Trigger Warning: references to drug abuse and domestic violence

A/N: Okay so I'm just telling you now that this isn't the best chapter I've written. I wrote it in about an hour. I just wanted to get it done because it's PetitSuisse's birthday and I love her and she wanted me to update. But yeah. Not great. Also I had finals and so I'm a little sleep deprived.

I'll make it up to you, though! I'll update within the next three days, okay? :)

Also I love reading your reviews! Thanks so much!

But you can't say what you want or
Take what you want or
Choose the moods that you fake when you want
You said your life needed something special
That you don't have
Well aren't you glad

-Tyler Hilton, Glad (Acoustic Version)

Éponine shivered, but she was sweating. Her heart was beating even faster than usual. All she could think about was Marius, and how she hadn't seen him in days. For Éponine, an hour was too long to spend apart from him.

"Where are you going?" Enjolras said as the shabby girl turned into a dark alley.

"Short cut," she said, smirking. She had almost forgotten he was there, although most people would've found that hard to do. He wasn't a good shadow, not like her. He wasn't used to sneaking, slipping between crowds. He was more used to standing in front of them, leading.

"Marius never hesitated. You aren't afraid of the dark, are you?" she added. She couldn't help it; with Marius chasing after the lark, she had to let her irritation out somehow. Enjolras made an easy target. He was so uptight.

That was the twelfth time she said Marius's name in the span of fifteen minutes. Enjolras muttered something along the lines of 'For the love of Patria' and gestured for her to continue.

They made it about halfway down the alley before a group of five boys ran into them. They were young, about ten or twelve, but they hit them with such force that Enjolras and Éponine fell against the brick wall. "Hey!" Éponine shouted as they continued to run past. "Wallet."

"Sorry, 'Ponine," one of them said. It was her little brother, but he could hardly be recognized with the mud caked on his face. "I didn't know it was you. I just saw Enjolras's clothes and thought he probably had something on him. No offense."

Enjolras snorted. He probably thought it was funny that Gavroche saw being rich as an insult.

"It's probably because of the mud covering your eyes, 'Roche," Éponine said, taking Enjolras's wallet from the boy's outstretched hand.

As soon as Enjolras got his wallet back, he opened it and began to pull out several bills. "No," Éponine told him. He slowly slips his wallet away, a mixture of confusion and annoyance on his face. Poor little rich boy, probably not used to being told 'no'.

She bent down to Gavroche's level. It wasn't very far. He's growing so fast. Soon he'll be taller than me. "What were you using the money for?" she asked.

"Food," he said.

"You're the best liar I know, but I'm your sister."

"Oh, alright. Brujon is selling firecrackers."

Brujon was stupid enough that Gavroche could probably just swipe them, but she wasn't willing to risk him getting caught for a prank.

"Fine," she said, pulling out a few crumpled bills from her own pocket. She offered them to the boy, but as he reached out to take them, she jerked her hand away. "One condition," she said. "At least half of them have to be set off in front of papa's house."

"Deal," Gavroche agreed, grinning widely. He snatched the money from her hand and bolted off, the other boys following him.

"Save a couple for me!" Éponine called out. She had a feeling they didn't hear her, or at least would pretend not to.

"I thought Gavroche was with Courfeyrac tonight," Enjolras said, staring at the place where the boys had just been.

"Guess he changed his mind. Gavroche is going to do what he wants, no use trying to tell him otherwise."

"Family trait?"

Éponine snorted. She started walking again.

"Why didn't you let me give them money?" he asked. It had just a hint of accusation. He still wasn't looking at her.

"Don't hand a street kid money unless they ask you for it," Éponine told him.

"But they were just going to take it anyway."

"For a college student, you aren't very bright. There's a difference between stealing and begging. Begging is for desperation. But stealing is an art."

"An art?"

"Well, at least a skill. What, you don't believe me?"

"No, I believe you. I didn't even feel his hand in my pocket. I just hope that someday it's not a skill so many people feel they need to learn in order to survive."

Éponine rolled her eyes, but Enjolras didn't see.

"How much further?" he asked, sensing that she wasn't going to verbally reply.

"About fifteen minutes. Maybe you should just turn back. Or you could call a taxi and have it meet you when we get there. Honestly I don't know why you even bothered walking me home. You're going to have to walk all the way back."

"It's fine. But you seriously walk all this way?"

"Yep."

"Every day?"

"Yep."

"Even at night?"

"Well its night now, so… yep. You really didn't have to walk me home."

"So you keep saying."

They turned the corner back onto an actual street, where they passed several shops. In the windows of one store hung several nice dresses; Éponine stopped briefly to examine them and then continued walking.

"You know," she said, "I never understood why girls wear dresses so much. I mean, sure, they look nice, but they're so inconvenient. If they're tight then you can't really move in them, but if they're loose then they just get annoying. And they're never the right length. Plus, could you imagine me walking all the way to work in a dress? Ha."

She continued on like this for a couple of minutes. Finally annoyed with his silence, she stopped and turned to him. "I don't get you."

"What?"

"You go to all these meetings, and you talk to your friends or followers or whatever, and you have these conversations that last hours. And now you're walking me home, and it's like all you've said to me has been about my brother's habits. So are you actually a talkative person or are you quiet or do you just not like me?"

"It's nothing against you personally. It's just that I don't have anything to say about Marius or dresses, which are the only two things you've really talked about."

"So politics is the only thing you talk about then?"

Enjolras shrugged, but he didn't deny it.

Éponine wasn't used to feeling awkward. She never really cared what people thought, nobody except Marius, anyway. Maybe because she spent so much time trying not to be seen. But if this was really his impression of her….

They spent the rest of the walk home in silence.

Finally they reached the rundown apartment. The sides of the building were tagged with graffiti, and some of the windows were covered in plastic, the landlords being too lazy to fix them. The inside wasn't much better.

"Well… this is me."

"Do you want me to walk you up?"

"No, really. You've done enough. I think I can make it from here."

"'Kay, well… I hope your hand gets better."

She looked down at the wrapped limb. She had completely forgotten that she had cut it open just an hour before. It barely even hurt. "Thanks," she said. Éponine entered the building, not at all comfortable with how she said goodbye.

With her uninjured hand, Éponine dug the contents of her pockets out and threw them onto the grimy counter. There was a few bills she got in tips, some pocket lint, a wrapper… and the little plastic bag of heroin that Claquesous gave her.

She stared at it. Just its presence made her… angry? No. Anxious. It made her anxious. She should just dump it down the sink. That would be the smartest thing to do.

How much is this even worth? Probably a lot. She didn't really know. Montparnasse was the one who usually bought it for her. But it could probably pay for a week's worth of food for Gavroche. Courfeyrac had been feeding him often, but it wasn't fair for the student to have to take care of him. She didn't like having to rely on anyone.

She could sell it. She could sell it by tomorrow and not have to worry about her brother's empty stomach, at least for a little while longer. She grabbed the packet off the counter. It burned in her hand. She went to her bedroom. It was bare; there was a mattress on the ground and a couple of messy piles of clothes. Where to put it? She lifted her mattress and dropped it. That would have to do for now.