12

Éponine dashed to the door and flung it open, before hurrying down the many flights of stairs.

"I'm sorry," she called. "Enjolras, I am so sorry. I didn't know anyone was there, I didn't mean for it to hit you –"

To her horror, Enjolras was crouched down and had picked up her book. "It was completely careless," he said, his voice sharp. "Do you often go around throwing things out of windows?"

He was staring down at the book, at its front cover. He raised his eyebrows. "Frankenstein," he said. "I never liked the book much, either, but there's no need to throw it out of the window – it's not that bad…"

Then he flicked through it. She winced as he stopped on the page with Marius' face. Before he could look at it any closer, she snatched the book out of his hands.

"That's private," she snapped.

"Then you shouldn't have thrown it onto a public street," Enjolras said, staring up at her apartment. He rubbed the back of his head absently. She was grateful that he didn't comment on the picture he'd just seen – that would have made the whole situation just that little bit more embarrassing. She clutched the book to her chest.

"So this is where you live," Enjolras said.

Éponine nodded in response and pursed her lips.

"It looks very different to our apartment," he said, but it was almost as if he was talking to someone else rather than to the girl stood beside him.

Éponine tucked some hair behind her ear. "Would you like to come inside? For a drink, maybe?" Guilt for throwing her book at Enjolras' head made those words come out, and she instantly wished she could take them back.

Enjolras turned away from the flat, but still didn't look at her. "No, thank you," he said. "I do not need to drink anything."

"It's quite nice to, though," Éponine countered, backing away towards her apartment. She didn't know why she said that – she was glad he had turned her offer down. "I will see you soon, monsieur."

"Au revoir," he said.

He still wasn't looking at her, not even to say goodbye. This irritated Éponine more than she'd want to admit. What would he do if the book were to hit him in the head, she mused, as she climbed the stairs back to her apartment. She glanced over her shoulder and Enjolras was already walking away.

Back inside the apartment, she sat on the couch with the book on her knees. She drummed her fingers on top, and before she could stop herself, she flipped the book open. She stroked her fingers over the sketch of Marius, and sighed.

She thought back to the lovely words he had said to her as he held her. She was dying in his arms, and he comforted her, made sure she wasn't alone. And in those moments, she could have sworn that he loved her too.

Seeing him in those gardens, arm in arm with the lovely Cosette, had brought it all home for her.

Marius didn't love her. He loved Cosette. He had never loved Éponine; she could see that now.

She felt like her throat was closing, so she shut the book along with it. Her eyes closed, and the tears that had been welling up as she looked at her sketch finally spilled over. One tear rolled down her cheek, and dripped off her chin onto the book's leather-bound cover.

She angrily swiped at her cheeks with her hands and smeared the tear on the book. She forced herself to stand and went back over to the door; opening it, she slipped outside and back down the stairs to the large bin outside.

She opened the lid, and taking in a big breath, she dropped the book inside and made a mental vow never to let her mind wander when doodling again.

XXX

She didn't think she could face the boredom of the flat again, so instead, she decided to go for a walk. She conjured herself a shawl to wrap around her shoulders before setting off in the opposite direction that Enjolras had.

She made a mental note of the route she was taking, memorising things such as street names and landmarks. It had been such a long time since she'd had to do anything like this considering she'd known Paris like the back of her hand. Those streets were so familiar to her she didn't even have to think about where she was going; the paths she took around the city were ingrained so firmly into her mind she probably could have run from the Café Musain to Gorbeau House with her eyes closed.

What struck her about her surroundings was the lack of definition between the areas. They were all the same – the buildings all similar in structure, the people inhabiting them all looked and dressed similarly, and everything was a lot cleaner than Paris had ever been. During her walks she had not come across any single area which could have resembled a slum, and only a couple of houses that resembled mansions. The biggest break in the scenery was when she reached a collection of shops. She wasn't sure how they functioned exactly considering there was no such thing as money here, but she was sure that was something she could explore on a different day.

It was in this area that she found the library. It was quite a grand building, with marble pillars on the front and a fountain outside. There were children running around the fountain, splashing amongst the water.

She remembered her desire earlier in the day to read and wondered whether the library might have some literature, so she climbed the flight of steps and walked inside. The building inside was cool and nearly completely silent; it had marble floors so shiny they resembled a mirror, and a long square desk area behind which a variety of different people sat. Beyond them were rows and rows of bookshelves, more than she'd ever seen in her entire life. And there were even stairs going up. She'd seen from the outside that this library had over five floors, so she couldn't imagine the sheer amount of books in this one building.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if the mother from her childhood, who loved romance novels so much, would have been at heaven amongst all these bookshelves.

She realised she'd been stood in the doorway for a good few minutes by the way the people behind the desk were staring at her. "Can we help you?" demanded an elderly woman who somewhat resembled a toad. She had a thin, pale pink cut along one of her cheeks and the cut of her green dress revealed faint bruises on her neck.

"Just looking," Éponine said. "Or, I will be."

"Shh," the woman said. "Whisper. This is a library, people are trying to read."

Éponine hugged her shawl tighter around herself and walked past the desks, disappearing into the bookshelves.

XXX

Navigating the library was like navigating the streets of this world. It was like a maze, and everything looked the same and yet different at the same time. She wandered the library for a very long time, not picking anything out but running her fingers over the spines and mouthing their titles to herself.

She went to walk around the edge of one of the aisles and into the next when she bumped into a man doing the same thing.

"I am so sorry, mademoiselle," the man said. It was Combeferre. He had his coat over one arm and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows. He looked about as lost as she felt.

"Combeferre," she said, brightly. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Nor me you," he said, giving her a smile. "I found myself to be rather bored and thought that I'd go for a walk. I was very happy to find this place, but…"

"It's too big, isn't it?" she said, nodding in an understanding manner.

Combeferre shook his head. "Ah, no, it's not that, mademoiselle. I'm actually quite happy with the amount of books on offer. It's just – well, I've been in this library for nearly three hours now and I've yet to find a book I recognise. I've seen the names of authors that are familiar to me, but the titles themselves – I've never heard of any of the texts in this library. It's very…"

"Curious?" Éponine supplied. "You know, today, I tried to conjure myself a book to read."

"Oh?" Combeferre raised his eyebrows. "The thought hadn't occurred to me. How did it go?"

"Not well," Éponine admitted. "The pages were blank."

"That is a shame." Combeferre ran a hand through his hair. "A real shame. I was looking forward to reading a favourite novel of mine, but…" He shrugged. "I suppose I'll just have to pick up something new, won't I?"

"It would look that way," Éponine said.

"I wonder if the people at the desk could recommend something," Combeferre mused, resting one shoulder against the bookshelf beside him.

"They didn't look very accommodating when I came in," Éponine said.

"Did they snap at you as well? What did you do?" Combeferre grinned at her. "I tripped. Apparently you're not allowed to trip in a library."

"I was amazed because I'd never seen so many books in one place before," she replied. "Apparently, that's not allowed either."

"So many rules." Combeferre took his coat off his arm and shrugged himself into it. "Shall we go and find some books, then?"

He offered his arm to her. Éponine didn't think a man had ever offered his arm to her like that before. She hesitated a few moments before she wrapped her hand around his elbow, and returned his smile to the best of her ability.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews/alerts/favourites, I really appreciate it :)