Hello my lovelies!
You are without a doubt the SWEETEST readers in the world! I got the nicest reviews from you wonderful people, and I'm so glad you like this story! It means a lot to me that you're all so kind.
A few notes: one, sorry for the weirdness in the a/n the other night. I actually wasn't planning on posting this story until I had finished it, but I got really drunk on Saturday night and I guess I decided enough was enough and that I needed to post it. I have since gone back and corrected the grammar and spelling, but yeah. That happened. I did some other pretty judgeworthy things, so judge away! I don't mind. =p
Second: someone asked in the reviews about who these peeps were based on. I tried to mesh their personalities in the brick with who they are in the musical (this mostly applies to Eponine and Enjolras). When I picture them in my head, I have the cast from the 2012 movie. HOWEVER, if Javert ends up popping into this - which as of right now doesn't seem to likely, but I mean, who knows? - then it will be Norm Lewis. If you don't know who that is/haven't seen his Javert LEAVE HERE AND DO IT NOW. He's my forever Javert, the best that ever was and ever will be, and he should have been Javert in the movie and aghhh so many feels. Also, I'm really torn between Colm Wilkinson as JVJ and Hugh Jackman, but since everyone else in my head is from the movie, I'm envisioning him as Hugh (I just can't even with Colm, he's so amazeballs). Sorry for the geekout.
Third: you guys might hate me after this one. Sorry.
Fourth: Please, please send me prompts, on here or on tumblr (thisislavieboheme). I'll credit you and whatever else and do the best I can, it just sounds so fun!
That's all for now, I suppose?
Disclaimer: Only the situation and unrecognizables are mine.
The next morning, Eponine woke up sprawled on the bathroom floor. She wasn't sure how she got there, until she noticed Enjolras leaning against the wall, fast asleep with his head lolled to one side.
The hangover wasn't terrible, she had gotten most of the alcohol out of her system the night before, and it had still been rather early when she had gone to the bar. It seemed as though she had slept the worst of it off.
Then it all came back to her in one awful rush. Her throat began to sting, so she quickly turned the shower on, stripped, and hopped in before the waterworks began again. Showers had always stopped her tears.
"Eponine?' Enjolras' voice floated through the curtain.
"Good morning!" she shouted cheerfully. "Thanks for taking care of me last night. I owe you one."
"Eponine, come on." He sounded exasperated.
She knew she had sounded too cheery. But had she really expected to fool him in the first place? No. Not Enjolras. Not after… everything.
So she said nothing. Eventually, she heard him bitterly mutter, "Fine," before taking his leave. She slid to the shower floor then, hugging her knees and crying silently as the hot water splashed on her face.
Eponine snuck back into her room as quietly as possible, locking the door behind her. She stayed in bed the whole day listening to music on her computer, ignoring her calls and texts. Marius called once, and when his name appeared on the screen it felt as though someone had reached through her skin and veins and ribs and had taken hold of her heart and was squeezing as hard as they could. She willed away the tears.
No more crying, Eponine.
A few moments later she heard Enjolras answer his phone in the living room. It was Marius. She listened as he explained that Eponine had not been feeling well, that she was coming down with something, so he had escorted her home. He offered his most heartfelt congratulations and promised to see the newly engaged couple at the café soon.
The boys tried throughout the day to engage her. They knocked with coffee, with food, enticing her to come out or to at least eat. She didn't respond. Even Combeferre, Bossuet, and Feuilly showed up or called to check in on her. All they received for their trouble was radio silence.
Enjolras knocked several times that day, imploring her to open up her door. But Eponine didn't trust herself. Somehow she knew that if she opened the door and saw his concerned face that she would lose it. It wasn't fair for her to dump her emotional turmoil on him, and she had no desire to let him see her like that.
Eventually, things in the apartment quieted down. It grew late and the boys went to bed, but sleep escaped Eponine. So she finally rose, and moments later found herself in front of Enjolras' door. She raised her hand to knock softly, but hesitated.
What am I doing? There's no need to wake him up, you're fine. And she ran back into her room.
On the other side of the door, Enjolras hadn't been able to sleep. He felt quite guilty for pressing her those few days ago about her feelings for Marius. She was just trying to cope, just like anyone who is forced to experience unrequited love does, and this was how she dealt with it. Who was he to question her methods and embarrass her?
When did everything get so damn complicated?
That's when he heard the light patter of feet moving in the hall, stopping in front of his door. He rolled over and lifted his head, expecting to see her leaning on the doorframe, bathed in the streetlight that poured in the living room windows, but the door was still closed.
He got up.
She looked a little surprised to see him enter her room. "I heard you come to my door," he said softly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.
"I thought you were asleep," she replied, gazing up at him through unreadable eyes.
"I couldn't sleep," was all he said. He waited for a moment, before cautiously saying, "How are you?"
Eponine shrugged as though nothing was wrong. "I'm completely fine. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ep…." But he didn't continue. A lecture wouldn't help her, and he felt too drained to give one anyway. So all he said was, "You don't have to pretend around me."
"I don't pretend. I am fine. I don't have any other choice, so there's no need to be so concerned. I was just hung over all day."
"Eponine," he whispered, his intonation indicating his disbelief.
She just held up a hand, stopping him. "Please," she implored. She sounded desperate.
Enjolras stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Good night, then," he said, patting her leg and getting up to go. But she caught his hand, holding him in place. He turned, lips parted in surprise, to see her moving over in her bed. She patted the empty space next to her.
He climbed in, making himself comfortable, then lifted his arm for her. Eponine shifted over to him, resting her head on his hard chest. Nestled into his embrace, the scent of her hair wafted up to him. He gently kissed the top of her head before he could stop himself.
"I wish you wouldn't keep me at arms length," he informed her quietly. When she didn't reply, he continued, "You're so eager to help others, and you're good at it. You're a good listener and you give great advice. But you never open up to anyone."
Eponine shrugged. "Don't want to burden anyone with my problems. Everyone is so busy, and I can take care of myself."
Enjolras smiled. "I know you can," he said. "But that doesn't mean that no one's there to listen." He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were sad. It made his heart hurt. "You can tell me anything, Eponine. You don't have to face your demons alone. I won't tell anyone what you say if you don't want me to. Ep," he gently brushed some hair off her face, "I won't think any less of you."
She didn't respond, just wrapped her arm around him and squeezed him tightly. He hugged her back, murmuring, "You don't have to deal with these things on your own," into her hair.
Eponine sighed, looking back up at him, propping her chin on his chest. "I've always been on my own, Enjolras," she told him. "It's not that simple."
"I know," he told her, moving to kiss her. She met him halfway.
Eponine opened her eyes the next morning, nestled into Enjolras' embrace. For a moment, she felt pure contentment, more than she ever had before in her life.
That sentiment was replaced almost immediately by blinding panic.
They never slept together after they slept together! They got what they needed from one another, then they either chatted or went to their respective bedrooms. That was it.
Then she remembered that they hadn't fucked last night. We fell asleep cuddling, she thought with an internal groan.
She gently disentangled herself from him, feeling momentarily naked and – oh, shit – waking him up.
"You sleep like a fucking log," he informed her with a grin, opening one eye to look at her.
"You're one to talk, jackass," she retorted with a smirk, playfully shoving his face. He chuckled.
And they slid into their easy banter. Simple as that.
Later that morning, Courfeyrac had approached Enjolras, telling him that when he woke up, Enjolras' door was ajar, but he was nowhere to be found. "Don't worry, man, I shut it for you before Grantaire woke up. Nobody's going to find out about you and Eponine, not as long as I have a say in it." He winked.
A little while later, Eponine and Enjolras found themselves perched on the coach, watching I Love Lucy reruns. Eponine was shrouded in one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, her knees pulled up to support the sketchbook laying on them. In one hand was a steaming cup of coffee, in the other a pencil.
He watched her.
The sun was shining in the big windows, engulfing her in yellow light. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the warmth, but she didn't even seem to notice. She was completely engrossed in her drawing, her long lashes tilted down towards the sketch.
Enjolras liked the look of her in one of his shirts. It was sexy, and he looked forward to the moment that she returned it, because it would smell like her.
Then he snapped back to reality. What was happening? They were friends – with benefits, sure, but friends nonetheless. Feelings weren't supposed to happen.
She looked up then, smiling that half smile of hers. Her dimples drove him crazy; he was suddenly possessed by the urge to lean over and plant a kiss on one of them.
"Why are you staring at me?" Her voice was soft. He could hear something on the edge of it, something indicating that Eponine was not back to her usual self.
He cleared his throat. "Just wondering what you're drawing."
She put down her mug and pulled herself up, sitting Indian-style, her knee brushing his. She handed him the sketchbook.
As he took in her beautiful work, he thought to himself, When exactly did I let myself fall… in love with her?
Four months later, Enjolras found himself escorting Eponine down the aisle of a beautiful church. He was worried about her.
Cosette and Marius' engagement had been fairly short, but they were determined to get married in the fall. Cosette had begged Eponine to be a bridesmaid, finally wearing her down.
And she looked incredible, dressed in a beautiful red dress, her long hair pulled back into a pretty updo. He wore a crisp black tuxedo, with a red pocket square that matched the bridesmaids' dresses.
Musichetta, the maid of honor, and Courfeyrac, the best man, came next, followed by the bride. She looked beautiful in a dainty white gown, her teary face veiled. Her father escorted her. "You were never mine to keep," Enjolras heard him whisper as he lifted his daughter's veil and kissed her head. He shook Marius' hand, then passed the groom his bride.
Throughout the ceremony, Eponine kept her face emotionless, fixing her eyes on Marius. Enjolras, meanwhile, kept his eyes fixed on her. She was a wonderful actress, he observed, hoping against hope that maybe her reactions were that of a woman moving on rather than a girl hopelessly in love. But she smiled at all the right moments, teared up during their exchange of vows, and cheered with the small group of guests when the newlyweds kissed.
At the reception, she sat next to Enjolras. To his surprise, she seemed all right. She was charming, enthusiastic, and even got up to give a funny and heartwarming toast.
She danced, she drank – a lot – and danced some more, at least once with all the boys, even though they had all brought dates. She even caught the bouquet. When a slow song came on, she usually moved off to the side, observing the newlyweds with guarded eyes. Once, she danced with Gavroche, who Marius had been kind enough to invite, but mostly she kept to herself when the songs weren't upbeat.
Enjolras couldn't help asking her to dance. Eponine cheerfully accepted, clearly a little more than tipsy. She began chattering about the food and the cake and the open bar, but he shushed her, giving her a small smirk as he stared down at her.
She grumbled incoherently at him for a moment, but looked back at him. He wanted desperately to kiss her, and he knew when her lips parted and she stared at his mouth that she wanted his kiss. She tilted her head up, leaning in, but he moved away, looking around pointedly. So instead, she laid her head on his chest. After a moment, he rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.
Courfeyrac caught his eye and winked; Enjolras was so warm on the inside that he couldn't even muster a scowl to direct at his friend.
When the dance ended, she planted a swift kiss on his cheek and bounded off into the crowd.
He was not surprised when, a few hours later, a much more sober Eponine showed up at the door to his hotel room, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a wife beater. She walked in wordlessly, and he met her in the middle of the room.
He was just beginning to lose himself in her, letting her rise and wash over him and threaten to pull him under, when he heard a strange word come from her mouth. He thought he had imagined it, until he heard her moan, louder this time, "Marius..."
Anger unlike anything he could ever remember feeling suddenly built up inside him. So he stopped, much to her surprise, quickly dressing himself and storming out of the room without a sound.
What was that about? Eponine was so shocked that he had just stopped cold and left. Had she done something? Did it even matter? They were fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. And what's more, they were at a wedding. This wasn't a complicated arrangement.
But.
But lately, she had noticed a difference. It had started when Marius and Cosette got engaged. The night she had fallen asleep in Enjolras' arms, more comfortable than she had ever been before. After that, things had changed. Not out loud, of course, but the dynamic between them had shifted, and they were both aware of it.
That night, she had allowed him to see her vulnerable, weak. And he had held her. He didn't think that that was her letting him in, but oh, how wrong he was. She had never revealed herself like that to anyone before.
He was breaking her down. Slowly climbing the walls she had so carefully constructed over the years, hiding so no one could ever find the frightened, broken child cowering at the heart of all those layers.
"Fuck!" she cried, lying back on the bed and pressing her palms into her eyes.
Then she launched herself off the bed, dressed as quickly as she could, and ran after him.
Eponine found him in the hotel bar, sipping a whiskey on the rocks.
She snuck up behind him, snaking her hands around his waist and whispering in his ear with a smirk, "You can't get someone all hot and bothered like that and just peace out. It's rude."
He put down his drink and untangled himself from her embrace, turning away.
She frowned, and jumped around his stool to face him. He just looked over her shoulder, ignoring her, and took a casual sip of his drink.
To his surprise, she snatched the glass from him, chugged it, and slammed it down on the bar.
That got his attention, she thought victoriously, taking a deep breath through her nose and willing away the burning sensation the whiskey left in her throat.
"You're insane," he informed her rather coolly.
"But I have your attention now. So maybe you can tell me something: what the fuck is your problem?"
"Not here, Eponine," he said firmly.
"No –."
"Not here, Eponine," he repeated, slamming down some money on the bar and walking away.
She ran after him after a moment or two, right out of the hotel, around the side, to the edge of the lake it overlooked. The water sparkled in the moonlight. His hair and his pale skin seemed to have turned silver.
Marble.
"Are you going to fucking talk to me now, or are you just going to give me the cold fucking shoulder for the rest of the night?" she demanded, crossing her arms, partially to seem tough and partially to keep from shivering.
Enjolras glared at the fiery woman for a moment. He noticed that she was shivering – it was a chilly night here in the country, the cold wind hinting to the winter weather that would soon be following – and sighed, slipping off his jacket and closing the space between them to wrap it around her shoulders.
Then he retreated, crossing his arms and scowling at her again.
"Are you gonna tell me what your issue is, Enjolras, or am I gonna have to fucking beat it out of you?
He gave one short, harsh laugh and bitterly said, "Do you really not know what you did? It was only a half hour ago, Eponine."
"I can't read your fucking mind, so if you have a problem with me, you better tell me now."
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met," he told her angrily.
"So that's why you're mad?"
"No, Eponine. I'm mad because we've been sleeping together for months. We've been dancing this dance, and you… you don't care. You're like – I don't know – like the fucking tide. You're like the ocean, sometimes you're so near, sometimes you're incredibly far away from me, but you're still all around me, Eponine. And I'm drowning." He was aware of how desperate his voice had become. He didn't even feel angry anymore. Just empty.
She was just staring at him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, completely taken aback.
"And you don't even notice," he continued. "Because you're so fucking in love with Marius. And it doesn't matter what I do – no, not even a little. You pine after him, you dream about him, you let him hurt you when he doesn't even realize what he's doing. And then here I am, giving you the attention and the… the physicality that you aren't getting from Marius, giving you everything you deserve, and you don't even have the decency to remember that it's not his cock inside you. I can't listen to you moaning his name in my ear when all I want is for you to forget and, for once, see what's right in front of you. But you won't. So keep being miserable. You clearly thrive off your own unhappiness – your unrequited love, your awful, degrading jobs – so good. Keep on keepin' on. Don't do anything that might possibly improve your life. Don't do something that might make you happy for once."
"I – I don't understand," she whispered. She looked unsure, confused, and even a little hurt.
"I'm just done, Eponine, I'm done."
A wave of guilt washed over him. He was being cruel. There was a lot more to it than that, he knew. But why couldn't she see? She was the embodiment of all that he was working toward. She was one of the miserable, the poor, the downtrodden. She always had been. He simultaneously admired and pitied how she handled herself – forever working, so strong all the time, stubborn, determined, but ultimately so sad. He was drowning in that part of her just as much as the rest of her. When he figured out what he wanted to do with his life, it was partially because of her. He wanted to help her, to change her life. She was the inspiration for his speeches, she was the one whose circumstances he so desperately wanted to change – she was everything he was fighting for. He just wished she could see it, too.
"Enjolras," she quietly said, "I've never asked you for anything."
He gave another derisive laugh. "Well it doesn't work that way, babe." He hated himself. Who was he to be so condescending? But he couldn't stop. "For fuck's sake, Ep, you're like the damn queen of unrequited love. Are you really so blind? The man is married, now. He's never noticed you, never seen anyone other than Cosette, never –."
"That's enough, Enjolras," she snapped, cutting him off and shaking her head in disbelief. "This was never supposed to be so hard. It was supposed to be fun. If you're pissed because you think I was using you to get over him, don't be. You know what you're doing in bed, Enj, so when I came to you it was because I wanted you. But you know how I feel about all of this… love nonsense. Sure, maybe I do have feelings for Marius, but look what a mess it's gotten me into! Why would I ever want to go through this again with someone else?"
She was angry now. From zero to sixty, just like that, waving her hands around, her hair flying wildly in the breeze. The lioness, the angry and uncontrollable sea. He liked her like this, when she was so wild. He wished he could kiss her.
"It's different," he told her, stepping closer. "It's different when you have someone who feels the same way. Marius will never –."
"You think I don't fucking know that, Enjolras? Of course I do! I've always known it, deep down. And still, part of me hoped. Until they got engaged. Then I knew it was over. And I've been trying to move on. And it's working. I'm not there yet, but I know that someday soon I'll be able to look at them as indifferently as any of the rest of you. But can't you understand how hard today was for me? It was like hitting a goddamn wall, watching him marry her, listening to his vows. It's not easy, Enjolras."
"Oh, I know that. But saying his name while another guy fucks you – shit, Ep, can't you understand how that feels?"
"I'm sorry, Enjolras. Is that what you want to hear? I'll scream your name from now on. Will that fix things?" Her sarcasm dug into him.
He laughed coldly. "We're way past that, Ep. No, I'm done with this. All of it. I'll move out when the lease is up, if that's what it takes, and when you're over him, truly over him, well, then maybe we can be friends again." And maybe by then I'll be over you, he added silently.
He turned away, and slowly began walking toward the hotel.
Eponine hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to stop him or to let him go. But seeing him walking away from her so determinedly forced her hand; she ran after him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. What are you doing? she asked herself. If he wants to leave, let him. If he's done, he's done. Did you really expect this to last forever?
"Enjolras, I really am trying," she was shocked by how frail and desperate her voice sounded. Seeing him walk away – well, her throat was stinging, like it had when she finished his whiskey. "I am. I know you don't believe me, but I know that he doesn't and hasn't ever had feelings for me. And it hurts, of course, but it's helping me begin to move on. Today was hard, but I'm starting to realize that he was never mine to lose." She watched her hand cup his cheek, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. He looked over her head impatiently and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "But you are," she murmured, realization dawning, and his eyes snapped back down to stare at hers intensely. "You are mine to lose, aren't you?"
His lips parted in surprise, and his hard gaze even softened a bit. She wished he would kiss her. But he said nothing, did nothing.
She was gripping his arms, willing him to stay there with her, unable to let go.
"That night that you and I fell asleep together, when Marius and Cosette got engaged, I know you think I was still shutting you out. And I was, sure. But no one has ever seen me that vulnerable before, Enj. No one's ever gotten that far, truly. Maybe you didn't get all the emotions out of me that you wanted, but you still got me through it. You saw more of me that night than you, or anyone else, ever has before. I know you think you don't matter to me, but you do. Enj, you're my best friend. And you're the best sex I've ever had, and I've gotten to have a lot of it with you – so thanks for that," she finished lamely, suddenly embarrassed.
The ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"Please don't leave me, Enj," she softly implored. "I don't think… I don't want to lose."
"Lose what?" he finally asked. His voice was hoarse.
"You know wh–."
"Eponine."
She sighed exasperatedly. "Are you really gonna make me say it?"
Enjolras just stared at her, his ocean-blue eyes boring into her chocolate ones. His heart was pounding in his chest.
She took a deep breath and looked away: at the lake, at the ground, at the moon. Anywhere but at him.
"Everything," she whispered. "Our friendship. The fun we have. The sex. I don't want to lose you, Enjolras. And I can't get over Marius without you."
He didn't immediately reply, just reached down and took one of her hands into one of his own. With the other he gently tucked some hair behind her ear. "I know you can't," he told her with a small smirk. Yet it hurt him that she hadn't said what he so desperately wanted hear. It hurt him even more that she had brought up Marius again.
"So…. Are you ready to go back upstairs now?" she inquired with a smile.
She has no idea how I feel about her, he realized, his insides suddenly turning very cold. She honestly thought this was only about their friendship. She, the "queen of unrequited love," as he had phrased it, couldn't recognize that same love, even when it was literally staring her in the face.
So he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She held his wrist and leaned into him, thinking that he was forgiving her. Then he looked into her eyes very seriously and quietly but firmly told her, "No," dropping his hands from her head.
She looked taken aback. He wanted to tell her he was kidding, to pick her up and kiss her and take her upstairs and help her get over Marius, but he couldn't. He was done being her tool.
She was still holding his wrist, and when he backed away, she held on, but did not fight it when he slipped out of her grasp. He turned away and started walking back towards the hotel.
"Enjolras?" she squeaked. He didn't stop. He thought she would remain silent, maybe even appear at his side, but she didn't. Instead, she called after him in a strangled voice, "Are you still moving out?"
"That's up to you," he replied without stopping or turning around.
A toute de suite, mes jolies!