubbled up when he said she wasn't moving was gone to be replaced with an apathy acquired by having to deal with such a memory for so long.
"She had landed on her neck and there was some bleeding from under her hair and she wasn't responding. I called an ambulance first and then my parents but they didn't pick up so I called my neighbor instead. They sat with me until the paramedics came but I could tell that Jacquelyn was already gone. My parents didn't respond until hours later; they'd been at a function and had turned their phones off but by that time it was confirmed she was dead and there was nothing to be done."
I felt tears filling up my eyes as I imagined the scene playing out with Gavroche in Jacquelyn's place. I felt sick to my stomach and an overwhelming sense of sympathy for Grantaire. I couldn't imagine how horrible going through something like that would be.
I could also tell from the way he spoke about it that these words were rusty and hadn't been used in a long time, like he'd been trying to forget. Like maybe he drank so much to get away from it all. But it seemed like something he needed to get out. Something that, given what happened last night, he had to get out; like he needed someone else to carry the burden of the regret of his dead sister. And I'd be damned if I would let him down.
Trying to be gentle as I attempted to help him get it out, I spoke tentatively, hoping I was going in the right direction. "What happened then?"
He sighed. He didn't meet my eyes but he kept going, as though he thought if he spoke faster it'd be easier to say. "When my parents finally called back my neighbor had to answer and explain what happened because I just couldn't. By the time they got home they were past the initial shock and my mother had moved into a state of denial. She couldn't focus on the fact that her only daughter had died so she instead went about following the procedure of what to do when a loved one died. She arranged the funeral, she cleaned up the porch and she scheduled an appointment with a psychologist for me to help with my 'trauma' of seeing it happen."
I could tell he was trying to be clinical about it, as if by distancing himself even in the retelling as he had done for so long, then maybe he could convince himself such a horrible story wasn't from his own life but from someone else's. But something crept into his voice as he kept going: a sense bitterness tinged with regret that no matter how many years of running from it could completely erase.
"My dad was different, though. He went straight to anger and stayed there. He blamed me entirely. He'd always spoiled Jacquelyn and because I was supposed to watch her, it had to be my fault. When he wasn't yelling at me, he was ignoring me like I didn't exist. My mom tried to continue the role of 'good mom' for me but she was never the same after losing Jacquelyn, though she tried her best to save face and never admit it. I proceeded to bounce from shrink to shrink until we found one that would just let me draw instead of talk. I liked that one. That was where I first met art. As screwed up as the circumstances were that was where I learned art was basically the only thing I was good at. My mom supported me with it but when my dad wasn't actively denying my existence, he would yell about how I was wasting my life."
He chuckled darkly and without any mirth as if remembering some distant argument they'd had. "He probably would have kicked me out if it wouldn't have looked even worse for his reputation than a dead daughter did. I got out as soon as I could though. I discovered alcohol long before I was legal and basically try to hide from all of that shit that happened when I moved here for college. I haven't been back home in about a year and a half, and I don't think I ever want to go back. My dad still blames me for killing Jacquelyn. And I agree with him. And last night it felt like I was back in that yard again, too caught up in my own shit to realize you needed me. I let you down and I'm sorry."
He hung his head low, but I could see a slight wetness in his eyes; his right hand on the other side of him was shaking and I couldn't stand it. I knew life wasn't fair, my entire life was basically a public service announcement to that effect but this- this was beyond not fair. And I was instantly enraged at his father for putting all this shit on him. Instinctively my hand went to his arm to demand that he look at me.
"Hey, you listen to me." I gave him my best steely eye as his sad baby blues met my dark ones. "That was not your fault. What happened that day was horrible, but it was not all your fault. You were thirteen and you shouldn't have been repeatedly put in that position. It wasn't fair that you weren't allowed to goof off and be a kid. And yeah she may have been trying to get your attention but that doesn't mean you killed her. I can't count the number of times Gav has done something dumb to make me notice him. That's what kids do. You didn't push her off the porch," at this he looked as if he wanted to disagree but I wasn't having any of it.
"Don't you damn dare say you might as well have because that is complete bull. Your father is even more of a jackass than mine for blaming you for a situation he created. That is sick and cruel and it makes me wanna find him and kick him in the groin. You were a kid who just saw his kid sister die and he had no right to put that blame on you. It was an accident."
He looked at me with solemn disbelieving eyes as if he had expected me to place the blame on him too. And I looked at him as if my eyes had just been opened. Despite the year I had known him, I felt like I was seeing him for the first time as who he really was beneath all the alcohol and the charcoal under his nails. Gone was the party boy image who didn't give a crap to be replaced by this lonely young man with sad eyes and the misplaced guilt of nine years past.
"I'm so, so sorry, Grantaire. I'm sorry about Jacquelyn and I'm sorry about your father. I'm sorry that you blame yourself for all of this and especially last night. But it is not your fault. None of it is and I can't say that enough."
He didn't say anything as he met my steady gaze but soon his hand reached out to hold mine which I took instantly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. We didn't speak again after that but instead just sat there in silence for an unknown stretch of time and I simply hoped he would let what I had said sink in.
We were still sitting like that awhile later when we heard a jingling from the front door followed by the appearance of Combeferre and Enjolras with book bags slung over their shoulders and worn looks upon their faces. But upon entering and spotting the two of us across the room their expressions immediately changed. Combeferre openly smiled as he dropped his bag by the door as he said "Eponine! I'm so glad you're awake."
He immediately came over to examine the proof better for himself. Enjolras hung back by the door, still holding onto his bag, a great deal more reserved but I could have sworn I saw a spark in his eye when he saw me as well. But I didn't have very long to think about that before Combeferre made it to us, a sad smile spared for the coffee he must have left there that morning on the table.
"Combeferre," I addressed him with matching enthusiasm, "thank you so much for the Aspirin and the note this morning, I was a little fuzzy and I would've had trouble figuring out where I was without your help."
"Well that doesn't surprise me, what with your escapades last night." He said in a kind way but neither of us missed the way Grantaire averted his eyes at the comment and I could tell he still felt bad about it. Luckily, Combeferre was more than willing to move things along, "How's your head?"
I reached up to touch it subconsciously, "Oh it's doing well, thank you for tending to my battle wounds."
He dismissed my thanks quickly as he sat down on the couch catty corner to ours. "It was the least I could do."
"Still, I appreciate you guys looking after me. I'm very touched." I tried to express my earnest gratitude without sounding too mushy or setting Grantaire off again.
"Don't mention it," Combeferre replied amiably, he was such a good guy. He genuinely seemed pleased I was doing better.
It was amazing what a different perspective going through an attempted mugging with a few guys from work could give a girl. I had known they were good, fun guys but I had no idea of the depths they had been hiding.
I looked around the room for a clock and when I didn't find one, I turned to Combeferre. "You guys must have just gotten out of class, how late is it?"
Combeferre checked his watch. "Half past four."
My eyes widened. I didn't know how long I had sat and talked (and not talked) with R but I couldn't believe I had slept so late. I can't remember the last time I slept past noon. But based on what I heard about my adventures last night, I figured I'd needed it. A small silence settled in and I was starting to feel awkward and like an intruder. Considering I knew how I felt after class in high school and how I'd always needed some time to myself, I assumed they felt the same. So after a look to both Grantaire and Combeferre on either side of me who both seemed content enough to just sit in silence I figured I'd probably overstayed my welcome.
Without further ado I patted a hand on both their knees with the intent to use them as a means to help launch myself off the couch I announced, "Welp, I should probably be going?"
"Going?" Combeferre immediately repeated with a confused look on his face and I could see Grantaire's head whip to look at me from the corner of my eye.
"Yeah," I answered standing up. "It's getting on in the day and you all probably have things you need to do without me hanging around."
"Don't be ridiculous," Enjolras spoke up for the first time since entering. He was still by the door but his bag was now on the desk near it, and he was looking at me with a stubbornness to rival Gavroche's on bath day.
I quirked an eyebrow at him. "It's not being ridiculous. You guys have already been kind enough to put me up for the night when I was clearly in a state, but I don't want to impose."
"You wouldn't be imposing." Combeferre insisted beside me but my eyes were still on Enjolras, who seemed to be issuing a silent sort challenge within me.
"I'm sure you guys have things to be doing that would be better achieved if I was out of your hair." I insisted, trying to be gracious about it.
"But you don't have anywhere else to go," Enjolras reminded me sternly. "Grantaire told us you were kicked out last night."
I cast a questioning glance at the person in question, and he responded by ducking his head guiltily, though I know at the time he probably had a good reason for telling them what with me refusing the hospital and all. But I was not willing to back down so easily.
"Well I have to be at work in a few hours so I might as well just show up early and help them prepare for opening."
It wasn't that I didn't want to hang with them it was just that it felt like I didn't belong there among those college boys. They were the type who'd grown up semi-well off as opposed to me: the bartender that barely made it through high school having to contend with assholes for parents who basically split their time sponging off of me and everyone else that passed by. I felt like I didn't fit in and of course my natural reaction was to get out when situations bordered on too awkward. And I felt this case definitely applied.
Unfortunately the boys had other ideas in mind because I heard from beside me a hesitant "Well…actually," causing me to turn and look at Combeferre who was looking a little sheepish. "Musichetta called earlier to check on you and when I told her what happened she insisted that you take the night off…"
He trailed off as if he was worried that I'd be offended that they'd made such decisions without me and, well, maybe a little bit of me was, but on the other hand it was really nice and kind of strange having other people looking out for me. After years under my parents' roof, I was used to having no one but Gav on my side and considering he's only 12, it's a lot to ask of a kid to handle anything other than taking care of himself.
"Oh," I paused as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I really didn't know what else to say. I didn't actually feel like I had anywhere else I could go besides maybe Cosette's but I was nowhere near desperate enough to catch a private viewing of the 'Marius and Cosette Are Excruciatingly In Love' show. And I knew that, but at the same time I wanted me staying or going to be my own decision and these boys, these stubborn well-meaning university students, were kind of taking that away from me.
I threw my hands up in frustration. "Well now I don't know what to do with myself."
"You could stay here," Grantaire piped up with a painful little sense of longing in his voice that kind of hurt my heart.
"No, I can't," I immediately responded, without thinking.
"Why not?" Enjolras contested from his side of the room, "You don't have anywhere else to stay."
"Yeah, well, by that reasoning, I might as well stay with a pack of murdering thieves," I quipped before I saw a look of alarm, confusion and slight offense pass over all of their faces at once. Then it hit me how close my sorry attempt at a joke came to my actual encounter last night before I realized that I really needed to clarify. "I'm not saying you guys are on the same level as murdering thieves but I need a better reason than just lack of other options."
I could tell Enjolras was trying to be reasonable and not take my previous refusals personally, but he was relentless as he tried another tack. "We're not trying to force you to stay, Eponine. But as it seems that you are in a bit of a tough spot right now. It is more convenient for you stay here since we have a spare room and are so close to your work. By all points, it seems to be the best option right now. Besides, you at least know us and I can only hope that you would trust us, after so long, to help you out while you get back on your feet."
I crossed my arms as I tried to take in his suggestion. The hard part was he did have a point and their place was not bad. It was actually really nice considering they were college kids and it was pretty close to the bar. And I did like and trust them a lot, but that wasn't the problem. It was the whole 'helping me out while I got back on my feet' bit that made me feel like I needed to make myself clear.
"Okay, I really really appreciate the offer and it does mean a lot to me, but I need to make sure you guys understand something." I locked eyes with each of the guilt-tripping men before I continued. "I am not going to be a damn charity case. If I do stay here, I will just be crashing until I can find another place. And I will be paying rent. Now that my parents won't be basically pocketing everything I don't hide, I will have a little bit of money to pay you guys for now, because I will not be a moocher. I know you guys and your political group are all about equality for the people and helping those of lesser status, but I am not here to be a group project. You guys understand?"
My penetrating gaze passed over each of them once more as if daring them to argue. Grantaire seemed willing enough to accept my terms, and I could tell he was just glad I was staying. Combeferre nodded slowly as he took in my words leaving only Enjolras. He didn't say anything immediately as he fully contemplated my terms with his famous half-scowl.
Finally he met my eyes, "Your terms are reasonable enough. I promise to not treat you like a charity case but I'm not going to be hard on you. I would be lenient with any of my friends if they were going through such circumstances as you are. If you do change your mind and are having difficulty, please feel free to ask and we would be willing to offer any assistance you might need."
I showed my appreciation for such a sentiment with a slow nod of my head but I knew in my heart I would never be able to bring myself to ask for help in such a sense. It was difficult enough to allow the idea of staying here with these guys I'd never hung out with outside of work with before, but at this point I didn't think I could ask for a better alternative to practically land in my lap.
Maybe that was why I was so hesitant. I wasn't used to good things coming easily so I felt like I had to fight to make it more manageable.
With that decided and me feeling slightly strange about standing up and not actually having anywhere to go I turned to my new flatmates awkwardly. "So um… what's for dinner?"
Combeferre immediately stood up as if seizing the chance to do something productive even if it was a tad early for it. But considering I hadn't eaten since the night before I felt like this was a special circumstance.
Combeferre rubbed his hands together, "Well, it's my night to cook, so I was gonna make some stroganoff and asparagus."
I could see Grantaire make a face but I smiled and ignored it. "Mind if I help?"
Combeferre looked surprised but pleased at my offer and motioned in front of him towards the kitchen, "Please."
With a small smirk I ruffled Grantaire's hair and followed the medical student into the kitchen, catching a calculating but approving look from Enjolras as I went. If you had asked me two days ago if I thought I would be spending my evening making dinner and watching Game of Thrones with three of the principal members of Les Amis de l'ABC after agreeing to crash with them for a while, I probably would have laughed and cut you off for the rest of the night. But now that I found myself suddenly thrust into this situation, it was nice, really nice, and it almost worried me how much I wanted to able to get used to it.
...
Author's Note: Mkay there's chapter two. And like I said it's really kind of different I was playing with more emotion work this time and it really took a different direction than I expected and I am so sorry I originally didn't intend to kill Jacquelyn but as I started writing it, it just kind of happened and it's horrible but I kind of needed and I'm sorry. Any way I also wanted to play with how Eponine might settle into such a situation while keeping them all in character but I hope I managed to pull it off.
Anyway I hope you all aren't too put off with me about what I did to Grantaire because he is one of my babies and I love him but sometimes writing means you hurt the ones you love. I also hope you liked the Eponine-Grantaire Bromance because it is one of the key relationships at play here because yeah I also want to play with Eponine and Enjolras I feel like any relationship between them would be much more slow going so I hope you guys are all content with Eponine/Grantaire's friendship in the meantime.
Okay enough rambling, please be kind. I'm really nervous about this chapter.
EDIT: This chapter used to be called Little Lion Man and have those song lyrics interspliced but I recently decided that that wasn't the direction I wanted to go with this story what with each chapter being shaped around a song so I deleted the lyrics and changed the chapter titles but it's still the same fic and I've actually been working on more so be on the look out for the next chapter soon!