Guys, I'm not dead! Just in finals! Although I'm not sure what the difference between the two is.

After a few more speeches outside General Lamarque's house, Enjolras was beginning to despair of ever getting the people to sympathize with Les Amis' cause. It was the same thing every time—-people would stop to watch, but no one ever really listened—-except Éponine. She was also the only person who came up to him after his speeches to ask him questions, but he was greatly annoyed that she only talked to him about pointless things. And she was relentless with her nicknames for him: "Enjy," "Apollo," and the worst one by far, "Superboy." Thanks to her comment the day they first met, his mind immediately followed it up with "The Invisible Girl," which of course, was Éponine herself. He didn't know what was worse, that she had applied some dumb hero name to him, or that she had gotten him to associate the two of them together.

One day, Éponine watched as a group of girls stared at Enjolras while he spoke at yet another rally. After he finished, the girls surrounded him with grins on their faces. "Monsieur comes here often, does he remember us?" A girl with brown curls who seemed to be the leader asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "You are just a few of many who listen to me speak. Forgive me for not recognizing you."

"That's okay," the brown-haired girl said. "We love hearing your voice! It's just as rich and beautiful as your face!" The girl gasped and turned red in the face, embarrassed when she realized she had spoken her private thoughts out loud. Her entourage laughed, and she put her hand over her mouth.

Enjolras gulped, becoming aware of the kind of attention he was getting, and it was not welcome to him. "I appreciate your…compliment…but I really must be getting back to the Musain now. Lots of preparation goes into my speeches, and I'm always busy with schoolwork on top of them. Good day, mademoiselles."

He headed back to the café, glad he was rid of his overly-devoted admirers. But when he glanced over his shoulder, they were following him! He quickened his steps, and so did they. Soon he was running, with the girls in hot pursuit.

At last, he reached the Café Musain. Never in his life had Enjolras been so relieved to see the rickety old building. He didn't bother to look before he threw the door open and dashed through, so he hit Bossuet with it. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!"

Bossuet, true to his personality, brushed the accident aside. "Where's the fire, Enjolras? You look like you've been running for your life!"

"Not my life, just my sanity," Enjolras panted.

Then he heard giggling and voices outside. "I saw him! He went in there!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Enjolras sighed. He ran up the stairs to the meeting room and locked the door behind him.

"You'd think those girls were wild beasts with how fast you were running away from them."

Enjolras whirled around to see Éponine leaning against the back wall, arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest. This time, she was dressed in a white chemise and brown skirt. "I wasn't running away—-wait, how'd you get in here?"

Éponine shrugged. "That's not important. And I know exactly what you're going to say: you weren't running away, you were putting distance between you and those obsessive girls. Seriously, Superboy, what is it with you and women?"

"I have nothing against women! The problem is when they throw themselves at me like you just saw!"

"I get it. No one can stand another person forcing themself on you. It makes you want to become distant to the rest of the world for fear that everyone you meet is like that. Over time, you grow to prefer being on your own. You tell yourself it's better that way, no one can hurt you."

For once, Enjolras was speechless. He got the feeling that Éponine had just bared her soul to him, and he couldn't imagine having a life like what she had described. He looked at her, eyes downcast, fiddling with a loose thread on her skirt. There were many yellowing bruises on her arms. Her auburn hair hung in a veil over her face. Enjolras was filled with the sudden desire to brush it out of her chocolate brown eyes.

Éponine finally looked up. "You think those girls are gone yet?" She smiled playfully, but it didn't reach her eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes. "I don't think you'll ever be an accomplished public speaker. People pay attention to you for the wrong reasons!" And with that, she walked past him down the stairs and out the door of the café. Enjolras ran after her, but she was nowhere to be seen when he reached the front door of the Musain. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, just staring out into the busy street.

"What's the matter, Enjolras?" Bossuet questioned. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Enjolras thought about Éponine. So mysterious, and growing more mysterious every day. "A ghost? Maybe. She was just like a ghost to me."