25

The next day, Éponine woke up early, tidied the house, and spent the rest of the morning conjuring a massive chocolate cake for Gavroche. But when all of this was done, she knew she could not put it off any longer; she had to go and see Combeferre and Enjolras.

She walked as slowly as she could, dragging her feet as she walked to their flat. When she knocked on the door, she left a long gap in between the knocks, trying to stretch out the seconds for as long as she could. The door opened a couple of minutes later, and it was Combeferre who answered.

"Hello," she said, feeling a little awkward. "Can I come in?"

"Of course you may," Combeferre said, holding the door open wider and standing aside. She slipped into the flat, knotting her fingers into the fabric of her skirt.

He shut the door behind her with a quiet snap. "I was just about to leave," he said. "Éléonore and I are going for a walk."

"I won't keep you for long," Éponine reassured him. "I just wanted…"

Combeferre raised his eyebrows at her. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

"I just wanted to say sorry," she said, in a low mutter, "For how I've been in the past couple of days. You didn't deserve my anger and I'm sorry if I was rude to you."

Combeferre bowed his head. "I appreciate your apology," he said. "I apologise if I really did upset you as well."

"You did, but I was nothing I didn't deserve," Éponine replied, wringing her hands together. "I needed someone to tell me how I was coming across."

"Éponine," Combeferre sighed, stepping towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Why don't we draw a line under it?"

That sounded like the happiest idea she'd heard in a long while, and she beamed at him. "Please."

He returned her bright smile, and said, "Would you like to speak to Enjolras?"

Éponine winced. "Yes, I was."

"He's not in at the moment," Combeferre said, "But he was heading to the library when he left this morning. I suppose you could look there."

"The library?" Éponine pressed her thumb to her lower lip.

"I know," Combeferre said. "He's recently taken an interest in the works of Clémence Lefebvre. It's better than the pointless wandering he took to doing when we first arrived here."

"I'll look there first, then," Éponine said. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. I want you to get it resolved," he said, grinning at her. "Now, I need to go and meet up with Éléonore…"

She stepped out of the flat with him and waited as he locked the door.

"Do you mind me asking what's going on between you and Éléonore?" she said. "Is she…your…I don't know, mistress?"

Combeferre's brows knitted together and his mouth twisted at her words. "I don't like the term 'mistress'," he said. "It doesn't really cover our relationship."

"So you have a relationship?" Éponine pushed.

"Of sorts," Combeferre said, and together, they made their way down the steps to the street. "Not the one your thinking of, and not the one that Bossuet and Bérénice share. But I certainly feel a great deal of affection towards her."

Éponine smiled at him. "It's nice to hear that someone is happy," she said. "It feels like it's been an age since anyone here was happy."

"It'll pass," Combeferre reassured her. "I'll see you soon, Éponine. We must go to the library together again in a couple of days."

"We will," she agreed. "Goodbye."

They parted ways, her walking to the library. She found that, after apologising to Combeferre, she was not walking so slowly and found herself feeling somewhat eager to see Enjolras.

She found him sat in the basement of the library amongst all of the non-fiction books, sat on an overturned crate, with what she recognised to be Clémence Lefebvre's fourteenth volume in his hands. He didn't look up when he heard her footsteps, and still wasn't looking at her even when she was stood beside him, her feet clearly in his line of vision.

She cleared her throat.

He still didn't look up, and turned the page with a soft rustle. She cleared her throat again, but he didn't move.

"Monsieur," she said. He turned the page again. She rolled her eyes. It was impossible for a person to have read two pages in the few seconds it took her to say monsieur, so she knew he was trying to avoid looking at her. For such an intelligent man, he was being incredibly childish.

"Enjolras," she said, a little louder than her normal volume. "Don't ignore me."

Enjolras let out a small, soft sigh, and drummed his fingers on the page. His head, however, didn't raise so he could look at her properly.

"I think you're being really rude," Éponine declared. "Are you at least going to look at me?"

Finally, his head lifted up and so did his eyes. As usual, the piercing blue orbs focused on some spot just above her head. The urge to kick him in the shin, a feeling she usually got around Enjolras, rose up once more.

"Are you going to shout at me again?" he said, his voice calm and controlled. Her foot twitched and she had to force her leg to stay down instead of kicking out at him.

"No," she said, dragging out the short word. "I'm not going to 'shout' at you, as you put it."

"That makes a nice change."

She rolled her eyes. "I've shouted at you once."

"Shouted, maybe, but it wasn't the first time you've been rude to me." Enjolras continued to drum his fingers on the book. "You can't blame me for expecting more of the same."

Éponine's hands curled into fists. "Actually, I came here to apologise," she snapped. "I came to apologise for the fact I upset you the other day."

His face remained impassive in the face of her apology, and he didn't speak. His fingers, however, did stop drumming and stilled completely. A few heartbeats passed in silence, and then his head tipped downwards. She waited for him to say something; a couple of minutes went by and then he turned the page in his book.

Her heart sank. This time, enough time had passed for him to have genuinely read the pages in front of him, meaning he wasn't even paying attention to her anymore; his attention was back solely on the text.

"Enjolras?" she said, tentatively.

Another few minutes slid by. Another page turned. There was no response from Enjolras.

An unexpected lump formed in Éponine's throat at the obvious rejection of her apology. Her throat began to ache, and her eyes felt oddly hot. With a sharp intake of breath she didn't want him to hear, she turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor.