Ohhhh my gosh, hi my lovelies, I am infinitely sorry about keeping you all waiting like this! It's been almost two weeks, and I completely realize that after chapter 8, that was the worst place to go on a mini hiatus.
Please forgive me - as I believe I've mentioned, I'm a graduating senior - in like 2 and a half weeks! This is my last week of class, and last week, there were so many things due in my classes that it was almost impossible to find time to write.
With that apology comes our final chapter in this story! Wow, it's unbelievable! If you all are mad at me, though, you can take comfort from the fact that this chapter is the longest one by more than a thousand words (which is saying something, because these are loooong chapters). And, although this is technically the end, there will be an epilogue that will hopefully be posted by the end of the week (and a deleted scene)!
As always, thank you for your patience, and for your reviews! My goodness, I can't believe that chapter 8 on its own got, like, 30 reviews. That's incredible, thank you all so much for your kind words and your love and support. I never could have dreamed that this story would get so popular.
Ok, ok, I'll shut up now. Check back in a few days for the epilogue, and thank you all for being so incredible to me!
Disclaimer: Hugo? More like huge no... (ba dum chhh)
Eponine stared at Enjolras in shock. "What?" she asked.
"You heard me," he replied evenly, meeting her surprised gaze with challenging eyes.
A stunned silence had overtaken everyone at the table.
Finally, Combeferre reached up and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Enj–."
"'Ferre, seriously, this is up to Eponine."
"Why?" she squeaked, suddenly incredibly frightened of him. Or perhaps she was just afraid of the answer.
"Because I know you have feelings for me, too," he replied fiercely.
Eponine felt her cheeks heat up. Just a cursory glance around the table showed her several people gaping openly between them.
"You're insane," she said, with a short, awkward laugh.
He glared at her. Of course she would be trying to turn this into a joke. That was how she operated; rather than own up to something, rather than deal with it, she just makes jokes until the tension dissipates. But not this time.
"Epon–."
"Are you seriously going to leave your future, your happiness, this massive fucking decision, to me?" she asked, cutting him off. She was still smiling, but it was humorless, and there was something rather fierce and angry in her eyes.
"Unlike some people, I can't be content with just hopelessly, pathetically loving someone for six years who will never love me back," he retorted. She was glaring at him so intensely now he thought she might launch herself across the table to attack him.
He almost laughed when Marius, the only person who didn't know to what Enjolras was referring, hissed to Grantaire, "What's he talking about?"
Eponine turned a shade of red he had never before seen. She opened her mouth to take another shot at him, but before she could, he said, "I will not wait around here like you did for six years, failing to deal with my unrequited love. Either you own up to your feelings for me and act like an adult about it, or I will go somewhere else, so I can move on and get happy."
A ringing silence was left in the wake of this statement. Eponine's cheeks were burning as her smoldering gaze bore into him.
She stood up so suddenly that her chair fell over. She righted it, shoving it back towards the table, and stomped towards the door, snapping, "Come with me," at him. She didn't wait for his answer; she just strode out of the café with her head held high.
His friends were staring at him, but before they could start the barrage of questions, he ran off after her.
Eponine did not break her gait until the door to their apartment banged open. He followed her in, closing it behind him. She rounded on him.
"I think you and I need to get some things straight," she snapped. "So if you have something to say to me, now's your chance."
Enjolras opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she started shouting.
"I can't believe you just gave me a fucking ultimatum!"
"It was the only way I could think to get through to you," he replied calmly.
"What – so this is payback? You're going to ruin your life to send me a message?" she asked incredulously. Her hair was flying about uncontrollably, her arms were waving in the air, she was at her most wild.
"No, I just can't be around you if you don't have feelings for me, too. I can't do this forever, Eponine. I can't keep playing this game."
"It's not a game," she huffed at him.
He shook his head. "Prove it," he challenged.
She just looked at him.
"See? Why should I continue to let you drown me again and again for this?"
Eponine groaned exasperatedly. "I don't know how to give you what you want, Enjolras!" she exclaimed, a hint of desperation in her voice.
He shrugged. "Figure it out, or I'm leaving."
Enjolras turned to walk away from her, but she caught up to him.
"But you're my best friend!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, grow up, Eponine," he snapped. "Stop being so goddamned selfish. I'm not going to just stay here and let you string me along until you get bored or find a new infatuation. I have tried and tried and tried to show you how I would treat you and to give you what you deserve and if you can't see it, then I'm not sticking around to pine after you like you did with Marius for six years. I have a life too, I have dreams, and they never included a woman. But then I met you, and then we started this, and suddenly all of that changed. Now I'm willing to accommodate you in my life plans, regardless of what I used to want."
"You're willing to accommodate me in your life plans?" she repeated incredulously. "Oh, lordy, sign me up, Enj! If that isn't the most romantic thing I've ever heard – girls around the world will envy me for all the sweet accommodating you do to fit me into your future."
Eponine's sarcasm angered him so much that thought he would have to remove himself from her presence. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he retorted. "For fuck's sake, Eponine, you make such an effort to push me away every time I try to get close to you. I love you, Ep, I love you. And I desperately, desperately want you. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you deserve. So don't belittle me – I have changed so much, and it's all been for you. Don't blame me because you're too scared to let yourself feel and be a little happy for once!"
"I am not scared!"
"Yeah, well, you keep saying it, and yet here we are! Every time we get close to starting something real, to actually giving it a go, you shut down. Sounds like you're running scared to me! Sounds like–."
But Eponine didn't get to hear what else it sounded like. She was too busy throwing herself at him, kissing him as though it were the last time and the world was ending, sweeping over him like a tidal wave so quickly that he forgot for a moment why he was so angry.
But then it came back to him, and he was shoving her back into her room, violently ripping her clothes off, slamming the door behind her. And the angry sea that was Eponine, this broken girl that he was so in love with, she rose to meet him, hungrily trying to consume everything that he thought he had ever been, washing through him and tossing him about in her waves as though he were a toy.
They fell back on the bed in a tangle of limbs, fingers scratching and digging deep into skin, hair getting pulled in the struggle, passionate moans clouding their senses.
"Look at me," he hissed, and she tried, she really did, but oh god it was so hard to keep her eyes open. When she couldn't comply, he bit her lip, giving her a feral grin when she moaned into his mouth. She was his right now, totally and completely under his control for once. It was hot and heavy and passionate and angry and everything else he thought he had ever felt towards her, and she accepted it all, pulling it all into her as he moved, indulging her as she begged for more.
When it was over, he didn't cradle her against him like usual, didn't kiss her gently and touch her bare skin and run his hands tenderly through her hair. Instead, he sat up, pulled on his boxers, facing away from her. Eponine felt cold without his touch.
"I didn't mean for that to happen," Enjolras told her quietly, not turning around. The dying sunlight set his golden curls ablaze, and made her heart quicken. His back was covered in long, red scratches, as though she had dragged fire across him in countless long lines. She desperately wanted to trace those lines, to kiss them, to feel his lips on hers.
"At least it was fun," she teased gently. She knew she was walking a fine line with him, and as fun as angry sex was, she genuinely hated fighting with him. "I just – I don't know what you want from me, Enj," she confessed helplessly.
"I don't want anything from you, Eponine. I just want you."
Eponine just scoffed. "I'm no good for you, Enjolras. We both know that. Look at what I come from – why would I want to risk ending up like my parents?"
He rounded on her. "Don't you ever try to compare yourself to them. You're a wonderful person, Eponine. You won't turn out like them."
"You don't know that," she whispered.
"Is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you still keep part of yourself hidden away from me?"
She was quiet for a moment. "I'm afraid of you leaving," she told him honestly, though they both knew she was avoiding his question.
Enjolras seemed to understand that she had been pushed far enough. He was so good at reading her. So he sighed, and instead asked, "Do you understand why?"
Eponine nodded. "I can't believe you would let someone else make such a big decision for you," she remarked softly.
He slid back up to sit cross-legged next to her. She couldn't help putting a hand on his knee. "I don't want to leave, you know."
She said nothing. She couldn't even look him in the eye.
"I just need you to give me a reason to stay, Ep. Something, anything, to let me know I'm not alone in this. Because I can't keep letting you break my heart." His voice broke as he said it.
And then he was gone.
The next few weeks were a mess of awkward encounters and sexual tension.
Neither Eponine nor Enjolras were entirely sure of how to act around each other, and absolutely none of their friends were sure of what to do about the situation at all.
Luckily for everyone, Enjolras was in the thick of his last semester of law school, and spent many late nights at the library or awake in the living room, writing papers, studying, or doing work for his internship.
Eponine was equally busy, working at the Musain several days a week, doing her own work for her classes, and trying to be both a sister and a mother to Gavroche.
He was a good kid, though, and even though they fought sometimes (as siblings do), he listened to her, mostly followed the rules she had set for him, and was doing well in school and staying out of trouble.
One evening, when Eponine was off and on a rare break from her studies, she cooked them all dinner. Gavroche was home first, of course, and she had ordered him to do his homework.
When he was done, he joined her in the kitchen to help her cook (she was making pizza). None of the boys had come home from work yet, and tonight was Enjolras' late class night, and Eponine was happy to get some bonding time with her brother.
He walked in without a shirt on, given that the weather had gotten so warm in the city (but not warm enough to rack up the electric bill due to air conditioning). She was, as always, shocked by the rough, angry scars that had been left behind as a reminder of the shooting.
He saw her staring at his skinny, pale frame, noticed the tears in her eyes, and hugged her with a patient sigh and a short laugh. He towered over her, these days.
"They're just scars, sis. I'm totally fine," he reminded her.
Eponine took a deep, calming breath, then wagged a floury finger at him. "If you ever almost die again, I'll kill you," she promised. He grinned.
When their pizza was done, Gavroche talked her into eating out on the fire escape. It was out of the window in his little room, and before he had moved in with them, it was hardly ever used. But Gav had always liked his open spaces, so he frequently went out and sat there to read or do homework or to write. The kid was a talented writer.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, watching and listening to the city life bustle about beneath and around them, before Gavroche asked, "So what's up with you and Enjolras? Is he still moving away?"
Eponine gave him a calculating stare. "Don't you have, like, girls to worry about and videogames to play, kid? Why are you worrying about my problems?"
Gavroche nudged her playfully with his elbow. "Oh, see, you can't shut down on me like you can with everyone else. I'm your brother, I know you too well," he teased ominously. "You can't avoid my questions."
She just sighed resignedly. "It's complicated, Gav," she told him seriously.
"What's so complicated? He's in love with you, anyone can see that."
She glanced at him. "Can we not, please?"
"Come on, Ep, I know you like him too. Why don't you just tell him?"
"It's not that easy," she murmured.
"Sure it is," he insisted. "Look, Ep, all I know is that I've never seen you so happy. I know that you let him take care of you when I was in the hospital. You've never let anyone do that before, you've always been so determined to do everything on your own, to take care of everyone else and deal with your own problems yourself. But then you let him break you down a little bit, and all of a sudden you're like a new person. I can see it in your face when you look at him that you want it, and we all know you want him. You raised me, sis, and our lives were miserable, and Enjolras is offering you happiness. Why even chance losing that?" He said it all nonchalantly, through a mouthful of pizza, as though he were telling her about a videogame or a math test or a science project. But here he was, this kid that she was both sister and mother to, spouting wisdom as though he were rambling off a weather report.
Eponine raised her eyes, impressed by his words in spite of herself. "Jesus, kid, how old are you again?"
Gavroche grinned. "And the student becomes the teacher," he said dramatically, playfully nudging her shoulder with his own. "You may call me Miyagi, young grasshopper."
It was only a few weeks until Enjolras' graduation, and he was working so hard that he was hardly ever home. But one Friday evening, he came home at a decent hour for once, in time to watch the end of a game with his roommates, to have a few slices of pizza from the place down the street, and drink some beers.
A few hours later, Eponine was in bed, unable to sleep.
She had gotten used to Enjolras' presence, to sleeping wrapped up in his warmth every night, safe and calm and content and as much as she hated to admit it, she had not slept well since she had been back on her own.
After tossing and turning in vain for what seemed like hours, Eponine lost her patience with trying to sleep.
Moments later, she found herself in front of Enjolras' door, her hand frozen on the doorknob. The apartment was silent, and the streetlights shining through the window cast her shadow on the wall. She wondered if perhaps her shadow was standing in her way, trying to prevent her from going inside.
But she knew that a shadow could no more stop her from going to Enjolras than she could stop Marius from falling for Cosette all those years ago.
Enjolras rolled over when she walked into his room, staring at her with those striking blue eyes glinting in the light from outside.
"What's wrong?" he rasped.
"I can't sleep," she whispered, closing the door behind her.
He sighed, clearly a little exasperated, but did not order her out. Instead, he moved over a bit, allowing her to slip in beside him.
Eponine had to will her beating heart to slow; she was too afraid that he would be able to hear it pounding, to feel it against his chest. However, she was completely unable to prevent the wave of contentment that washed over her when he wrapped her tightly in his arms. She rested her head on his bare chest, closing her eyes and smiling as she relished the moment.
"I've missed you," she confessed.
"I've been busy," he replied. There was just the slightest edge to his voice when he spoke.
"I know."
They were silent for a long moment, just staring into the darkness, each just as unsure of what to say as the other.
"Do you hate me?" she finally asked.
"Quite the opposite," he sniffed, still being rather short with her, though she detected a slightly softer tone.
"You deserve better," she murmured into his chest, suddenly feeling the weight of their situation, of her actions, bearing down on her chest.
"And yet I chose you," he seriously replied, though she could hear the familiar teasing edge in his voice. But he was markedly more sober when he continued. "Ep, I don't want to leave. I don't have to leave."
"Then don't," she pleaded.
Enjolras sighed again. "I've already explained this to you," he told her seriously, pulling away from their embrace a bit so he could look at her. "Every time I get a even a little bit close to thinking about trying to move on from my feelings for you, we end up exactly like we are right now, and you sweep over me like a goddamn tidal wave and all of a sudden I'm drowning in you again. If you can't admit how you feel for me or can't reject me outright and stop doing things like this, no matter how much I like it, then I need to go away for a while to get over you."
Though his words were not unkind, they hurt her just as much as the thought of losing him did.
"I'm no good for you," Eponine whispered into his chest.
"You keep saying that, as though it's an actual argument," he remarked impatiently.
"I'm not," she insisted. "Enjolras, you have the entire world ahead of you. You're graduating at the very top of the class at an elite law school, and you have more job offers than I've had jobs. You have big plans, big dreams, and you can and you will do big things. But I don't fit in with any of those plans, in any of those places you could potentially end up." She gave a short, derisive laugh. "I'm the girl the politician has a scandalous affair with, not the one he goes home to."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Eponine, that's the farthest thing from true and you know it. You're getting your shit together, you're a smart girl. I've been surrounded by those future trophy wives my entire life. They all come from old money and political dynasties, they all have the same taste in music and movies and books, they all look like they rolled around in a fucking Vineyard Vines catalogue. If I wanted one of them, that's where I would be. But I was never interested in any of them – in any women at all, as you know, until I met you."
"But you're meant for bigger things, Enj," she argued. "You're going to change the world for so many people. I'm not right for that. I'll only get in the way."
He snorted. "It was always my dream to help the people that needed it, to make their lives better because they couldn't find the strength or didn't have the resources to do it on their own. But then I started wanting to change your world, too."
Eponine was quiet for a long moment. They had settled back down, and she could feel his breath on her neck. A shiver went up her spine, and she wondered if he could feel the goosebumps that his fingers summoned as they gently stroked her skin. Her breathing quickened and she found herself halfway between annoyance and awe when she realized that he could have such an affect on her just with his touch. "You should've stuck to your original plan," she whispered. Her hand was curled into a fist on his chest, her nails digging into her palm. God, this conversation was painful, and having him hold her this way was just confusing.
"You represent so much of what has gone wrong, of what this corrupt society has done to people. So my dream evolved, I vowed that I would do everything I possibly could, everything you would let me do, to make things different, better for you. And by then I had already been swept up by your tides, and I was hoping that soon you would feel the same. Then I would be able to help everyone else. You know, with you by my side," he finished a little lamely.
Enjolras seemed to be just a little embarrassed about admitting all of this. But after everything that they had been through together, after everything that had happened – well, they were well past secrets by now.
"What if you can't have both?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the despair from her voice. She had pulled herself up out of his embrace to look at him fully in the face, propped on her elbow. She was able to breath again when his breath stopped kissing her neck and his fingers were no longer ghosting along her skin.
"Why couldn't I?" he inquired.
There were so many emotions bubbling up in her chest – panic, hopelessness, lust, sadness – that she was no longer sure she would be able to stay in control. It was all becoming too much. Eponine struggled to keep her voice calm as she said, "Your life has been blessed, Enj. What if right now, you've reached a fork in the road, and fate will only let you take one way – the dreams you've always had, or me?"
"I would take the fork. That's what Yogi Berra always advised," he joked.
"Enjolras, I'm being serious. What if choosing me means that you never achieve your dreams? You may be fine with it now, but I would hate for you to wake up one day and resent me for being the reason that your life has been unfulfilling," she told him desperately.
"Eponine, my god, that's so far in the future it's not even worth discussing. And it's all speculation, anyway." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Don't patronize me! I'm not one of your lawyer people!" she snapped. "What happens if you can't change my life and also achieve you dream of changing the lives of the other miserable people out there?"
Enjolras was silent for a long moment, his blue eyes focused on the bed, before quietly responding. "What if I told you that you've become the entire foundation of my new dream?" His eyes found hers as he finished speaking
A wave of emotions that Eponine could not identify swept into her chest and her breath caught in her throat, followed by eyes pricked with tears. What has he done to me? She shrugged his hand away angrily when he reached out to rub her shoulder. "No. I can't do this. I can't let you throw away everything you've worked towards for me."
"Eponine," he said patiently, "I'm not throwing everything away. I can do both. I can change your world and I can change other people's too."
She shook her head, suddenly feeling incredibly claustrophobic. Panic was rising. She took a deep breath, trying her hardest to swallow it down, along with the tears that threatened. "Oh, Enjolras, don't you get it? You already have changed my world. God knows I wouldn't have gone back to school without you. I'm getting my shit together, you helped me bring Gav here, you've changed everything for me. But other people need that too. I think the only way that you can have both is to let go of me. Otherwise it's all just too good to be true, and something bad will happen down the road, I just feel it."
"Bullshit," Enjolras snapped, suddenly angry. "You're running away. God damnit, you always do this, Eponine. I want you, why won't you just let me have you? Why won't you let me love you?"
"Because I'm no good for you!" she exclaimed, and suddenly her voice was thick with the tears that she was no longer able to choke down. She was horrified when she realized they were already falling, hot and thick, down her cheeks. She tasted their salt in her dry mouth. "I'm broken, Enjolras, and no matter what you want or what I want, I'm not good enough for you. My life is shit, and you're the best thing in it, but if you stay with me, I will drag you down and you will drown in the worst of me. That's what I mean when you can't have both. If you stick with me, you'll get caught up in the worst of all the shit that's going on up here," she gestured wildly at her head, "and your life will disintegrate just like mine!"
Enjolras was clearly taken aback, both by her words and by her tears.
"My heart is in pieces, Enjolras!" she gasped, openly crying now, not even trying to stop it anymore. "It's how I was born, it's how I was raised, it's like I'm fucking defective. I never learned how to love, not in the way that you want! I'm half a soul, half a fucking person, I'm miserable, I've got issues out of the ass, and you deserve so, so much more. I have nothing to give you, Enjolras, nothing to offer you, and–." She was crying too hard to finish what she was saying.
What was happening to her? She had cried to him about Gavroche, but that was absolutely an anomaly, an exception to the rule. She had never cried to anyone – least of all him – about such mundane feelings as these before.
Enjolras was sitting up as well by now, and tenderly reached out a hand, gently wiping at some of the tears under her eyes with his thumb. It hardly did any good, though, because once Eponine had started to cry, she had completely lost control. She could not stop. Part of it was because she was frustrated with him and with herself, but it mostly stemmed from the fact that he had never seen her this low before – no, this was something she saved for the very blackest nights when she was as alone as she could get.
He wrapped her tightly in his arms anyway, rocking her as she cried against his naked chest. When she had calmed a bit, he slipped his hand under her chin, stroking just below her lips with his thumb, tilting her head back to look at him. "You presume too much, mademoiselle," he teased.
Eponine just stared into his eyes despairingly, unable to even reward his quiet attempts at comfort with a watery smile.
"Maybe I'm just half a soul too," he told her, staring at his thumb as it felt her lip. "You know, math was never one of my strong suits, but if I'm not mistaken, two half souls equals one whole one. Maybe that means something."
Eponine's lips just parted in surprise at his supposition.
He leaned in, planting a tender, gentle kiss on her lips, his hand ghosting along her jaw as he moved it from her chin to anchor it much more firmly on her cheek and neck.
When Enjolras broke it apart, he whispered, "I love you," against her mouth, before lying down. He pulled her with him, and once again she was locked tight in his embrace, her fingers laced through his and her own arm wrapped tightly around his torso as her eyes began to close against the heat of his chest.
"Promise me you'll try to stay," she murmured, suddenly more tired than she had felt in weeks.
"Promise me you'll try to give me a reason," he countered, whispering it against the crown of her hair.
Her only reply as she dropped off to sleep was to squeeze his hand.
When Eponine woke the next morning, she was alone. She wasn't sure whether she was dismayed or pleased with the fact; she mostly just felt numb.
A piece of paper was on Enjolras' nightstand, she noticed, and she could see her name on it.
Sitting up, she snatched it, reading his beautiful script emotionlessly.
Ep –
Went to the library to study for exams.
See you tonight.
Eponine tried to choke down the resentment that swept through her from his cold note. Just a few months ago, he would've woken her before he left, just enough to kiss her tenderly and tell her where he was going.
Disgruntled, Eponine got up and left his room. She could hear voices in the kitchen, and followed them in.
Courfeyrac and Grantaire were there, Grantaire at the stove with a ridiculous hot pink apron on, and Courfeyrac at the counter, chopping vegetables.
Eponine could smell coffee, and followed her nose to the coffee pot, pouring a giant mug as her roommates noticed her presence.
"Good morning, sunshine," Grantaire said. "I'm making omelets."
She eased onto a stool next to Grantaire, stealing a slice of cheese, one hand tight around her steaming mug.
"Excellent. Don't burn them."
The boys grinned.
"Is Clé here?" she asked, turning to Courfeyrac as she carefully sipped her coffee, wincing as it slightly burned her tongue.
"In the shower," he replied, concentrating on evenly chopping up a green pepper. "Did you and Enjolras have a good talk last night?" he asked in a businesslike manner.
Eponine choked on her coffee, snapping her head to look at him, though he was too wrapped up in his vegetable chopping to notice. Grantaire was watching her with interest as he whisked a bowlful of eggs.
"You know I stayed in his room last night?"
"I was already up when he left for the library this morning. His face said it all."
Before Eponine could answer, Gavroche walked in. She felt a wave of relief at his impeccable timing. He pulled off his baseball cap, slipping it on backwards as he leant into the fridge, rooting around.
"What are you doing?" she asked, watching him carefully.
"Looking for my water bottle," he replied.
"No, idiot," she teased, "I mean where are you going?"
He straightened. He looked as though he had grown another inch overnight, and his shaggy blonde hair looked like it had grown two.
"To the skate park with Eric," he said, taking a swig from the bottle.
"Call if you're–."
"Going somewhere else. Otherwise, check in at five. Yeah, yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway, grabbing an apple and shouting his goodbyes as he headed for the door.
Courfeyrac was just beginning to chop up some pieces of ham. Eponine regarded him thoughtfully. "Courf," she said, a little tentatively.
"Hmm?"
"How – how did you know?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"About Clémence."
He looked at her then, clearly a little confused. "Um… well, we met at a thing–."
"No," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "How did you know she was different?"
Courfeyrac regarded her blankly. God, boys were such idiots. "I don't follow."
Eponine sighed, but her curiosity outweighed her impatience. "Ok – let's be serious here. You were a man whore in college. And after. I think I've seen you go on about three second dates in all the time I've known you, and that's counting the two second dates you had with Madeleine."
"Definitely only two second dates," Grantaire cut in. "When Madeleine agreed to get back together with him, they only had one date, remember? She broke up with him again on the second." He was grinning deviously.
Courfeyrac glared at him.
"Boys!" snapped Eponine. "Focus."
Courfeyrac turned back towards her. "What's your question?" he asked.
She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Irritation was quickly bubbling up inside of her. Having serious conversations with these two – especially when they were together – was about as easy as giving a cat a bath. She ate another piece of cheese to calm herself.
"What made Clé so different?" she asked.
Courfeyrac gave her an appraising look for a moment, twisting his mouth as he though. Finally, he shrugged. "I don't know what it was, man. She was just… different."
"How? How did you suddenly know that was what you wanted?"
"I didn't," he told her with another shrug. "We went out on that first date and I brought her back. We had a lot of fun when we were out, more than I usually do when I take a girl out, and I remember thinking that maybe she would be more than a one night stand. Of course, I was thinking in terms of booty calls, or friends with benefits like you and Enjolras, but when we woke up the next morning she was just so... I don't know, so amazing, so fun. I didn't know what I wanted with her, I just knew that I wanted something. I wanted to be around her. And then a relationship happened."
"But how was she different? What made her better than Madeleine or the girls you hooked up with in college?"
Courfeyrac thought for another moment. "Well at the time, I loved Maddie a lot. But our timing was always off, and we were never as happy as we each could have and should have been. I wasn't interested in anything with anyone after Maddie because things had ended so badly and it was all much more hassle than it was worth. But then I woke up next to Clé and it wasn't awkward or annoying like with other girls. It reminded me a little bit of what it was like with Maddie, but with Clé, even though it was just our first morning together, it was already so much better than anything Maddie and I had ever done. I remember saying to myself, 'Self,' I said, 'this girl could be a game changer.' And then we took it one day at a time, and then she wasn't just maybe a game changer, she actually was one."
Eponine opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment a beaming Clémence walked in, planting a tender kiss on her boyfriend's neck.
"I'm so touched," she murmured. "I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend! If that isn't the most romantic thing I've ever heard–."
Courfeyrac spun on the stool, pulling her into his arms before she could finish her teasing sentence and play fighting with her.
When their laughing subsided – Grantaire and Eponine had laughed with them, watching the couple fondly and sharing grins of their own – they turned back to Eponine. Clémence was still on Courfeyrac's lap, his arms wrapped around her.
"Is he still set on this ultimatum?" Clémence asked gently.
Eponine gave her a helpless look and just nodded.
"Eponine," the other woman admonished.
"I know, I know," Eponine said feebly.
"You have to tell him how you feel."
"I did. I told him how I feel about the whole situation."
"Wait, you told him you love him?" Grantaire asked, spinning around from the omelet he was cooking.
"No! No, we were talking about – well, it's hard to explain. Less about being in love and more about… us, I guess."
"That makes no sense," Courfeyrac said.
Eponine shrugged. Grantaire placed an omelet in front of her. She cut into it experimentally – it was filled with ham and cheese, just the way she liked it. She smiled at him gratefully.
"Don't worry about it," she said through a mouthful.
"Eponine, he is going to leave if you don't own up to how you feel for him," Clémence reminded her seriously.
"I know, Clé, I know," she replied, setting down her fork. She picked up her coffee mug, gripping it tightly.
Clémence leaned forward. Suddenly Eponine was very uncomfortable. She held the coffee mug in front of her chest as though it were a shield. "Eponine, you need to figure it out. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, what with all the insisting that I do about your feelings for each other." She looked at Courfeyrac then, her eyes light with amusement. "Seriously, I've gone blue in the face insisting that they're in love, and still, Eponine doesn't seem to be able to wrap her head around it!"
Eponine just scoffed and took an indignant sip of coffee.
Clémence reached out to her then, prying a hand from the mug and squeezing it comfortingly. "Ep," she said kindly, "You need to think long and hard about this and come to terms with your feelings. He's begging you to give him a reason to stay, and we can all see how you feel about him."
"You can?" Eponine asked, looking around.
It was Grantaire's turn to smile kindly. "Eponine, we became friends right away at school. I've considered you one of my very best friends since we met. All that time, all those boys you blew through to get your kicks, and I've never seen you like this before. When you look at him – Jesus, it's like you grew up in a cave and are seeing the sun for the first time."
"Ok, Aristotle," she teased, but his words frightened her with their accuracy. Enjolras had become like a sun in her life – a source of warmth, of a passionate heat, even, in a way, of sustenance.
"Plato, but good try," he retorted.
"You get all strung out when he's with you," Courfeyrac added. "You two disappear into this little world – when you aren't fighting, that is – and you like to think that we all don't notice because you try so hard to keep from falling away from the rest of the world, but we do. Then you get too wrapped up in each other to care, it's really quite disgusting–."
"Ok, ok, enough," she implored, holding up her hand.
They were all silent for a minute, Eponine staring into her coffee and ignoring the others as they stared at her.
Clémence was regarding her with a gaze that Eponine was sure was boring down into the depths of her soul. "Do you love him?" the psychiatrist-to-be asked suddenly, brusquely.
"No!" Eponine answered automatically, but then she faltered. "I – I mean – I don't know," she stuttered.
"Well. You need to make up your mind. Otherwise he's going to go. He will leave, and he won't want to talk to you all that much because he'll need some space. You'll hardly ever see him, except when he's home for holidays, and you'll grow apart. Then in a few years, you'll get your mail one day – maybe you'll be living with some other guy, maybe not – and it'll be an invitation to his wedding, to some other woman he met out there and made a life with. And you'll go and you'll see him and you'll have to live the rest of your life knowing that that woman could have been you."
"He insists that he's never even noticed other women, except for me." Even Eponine knew it was a weak argument.
"And after a year of basically getting sex whenever he wants it, you think he won't be able to find someone out there that he can tolerate enough to fulfill his needs?" Clémence countered harshly. When Eponine said nothing, just stared at her with wide, unsure eyes, she continued, though much gentler than before. "You may not regret it immediately, but someday you will. One day you'll wake up and realize that, in an effort to protect yourself or to save him or whatever your reasons are, you let him slip away. And you will regret it every day for the rest of your life, because he is everything you need. You two are perfect for each other, and we all know it. He knows it, obviously. I can tell that even you know it. But for whatever reason, you're holding back. But he's not going to keep chasing you forever, Eponine. You will lose him if you don't come to terms with your feelings and own up to them, and you will never be able to forgive yourself for it."
Eponine was stunned, and Grantaire and Courfeyrac were pointedly avoiding her gaze. She didn't know how to reply. So she took a bite of her omelet.
"Just think about it, Ep," Clémence implored, sliding from Courfeyrac's lap and going to make more coffee.
The conversation eased into another topic, but Eponine was unable to involve herself. She had just woken up, and already she felt completely mentally exhausted.
Eponine really had thought about it a lot, despite what Clémence seemed to think, but her ability to recognize her own feelings remained as muddled as ever.
It didn't matter that everyone kept telling her she was in love. She believed that they thought it, and she definitely knew that she had feelings for him somewhere, but love? She didn't even know how to tell.
Two weeks later, Eponine and her friends were seated on folding chairs on the quad in front of Enjolras' law school. It was a sunny day with a light breeze, neither too hot nor too cold for the spectators.
She loved these days, when a simple sundress did the trick, and it was still cool enough to bring along a cardigan and keep her hair down rather than knotting the tresses on top of her head to cool her neck.
The law graduates had promenaded out to their seats, a sea of black gowns and those ridiculous caps that she herself would hopefully be wearing in a few years at her own graduation.
They had been lucky to get seats that ran perpendicular to the stage and the sea of graduates, rather than the seats behind the future lawyers. They were about halfway between the stage and the last row of students, close enough to clearly see the speakers.
Enjolras had asked Eponine to save seats for his parents, which she had gladly done, chattering with his proud mother when they had arrived. She had met them on several occasions, and they were incredibly kind people. Whenever she was around them, she found herself wishing that they had been her parents, or at least that hers had been a little more like them.
Gavroche was sitting on her other side, with Azelma and Montparnasse next to him, and the other boys were in the two subsequent rows behind them.
When Enjolras got up to do his speech – he was the class-elected speaker, after all – his fan club roared.
He glanced at them as he came up to the podium, giving them that look, and causing them all to dissolve into giggles. Eponine shushed them all, though she was hardly able to contain herself. But as soon as Enjolras started to speak, they silenced.
As always, he was incredible. He commanded attention, speaking like a general to his troops, his eloquent words calling them into action to be the change the world needed, to help those and to rise above the status quo and to question the establishment and use everything they had learned these past three years to make things different, to make them better.
Eponine watched him as he spoke, passionately delivering his words. He took her breath away, standing up there in the sunlight, a statue sprung to life and living out the moments the artist had intended to immortalize. He was incandescent, sparkling and shining gold beneath the black cap and gown. It seemed as though he would catch fire – no, it seemed as though he was fire. He was its master, and it conformed to him, fanning out as he gestured to his audience who were all at once his peers and his subordinates.
He was beautiful.
Eponine felt something stir in her chest. Could she really lose this? All this passion and drive and eloquence – he had offered it all to her. Other women would jump at the chance for what he wanted to give her, yet here she was, too insecure to accept.
Seeing him like this, ablaze before her… well, suddenly she could see exactly how she felt when she was with him. He so frequently likened her to water, to the ocean, talking about her currents and her waves and drowning in her, yet he filled her with the very fire that surrounded him now.
Losing that – well, when fire and water come together, there is nothing left but smoke. Together, they balanced one another out. But if he left, would there only be sad vapor left behind, the ghost of an indication of what once had been?
Eponine was afraid, but he knew that. He knew her fears, he knew her desires, what she loved and what she hated, what made her happy and what made her sad and what made her angry. He had seen her cry, he had seen her come undone, he had stitched her back together again.
Two half-souls make one whole one, he had said. Was he right? Was that what they were, one soul in two bodies, one made of water and the other of fire, bringing a sense of equilibrium to two lost spirits? He seemed to think so.
Enjolras loved her. He loved her.
Suddenly an understanding of what that meant crashed over her, and Eponine was no longer sure that she was breathing. She couldn't see, but she could – her gaze was focused solely on him, on that golden Apollo, that myth come to life, the man who wanted to give her everything.
It did not mean that he would ask any more of her than what they already had, she realized. He wasn't asking for her to sign away her freedom, bound to him by blood on a devil's contract. He was asking for her to let him love her, to let him take care of her, and to love him in return. He knew what she was afraid of, and he was too good a soul to betray her to her fears. He wanted to help her fight the demons that had long ago learned to swim, to consume them in his fire and banish them from their parasitic lives in her mind forever.
Eponine was breathless. She became aware of Gavroche's hand on her arm; he was looking at her with concern. It didn't really process though, because Enjolras loved her.
And she loved him.
She was sure of it now. In fact, she had never been so sure of anything. How had it taken her so long to see?
(Because she was Eponine, she was stubborn and willful and so frustratingly stuck in her ways. And she was afraid. It was scary.)
But none of it mattered, because she was burning inside with his fire right now. She loved him and he loved her and she no longer cared if that meant he wouldn't achieve his dreams, because they would be together and they could do anything. In fact, she would kick the ass of anyone or anything that even tried to stand in his way, because they were invincible. They were fire and water, the sun and the moon, and there was no stopping them.
Eponine was giddy, elated, waiting impatiently for this stupid ceremony to end. All she wanted was to hold him, for him to hold her, to never let go again.
Finally, finally, the last of the students had walked across the stage and accepted their diplomas. They threw their caps into the air, cheering and shrieking and laughing and crying.
Eponine's friends hooted and hollered and streamed into the sea of black gowns to find her angel, her savior.
"Are you coming, Eponine?" Gavroche asked, staring at her as though she were crazy.
Eponine realized that she was sitting alone, that everyone else had gone, even his parents. She had been in a daze, thinking of his body and his heart and his mind, and hadn't noticed.
She stood, following him towards the familiar site that was her group of friends. They were chattering excitedly, clapping Enjolras on the back as he tightly hugged first his mother, then his father, then the others, occasionally stopping to chat with fellow graduates.
Gavroche ran ahead of her, hugging Enjolras. Eponine approached slowly, feeling unsteady on her feet. Seeing him right now, especially so happy, took her breath away.
As she came up on the group, he turned, and caught her eye. She froze, lost in his eyes for a moment. Then something in her brain snapped, and she felt herself moving, dodging Courfeyrac and Azelma, pushing Combeferre aside as he tried to get close to his friend.
Eponine launched herself into his arms, knocking him off balance, locking her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her as tightly as she could, and kissing him. It was urgent, it was passionate, yet still, in a way, chaste. (They were in public, after all.)
She didn't care that they were surrounded by their friends. She didn't care that his parents were right there, that Gavroche and Azelma could see, that all of his law friends were around. She didn't care about the fact that she hated PDA and had always rejected monogamous relationships.
All that mattered was that he was kissing her, his arms tight around her waist. Everything else had fallen away, and it was just the two of them falling through all of time and space.
Neither was sure how long they had kissed, but when they surfaced for air, their other senses rushed back in so quickly they each almost lost their balance.
Enjolras was bent over, Eponine arched against him, as though they were in some sort of old, romantic movie.
He straightened, pulling her up with him, unwilling to let her go. She seemed equally unwilling, pressing her forehead and her nose against him.
They held the embrace silently for a long moment, trying to catch their breath, ignoring the catcalls and wolf whistles and whooping of their friends around them. Later, she would reflect that when they had finally let go of one another (though their hands remained entwined for the majority of the night, through the graduation dinner they all went to and the party at the apartment afterwards), she had caught the eye of his parents and had never felt so embarrassed in her life. But right now, all that mattered was him.
"Eponine…" Enjolras whispered, his chest heaving against hers.
She shook her head. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, steeling herself, before opening them and planting another quick kiss on his lips.
Her fingers knotted in his hair as she gazed into those deep blue eyes – and he, lovingly, into her brown and gold ones – as she took a deep breath.
Eponine's heart was pounding – she had never been so afraid – but it didn't matter. Her trademark smirk quirked at her lips, and she nuzzled him lightly as she took a deep, preparatory breath.
"Enjolras…" she breathed. His hands knotted against her back, digging into her spine. It sent chills throughout her body, and goose bumps dotted her arms despite the warmth of the day. She smiled, kissing him again teasingly, then staring deep into his eyes.
"I love you," she whispered, loud enough for only his ears.
He broke into a huge smile, squeezing her even tighter, kissing her again and again and again.
Finally, Enjolras pulled away, and, smiling against her lips, whispered, "I know."
Eponine just smiled back.
I hope that was a satisfactory ending =)
Also, this chapter is dedicated to Inge, my biff (aka ThinksInWords or textsfromumbridge on tumblr). She's a bamf and most of this story wouldn't have happened without her. Also, I had to make this extra feelsy because she murders me with feels with her stupid writing all the time so if you all die you can blame her because this is sorta payback. But she deserved it for writing such perfection and cuteness and it kills me every time. Sorry not sorry.
Merci à tous, et à l'épilogue!