58

When Éponine was finished explaining, Courfeyrac did not speak for a long time. She could not tell whether he was angry or not; if anything, his face was more or less completely free of expression.

"Courfeyrac?" she eventually prompted.

"It's not you," he said.

"Pardon?" She put her hand on his arm. "What isn't me?"

He looked at her. His eyes were now apologetic. "I don't think it's you," he said.

"You're not making any sense," she said, shaking her head.

He reached up and took her hand from where it rested on her arm and squeezed it. "I don't think that Enjolras has feelings for you," he said. "I think that he has them for me."

Éponine stared at him. And then she stared a little more, as she processed what he had just said.

"That's," she said. "I don't know whether I think that is very arrogant of you, or...?"

"It's not arrogance," he said. "It's – It's something that came to light a few years ago, and hasn't been mentioned since. Enjolras used to have romantic feelings for me. Still does, we think." He paused. "We being Combeferre and I."

Éponine let her hand slip out of his grip. "I see," she said.

"It was never really a problem," Courfeyrac said. "Obviously it wasn't ideal – I'm not generally opposed to – that. It's just – I see Enjolras as a brother. He might as well be my brother. I could never see him in any other way."

Éponine was not unfamiliar with this subject, but nor was she overly familiar with it. She knew that Montparnasse had slept with men, a fact only she was privy to – her father certainly did not approve. But Montparnasse had slept with girls, too.

She'd just never really given it much thought. Sat on the bench, listening to Courfeyrac speak, she found it didn't really bother her, once the surprise had faded away somewhat.

"So Enjolras isn't jealous because he has feelings for me?" Éponine said.

"I don't think so," Courfeyrac said. "He might. There was a girl, once, in –"

"I'm not sure whether this is a relief or not," Éponine interrupted.

"Well." Courfeyrac took her hand again. "I care a lot about you, Éponine. I'm not sure when it happened, but it has, and...Enjolras is my brother, and he always will be, but I'm not sure I can ignore this because of him. Is that really fair on either of us?"

Éponine didn't answer that particular question, but instead asked one of her own. "What if the issue is not about his feelings, but if he has seen something? Something bad?"

"Then..." Courfeyrac looked troubled for a few moments. "Then we shall deal with that when it happens. It is not in my nature to live in fear of something that may or may not happen."

Éponine sighed. Her eyes drifted shut for a few moments. "Let's go," she suggested, eyes opening, and shifting so that she was sat on the very edge of her seat.

Courfeyrac stood first, and as he still had hold of her hand, pulled her up to her feet.

"Please, don't worry yourself too much," he said, quietly. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her cheek.

Then he was pulling away. He wasn't smiling, but she was. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

"Let's get you home," he said, quietly.

XXX

Éponine found Inès alone in the apartment when she returned.

Gavroche, she was informed, was out. Inès didn't specify where, possibly because she did not know.

Inès herself had just been lay there, on her stomach, with her chin resting on the arm of the sofa. When Éponine edged through the door, her face lit up.

"I've been waiting for you," she said, in a way that was probably supposed to sound less ominous than it did.

"Why?" Éponine asked, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm bored," Inès explained.

"I'm not surprised, if you're just going to lie there," Éponine said.

"Hmph." Inès sat up, pursing her lips. "Don't be awkward. What I meant to say is that I would like to do something this evening, if that's all right with you."

"Of course it is," Éponine said. "I don't mind what you do –"

"With you," Inès added. "Something fun."

Éponine paused on her way to the kitchen. "Like what?"

"We haven't gone out to drink Bliss in a long, long time," Inès said, sounding proud of her idea.

Éponine sighed, and ran a hand over her hair. "I don't know," she said, hesitantly. "I've had...It's been a long day."

"Even more reason for us to go!" Inès said, excitedly. "Come on! It will make you feel better!"

Éponine knew how Bliss would make her feel – it would make her feel dizzy and deliriously happy, and it would probably make her forget, too. It wasn't the worst idea that she had ever heard, but a part of her also just wanted to crawl into her bed and sleep.

"Please?" Inès asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Give me a moment," Éponine sighed. "Then we can go."

Inès was so excited, she fell backwards on to the sofa, clapping her hands together.

XXX

"You," Inès announced, after they had been drinking for two hours, "were blushing when you came in before."

Inès had, as usual, consumed more Bliss than Éponine during this two-hour period, and was already gesticulating wildly with her hands.

"Was I?" Éponine asked, before taking a long drink from her cup. "I don't think I was."

"You had been," Inès corrected, wrinkling her nose. "I could tell."

"Maybe." Éponine smiled. "Courfeyrac happened to walk me home." It hadn't been such a bad idea, after all; even if she had drunk less than Inès, the Bliss had already taken root, making her feel like she was floating. The worries over Enjolras and Courfeyrac seemed to be very, very far away all a sudden.

"Did he?" Inès almost crowed the words. "He's done that a few times, though. It must have been more than a walk home." She pressed her lips around the rim of her glass and stared at Éponine, amused.

"It wasn't, really." Éponine waved a hand. "We talked, about something else..." She paused. "I have a lot of affection for Courfeyrac," Éponine admitted, feeling the heat of a blush warming her cheeks. "I have no idea how on earth it will pan out, and yet..." She shrugged. "I don't really mind."

In her current, Bliss-drowned state, what she had just said was true, even if sober the words would not have been so honest. Right now, as her mind was spinning and a little numb, she did not have it in herself to even worry that Enjolras' vision of the future had been at all negative.

"He's very handsome," Inès allowed. "In a...jolly sort of way. He always looks very..." She waved her hands about, as if that would complete her sentence for her.

"Sunny," Éponine supplied. "He is so bright – always bright – like sunshine."

"You sound like a poet," Inès snorted. "And not a very good one."

"Oh, shush," Éponine said, taking another drink of Bliss.

"But I see your point." Inès cupped her chin in her hand. "He os not my kind of man, but...He is charming."

"What is your kind of man?" Éponine enquired.

"He is..."

"Pretty?" Éponine said.

"Enjolras is pretty," Inès said, "But he does not interest me either."

"I like pretty," Éponine confided.

"Yes," Inès said, "Of course you do – you're after Courfeyrac. I prefer men."

"Well, yes," Éponine said, confused. "That was the topic of conversation, after all. I don't believe we were discussing the attractiveness of women?"

"I mean..." Inès waved her hand again. "I like...men that are...What's the word..."

"Masculine?" Éponine said.

"Yes!" Inès pointed at her, and then a dreamy look came over her face. "Yes, that is the word..."

Éponine looked at her, and then shrewdly said, "You're thinking of someone, aren't you?"

Inès' already flushed cheeks went a little pinker. "You already know I feel quite strongly about someone," she pointed out.

"Yes, Éléonore mentioned..." Éponine bit her lip. "He did not return your affections?"

"What? Oh, you mean Jacques." Inès frowned. "Ah, I don't think about him much anymore, I've moved on."

"Moved on?" Éponine raised her eyebrows. "Éléonore had me believing you were in love with him, and it was very serious. Ah, for you, of course, not for him. For obvious reasons." She took a long gulp of Bliss to silence her over talkative mouth and flapped a hand.

"I thought I was in love," Inès corrected. "I wasn't."

"But there is another man," Éponine said. "A very masculine man."

Inès nodded.

"And are you in love with him?"

"No." Inès bowed her head. "I am not. I just, I think he is an attractive person. And I believe that he thinks I am, too. Or could be, if I were not..." She gestured at herself. "Stuck in the body of a thirteen year old."

Éponine clucked her tongue. "That would be hard to get past," she said.

"That's what happened with Jacques," Inès sighed. "He couldn't get past that."

"Could you? If, say, someone Gavroche's age were to..." Éponine twisted her mouth. "That's a horrid thought."

"It is." Inès also wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No, I couldn't – I would really struggle. How old is Gavroche, anyway?"

"I've no idea. Lost track of years," Éponine said. "I'm not even sure how old I am, if truth be told."

"You look older than I think you are," Inès said. "That's not something I'm blessed with. I always looked young. Arnaud used to tease me something terrible about it."

"You don't look that young," Éponine lied. She privately thought Inès looked about eleven, possibly pushing twelve, rather than thirteen, when she was drinking Bliss. "So, who is this gentleman?"

"I can't tell you." Inès looked unhappy with that statement. "He made me promise I wouldn't. I don't think he wants his friends to know."

"Because of your appearance? Is he older than you, too?"

"In appearance," Inès replied. "In actual age, well, I think I'm older than him by more than thirty years."

"So there's not really a problem, then, is there?" Éponine wasn't sure whether she meant that or not.

"No, but a man who looks like him would probably be unhappy having a girl that looks like me on his arm," Inès said. If she hadn't any Bliss circulating her system, those words would surely have sounded gloomy, but they just sounded very matter of fact, like there was nothing she could do to change that.

"It all sounds very complicated," Éponine said. "How many times have you and he talked about it?"

"Once." Inès curled a yellow strand of hair around her finger. "But once is enough."

"How did it happen?"

"I said something, of course," Inès said. "I can't seem to help it – you know my mouth –"

"And he, this mysterious gentleman, said that the only issue was your apparent age?"

"More or less – but he did admit he had just not yet thought of me in that manner," Inès said. "Which I understood. And since then..." The corners of her mouth curled upwards. "I have often thought that mabe...Sometimes it seems like he is watching me, and he seemed protective over me, too."

Éponine's eyebrows flicked upwards. "Is he someone you know? Someone I know?"

Inès didn't respond, but her cheeks went even pinker.

"He is!" Éponine looked delighted. "One of the students?"

Even more pink, now.

"It is! Which one?" Éponine leaned towards her.

"I told you, I promised I wouldn't tell," Inès said. "Let's change the subject."

"That's not fair," Éponine pouted. "You can't hint at things like that and then just leave me hanging."

"Are you looking forward to moving into Fantine's apartment?" Inès said, some of the pink in her cheeks fading away.

Éponine stared at her. "I will work out which one," she vowed.

Inès shrugged. "I said I wouldn't tell," she repeated.

"Hmm," Éponine said, slurping Bliss into her mouth noisily. "We'll see."