Two chapters in two days?! Whaaaat?!

...I have a deadline coming up, can you tell?

Anyway. Still don't own Les Mis. Reviews are like chocolate.

The door slammed shut as Grantaire swept out the room, leaving the three roommates alone in the living room. Nobody spoke: the room stood still in perfect silence, as each of them tried desperately to get their head around what had just happened: Combeferre folded his arms across his chest and stared at the closed door as though he could will it to open again and bring Grantaire back; Éponine stood fixated in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging slightly open, at the place by the sofa where her best friend had been stood just moments before, and Enjolras gazed at nothing in particular, still in a state of shock.

He was flabbergasted: he just didn't know what to think… Grantaire, in love… with him. Grantaire, who was never serious about anything, who spent his days as drunk as possible, picking holes in every plan they made. He'd always seemed a true cynic; he never once gave the impression he even slightly believed in anything they did, or that he even thought it mattered at all… the idea of success to Grantaire was laughable, and he wasn't afraid to show it. Naturally, Enjolras had always found it irritating; he wondered why he had to pick holes in everything, and why he had to be such a showman about it - why he even bothered coming if he was so against it all!... and it all made sense now, of course. A pool of guilt started to form in his gut as he played back in his mind every cruel thing he'd ever snarled at Grantaire in the heat of the moment: every withering look or cutting snort echoed around his head. Because it had taken him yelling it for Enjolras to realise, but Grantaire really had been there through it all, by his side no matter what he believed. And by pointing out the holes in the plans – annoying though it was – Grantaire had saved their skins a hundred times. Better still, he'd recruited dozens of supporters to the campaign through his posters, his banners, his leafleting… not to mention the number of times he'd spoken up at a rally when a crowd was sceptical of the more finely dressed, well-groomed Amis like himself and Courfeyrac: Grantaire had taken it upon himself to bridge the gap, convincing the poor of Paris that the students weren't to be feared just because they had money, that they really wanted to help. Realistically, they wouldn't be where they were… if it wasn't for Grantaire. Well, this is… a surprise.

Combeferre had seen all this coming a long time ago, and had wondered for months how it would finally happen. He was surprised at the way it turned out to be honest; he never thought Grantaire would pluck up the courage to actually say something, and Éponine coming out the room first had just been plain bad luck… thank God they were just sleeping was the only silver lining he could muster. He replayed Grantaire's exit in his mind over and over, and it sat heavily on his heart: the grimace of pain and anger on his friend's face, the tears pooling in his eyes, the tight jaw as he repressed them… the dead look in his eyes as the last spark of hope faded out of them. Poor, poor Grantaire he kept thinking. Nobody ever meant to hurt you like this.

They should have told him, Combeferre realised now. He should have heard it at home and during the day, he should have heard it gently, with apologies and explanations… he should have heard it from Éponine, that was the truth of it. Ferre understood why she didn't tell him, of course he did – and he wasn't surprised she hadn't, far from it; he knew her well, after all – but it didn't help the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that this could have been avoided, that it could have ended differently somehow. And there were still parts he couldn't get his head around: why had Grantaire only come at 2am? Why tonight? Where was Pierre?

He looked over at Enjolras and Éponine, trying to gauge their reactions. Éponine still stood shell-shocked, her eyes unmoved from the spot where Grantaire had stood, like she could wish him back if she just kept staring. Combeferre had sympathy for her; it must have been tough, realising she was falling for the love of her best friend's life, not being able to share with him that she was finally happy, finally being treated well. The internal war must have been intense; the guilt of betraying her best friend in the world constantly warring with the sheer joy of finally getting her fairy tale romance. She'd hidden it well… or maybe just ignored it, who could tell? Not that it mattered; it had come out in the end either way, as it was bound to. And as for Enjolras, Combeferre couldn't even begin to guess what he was feeling. The look of shock on the man's face would have almost been funny if it weren't for such horrible circumstances.

"I never knew" Enjolras murmured at last. "I never… did you know?" he asked, his eyes lifting up to look at Combeferre.
"Yeah. I knew." Ferre admitted.
"Does everyone?"
"Yes" he replied apologetically. No point sugar-coating it now he thought.
"Even Courfeyrac?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Bossuet?"
"Definitely."
"…even Marius?"
Combeferre paused before this one. "Marius might not have realised" he conceded. "I'm not saying no, but… you know. Marius."
"Yeah. I know Marius."

The silence fell again, as the question they all knew was coming built up in Enjolras' mind. "Did you know?" he asked Éponine softly.

At first, she seemed to not have heard, but after what felt like a lifetime she closed her mouth, rubbed her lips together nervously, and then finally, with tightly crossed arms, she nodded.

Another pause, this one more loaded than the last. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Enj…" she started, pleadingly.
"Why?" he asked again. I don't know, do I?!
"I don't know, I guess… it didn't feel like it was my news to give."
He looked at her sceptically. "Éponine."
"What? That's why!" she protested, but even as she said it she knew it was only part of the truth.
"No it isn't. Or it isn't the whole reason, anyway."
"Ok, it's not the whole reason… I guess it felt like way more of a betrayal than just being with you" she conceded, awkwardly.
"Just being with me?!"
"Don't twist my words, Enjolras, that's not what I meant."
"What do you mean? Will you just tell me the truth – all of the truth please?"
"I have! I've already said it's –"
Enjolras was starting to get annoyed, and it showed. He cut her off loudly, the tired irritation evident in his tone. "Éponine, I've known you for over a year now, and I'm pretty good now at telling when you're not being honest with me, so can you please just save all of us time and just tell me?!"

He was being condescending, and it pissed her off enough to burst out "I FELT LIKE I WAS GOING BEHIND HIS BACK, OK? He's my BEST FRIEND and I've been with you all this time, and I just… I felt guilty!" Éponine almost shouted back, walking further into the living room, throwing her arms up. "I wanted to tell him, I just…"

Enjolras studied her for a second, reading her face. She didn't look at him, but she knew he would know something was off. He always could tell when she wasn't being real.
"No, that's not it" he said slowly.

Combeferre filled the silence first. "You didn't want to tell him" he said, just a trace of disappointed anger in his tone.
Enjolras looked between the two of them with raised eyebrows. "Is that it?" he asked.
She didn't say anything. She didn't dare. How do I explain without sounding like an asshole?

"Because if she didn't tell him… she kept you both." Combeferre realised. "And what he didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?"
Too late. I'm an asshole.
She looked around to find both Enjolras and Combeferre staring at her like they didn't recognise her. Guess the cat's out the bag she thought angrily. "No, ok?! I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want to be the one who broke his heart, and we were doing fine not telling anybody anyway!"
"So you were just never going to tell people we're together?!" Enjolras asked.
"That wasn't it, I –"
"What about Pierre, Éponine?" Combeferre added. "Don't you think those two deserved a chance, without this hanging over them?"
"Hey, you didn't tell him either!" she pointed out angrily.
"It's not up to me!"
"You knew about this from the start though, and you've never objected to the secrets before!"
"I thought you would get there on your own, I thought you at least felt guilty about it!"
"Well, I didn't, ok!?" Éponine burst out. "Or at least, not all the time" she corrected.
They continued to stare at her.
"Oh, don't look so shocked" she added, angrily. She was embarrassed, tired, hurt and furious at herself, and it was taking its toll on her already thin patience. "I'm selfish, ok? I've had to be, I've looked after MYSELF my entire life because nobody was EVER there to do it for me! You have no idea what that's like, what it does to you, and when I met you guys I had EVERYTHING I wanted for the first time in my life – excuse me if I wanted to hold onto that!"
"But Ép -" Enjolras started, frowning.
"I'm a Thénardier" she snapped. "I always have been. I do what I have to to look after myself, you know that. Or you should."

He stared at her, his gaze seeming to stare straight through her. She'd never felt so exposed. Guess he's seen the real you, Thénardier she thought. The selfish, horrible real you. He's probably working out the best way to break up with you as he stands there.

The thought hit her like a train and she panicked. I can't deal with that she realised not tonight, not on top of everything.

Her survival instinct kicked in, as it always did. "You know what, I've had a pretty shitty half an hour too!" she announced. "I hate myself for hurting him, I hate that it happened this way, I don't know how to fix it – and I do want to – and I can't deal with this right now"

She grabbed her shoes from by the door, before turning to Enjolras. "Don't worry about me, Enjolras. You're relieved of your duty. As I've made abundantly clear, I can take care of myself."

She pulled a pair of jeans from the radiator before continuing. "Sorry to have ruined your illusions of your perfect girlfriend or whatever" she said, trying desperately to sound like she didn't care. "But if you wanted a nice girlfriend, you'd have fallen for Cosette."

And with that, she swept out of the front door.

Her head buzzing, and with tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, Éponine pulled her shoes and jeans on before descending the stairs. She reached the street quickly and took a deep breath to clear her head before setting off towards the only place she ever seemed to be able to think clearly: the Seine.

She took about 15 steps before everything went black.

OK, see you in like a month!

I'm kidding, I'm not that mean. I'll do my darnedest to update ASAP, promise. In the meantime... PLEASE review, it warms my heart far better than my shitty, shitty boiler warms my flat.