18

The students all fell in love with Hyacinthe when they came over that evening. However, none adored the little kitten more than Gavroche; he announced to them all that he would no longer be alone in his explorations during the daytime. Éponine just hoped that he wouldn't lose Hyacinthe in carting her about the streets.

"What made you decide to keep her?" Combeferre asked in a low tone, watching Courfeyrac, Gavroche and Bahorel hide the string beneath a cushion so that Hyacinthe could watch it appear and reappear. The kitten was practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity over where the string was going.

"It made Gavroche so happy," Éponine shrugged. "He never got the chance to be a child the way I did. I didn't have much of a childhood, but at least I had a few years. He never got that."

Combeferre bowed his head. "I see where you're coming from," he said.

"And," Éponine added, "I had a cat when I was little. Well, Azelma and I did. We used to dress it up in clothes. I loved it. I don't know where it went, though, when we lost the inn…"

It had always niggled at her, what had happened to that tabby cat. The reality was too horrible to think about, so she liked to think the cat found a cosy barn and lived out the rest of its life killing mice.

"I think it's a nice idea," Combeferre said, an amused smile breaking out across his face as Hyacinthe decided to abandon her attacks on the string and go for Bahorel's elbow instead. To his credit, the large and occasionally volatile man only winced and didn't try and remove the cat from his clothing.

"Nice?" Éponine said, uncertain of what he meant by that.

"Giving Gavroche something to focus on," Combeferre explained. "And, I suppose, it gives you something to focus on…"

She shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure what he was getting at, but she decided to pretend she knew.

XXX

A week later, Éponine decided to go back to the inn she'd visited with Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel and Feuilly.

She'd been bored, and it was daytime, and she kept on remembering her interaction with Grantaire. She'd tried to push it to the back of her mind in the past week, but this was the first day that Gavroche had kept his promise and taken Hyacinthe out, so she had been completely unoccupied (she'd never thought a kitten could entertain her so much).

As it was daytime, the inn was much quieter than it had been the last time she'd visited. There were still revellers, of course, downing Bliss by the bucketful; but there weren't as many. She retrieved a glass from behind the bar and got herself some Bliss, before sitting on the same stool she'd sat on to talk to Grantaire.

She wasn't sure what exactly she was hoping for but she'd been there for an hour (and drunk two glasses of Bliss) when Grantaire made an appearance. He was completely alone. He did the same as her, getting a glass of Bliss and sitting down. This time, however, he avoided the bar and sat at a table nearby.

She stared at him, wondering whether or not to speak to him. But then he twisted his head and rolled his eyes in her direction.

"Yes, I saw you, Éponine," he said. "Come over if you must."

Éponine slid down off the stool without needing anymore prompting and joined him at his table.

He hadn't touched his Bliss yet. Unfortunately for him, the two glasses of Bliss she'd already downed had made her tongue looser than normal. "Why are you avoiding all your friends?"

"Sorry?" Grantaire sounded surprised by her bluntness.

"You're avoiding your friends," she repeated. "Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jehan…Enjolras. And the others. Why?"

"No pleasantries?" Grantaire muttered, finally taking a sip of Bliss. "No, how are you, Grantaire? I'm fine, thank you, by the way."

"Your friends are worried about you."

Something similar to surprise flickered in Grantaire's eyes. "Are they now?"

"Yes." Éponine licked her lips and ran her thumb around the empty glass she'd carried over to the table. "Combeferre is, and Enjolras –"

Grantaire snorted. "I doubt that Enjolras is worried about me."

"He is," Éponine insisted. "They all are. Why would I lie?"

"Why do you even care?" Grantaire demanded.

"I like Combeferre a lot," Éponine said. "I don't like seeing him worry. Everyone else is getting along just fine here –"

"And so am I," Grantaire interrupted. "I like it here."

For a few minutes, Éponine floundered. She had no idea what to say to that.

"I know, I'm surprised myself," Grantaire said in a dry sort of way. "But I find this place…suits me."

"Then…why…" She pursed her lips. "Why don't you see your friends? The other night, when I saw you – it wasn't me you were annoyed at, was it?"

Grantaire shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't annoyed," he said. "I was nervous."

"You sounded annoyed."

"Nervous," he reiterated. "I don't really want to see Les Amis right now."

"But why?" Éponine flopped back in her seat, a small huffing sound leaving her mouth. "I don't understand."

Grantaire looked down at his glass. "I wouldn't expect you to," he said. "It's…It's complicated, Éponine."

"I can do complicated," Éponine replied. "My whole life was complicated. I think I can handle it."

"Oh, I know you probably could, I just don't feel like revealing the best of me just yet," Grantaire said.

Éponine studied the man before her. There was a resigned expression on his face.

"I think your friends would like to see you," she said eventually. "You don't have to tell them anything. Or me, for that matter. But they want to know you're all right."

"How can I not be all right?" he said, smirking at her. "There's as much Bliss as I could ever want, and I can't die, and I can't be hurt, and I don't need food or sleep or money. I can go from drinking hole to drinking hole without any concern for anything. They must know that."

Éponine thought back to the times that Gavroche had disappeared and how sick it had made her feel, and shook her head. "That's not the point," she said. "When you care for someone, logic doesn't matter. It doesn't make a difference that you're safe; until they know you're safe, they're going to worry."

"I don't think they're worrying as much as you think they are," Grantaire muttered in response.

"Don't be an idiot."

At that moment, the doors to the inn swung open and Courfeyrac, Feuilly and Bahorel burst in. It wasn't long before their eyes fell on Grantaire and Éponine. Grantaire turned to look at them, then glanced at Éponine. She shrugged at him. "It's up to you," she said. "You can walk past them and find somewhere else to drink. Or you can just move past whatever issue you're having and talk to them. What's the worse that could happen?"

She picked up her glass and put it back behind the bar. When she turned around, Grantaire's friends had taken seats around his table, and Grantaire seemed to be smiling. For a few moments, Éponine leaned her hip against the bar and watched them, before deciding to return home.

A/N: I'm aware that it seems like I've covered Grantaire too quickly, but it will be a plotline we'll return to at some point later on.