I'm back! Hope it's not too much of an anticlimax :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. BUT I DID SEE FRA FEE IN EDINBURGH. IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE COOLEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

It had been four days since she had spoken to him. Not even a word had passed her lips in his presence. Of course, if she could possibly avoid it, she was very rarely in his presence: he'd barely seen her at all, and this was no small achievement, considering they shared an apartment.

She very nearly left: Combeferre and Grantaire had been in her room for almost an hour convincing her not to move out, while he sat in his room listening as the guilt turned his stomach.

He'd really messed up, and he knew it.

Enjolras was not a man who often regretted his actions. While he had a fiery temper, and often made quick decisions, in general, his actions were thought-through and considered, and almost always in aid of a greater cause. As such, he usually felt that even if things went wrong, he had acted in the most sensible and morally right way that he could, and if he was trying to further a cause, damage was worth it. He had only ever had two regrets: falling out with his mother, the harm that came to the young boys at the recent protest.

The problem with the situation with Éponine was that he HADN'T considered the consequences of his actions. He hadn't thought through what he was saying the other night. And there was no greater cause here, except possibly for Éponine to be happier – because she wasn't happy with Montparnasse, of that he was certain. Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn't happy without him either, and because it was his fault they had broken up, Enjolras was really in trouble. He was so angry with himself for getting involved at all, and especially for being so impulsive with his challenge; what was it about the situation that had made him so thoughtless? The look in her eyes as she had sung the last song at the café, before leaving without another word to anyone, would stay with him forever. It was entirely his fault. Even Combeferre had been disapproving of him – 'I never thought you would ever be interested enough to interfere in someone else's relationship, Enjolras. Éponine is heartbroken. I hope you don't expect her to forgive you any time soon.' – and only Gavroche had come out in active support of Enjolras' actions. This was not comforting for the guilt-ridden leader of Les Amis.

He'd decided to leave her be, partly out of respect for her time to grieve and partly out of cowardice: he wasn't looking forward to facing her again. However, he knew he had to eventually, as the rehearsal for Feuilly and Sylvie's wedding was that evening, and there was a fairly good chance they'd have to interact at some point. He also didn't want his good friend's wedding day to be anything less than perfect, and would feel even worse if it was partly his fault. So with that in mind, he knocked on her bedroom door.

'Hello?' His stomach did an involuntary flip as he heard her voice for the first time since the Musain. Must be the nerves he thought to himself. He weighed up his options: say who it was and be told to go away, or open the door and run the risk that she wasn't… clothed. He opened the door.

She was sitting on the bed in Grantaire's jogger bottoms and her ACDC t-shirt. Her hair was messy, and piled up on the top of her head, strands escaping all over the place. She looked up as he walked in, the surprise evident on her face at who it was. He decided to act before she could recover from the shock.

'Before you yell at me and tell me you never want to see me again, I want to apologise. I was out of line in saying what I said about your relationship and to dare you to do something you didn't want to was just stupid. I am very sorry for the part I had in ending your relationship with Montparnasse, and whilst I fully understand that you are angry and upset and grieving, can we at least be civil to each other? We've got the rehearsal tonight and I don't want Feuilly's wedding to be awkward because of my idiocy.'
She said nothing for a moment. Enjolras stood awkwardly, wondering what to do with his hands – fold them? Too angry. Hold onto something? He wasn't going to fall over, why? Had hands always been this awkward, or was it just this particular silence that made them that way? Why wasn't she talking? Was she going to bite his head off?
After a long while of apparently thinking hard about what to say, she replied quietly 'I'm not going to yell at you.'
That's a relief. 'Thank you.'
She let out a nervous laugh. 'I don't know what else to say, really.'
Welcome to my world. 'Well… could you maybe tell me how you're – I don't know. Feeling? I want to make this right and I don't really know other than that you're sad.'
'I am sad, I suppose, but not because me and Montparnasse finished. It hurt at the time, and the things he said still hurt, but I kind of knew it was coming anyway; we weren't really in for a lasting commitment. I was angry at you the night at the Musain, because you called me out on what I was thinking and nobody really does that, so… I'm more humiliated than angry at you, to be honest, because I did kind of push you for your opinion and you were actually right. Now I just feel like an idiot for making such a fool of myself in front of all those people. I'm lucky it's 'Chetta who has the Musain because otherwise there's no chance I'd be asked to sing there again.'
'You didn't make a fool of yourself, you were incredible.'
'I told you to "eat your fucking heart out" in front of a café full of people.'
'That's ok.'
'It's embarrassing!'
'It's not the worst thing someone's said to me in front of a crowd. After those songs, I doubt anyone even remembers.'
She looked at him curiously for a second, her eyes twinkling and bright. 'Thank you' she said, simply.
'That's ok. I mean it.'
Éponine smiled at him, the hint of her dimples appearing on her cheeks. 'How long until the rehearsal?'
'I was going to leave in about an hour, if you want a lift?'
'That would be great, thanks. God, I need a shower.' She stood up and grabbed her towel off the radiator, before moving towards where he was stood in the doorway and looking at him.

What?

Oh, I'm in the way. He moved aside to let her past, but she stayed put for a second or two. Then, all of a sudden, she was up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. Before his brain had time to catch up to what just happened, she had softly uttered 'thank you for apologising' and then left for the bathroom.

What?

…. What!?

WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!

TEEHEEEEEEE

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