Worth Living For

by Lys910

A friendship that was greater than romance? This was a foreign concept to her… and it was threatening. It threatened everything she'd been clinging to in order to survive her miserable existence. The primacy of the romantic dream was the rope she'd been thrown as she struggled to tread the grimy waters of a life of suffering. And now, Grantaire was threatening to sever that rope.

5. Chapter 5

When Éponine arrived the next day, Grantaire didn't pull out her chair for her. He glanced impassively at her standing in the doorway, then returned to his drink.

Éponine's mouth tweaked down at the corner, but she walked up to the table anyway and pulled out her own chair. "Hello," she piped, putting a smile on her face.

"Hullo."

Her plastered smile fell.

Éponine fiddled with her hands in her lap for a moment, then decided to reach for the whiskey bottle. He had still brought that for her, she observed, so he couldn't be that upset...

"Azelma baked a pie yesterday," Éponine began, alternating between glancing at Grantaire's face and staring at the table. She held the bottle loosely in her hands, not raising it to her mouth. "Papa came home with such a basket of goodies, you wouldn't believe. Butter, sugar, cherries... God knows where he got it all of course."

Grantaire offered her a small smile, and her heart leapt. But there was rather too much sadness in the smile to dispel her anxiety.

They fell back into silence, Éponine picking at the fabric of her skirt. Then drumming her fingers on the table. Then taking a sip of whiskey.

At one point she choked on a swallow, and Grantaire took to thumping her on the back. But still no words.

Finally, she shifted her chair so as to face him directly. His eyes flicked up towards her and, thankfully, did not drop down again.

"Grantaire," Éponine began, running her tongue over her lips. "I..." She trailed off and winced. Damn, she was no good at this apologizing thing. "I..."

Grantaire watched her attentively, waiting.

Finally, Éponine set her face and lifted her chin. "I trust you not to rape me."

Grantaire's eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead.

Then, he cracked a smile.

Then, he burst into laughter.

Éponine shivered in relief.

"Oh," he said, teasingly. "Good."

It was hardly a profound statement of trust. Hardly a declaration of friendship. But in reality, it was as close as Éponine had gotten to either with any human being other than her sister.

At any rate, Grantaire accepted it.