Chapter Text
It was quite late in the morning when Cosette woke up. She hurried to make herself presentable and walked down the stairs a little more deliberately than she usually would, being fairly certain that Eponine was still there. And so she was, pouring herself some coffee, her hair dry now, and though it was probably just a mess, it looked artful somehow.
Eponine looked up as Cosette descended into the room and gave a shy smile. Cosette wasn't sure why Eponine looked at all nervous. She had no reason to.
"Good morning," Eponine said.
"Morning," Cosette replied, walking over to the kitchen counter where Eponine had poured her a coffee as well. "Thanks for the coffee and for uh... Last night." She didn't quite meet Eponine's eyes, but oh, she couldn't have been more grateful for the previous night. But Eponine knew that. Cosette had been... Rather vocal in positive feedback.
"Yeah I mean... It was great... Meeting you, and all that," said Eponine half hiding behind her coffee mug that Cosette noticed she had definitely filled with milk and sugar.
She put her mug down next to her on the counter and took a bit of a breath, like she was getting ready to say something. "Listen, Cosette, you don't have to worry about a thing here," she said, gesturing between them. "And I know you're leaving today, but even if you weren’t, I have a whole lot of complicated going on and--"
"Okay," Cosette nodded. Eponine raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to-- oh--" a battered smartphone, Eponine's, was buzzing next to where Cosette was standing.
"It's- Azelma-- sorry, I didn't mean to... Look," Cosette stammered through the sentence, passing the phone to Eponine. She wondered who Azelma could be, but knew it wasn't her place to ask.
"I'll call her back," said Eponine, pressing a button and putting the phone in her back pocket. "But yeah, I'm really not someone you should bother wasting your time on or--"
"Okay," Cosette repeated, decisively.
"Right, no need to go on," said Eponine, and downed the rest of her coffee. "It's just that sometimes I just try to... Be me, and end up hurting girls' feelings, so..."
Cosette cut her off. "I am not going to fall in love with you, I promise."
"Alright, fair enough, that's that on that, I suppose," Eponine said, giving a sideways nod. "I should probably get going now anyway." She went over to the front door and pulled on her black coat. Cosette watched her fluid movements. Then Eponine turned to face her again. "But let's just say I did want to call you," she said in a rush.
Cosette froze. That was... Unexpected. And besides she was leaving in about an hour for the airport.
Eponine must have picked up on the uncertainty, and nodded, busying herself with her coat buttons.
"Right, sorry, clearly the wrong thing to say." She looked back at Cosette. "But if for any reason," she said, shrugging and winding a scarf around her neck, "your flight is cancelled, or you decide that actually Scotland isn't so bad, and you need to give it a bit more time," she joked, "then I'm meeting a couple of great friends at CC Blooms in Edinburgh, it's a bar. If... You happen to be free at all. You'd be welcome. For any reason at all.
Cosette smiled. In their short time together, Eponine had been nothing short of absolutely lovely. It would be difficult to call her behaviour the previous night "ladylike" or anything of the sort, but she had certainly been thoughtful.
"Thank you," said Cosette.
She watched and waved as Eponine left into the frost outside.
*
It must have been quite early in L.A. time when Enjolras woke up to sun shining through the windows. He stretched, smiled to himself, an rolled over, his blonde curls splaying out over the covers. It was the perfect serene start to the day, and he had a strange surge of energy within him. He was so ready to start the day, and he got out of bed. Enjolras was about to grab a towel and go shower when his phone rang.
He picked up. "Hello?"
"Hi Angel."
"Felix!" Enjolras was unpleasantly surprised. He didn't want to be talking to Felix literally the morning after arriving on holiday. It was definitely not part of the plan. He sat back down heavily on the bed.
"Hey, is it alright that I'm calling?"
"Well I... I guess?" Enjolras said with a cool edge to his voice. "Are you alright?"
On the other end of the line, he heard Felix give a short laugh. "Not sure I know how to answer that when my most valuable person is on the other side of the planet." Enjolras' heart did a little jump in his chest, and he loathed himself for it in that moment.
"What's wrong?" he answered, half out of instinct.
Felix sighed. "I'm just having real trouble with our annual statement. I know I'm the Editor-in-Chief, and it's coming from me, but it just... It really needs a bit of that Angel magic, you know." Scrunching up his face, Enjolras moved around so he was lying against the pillows again.
"Would it be absolutely terrible if I sent you something to work off? Just tell me if it is, I really don't want to bother you."
Enjolras was sick of this, but he wasn't about to let the annual statement be imperfect either. He wouldn't let all the important work the magazine was doing go to waste. "Well, if you need me," he replied. Enjolras didn't like thinking of himself as a pushover. In fact, he adamantly thought of himself as the opposite. Strong, and defiant, and assertive... But he was really coming to realise that he was nothing of the sort in his personal situations or relationships, or any time where he wasn't specifically fighting for a cause.
"You're a star, you know. Don't know what I'd do without you." If Enjolras could have groaned, he would have. Instead he contented himself with rubbing a hand over his face, disappointed with himself.
"So, Angel," Felix went on at the other end of the phoneline, "don't go meeting any gorgeous film stars while you're away, will you? Or I'll have to find a new star journalist. That, and I'd be terribly jealous."
Star journalist. Oh, he knew exactly what to say every time. "Would you actually?" Enjolras asked, because he just... Didn't know how not to do that.
"You know I would, don't you?" Then the loud sound of a door down the phone. "Darling, I'll be right through," came Felix's voice directed at someone else.
"Oh, okay," said Enjolras, mostly to himself, shutting his eyes. Of course, she was there. Why wouldn't she be? And him even entertaining these ideas Felix was shooting at him made him worse than Felix.
"I'll send you the statement when it's in a decent state, is that alright?" said Felix. "Gotta be off. Thanks so much," and he hung up, just like that.
Enjolras decided to give himself just a bit longer to sleep. Thank goodness Cosette had a button to close the blinds and shut the light back out again. Just another half hour.
*
When, a little while later, Enjolras had gotten up and was going for a walk around the neighbourhood (which wasn't exactly easy, because Los Angeles didn't seem to have neighbourhoods or corner shops in the way the U.K. did, and everything seemed far more readily designed for cars than people), he finally managed to find an area that was an organised green park, rather than just more open space. It had benches, and flowers, and well-kept trees.
Although hiking in Scotland was lovely and rigorous, there wasn't much Enjolras liked more than a stroll on flat ground without it raining, and one could never guarantee a full day without rain in Scotland. The wind, the Santa Ana's that Grantaire had called them, were still quite strong, but Enjolras did his best to keep his lashes down to prevent a similar situation.
An old man with white hair and beard was sat on a bench working on something small in his hand with some kind of little tool. There was a jacket hung over the arm of the bench which in that very moment slipped off, spilling a lot of small things over the ground. Enjolras, who had been smiling, grimaced and rushed over to help the man. He looked very old and probably shouldn't have been bending over quite so far.
"Oh-- here, let me help," Enjolras offered, dropping to his knees to pick up all the small objects, which turned out to be wire rings. Tens of them, all exquisitely worked.
"That is quite alright, young man," said the old man, getting to his own knees without much effort, and together they gathered the rings. "Thank you so very much for your assistance."
"You're welcome," Enjolras replied. "Though it doesn't seem like you really needed it." He put the rings he was holding back into the jacket pocket that the old man was holding up to him. They didn't seem to quite fit, and the pair of them laughed. It was no wonder they'd all spilled.
"And the other pocket has a hole in it! Now that won't be much use, will it?" There were kind crinkles around the man's dark eyes.
"Do you need some help getting these somewhere?" asked Enjolras, hands still partially full of rings. He looked at the rings. They were truly something incredible. Is this what the old man had been doing? Making rings? Just like that? "These are beautiful, by the way."
"Why thank you," said the man with a nod. "If you're not too busy, of course. I know you young people always have plenty to do." And it might have been one of the first times Enjolras had heard an older person say something like this without a hint of teasing or malice in their voice. Just very genuine.
He smiled. "As it happens, I'm here on holiday, and I have absolutely nothing I'd rather be doing right now." Enjolras liked meeting new people. It made him hopeful that the world really wasn't quite as bad as it seemed.
"In that case, would you very much mind carrying those rings, and accompanying me home? It isn't too far, I promise. I just would hate to go losing any of them."
And that was how Enjolras found himself, trouser pockets full of wire rings, walking the kind old man from the park home.
It was a quiet walk, but when they reached the man's house, Enjolras noticed it was just down the road from where he was staying, and he said so.
"Ah," said the man, "Are you the fella staying at my daughter's place while she's away?"
"Are you Cosette's father?" asked Enjolras. He didn't know what he'd been expecting from the man, but that hadn't really been it.
"That I am." The old man smiled. "Adoptive father, but father nonetheless. I do apologise, I haven't properly introduced myself. I'm Jean Valjean. You can call me Valjean. And what's your name?" He was getting a set of keys out to open the front door as he said this, but was still looking at Enjolras, attentive.
"It's lovely to meet you, Valjean. My name's Enjolras." He was aware that he was being quite formal, but Enjolras was often cautious around old people he didn't know, for fear of coming off as "too queer" or something like that. Not that he was ever apologetic about his queerness, and he rarely tried to hide it, but it wasn't something he always needed to get into. You just never know.
"Absolute pleasure, Enjolras," said Valjean as he managed to click the door open, and let the both of them into the house. The house was rather like Cosette's, but more old-fashioned. There were some certificates hung on the wall, a bit dusty and neglected, as if Valjean didn't care much about the awards. A few film posters of famous films Enjolras half recognised (again, he wasn't a movie person, but even he was familiar with the iconic images), also a bit dusty, hung on the wall going up the stairs with a few important names written- lead actors and director Enjolras supposed. He did a double take. Each of those posters had the name "Jean Valjean" printed along the bottom. What on earth...?
In a messy office to the right, Enjolras knew he shouldn't be nosy, but a golden statue caught his eye. Jesus Christ, who was this Jean Valjean?
Trying not to let his bewilderment show, Enjolras turned back to Valjean.
"Where should I put the rings?" he asked.
"Oh, just over here," he said, patting the top of the dresser in the entrance hall. The home was not well taken care of, and the bright warmth that seemed to emanate from Valjean seemed to dim slightly.
Enjolras emptied the rings in his pockets onto the dresser and looked at Valjean.
"You know I'm here on holiday for a while, and I know your daughter isn't here. I don't really know anyone else around here." He paused, and Valjean smiled at him. "Well I was just wondering if you'd like to go for dinner tonight. If you're not busy, that is."
"Busy? Young man, I haven't been busy since the 1995," he joked.
*
Cosette was stressed. She was supposed to be leaving to get a flight, and yet she found herself struggling to make that call. She had made the decision to go home about as quickly as she'd made the choice to fly to Scotland in the first place.
And there she was, in Scotland for just one night, and she had met someone incredible. Was she having an identity crisis about it all, now that Eponine had left? Sure, yeah. But also, Eponine had seemed keen on seeing her again, and the more she thought about it, the more she really wanted to see Eponine again, too.
Bags all packed and downstairs, ready to head to the bus, Cosette was sat on the sofa, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves, and chewing her lip. So was that it? One night with a wonderful woman, when women had never seemed like an option before, and now she was just going to go home without even beginning to think more about what that could mean. She didn't much like the sound of that. But it was too late. She should really be getting going. Cosette put on her coat, and pulled her suitcase out of the little house.
*
Valjean had insisted on taking Enjolras to what he said was the best food in town, which turned out to be Grand Central Market-- a place full of street food and other vendors, vibrant colours, and energy. He had a lot of vigour for a man as old as he was, and that evening he had the sleeved of his shirt rolled to his elbows, revealing surprisingly powerful looking forearms.
They chatted all the while, and Enjolras asked him about the framed posters in his house, embarrassing Valjean greatly, but discovering that yes, he did indeed write or direct those films, which was just about the wildest thing ever to Enjolras. Maybe he should give movies another shot, he thought to himself.
This turned out not to be the most interesting thing about Valjean in Enjolras' eyes though, because he was one of the first men of colour to work in such a high position in Hollywood, even creating a union to protect the small numbers of people of colour working there at the time, from custodians, to actors, to directors. It sounded like an uncomfortable and dangerous place to be, but an important one.
"And yet look at the Oscar's. Do you think there's been a change?" he scoffed.
"I'm sure you made a lot of people feel a whole lot safer though," said Enjolras. "And that isn't nothing."
The pair of them walked around the food stalls for a while, Valjean pointing out various vendors he thought were particularly delicious. Enjolras didn't leave Scotland very often, and decided on Vietnamese food, because Scotland was devastatingly lacking in Vietnamese cuisine. They found a table to sit at across from each other, sharing their little feast.
"Now Enjolras, I don't mean to be rude, but I must ask- why does a lovely young man like yourself come on holiday at Christmastime by himself to somewhere he doesn't even know? And then want to spend his evening with some old fella you just met, hmm?"
Enjolras shrugged, chewing on the summer roll in his mouth. "Oh, I just wanted to get away from it all, all the people," he said trying to brush it off. Valjean gave a knowing look. There had to be more to it than that, and Enjolras had never been a good liar. He sighed. "One person specifically," he admitted. Valjean seemed pretty clued in on social issues, Enjolras considered, and so he went on. "One... Man." Valjean's eyebrows raised a bit. He looked very slightly uncomfortable, like someone who wanted to be an ally but couldn't quite wrap their head around the whole "gay" thing. At least he was probably trying, thought Enjolras and continued. "He's... My boss actually. And an ex-boyfriend who uh... Cheated on me, and just got engaged, and keeps leading me on." Enjolras' voice broke there, and he averted his gaze, blinking hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. That was something he'd been told testosterone would change, but it never had for him- he still cried almost as much as ever.
A rough, reassuring hand squeezed his wrist. He hadn't meant to let that much out at once, but it didn't matter. Valjean was there for him anyway.
"He's unkind, and without integrity, this ex-boyfriend of yours. He isn't worth your time."
"See, I know this in theory, but-" Enjolras began, gesturing.
"No, no," Valjean interrupted. "This is not a difficult one to figure out. In films, you see, we have a hero, and we have a sidekick. You are a hero," he said, pointing at Enjolras, and he gave a bit of a wink. "I can tell. But for some reason you can't tell that. You've been acting like a sidekick for quite some time, haven't you?"
"You're right. I know you are. God, you're supposed to be the hero in the battles you're trying to fight, aren't you? Face your fears and all that."
"Yes, well facing your fears is a lot easier said than done," said Valjean. He reached over and grabbed a dumpling out of Enjolras' box of them. "These really are delicious. I come here all the time with my dear friend, and I don't believe we've yet tried that vendor's food before."
Enjolras smiled, feeling so much better after Valjean's brutally helpful little explanation of almost all the issues Enjolras had been dealing with recently. "You'll have to bring them to get some of the dumplings," he laughed. "Who is this dear friend of yours? How do you know each other?"
Valjean seemed happy to oblige with an explanation. "We have known each other for a great many years, since we first both got into the film business. He didn't like me very well at all back then, I can tell you that much." His eyes crinkled, and he pointed at Enjolras with his chopsticks. "But many years, and a whole lot of therapy later on his end, and we spend many evenings together. We watch films, though we can never seem to agree on them, we cook, we read, I tell him what song he should next learn on piano." Enjolras studied Valjean as he said all this. The old man had a far off look on his face, and there was something wistful about it. It was a look Enjolras recognised very well.
"He never likes what I suggest though," Valjean continued. "Oh he gets angry at the songs I like," he laughed, shaking his head.
"It's lovely that you have such a wonderful relationship together," said Enjolras. Valjean suddenly got very flustered and defensive. He could see it in the man's face.
"Oh no, not a relationship ahah, no that's not for me I could never-- not that-- it's all very well and good for young folks like you, or others, but no no, that's... That's just not for me," Valjean hastened to explain, not meeting Enjolras' eye.
Ah, Enjolras thought to himself. So Valjean had a whole situation with this 'dear friend' of his. A situation Enjolras recognised from before he himself came out, and he apologised, as you do, but he felt sad for Valjean, and wondered if there was anything he could do.
*
Eponine walked into CC's to meet her and Enjolras' friends that evening. Jehan was easily the most conspicuous, and Courfeyrac the gayest looking person in the already very gay and conspicuous bar.
"Ep," Jehan called, waving her over. Eponine sent them a nod as she went to join them at a little corner table.
"Hey, you know how Enj fucked off to the U.S.? Apparently, he actually did that house swap thing you set up for him!" Courfeyrac told Eponine, as if she was meant to be shocked. She laughed and started surveying the bar, seeing who else was about. It's not like she expected Cosette to actually be there. She knew she was leaving again, but Eponine couldn't really help herself.
"What, so the whoever owns the house in America is staying at Enj's right now?" asked Jehan, incredulous. "That's great, I wanna do that!"
"Yeah," said Eponine, a bit smug. "Her name was Cosette, she was lovely."
"Wait, what?" said Combeferre who'd just come back from the bar and handing Eponine a beer. "You met her?"
"Hold on, what happened?" asked Jehan, staring at Eponine. "How did you guys meet?"
Eponine took the beer from Combeferre and gave a self-satisfied shrug. "Well, I may have gone from the pub with Feuilly last night to Enj's place and forgotten he wasn't there only to find a very beautiful woman there instead."
Courfeyrac pretended to be scandalised. "Oh Ep, you didn't!"
She turned back to him grinning, and sarcastically said "oh but Courfeyrac, I did!"
"Fuckboy lesbian back at it again," Jehan joked, taking another sip of their neon green drink.
"What can I say?" Eponine replied. She changed her tone then. "Nah, she was actually really lovely, too, but she's--" Eponine had been about to tell them that Cosette had gone back to L.A., but coming through the door of the bar just then, kinky black hair all around her head and in a gorgeous wine-red woollen coat was "Cosette."
Cosette looked at her, and her beautiful lips parted into a dazzling smile.