27

On instinct, one of her hands flew upwards and smacked the person grabbing her in what felt like their face. They let out a small puffing sound of surprise and released her; she whirled around to face them.

"There was no need to hit me," Enjolras said in a harsh voice. "I was only trying to make sure you didn't do something stupid."

"I was balancing," Éponine explained, blinking at him.

"What?" Enjolras' face twisted with confusion. She'd never seen him looked confused before. She found she rather liked it.

"Balancing," Éponine repeated, dragging out the word this time. "It was rather fun."

"You might have fallen in," Enjolras said.

"I can't die, so what's the worry?" Éponine flung her arms out and her feet went backwards, back towards the river. "Come on, let's go for a swim right now, why not –"

She lunged towards the river, but he grabbed her again, his hands fixing firmly on her waist.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "Let's go."

He took her hand. His hand was bigger and warmer than hers, and it also felt softer. She didn't pull away, but she made sure that her feet were stuck fast to the ground. "I'm not going anywhere with a man that doesn't accept my apologies," she sang.

"You're behaving like a child," he said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated.

"And you weren't, earlier on today?" she countered.

"Fine." Enjolras let go of her hand, and she felt rather sorry for that. "I accept your attempt at an apology."

She stepped past him in a small pirouette. "That'll do, for now, although I don't appreciate your use of the word attempt," she said, in the snootiest voice she could manage.

Enjolras put his hand on her small of her back, guiding her along the riverbank. "I'm going to walk you home," he said. "I don't trust your current state of mind."

"Oh, I'm fine," Éponine said. "Honestly, I am. I'm just a bit drunk."

He glanced at her. "That's exactly what I feared," he said. "People do silly things when they're drunk."

She came to an abrupt halt, forcing his arm to curve slightly around her waist. "What's the worse I could do?" she said, turning her body so she was facing him. She knew she was invading his space the minute he took a step backwards, but she didn't particularly care, just stepping right back up to him once more.

"Éponine –"

"You never look me in the eye," she murmured, realising that his eyes were still darting about above her head. Her eyes searched his face, trying to make his eyes meet hers. "Why is that?"

He cleared his throat, and with a gentle push, moved her backwards. "Let's get you home," he said, ignoring her question.

She bared her teeth at him in the biggest, sunniest grin she could manage, before skipping off along the riverbank.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" she threw over her shoulder, running up the short flight of steps leading back onto the main streets. He followed her at a slightly slower, much more measured pace, his eyes narrowed with an expression of concern on his face.

"Not uncomfortable," he said. She didn't believe him. "But you're very…different, right now, to how you usually are."

"Which is?" She walked backwards, staring at him.

"Not this happy."

"Me being happy is a bad thing?" Éponine came to a stop as he drew level with her. He shook his head.

"I didn't say that," he said. "I'm not used to dealing with people like this. I usually leave it to Combeferre."

"You're not used to dealing with happy people?" Éponine threw her head back and laughed. "I can see why. Personally, I usually feel rather depressed in your presence. I think you bring it out in people."

"Careful, or I'll leave you to walk home by yourself," Enjolras said, but they both knew it wasn't much of a threat as she hadn't asked him to walk her home in the first place.

"It's such a shame you don't like happy people." Éponine spread her arms out wide and spun in a few lazy circles.

"I've never said I don't like happy people," Enjolras said. "The opposite. My friends are very happy people, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but you never have fun with them," Éponine replied, picking up her skirts and rustling them. "They go out, drink Bliss, even Combeferre joins them once in a while – but you, Enjolras, you just stomp around being moody."

"Drinking Bliss doesn't appeal to me," Enjolras replied. "I must say, you're not the best advertisement for it in your current state."

She lurched towards him, sliding her arm through his and pulling him close to her. He stumbled with the sudden weight of her hanging off his arm, but righted himself fairly quickly.

"You should try it," she said, tightening her hold on him. "Next time – you should come with us."

"You weren't out with them tonight," he said, looking down at her. "I know you weren't, because they were all meeting at Jehan's. So who were you out with?"

"Inès," Éponine said. "She's a Guardian. Quite young. Bitter about life, but who isn't? She was a laugh once she'd drunk enough Bliss to forget about how angry she is."

"I don't think I've met her," Enjolras said.

"With how moody you are, and how moody she usually is, I think you'd get on." She came to a stop, forcing him to do the same as she was still holding on to him, and rose up onto her tiptoes. "Guess what?" she murmured, into his ear.

He flinched his head back, wriggling his arm out of her grasp. "What?"

"Inès thinks you're very handsome," Éponine giggled, amused by his awkwardness.

"How does she know?" Enjolras exclaimed, his eyes wide. "I don't know her."

"From what I gathered, you students caused a stir when we all died." Éponine set about braiding her hair as she walked. "And she's seen you around."

He shook his head, clearly at a loss for what to say.

"She's not wrong, though," Éponine continued, pushing her newly-braided plait over her shoulder as it began to unravel. "You are handsome. Would you believe me if I said you were more handsome than Marius?"

The blond man just shook his head again, before saying, "I don't think you know what you're saying."

She giggled, and spun on the spot again. She stumbled as the spin finished, knocking into Enjolras. "I know exactly what I'm saying," she said, as one of his arms shot out, his hands gripping her elbows so she didn't fall over. "I'm saying you're a handsome man," she said, dragging out the word handsome. "I think you're handsome!"

"And I think you've had too much to drink," Enjolras murmured, his hand firmly gripping her elbow. She realised, with a slight sinking feeling in her stomach, that they had turned the corner onto her street.

"There might be something in that," she said with a small sigh, pulling her arm away from Enjolras' hand.

He walked with her to the bottom of the stairs leading up to her flat. She looked up at the window and saw Gavroche's pale face staring through the window with wide eyes. When he saw her looking, he took his tongue out and pressed his face up against the glass, crossing his eyes over. To Éponine, in that second, it looked like the most hilarious face she'd ever seen, so naturally shrieking laughter ensued.

After a few moments, she realised that Enjolras was still stood beside her. There was a bemused expression on his face as he watched her.

Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Éponine straightened up and placed her hands on her hips. "Thank you for walking me home," she said.

"It was nothing," he said, in a very quiet voice.

She nodded at him and, unsure of what to say next, began to walk up the steps.

She was just fumbling in her pockets for the key when Enjolras spoke. "Éponine," he called, and she turned to look at him, leaning slightly over the railing that ran along the landing.

"Yes?"

"I – I accept your apology," he said, his eyes closing for the briefest of seconds as he spoke.

She straightened up, a bit surprised by the words that had just left his mouth.

He nodded at her then without speaking, and turned, walking off back down the street.