Phew, it's here! You guys seemed pretty excited for this one in the reviews so I sincerely hope it lives up to expectations! I tried my best, promise!
It's the longest one ever by almost 1000 words... I debated going for 2 chapters, but since I'd be uploading them at the same time anyway, I thought I'd just leave it, hope that's ok :)
Disclaimer at the bottom because spoilers.
Éponine was sitting in the Jardin du Luxembourg, resting her back against the trunk of a tree as she sheltered from a short rain shower. As she sat there, she ripped up handfuls of grass to shred roughly in her hands.
She was furious. It was almost lunchtime the day after her discussion with Enjolras and she still couldn't think of a single song to sing for Montparnasse.
It shouldn't be this hard, should it? She'd known him since they were tiny kids, and she was sleeping with the guy on an almost daily basis. This should have been the easiest way to show Enjolras she knew what she was doing, but instead she was sat here in the fucking rain, racking her brains for a song to sing. Her problem was that Enjolras always seemed to know when she was bullshitting, so she was going to have to really mean what she was singing, and despite lying awake all night thinking about it, she had nothing. But she was damned if she was letting him win. So as a result, she'd been quiet and grumpy all day.
She'd seen Montparnasse himself earlier that day; they'd met up in the cemetery, where they'd met that first night. It was the first time they'd gone back to the same place twice, and maybe it was because she was tired and grumpy, but it didn't feel right somehow. It didn't help that he had bags under his eyes, a knife in his pocket and dried blood under his fingernails, which told her he'd been on a job the night before. Éponine had asked if it was with her father and he had said yes, causing the only real argument they'd ever had.
''Parnasse, you said you were trying to avoid him!'
'I am, but I can't just suddenly stop talking to him, he'll know something's up. Also, it's a job, Éponine, I'm not going down the inn with him for a beer and a catch-up!'
'It's not exactly employment, is it?'
'He wants someone dead, he asks me, they die, he pays me. That's a job. I don't understand why it's suddenly a problem today, you've known about this for years!'
'You've never come to see me, knife in your fucking blood-stained hands before! How could you think that would be ok!?'
'Oh sorry, I didn't realise an ex-whore from the slums of San Michel would be squeamish!'
'WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!'
'Nothing I said was untrue!'
'I AM NOT A FUCKING WHORE!'
'Hence the ex-. '
'OH, I FUCKING HATE YOU!'
'And yet you can't get enough of me. What does that say about you, Éponine?! Maybe it says that you don't belong with your rich little boy-toys, and it's time to go back home where you belong!'
She almost laughed. 'OH REALLY?! Where's that then?! The inn?!'
'You said it, not me.'
'I am NEVER going back there' she vehemently spat back at him.
'Whatever. You belong with your own kind, Éponine. Azelma knows it, that's why she stayed.'
'Yeah, and look where it's got her!'
'That's because you left!'
'So it's MY FAULT that she's being abused daily? It's MY FAULT that she's not being fed? It's MY FAULT that she's being worked to death!?'
'That's not what I said'
'But it's what you think!'
And then he hadn't said anything and she had turned and walked quickly away, tears of fury in her eyes. Montparnasse caught up with her easily and grabbed her arm, turning her to look him in his piercing, cold eyes.
'What do you want from me, Éponine? I'm not going to change. You know me, you know what I do. Either you trust me not to tell your father where you are, or you don't.'
'What if I don't?'
'Then it's up to you to stay away. You're the one who organises this. I just find places for us to go.'
'Bullshit! Who do you think you are!? You've set this up as often as I have!'
'That's not true, is it?' She'd thought about it, and he was right. She always said she wanted to see him, or invited him places, or said she wanted KFC or something, and THEN he'd say where to go. God, I am so pathetic! she had thought to herself.
'And who do YOU think YOU are, Éponine? We've been friends for years and you've never once complained about my jobs. You were there for half of them, keeping lookout, or stealing stuff in the next room. We've gone to the people's apartments together since this started – don't pretend you didn't know how I got the keys, how else would I get 7 different apartments? Living people don't just hand them over! – and you've never said anything before. We're not getting fucking married or something: I don't try to change you; you don't try to change me. No rules. That's how it is. Either that or this stops, right now. Is that what you want?'
She'd held his gaze, tears streaming slowly down her cheeks.
'Jesus, Nina, are you seriously crying over something I've said? I thought you were stronger than that.'
She'd gathered all her courage and anger, and sniffed strongly. 'I don't want this to stop now. God knows why, but I'm enjoying the...'
'Love-making?!' he had teased in a simpering voice.
'Well…. Yeah. There was a couple walking past, I didn't want to give them a heart attack, you twat. And you sound like Jehan. Anyway, can you please at least wash before you meet me?'
He'd released her arm. 'Fair enough. And that's what girls call it, right? You know you love me.'
'Not as much as you love you. And for your information, it wasn't you that made me cry. I cry if I fucking want to cry, get over yourself.'
Montparnasse had simply smirked.
Strangely, thinking back over the argument gave her an idea. No rules, that's how it is? That's from a song…
Got it. It's not ideal, but at least half of it'll be true.
It was 8 pm and she was in the store-room of the Musain, psyching herself up to go on.
You can do this, Thénardier. This is as close to meaning it as you're going to get. Just convince him you're right and he's wrong. Go out there and show the self-righteous little… poo. And then the world's your lobster. You don't have to mean it. You just have to make it look like you do.
She took a deep breath, hummed a vocal scale, then left the room with her chin held high.
Deliberately avoiding looking at Les Amis' table, she made her way across the crowded café to the microphone. Then, she put on her brightest smile and happiest voice.
'Hi everybody! My name's Éponine and I'll be singing a few songs for you tonight! I'm here three nights a week, so if anybody has any requests or anything, please just let me know, I'll do my best to help! Right, on with the music… this first one is –' she paused as a figure by the door caught her eye.
He's here. Montparnasse is here.
I can't do this.
'- from one of my favourite Disney films, Tangled, and it's for my good friends... Jehan and Bossuet, who are sitting in the corner over there!' she pointed to the slightly stunned, but very pleased pair.
Better make a joke out of this, you pathetic coward, or he's going to know you chickened out. 'The slightly less dopey-looking one with the curls is single ladies. Get in there, he likes Disney.' Jehan blushed scarlet, as the rest of Les Amis burst out laughing; Bossuet spilling his drink down his front in the process.
'Anyway, enough silliness…'she turned around to set the jukebox, and the cheerful guitar intro rang through the café.
'7 AM, the usual morning line-up...'
Three songs later, she was running out of options, and her confidence was rising, so she decided to go for it. Game face, Thénardier. Let's get this over with.
'This one's a special one for me… they know who they are.'
The pretty piano intro filled her ears, and she started to sing.
This was it. It had to be. Finally! At that rate, I thought she wasn't going to do it.
The introduction didn't give him any clues as to what the song was. It was pretty, piano based. Short. Ten seconds later, she was singing.
I know my heart. Don't care what people say.
All I know is that I never felt like this.
As she sang these words, she looked directly at him, one eyebrow raised defiantly.
And besides, I wouldn't change him if I could.
No man's all good.
Her voice was strong and beautiful, as always. Enjolras always got a funny feeling in his chest when Éponine sang; even if she was just singing along with the radio, or humming while she cooked. It was irritating, actually, because he didn't know what it was, and it made it very hard to think of anything else.
I always knew what I was takin' on.
But I always felt that I could change his ways.
Even if my man will never fall in line,
Glad he's mine.
He had to congratulate her on her song choice. That last verse could almost have been written by her.
'Cause you love who you love.
And you can't help how you're made.
You don't have no say. You're heart decides.
It's that simple I'm afraid.Yes you love who you love.
Common sense may say it's wrong.
There's a part of him you know is wild.
Maybe that's what made you love him all along.
She met his eyes again as she sang the last line, and he knew. She was faking.
I only care that he's mine and I am his
There ain't no rules, that's how it is!
Most girls would hate to be standing in my shoes.
But true love's something you don't choose.
Éponine must have seen it in his eyes, because that verse, her voice had kicked up a notch, to a level he had never heard before. She was truly incredible. She should be filling arenas, or on Broadway or something, not trying to prove a point to me in a little café in San Michel. She was so good that if he hadn't seen straight into her eyes, he would definitely have believed her, from that.
It gave him an idea.
He knew. She was sure of it. He'd known when she met his eyes on the first chorus. She inwardly kicked herself, but decided to ramp up a gear for the last chorus, see if she couldn't change his mind.
For you love who you love.
And you go with what you feel…
And you never think what's down the road
while the fairy tale seems real.
It was at this point she looked at Montparnasse for the first time. His face was cold, unreadable. But somehow, she knew something was wrong.
Oh you love who you love.
Common sense may say it's wrong
There's a part of him you know is wild.
Maybe that's what made you love him all along.
Last line. Last chance.
Could be that's what made you love him
All along!
She belted the last note, eyes closed, heart racing. She opened her eyes as the applause rang out, to see Montparnasse making his way out the door.
'Thank you, ladies and gentleman. I'm just going to take a short break, then I'll be back for a couple more. You've got time to run away if you like, I understand – thanks for staying this long. And not throwing food.' She switched off the microphone as the whole café laughed. Catching Musichetta's confused eye – she didn't normally take a break – she mouthed two minutes, and then hurried out the door after Montparnasse.
She burst into the cold air, frantically looking around for her old friend in the shadows of the night. Montparnasse was good at hiding in shadows, but she knew him too well for him to hide from her. Éponine saw a slight movement in a shop doorway a few doors down, and she had him.
''Parnasse! Where are you going?!'
He must have known he was busted, because he moved out of the shadows to stand under a street light. They were about 30 feet apart, facing each other, but she felt as though she was right there, touching him, there was so much energy in the air. Neither of them spoke for a second, they just held the piercing eye contact.
Suddenly, he spoke. 'What the hell was that?' his voice was low. Dangerous. Demanding.
'What?'
'That song. What was that?'
'It's just a song, Montparnasse.'
'Are you in love with me?' What!?
'What?! No!'
'Then why did you sing that?'
'It's… I…' I was trying to piss off my room-mate? That won't go down well.
'There must be a reason, Éponine! It's never happened before!'
FINE. 'Look… I kind of… I was talking to one of the guys about us, and he was pissing me off and I did it to show him, ok? Don't worry, I love you, but I'm not IN love with you!'
'You did it to SHOW ONE OF THE GUYS?'
'That makes it sound bad, I just –'
'It is bad. You've made this weird.'
'What!? Wait, why are you mad?!'
'Because now I feel like I've led you on. I thought I made it clear I didn't want a bullshit relationship out of this, Éponine.'
'Neither do I!'
'I'm not protecting you from your Dad because I love you!'
'So why are you doing it?!'
'BECAUSE I FEEL BAD THAT I SCREWED YOU OVER WHEN YOU WERE A KID.'
'Oh, REALLY?!'
'YES, REALLY.'
'So it has nothing to do with the fact you're having fantastic sex on a daily basis?!'
'I GET THAT ANY WAY'
'Of COURSE you do! Fucking Montparnasse, screwing his way around Paris! You'd think you'd be better at it, since you're doing it so much!'
'See, THIS is what I don't want! This fucking BULLSHIT! It's been what, three weeks? And we have done NOTHING but argue today!'
'So what are you saying? That I'm in love with you or something?!'
'I don't give a shit, to be honest. The sex isn't worth it, I'm getting that elsewhere.'
They stared at each other, their eyes locked. Fire and ice. Only this time, the light in the fire was fading, as she stuck her chin up defiantly to hold back the tears.
He spoke again, his voice authoritative. 'Don't look for me any more. I won't look for you. Deal?'
'Fine.' she spat out.
'Fine.'
He held her gaze for a second, and then he turned away, disappearing back into the shadows he came from.
He never even looked back.
Enjolras knew something was wrong. She never normally took breaks, and she'd left the café altogether, running after Montparnasse. He almost felt guilty for getting her to do the song.
Almost.
He decided to ask Joly, the closest to the window, if he could see her.
'Joly! Is Éponine coming back, can you see her?'
'She's out of my line of view, I'm afraid. Must be bloody freezing in that t-shirt though, in this weather. She'll catch her death!'
'Thanks.'
'Oh, wait – here she comes!'
She burst back into the café and headed straight for the microphone. He heard Joly muttering under his breath about goose bumps and jumpers and hot drinks, but before the young medic was in full swing, she was speaking again.
'Sorry about that everybody…' Her voice was lower and thicker than before, as though she'd been crying, but he couldn't see tear tracks on her face. She sounded… dangerous.
'This one's for my room-mate. You wanted an emotional song, so eat your fucking heart out.'
He felt the eyes of all his friends on him, burning into his skin. He fought down a blush and avoided eye contact as another sweet, pretty, piano introduction began. Maybe this wouldn't be a bad thing after all. The introduction sounded nice.
I wish I could Bubble Wrap my heart,
In case I fall and break apart,
Then again, maybe it would.
I'm not God, I can't change the stars,
And I don't know if there's life on Mars,
But I know you've hurt,
People that you love and those who care for you,
I want nothing to do with the things you're going through.
She was singing lower than usual; her voice was thick, and full of emotion.
This is the last time,
I give up this heart of mine,
I'm telling you that I
Have broken down and finally realised:
You stand in the streetlight,
But you're black on the inside,
And now you've even gone and made me cry
Well, this is goodbye.
Her eyes were shining; he could see them from here. Not the distracting blaze of a girl on fire, the hazy shine of a girl who was trying not to cry, and/or punch something.
I'm a little dazed and confused,
'Cause life's a bitch, but so are you.
All my days have turned into nights;
can I live without, without, without you in my life?
And you wrote the book on how to be a liar,
and lose all your friends,
and I mean nothing at all
I am just another ghost that's been in your bed.
She spat out the last line, her words dripping with feeling. She wasn't faking this time. She meant every word.
And this is the last time,
I give up this heart of mine,
I'm telling you that I
Have broken down and finally realised:
You stand in the street light,
But you're black on the inside,
And now you've even gone and made me cry
This is goodbye.
As the music built, with more electric guitar, so did Éponine. It was as though she got a new lease of life from somewhere; all the anger and hurt that had been being oppressed before was suddenly released.
Yeah!
Turn on the radio honey,
'Cause every single sad song you'll be able to relate.
But this one I'm taking!
Whoa oh! Don't get all emotional baby,
you can never talk to me
you're unable to communicate!
Suddenly all was quiet again. You could feel the emotion in the room. If Éponine wasn't so effortlessly electrifying to watch, it might have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. Rather than being put off by it, everyone was sharing in her pain, the song uniting everyone in the room. It was a strange feeling. Cosette looked on the verge of tears.
This is the last time,
I give up this heart of mine,
I'm telling you that I
have broken down and finally realised...
Just like the last song, she put everything into the last chorus. This time though, it seemed like it was for a different, more personal reason.
And this is the last time,
I give up this heart of mine,
I'm telling you that I
Have broken down and finally realised:
You stand in the street light,
But you're black on the inside,
And now you've even gone and made me cry
This is goodbye.
As her voice cracked on the last line, he couldn't help but remember that night on the Rue Plumet, the last time he'd heard her pour absolutely everything she had out into the world through a song.
This is goodbye.
Ok, now I can disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, Tangled, Disney, Bonnie and Clyde, or Mcfly. I wish I owned Mcfly, that would be awesome.
Pfffft, a bit intense. I'm a little worried I rushed this, so please let me know what you think! Love all of you, and your reviews :)