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It's not like Eponine hates Enjolras or anything.
That would be giving him too much credit.
And yeah, she knows that they're all older now, graduated from or in their last year of university, and that everyone was young and stupid and said things they didn't mean when they were 18 or 19 or 20. And she knows that Grantaire and Enjolras have now got their shit together and are now in a healthy, loving relationship, after many conversations and a lot of communication and a lot of sex which Grantaire, unfortunately, insisted on telling Eponine about in excruciating detail.
But Grantaire is happy, and he's her best friend, has been for eleven years, so she's happy.
Even so, sometimes she looks at Enjolras and remembers nights where Grantaire sobbed into her shoulder, where she found him half-passed out in some seedy, back alley bar, where Enjolras had spat harsh, cruel words and Grantaire had sat in his chair at the Musain and thrown back words equally harsh, but Eponine could tell that inside he was falling apart.
And yeah, she knows now that Enjolras is capable of being nice, being kind, of doing small, sweet things that make Grantaire beam and herself crack a reluctant smile.
So she definitely doesn't hate him.
She just doesn't particularly like him either.
***
Unfortunately, her living situation doesn't sympathise with this.
She's living with her parents at the minute. By the time the information about Eponine's scholarship had come through, all the cheap, on campus accommodation had been taken, and Eponine definitely can't afford her own apartment in notoriously expensive central Paris.
So she puts up with it, until she can't.
By the time she can pick herself off the floor and stumble her way to the Musain, the meeting is over, but everyone is hanging around, talking and laughing. Eponine feels like she shouldn't have come, but she couldn't stay in that dark, dingy house, and in all honestly she didn't know where else to go.
Grantaire sees her first and stands up, face white. He strides over and takes her face in his hands, making sure to avoid the bruise blooming on her left cheek.
"I'll fucking kill them." He hisses angrily.
She sighs, pushing his hands off and sinking into the free chair beside Joly. "No you won't. They’d have their little gang of thugs all ready to beat you black and blue if you even try."
"I can’t imagine getting the police involved would be a good idea?” Jehan asks snarkily, because getting the police involved is always a point of contention in their group.
Bahorel snorts. "They're probably paying the police to look the other way, knowing them." And Eponine has to agree.
"Plus," She adds, rubbing her temples, "Gavroche and Azelma are there. If the police or social services came they'd end up in the system. I absolutely cannot allow that to happen."
"Eponine, are they in any danger?" Combeferre asks, eyes widening with concern.
"No." She replies, and sees everyone sag slightly with relief. "They're smart. They know to keep out of their way and not get themselves noticed." She snorts. "I'm just an idiot who insists on arguing with them."
“What are you going to do?” Courfeyrac asks, after no one says anything for a minute. “Ep, you can’t go back there.”
“I know.” She looks around her group of friends. Grantaire, Feuilly and Jehan live on campus, but one of the rules strictly imposed by campus security is that guests are technically not allowed in the rooms. She knows her friends wouldn’t care, but she wouldn’t risk any of them getting kicked out of their accommodation because of her.
Bahorel lives in a tiny studio apartment where the kitchen, bedroom and living space are all one room. There’s physically no room for her there. Same situation with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s place. They have a separate living room, but there’s already three of them living there. Eponine would make the already tiny apartment extremely cramped.
Combeferre and Courfeyrac live together in a one bedroom. She could take the couch for a few days, but they also have three cats. Eponine is very allergic to cats.
"You could stay with us." Cosette says referring to her and Marius' place. The girl in question is currently perched on Marius' lap, one of his arms tight around her waist.
"No." Eponine snaps without thinking. She sees Cosette flinch, and feels slightly guilty. She's been making an effort to be nicer to Cosette recently, because it's not her fault that Eponine is in love with her boyfriend, and possibly Cosette herself.
“I have a spare room.” A voice says.
Enjolras has been very quiet up to this point, but when Eponine looks at him, he sits up a bit straighter and looks back, even though his cheeks have darkened slightly.
“I have a spare room.” He repeats. “It’s kind of small, and I don’t really use it so it’s probably a bit dusty. But there’s a bed and it’s comfortable and close to the university. You can stay there for a few days, until you get sorted with something else.”
“I-” Eponine blinks, worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She doesn’t like to ask charity of anyone, especially people she doesn’t really like. But it’s undeniably her best option.
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.” She can’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes. “Thank you, Enjolras.”
The group starts talking en masse then, making plans to get Eponine’s things moved out of her parent’s and round to Enjolras’ place. Eponine doesn’t really contribute much, but watches as Grantaire moves to sit beside Enjolras, pressing one hand to his thigh and a kiss to his temple. He whispers something too quiet for Eponine to hear, and Enjolras gives him a small, tense smile.
***
Enjolras drives Eponine back to his apartment, and the short car journey is just as silent and awkward as expected. It’s obvious that they have no idea what to say each other, and by the time the car is parked and they’re making the way up to the apartment, Eponine is wondering if she would have been better sleeping on Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s cat-invested sofa after all, allergies be damned.
“So,” Enjolras says awkwardly as they stand in what is now, temporarily, Eponine’s bedroom, “The bathroom’s down the hall, and there’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet if you need one. Uhm. The kitchen is-”
“I saw the kitchen.” Eponine interrupts. “It’s open plan with the living room.”
“Right.” He says tensely.
And then they just look at each other. And it’s so, so awkward.
I definitely should have taken my chances with the cats.
“Well,” Enjolras says, finally. “Goodnight.”
He leaves then, and Eponine finds herself saying goodnight to an empty room.
***
Undoubtedly, both Eponine and Enjolras have strong personalities. They’re both determined, outspoken, not afraid to speak their minds, stubborn when they want to be. And Eponine knows that both Enjolras and herself appreciate these traits in other people.
Saying that.
They’re definitely... Tiptoeing around each other for the first few days of living together.
“Well,” Grantaire says to her on Day 3, after Enjolras has kissed him on the cheek and left for his classes, “you two are acting incredibly odd.”
Eponine doesn’t look up from where she’s scrolling through apartment listings on her phone and getting increasingly frustrated, because everywhere is too expensive or too far away or too small or say that Sundays are ‘bible study’ days. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you so quiet.” He says from the spot where he’s smoking beside the living room window. “Normally, it’s hard to get either of you to shut up.”
She turns to him, glaring, and he simply raises an eyebrow. After a moment, she rolls her eyes and begrudgingly admits, “I don’t think we know what to say to each other. I mean, it’s not like…”
Grantaire simply looks at her, while she struggles with her words.
“It’s not like we’re friends .” Eponine concludes, and Grantaire blinks at her.
“You’re not?”
Eponine snorts. “Wow, love has turned you into an absolute dumbass. Have you ever seen the two of us interacting before now? Outside of Les Amis?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Yeah, exactly.” Eponine walks over to join Grantaire beside the window, stealing one of his cigarettes and lighting up.
“Well, maybe you guys will get to know each other better.” Grantaire says, and the expression on his face- a mix of annoyance and disappointment, makes guilt swirl in her stomach. “You two have more in common than you realise.”
She sighs softly, and says “I don’t think we’ll have time. I’ll be out of here within the month.”
***
They have a fight within the first week, over coffee, of all the fucking things.
Enjolras comes in from being out with Feuilly, a shopping bag over one shoulder. He opens the cupboard to put whatever he bought away, and then calls out to Eponine, “Hey, where’s all the coffee?”
“We’re out.” Eponine calls back from where she’s sitting on the sofa.
She hears the cupboard door slam, and then Enjolras’ voice is closer. He must be standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Did you not think to let me know? I was literally just at the shop.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Golden Boy. I’ll get some next time I’m out.”
“Don’t call me that.” Enjolras snaps, and then- “It was pretty inconsiderate of you not to let me know.”
Eponine turns her head to glare at him. “Enjolras, for fuck’s sake. It’s coffee. Get a grip.”
Enjolras glares too, crossing his arms. “Yeah, it’s coffee. And I have two papers to write tonight and tomorrow’s meeting to prepare for. I need to pull an all-nighter to get it all finished. All I’m saying is, you could have let me know.”
Eponine makes a noise of frustration, and stands up. “Christ, Golden Boy, if it’s such a big deal, I’ll go grab your precious coffee now.”
“I told you not to call me that.” he snaps again, and then, voice dripping with snark, “It’s okay, I can get it. Wouldn’t want you to be inconvenienced in any way.”
And oh, it really kicks off after that.
***
Three days later, she’s in a coffee shop with Marius, and she’s arguing with Enjolras on a daily basis. Nothing as bad as the argument which had started with coffee, and ended with them trading insults back and forth until they’d stormed to their rooms and slammed their doors almost in unison. But little jabs here and there, when one of them hasn’t done the dishes or is playing their music too loudly or when they bump into each other when trying to move around the kitchen- Those have continued.
“And his stupid hair gets everywhere. Like, there’s blond hair all over the sofa and the bedsheets and my clothes. How? It’s not like he’s wearing my clothes. It’s like living with a goddamn Golden Retriever.” Eponine complains.
“Uh-huh.” Marius says, sounding exceptionally bored, his cheek resting on his right hand, elbow on the table. “Listen, Eponine, can we talk about something else? You told me about this yesterday.”
Oh.
Her phone vibrates then, where it’s resting on the table. She checks it, and sees a message from Grantaire, reading Come back to your apartment now. She frowns when she reads it, because it’s not like him to be so blunt.
She finishes her coffee, says goodbye to Marius, and starts walking in the direction of Enjolras’ apartment.
When she walks into the apartment, Grantaire is standing in the centre of the living room with his arms folded, and Enjolras is sitting on the sofa, looking at the ground. When Eponine walks closer, Grantaire glares and says “Sit.”
Eponine moves to sit in the single seat beside the TV, and Grantaire shakes his head and points to the sofa cushion beside Enjolras. “No. Beside him.”
Eponine groans, and sinks into the sofa beside Enjolras, who is determinately not looking at her. Well, whatever. Two can play at that game.
“I cannot believe you two are forcing me to be the voice of reason.” Grantaire starts. “Do I look like the kind of person who should ever be the voice of reason?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Enjolras open his mouth as though to answer, and then he seems to realise that that wouldn’t be a smart move, and shuts it again.
Grantaire pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are doing my fucking head in. You do realise, that between the two of you, Les Amis have heard about nothing but your stupid arguments for the past three days. Like, you do understand how you’re both the worst, right?”
“Combeferre said-” Enjolras starts.
“Combeferre is about three seconds away from pushing you down a set of stairs. He’s just too nice to tell you so.” Grantaire informs him calmly. And then, when Eponine snorts, he says to her, “Oh and believe me, I feel exactly the same way about you.” He looks to Enjolras then. “Christ, it’s worse than when me and you used to fight.”
“Funny how there’s a common denominator here, isn’t there?” Eponine mutters under her breath.
“Don’t go there, Eponine.” Enjolras snarls back.
“Oh my god, enough. ” Grantaire snaps. “You two are supposed to be adults. Do you think you can stop pulling each other's pigtails for five seconds and actually try to talk about the problem?”
They both fall silent.
“I just-” Grantaire closes his eyes, pulling his hands through his dark hair. “I love you both so much. And I can’t-” He gives a shaky sigh, and Eponine knows that sigh. It means he’s close to tears. “I can’t choose between you. Please, please, don’t make me choose.”
For the first time, Eponine looks at Enjolras, and finds him looking back at her, the expression on his face as horrified as she feels. She realises, in that moment, that they’ve both really fucked up.
In unison, they stand up and go to either side of Grantaire, wrapping him in a hug.
“Jesus, R, no .” Enjolras says, “God, we- We wouldn’t make you do that.”
Eponine feels terrible. In the past year, Grantaire has been happier than Eponine has ever seen him in all the time they’ve known each other. Not just because of Enjolras, although she can’t pretend that that doesn’t have a lot to do with it. But his art has been flourishing, and getting noticed. He’s getting good grades. He’s started boxing again. He’s even managed to cut down his drinking a bit (although that is still very much a work in progress). Things have been good for him. Eponine hadn’t even considered the effect tension between his best friend and his boyfriend could have on that.
In hindsight, that was incredibly stupid of her.
“God, Grantaire, I’m sorry.” She mutters into his shoulder. “We’ve probably been unbearable. But roommates fight- We’ll get over it. We’re just being stupid.”
“Sorry for making you listen to our complaining.” Enjolras mumbles, his lips pressed against Grantaire’s neck.
Eponine reaches forward then, and nudges Enjolras’ upper arm. “Sorry for being an asshole.”
“Me too.” He replies, and then he laughs a little awkwardly. “I think we could stand to be a bit nicer to each other. We can work on it.”
“Good.” Grantaire says, and when he pulls back from the hug his eyes are dry again. He cracks a smile, looking at the two of them. “Now, do you think you two can get along, or am I going to have to put you in time-out again?”
Eponine glances at Enjolras, and he gives her a wry smile. “I’m sure we can manage.” She says drily.
Grantaire is fully grinning now. “Good. Prove it. Hug.”
Eponine blinks. “Excuse me?”
“Prove you can get along. Hug.”
Enjolras scoffs. “Grantaire, I really don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t think either of us are...Huggers.”
Grantaire is definitely holding back a cackle of some sort now. “I know, that’s why I want you to do it. It’ll be really fucking funny.” After looking between their horrified faces for a moment, he says in a gleeful voice. “If you guys love me, you’ll do it.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, R.” Eponine snaps. She turns to Enjolras, and opens her arms. “C’mon, Golden Boy, let’s hug it out.”
It’s the most painfully awkward hug Eponine has ever experienced, but at least it’s short. She’s pretty sure she’s done yawns that have lasted longer.
When they break apart, Grantaire is crying with laughter, and he reaches out to grab Enjolras’ hand with one arm and wraps the other around Eponine’s shoulders.
“You two are dreadful.” He says, “I love you both so much.”
***
Eponine is crying, sobbing, gasping on the couch, over something that is really quite stupid, when she considers everything that goes on in the world every day and hey, everything that goes on in her own life, sometimes.
And yet she can’t seem to stop crying over one message.
She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that engagement was the next step for Marius and Cosette. They’d been together for more than three years, lived together, went on vacations and picked out furniture and built a life together. It’s not surprising, not at all, that they’re now engaged and going to get married and spend the rest of their lives together. And Eponine’s happy for them- Honestly, she is.
It just sucks, that she’s in love with Marius and in... Something, with Cosette, and that she can never have anything with either of them. And she was never... Entitled, to that. And god, Eponine doesn’t even want to be in a relationship, because relationships are stupid and messy and complicated and she doesn’t even have time for one because right now she just wants to graduate so she can get a decent job and look after Azelma and Gavroche.
But…
It still sucks, either way.
Her phone is vibrating constantly on the coffee table, as messages of congratulations from the group chat come flooding in, and undoubtedly there’d be messages from Grantaire and Musichetta and Jehan, checking she’s okay, seeing how she’s doing.
Eponine cries harder into the couch and ignores her phone completely.
Dimly, she registers the front door opening, and has time to think Oh shit, before-
“Eponine? What’s wrong?” Enjolras asks, moving into the living room and standing beside the couch. And Eponine definitely can’t tell Enjolras what the problem is, because he’s terrible with emotions in general, and if Eponine told him it was a matter of unrequited love, he’d simply give her the same unimpressed look he gives Marius when he derails meetings.
She pushes herself into an upright position, wipes her hands fiercely across her face. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” She says, even though she’s literally still crying. God, this is so embarrassing.
Enjolras sits beside her on the sofa. “Eponine, it’s not nothing. You’re obviously upset. What’s going on?”
“It’s stupid, you’ll think it’s stupid.” She mumbles into her hands.
“No I won’t.”
“Yes you will.”
Enjolras scoffs. “Try me.”
Eponine sighs, gives a shuddery breath and tries to get her emotions under control. She doesn’t exactly succeed. “Have you checked the group chat recently?”
Enjolras makes a confused noise, and she watches as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He has to scroll through quite a few messages to get to the root of the problem, and then, “Ah.”
“Yep.” Eponine whispers, and to her horror, her tears and sobbing start anew.
She hears Enjolras make a noise of panic, which is pretty much exactly what she expected of him. What she doesn’t expect, however, is the arm around her shoulders, and the hand gently guiding her head to lean on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I don’t really know what to say. But- I know you liked him. I’m sorry.”
Eponine can’t even respond, can only bury her face in Enjolras’ shoulder and cry even harder. She knows he has no idea what to say, and that she’s making his shirt wet with her tears, and that she would be so, so embarrassed any other time. But right now, she can’t really bring herself to care.
She feels Enjolras shift slightly, and then his hand literally pats the top of her head, like she’s one of Courfeyrac’s cats.
“There, there.” He says awkwardly, sounding like he would rather be anywhere else.
To his credit, it elicits a different response from Eponine. She gives a very watery-sounding, extremely unattractive snort.
“Good Christ, Golden Boy, you’re fucking terrible at this.”
“I know.” He says desperately, “But I don’t know how to help.”
She actually manages a weak chuckle, and pushes herself off his shoulder to wipe at her eyes. “God, I don’t know. Just- Make me tea or something, for a start.”
“Okay, tea. I can do that.” He stands up. There’s a pause, and then, “You’ll be okay, Eponine.”
She huffs a laugh, wipes the back of her hand across her eyes again. “Yeah, I know.” She looks up, meeting his eyes. “Thanks, Enjolras.”
***
Eponine is sitting at the coffee table, laptop open on her lap, writing an essay before the start of her shift, when Enjolras bursts into the apartment and slams the front door so hard the picture frames on the wall shake.
She doesn’t say anything, just looks up and raises one eyebrow. He ignores her in favour of practically throwing his bag to the corner of the room and stomping into the kitchen. She hears the tap running for a minute and then a loud clatter as Enjolras proceeds to set the world record for dishes washed with the most rage.
She sighs heavily, setting her laptop on the table and standing, walking over the kitchen and crossing her arms as she leans against the counter. Enjolras doesn’t notice her for a second, seemingly intent on smashing every plate they own, but then he must feel her eyes on him, because he looks up and snaps, “What?”
“What’s eating you?” She asks calmly, as Enjolras squirts out way too much dish soap and swears loudly.
“Nothing.” He says curtly, looking down at the pan he’s furiously scrubbing.
Eponine snorts. “Yeah, sorry, Golden Boy. You’re not putting on a very believable performance, so excuse me if I don’t believe that.”
“It’s really nothing.” He snaps, still not looking at her. When she doesn’t move from her position, he sighs and rests the pan he was cleaning on the sideboard. “I had a fight with Grantaire, that’s all.”
“Ah.” Eponine moves, hopping up to sit on the countertop. “What happened?”
Enjolras regards her coldly, hands still buried in the sink. “I’m not sure that that’s any of your business.” He snorts. “It’s not like you’re going to take my side.”
Eponine raises her eyebrow. “I’ll take the side of whoever’s in the right, Golden Boy.”
Enjolras looks up at her, and Eponine sees his mouth twist as he has some kind of internal debate with himself.
“You know the way Grantaire has some of his works in that gallery opening next week?” He says.
She nods, and he continues. “I promised I’d go to the opening night with him. But one of my finals has just been moved to the next day. And between class and the meetings and my internship, I haven’t really had much time to study for it, so I kind of really need the night off.” He sets the plate he was cleaning in the dishrack. “I told him I’d go to the gallery with him the next three nights to make up for it. But he didn’t take it very well.”
Eponine frowns then. It’s a fair excuse- Finals are important, and someone regularly balancing as many commitments as Enjolras is bound to slip up at some point. Sure it’s annoying, that Enjolras had promised to be there, but it’s not like Grantaire to be so irrational.
Enjolras sighs, and holds up a bowl Eponine had been eating noodles out of earlier. “Would it kill you to rinse things down before you put them in the sink?”
“Would it kill you to stop clogging up the shower drain with your hair?” She counters, and Enjolras’ cheeks flush.
“Believe it or not, Golden Boy.” Eponine continues like there’d been no interruption. “I’m actually agreeing with you on this one.”
One of his eyebrows quirk. “Really?” He says sceptically.
“Wonders never cease.” She reaches forward and pats his shoulder, before walking over to the fridge and getting her dinner, figuring she may as well head to work now. “I’ll talk to him.”
This seems to make Enjolras glare harder. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
Eponine snorts. “Yeah, god knows you’re capable of doing that yourself.” She turns in the doorway to face him, “However, you do need your idiot boyfriend’s best friend to tell him when he’s being a massive douche, so consider it done.”
***
When Eponine returns home from her shift at 12.30am, the apartment is in darkness apart from the TV, blaring brightly and lighting the room up. She sneaks past the sofa on the way to her room, and sees Enjolras and Grantaire lying asleep across it, Enjolras’ head pillowed on Grantaire’s chest, Grantaire snoring loudly.
She rolls her eyes, and begrudgingly admits to herself that, okay, yeah, they are kind of cute.
She tries to open her bedroom door quietly, but it creaks rather loudly, and she turns when she hears incoherent mumbling behind her. Enjolras is sitting up, looking extremely confused as he runs a hand through his tangled curls. “Eponine?”
“Hey,” She whispers. She nods to where Grantaire continues to snore. “So you guys are all good, then?”
Enjolras nods. “He came round about half an hour after you went to work. We talked. Everything’s okay.”
Eponine already knew that, because the minute she left for work she had been on the phone to Grantaire, telling him to stop being an asshole and to suck it up and go apologise to his perfect boyfriend who he loves very much. Grantaire had grumbled and complained, but conceded that yeah, okay, maybe he should apologise.
Obviously.
Eponine nods. “You guys should go to bed,” She whispers, “Your backs are going to be wrecked if you sleep there all night.”
She turns to go into her room, and hears Enjolras behind her. “Eponine?”
When she turns, he’s smiling softly, one hand running absent-mindedly through Grantaire’s hair. “Thanks.”
***
As if her 6pm to 2am shift at the bar hadn’t been bad enough, Eponine’s father calls when she’s walking back to the apartment. The ten minute phone conversation, the things he says and implies and threatens, is enough to have her slamming the door and throwing her keys onto the hall table with a muffled half-scream of anger.
She goes into the joint living room-kitchen and pours herself a glass of water, and when she lifts the glass to her lips her hands are trembling slightly with rage.
She hears the creak of a door behind her, and glances over. Enjolras is coming out of his room, wearing pyjama pants and an oversized sweater she’s pretty sure belongs to Grantaire, stifling a yawn into his wrist.
Eponine might feel the slightest bit guilty. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It’s okay.” Enjolras replies through another yawn. “Grantaire’s still asleep.”
“Grantaire could sleep through an earthquake.” Eponine opens the living room window as wide as it will go and sits on the ledge, pulling out her packet of cigarettes. She feels Enjolras’ eyes on her, and dutifully holds out the packet, “You want one?”
“I’m quitting.” He says drily, but reaches out and takes one anyway, moving to sit on the ledge opposite her. They smoke in silence for a while, and then he says quietly, “Something wrong?”
Eponine rolls her eyes, shrugs. “Not really, it’s just- Parents suck.”
He frowns at her, then nods and says “Tell me about it.”
“You don’t get along with yours?”
He shrugs, and takes a drag of his cigarette. “They haven’t spoken to me since I came out.”
“Ah.” She clicks her tongue. “Was it because of the-”
“Because of the trans thing, yeah.” He nods, “And also probably the gay thing. And the communist thing. Mostly the trans thing, though.”
She winces. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
Enjolras rolls his eyes. “I’m over it now, mostly. If they’re going to act like that, why should I worry about what they think? I mean, yeah, it does suck. We actually used to be pretty close. But,” He smiles softly. “I have Les Amis, and they’re all the family I need.”
Eponine nods, not looking at him.
“I used to be close to mine as well.” She says quietly, “They owned an inn in Montfermeil until I was ten years old. They used to spoil me. Just constantly shower me with gifts and praise and love. Then they lost the inn and we came to Paris. And all that stopped.” Eponine looks at him. “I think I always knew they were bad people, even before.” She thinks, sadly, of the little blonde girl who used to do the cleaning and sleep on the floor, the girl who got taken away by a nice man in a yellow coat when they were eight. She can’t remember the girl’s name now, because she never really considered her to be worth remembering, back then. It annoys Eponine, that she can’t remember.
She hopes the girl is okay now, wherever she is. “I just didn’t care, because it didn’t affect me.”
There’s a short silence, and then Enjolras asks, “You know we’d all be there for you, right?”
She looks at him, raising an eyebrow, but he continues unperturbed.
“I don’t really know what your situation is, with your family. And I know you’re a pretty private person so you don’t have to tell me anything. But I’m just saying, if you want to cut yourself off from them forever, Les Amis would support you, in any way you need.” he smiles, stubs his cigarette out on the window pane, and accepts another when Eponine offers the pack to him.
Eponine smiles back, lifts another cigarette from the pack and lights up. She thinks about Bahorel, Feuilly and Grantaire coming with her to her parent’s house to help her collect her stuff, about Combeferre driving her to the school Gavroche and Azelma go to so she can buy them ice cream on a Friday. About Courfeyrac’s quiet offer of legal advice if she needs it, oddly subdued and serious for someone usually so animated and loud.
She thinks about the apartment, and the small, safe space of her bedroom.
“Yeah,” she says after a pause. “I know you would.” She doesn’t intend to tell Enjolras about her family tonight- He’s right, she prefers to keep stuff like that to herself. But, surprisingly, she finds she wouldn’t rule it out completely.
They smoke quietly again, listening to the cars in the street, the sirens, the people leaving the bars just below. To break the silence, Eponine says, “My parents think you’re my boyfriend.”
Enjolras laughs. “Jesus Christ, can you imagine?”
Eponine groans. “ No. God. You’d nag at me once for not buying biodegradable toilet paper or whatever the fuck, and I’d dump you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not if I dumped you first for forgetting to buy coffee.”
She snorts. “Yeah, I think it’s better if we stay roommates.”
He nods, and Eponine stretches her arms over her head, yawning. When she stops, Enjolras is looking at her. “What?”
“Do you not buy biodegradable toilet paper?” he asks.
Eponine just laughs at him.
***
The call comes through at 11.30 on one of Eponine’s rare Friday nights off from the bar, and she’s taking full advantage of it, curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas with a facemask and a glass of white wine, her locs piled high in a head wrap. She’d had a week full of papers and deadlines and bar work, and she’s determined not to think about anything but rewatching The Good Place for the next twelve hours.
It is so very typical of her mother to ruin that.
She narrows her eyes when the call comes through, but decides to answer anyway. “Yeah?”
“Have you seen the kids?” Her mum barks down the other end.
Eponine sits up. “The kids? No, not since- Wait, why are you asking that? They’re supposed to be with you.”
“They’re gone.” Her mother says shortly. “I saw them at 8, or there abouts, and then your father and I had some people round. Now they’re gone.” She says it so casually, like she’s telling Eponine about the weather instead of telling her that her two youngest children are missing.
Eponine stands, feeling her blood boil. “You- You fucking lost them ?!” She demands furiously.
“I haven’t lost them, they’ve obviously ran away somewhere.” Her mother snaps back. “I assumed they were on the way to yours and your boyfriend’s-”
Eponine hangs up, and throws her phone onto the sofa. She feels her knees buckle, and sinks onto the floor beside it, one hand on her chest. She suddenly feels like she can’t breathe.
God, Gavroche and Azelma are alone somewhere in Paris. They’re children, and they’re alone in Paris and it’s 11.33pm on a Friday night and how long have they been gone? How far could they have gone in that time?
Somewhere in her peripheral vision, she sees Enjolras come out of his room, sees him drop to his knees beside her.
“Hey, hey, Eponine, it’s Enjolras, can I touch you?”
She thinks she might nod, and then she feels the weight of Enjolras’ hands on her shoulders, but she has her eyes closed. She hears his voice as though from very far away, talking to her slowly, telling her she’s safe, asking if she can match her breathing to his.
Eventually, she can, and the panic attack stops, and Eponine leans her head against the sofa cushion and breathes shakily. “They’re-They’re gone. They’re missing.” She moans.
Enjolras frowns. “Who’s missing?”
She rubs her hands over her face, forgetting about the facemask and then making a noise of frustration through gritted teeth when she remembers it. Great, now she has two missing siblings and her hands are covered in tea tree extract.
“Gavroche and Azelma.” She says, looking at Enjolras. “My mum just called. She hasn’t seen them in hours.”
Enjolras’ eyes widen. “Eponine, how old are they?”
She closes her eyes, forces herself to exhale shakily so she doesn’t spiral again. “Gavroche is seven. Azelma is ten.”
Eponine hears Enjolras suck a breath in through his teeth. “Shit.”
Eponine moans, puts her head in her hands again. She feels Enjolras’ grip on her shoulders tighten then, and then when she looks up Enjolras is looking at her with a familiar, intense gleam in his eyes.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” He says calmly. “Tell me where Gavroche and Azelma spend a lot of time when they’re not in the house, and I’ll call Les Amis and get them to start looking around those areas. And someone can come back here, in case they show up. Your parents live near Belleville, right?”
Eponine nods, and Enjolras stands and holds a hand out to her.
“You and I are going to get dressed, and we’ll take my car there and start looking.” When Eponine takes his hand, he pulls her to her feet, but doesn’t let go.
“It’s going to be okay, Eponine.” He assures her. “We’re going to find them.”
Eponine nods again, and forces herself to believe.
***
Eponine can only hope Gavroche and Azelma had the sense to bring jackets when they left. The night is freezing, her fingers red and sore from the cold, puffs of cold air coming out of her mouth with every frantic breath.
Enjolras had parked near her parents’ apartment, on the outskirts of Belleville, and the two of them have been walking for about forty minutes, separating to duck down side streets and through alleyways and emerging on the other side only to shake their heads, both of them calling Gavroche and Azelma’s names. It’s well past midnight, by now.
“I don’t know what to do.” Eponine admits quietly to Enjolras. They’re coming up to the Parc de Belleville now, which means they’ve nearly walked the entire area. She’s rapidly losing hope. “Maybe- Maybe I should file a missing persons report or something.”
“Let’s check the park first.” Enjolras says through chattering teeth. “If we can’t find them there, we’ll call Les Amis and see if they’ve found them. And then...We’ll see what happens.”
They turn the corner to where the avenue they’d been walking on meets the corner of the park, and then, at the other end of the street, Eponine sees the best sight she’s ever seen.
Two small figures sitting on a bench, under a streetlamp.
She takes off in a sprint then, calling their names and hearing her voice echo in the silent street. When she reaches her brother and sister, Eponine bends down and throws her arms around both their necks, feeling her eyes fill with tears from the sheer relief.
“God, what the hell were you two thinking?” Eponine whispers, furious and ecstatic and heartbroken all at once. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“I’m sorry, Ep.” Azelma says, sounding tearful. “We didn’t like the people in the flat, so we thought we’d just leave and get the bus to your place. But there was no bus running, and I lost my key, and then I think we went down a wrong street-”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Eponine says softly, not letting go of them, rocking them back and forth in her arms. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”
“Ep.” She hears Enjolras say behind them, breathing heavy. He must have ran after her. “I’ve just called a taxi, we’ll go back to my car. They can stay in ours tonight.”
She looks up, still refusing to let go of her siblings, and gives him a nod, a smile stretching over her face despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. He nods in return, and gives his own exhausted smile.
***
When they get home, Eponine orders pizza for her siblings, who hadn’t had any dinner before leaving the apartment, and she finds some beers left behind by Bahorel or Bossuet or someone else, cracks one open and passes the other to Enjolras. Then, they sit at the kitchen table with Gavroche and Azelma in silence, watching them eat. After that, Eponine sends them to bed, Azelma in Eponine’s room and Gavroche in Enjolras’. By the time she’s able to sink down at the kitchen table again and put her head in her hands, it’s nearly three in the morning.
"I'm sorry." She whispers into her hands.
"What? Why are you sorry?" Enjolras asks, confused.
"Because," she raises her head, wipes a hand fiercely across her eyes. "Because this is so fucked up. This is so fucked up and I don't know what to do. "
Enjolras sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a minute, he says "We could try and find another place. A four bedroom. Even a three and we can put two beds in…"
"What? Enjolras, no." Eponine says, exasperated. "They can't live with us. We're students. And they're children. How do expect us to afford that, as well as rent, food and whatever else, on a part-time bar salary and an internship wage? And besides,” she bites the inside of her cheek, hard. “I’d never get custody of them.”
Enjolras narrows his eyes. “What, do you think your parents would fight you for custody?”
Eponine snorts. “Yep. Not because they give a fuck. But if they felt like it they’d probably do it out of spite.”
Enjolras’ eyebrows raise. “Wow.”
“I know, right?” Eponine downs the rest of her beer. “Good ol’ mum and dad.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do?”
Eponine sighs deeply, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. “ You don’t have to do anything. You and everyone else were great tonight, but-”
When she looks back, Enjolras is frowning at her, the expression on his face a little strange, a little sad.
“We’re your friends , Eponine.” he says quietly, “Let us help you.”
She shakes her head, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. “There’s no way to help.”
“I don’t believe that.” Enjolras says, because of course he doesn’t. He stands and shrugs his jacket on. “Take the couch. I’ll stay at Ferre and Courf’s for a few days.”
“Okay.” Eponine says sullenly, looking at her hands wrapped around the empty beer bottle. She looks up, “Enj.”
He hums, turning from where he’s grabbing his keys.
“Thank you for tonight.” She whispers. “I really- I don’t know what I would have done. If you weren’t there.”
He nods, unsmiling. “Anytime.”
Eponine manages a weak smile. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
***
Eventually, they’re able to come to an arrangement.
Jehan finds two of their old phones when they’re doing a spring clean of their dorm room, and Feuilly clears them of all of Jehan’s old photos and passwords and the number of their old weed dealer, and then gives the phones to Gavroche and Azelma to use. Eponine is able to regularly check in with them, and although the situation isn’t ideal by any means, knowing she’s only a phone call away should they need her is a great relief.
They also start staying over at her and Enjolras’ apartment at the weekends; Gavroche taking the couch and Azelma squeezing into bed beside her. Between the three of them, and Enjolras, and more often than not Grantaire as well, the small apartment becomes extremely cramped from Friday through to Sunday.
And yet…
Eponine spends her Sunday mornings smiling, as she watches Gavroche and Azelma watch cartoons and bicker over who has to help with the dishes, as she watches Grantaire make blueberry pancakes for everyone, always burning at least two because even after a year and a half he still gets distracted when Enjolras wraps his arms around his waist from behind.
“Eponine.” Gavroche says, as he watches the two of them with his nose wrinkled in disgust, “Your friends are really gross.”
She laughs and ruffles his hair as she stands up to get more coffee. “Tell me about it, kid. At least you don’t have to live with it.”
Eponine hadn’t realised how simple home could be.
***
So...The protest doesn’t exactly go well.
The protest is madness. It’s people yelling and screaming and running and choking on teargas, and Eponine loses her friends and doesn’t know what else to do but run, lungs gasping for breath and heart pounding in her ears.
She gets herself turned round, confused, in her urgency to escape. When she’s able, she leans against a wall to catch her breath, and works out where she is in relation to Place de la Republique, where the protest took place.
They’d agreed to meet at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s place, should anything go wrong, since they live closest. When Eponine realises how far away she is, she straightens up off the wall, brushes herself down and starts heading to their apartment, ducking down side streets and through metro tunnels to avoid the protest and cops swarming around. It makes the walk longer, but she knows her way around Paris easily.
When she knocks the door to the apartment, it’s Bossuet who answers, and pulls her in for a hug, and Joly passes her a bottle of water as she shrugs off her jacket.
Grantaire walks up to her, gives her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. He looks over her head, smiling, but then the smile falters and he says slowly, “Where is he?”
She frowns. “Where’s who?”
“Enjolras.” Grantaire says in unison with Combeferre and Cosette.
Slowly, she looks around the room. “Is- Is he not here?”
Grantaire’s face goes deathly pale.
“We thought he was with you.” He croaks, eyes now wide and very, very scared.
Eponine shakes her head frantically. “No, I- I haven’t seen him since the protest.” Looking around, she can see that all other members of Les Amis are accounted for, and they’re staring at her with expressions ranging from confused to horrified. “Guys, I haven’t seen him.” she repeats.
Courfeyrac’s hand is on her shoulder then, guiding her to sit on one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s okay.” He says calmly, speaking for the benefit of the room. “He probably just had to double back on himself. He’s smart, he’s fast; he’ll be back with us in no time.”
One hour passes.
Then two.
They sit mostly in silence. Joly and Combeferre go from person to person, checking for injuries, handing out ice packs for bruises and sprained wrists and twisted ankles. Musichetta offers tea and water and snacks. Feuilly puts on the TV and starts to watch coverage of the protests, but then sighs and switches channels to one showing infomercials. The background noise is comforting, at least.
Grantaire sits on the sofa, his phone clutched in both hands. Every so often, he puts the phone on speaker and calls Enjolras’ number, and shudders when it goes to voicemail.
A third hour passes.
This time, when Grantaire calls Enjolras’ phone, rather than going to voicemail, the phone doesn’t even ring. It just emits a long, piercing dial tone.
Grantaire stands up. “I have to go find him.”
Combeferre and Courfeyrac stand as well.
“Grantaire, Enjolras wouldn’t want you going out by yourself. Not like this.” Combeferre says, but Eponine can hear a slight tremor in his voice too. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“And neither was he, clearly!” Grantaire snarls back. He rubs a hand across his face, and Eponine can see his shoulders trembling from where she’s sitting watching him. “God, he probably got away, and then saw someone in trouble or something and went back. He’s so fucking stupid sometimes.”
Eponine knows he doesn’t mean that. But she has to admit that that does sound like something Enjolras would do.
She stands up, and everyone looks at her.
“I’m going to go back to the apartment, in case he shows up there.” She says sullenly, and before Combeferre even opens his mouth she rolls her eyes and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll call a taxi.”
She gets her coat, accepts a hug from Cosette, promises Grantaire and Combeferre and Courfeyrac that she’ll call if Enjolras shows up, shares a cigarette with Bahorel while they wait outside with her to make sure her taxi shows up.
It’s a relief, to finally be alone.
***
When Eponine opens the door, she almost expects to see Enjolras sitting on the couch, typing on his laptop. Or maybe in the kitchen brewing coffee. Or reading a book in his bedroom.
But Enjolras is missing, and so the flat is in darkness.
She sinks onto the couch, puts on the TV to distract herself, doesn’t really watch in favour of staring blankly out the window and listening to the sirens in the street. She wonders if there’s still trouble at the protest site.
When her phone rings, it’s nearly midnight and she’d been dozing, TV blaring in the background. She jolts awake, and shakes her head to wake herself up as she answers the phone. It’s a number she doesn’t recognise.
“Hello?”
“Eponine?”
Her stomach swoops, as she feels a mix of sheer relief and crushing fear.
“Enjolras?” She sits up properly, pressing her phone harder to her ear like it will give her some clue as to her friend’s location. “Enjolras, are you okay? Where are you?”
“Are you at home?” He asks, instead of answering any of her questions.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m at home.” She reassures him. “What’s going on?”
“If you go into my room, at the back of my underwear drawer, there should be a roll of banknotes. I’m at the police station on Rue aux Ours. The bail is 200 euros. There should be enough there.” He’s silent for a second, and then asks, voice quiet. “Can you come get me?”
Why he felt the need to ask, Eponine will never know. She’s already standing and practically running to his bedroom before he’s finished speaking.
“Yes, god, of course I’ll come get you.” She says.
“Good, thank you. You can take my car. Keys are on my bedside table.” There’s something weird about his voice, nasly, like he’s had a heavy cold recently.
Eponine looks round, sees the aforementioned keys, and grabs them, running to the front door. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She promises.
“Thank you.” He says, and the line goes dead.
***
Eponine arrives at the police station and parks in the red zone directly outside the front door, just to be an asshole.
She marches up the front steps with the bail money clutched tight in her fist and her phone vibrating constantly in her pocket, because Grantaire apparently couldn’t take ‘ just go to our apartment and I’ll let you know what’s happening’ for an answer. Hopefully Combeferre can calm him down soon.
Most of Eponine’s confidence fades when she actually walks into the building though- Already, way too many of the cops milling about are giving her narrow-eyed, suspicious looks, as if she’s the one who should be in a holding cell. Trying her best to ignore them, Eponine walks to the front desk and gives her own name and Enjolras’ to the person sitting there, fills in some paperwork, hands over the bail money.
Enjolras comes out a few minutes later flanked by two cops. He has his head down, face hidden behind his braids, and his hood is pulled up. The cops release his arms, and when Eponine says “Enjolras.” quietly, he looks up.
The entire left side of Enjolras’ face is covered in purple and blue bruises, marring his dark skin, the swelling forcing his left eye shut. There’s dried blood under his nose and more blood, still wet, under his lip.
Eponine recoils, feels absolute fury make her stomach clench.
“What the fuck?” She whispers, and then, louder, whipping round to face the person behind the desk. “ What the fuck?! ”
They open their mouth, but she speaks over them, “What the fuck is going on here?”
She goes to take a step closer to the desk, fuck the consequences, no one fucking hurts her friends , but hears Enjolras’ voice, sharp, behind her. “Eponine.”
She turns to face him. He’s holding his hand up to his split lip, trying to stop the bleeding with the sleeve of his jacket. “Let’s go.” He says, one good eye trained on the cops who had brought him in, who are standing silently at the side.
“But-”
“Let’s. Go.” He says again, in a tone that leaves no room for an argument.
For a moment, she thinks about arguing. But these cops obviously aren’t afraid to play dirty, and Enjolras is already injured, he could have a concussion or anything…
So she sighs, and nods, then walks over to Enjolras and holds out her arm. He links his elbow with hers, and they leave together.
***
When they get into the car and put their seatbelts on, Eponine puts the key in the ignition, but doesn’t start it, placing both hands on the steering wheel.
“What happened?” She asks into the quiet.
Enjolras snorts, pulling his legs up to rest both feet on the edge of the seat and tucking his knees close to his chest.
“What do you think happened?” He asks, equally quiet. “They’re all bastards. Every single one of them.”
“But how could they-” Eponine says disbelievingly, “It’s a police precinct, there’s cameras everywhere, why would they even try to-?”
“Well, I actually managed to get a video on my phone, but it seems to have mysteriously vanished.” Enjolras says drily. “So I imagine that somehow, everything that went on mysteriously happened in a blind spot. Or the cameras were mysteriously malfunctioning today. Or the footage will mysteriously be deleted.”
He turns his face then, to look at her, and Eponine manages to look past the blood and bruising and swelling and see that he looks absolutely exhausted.
She swallows. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
He shakes his head slightly. “No, I want to go home.”
Eponine nods, then leans forward and starts the engine.
***
Two weeks after the incident at the protest, Eponine is leaving class when she gets a call from Jehan.
“Hey, Ep!” They say cheerfully, and Eponine can hear the weird flute music they always listen to playing in the background. “You know that guy from my yoga classes, Joe?”
Eponine nods. “Yeah, I know Yoga Joe.” She’d been to the yoga classes Jehan runs on a Wednesday night a couple of times and had met the guy, and he seemed harmless enough, apart from when he’d told her he’d ‘read her chakra’ and that she had a ‘troubled aura’. That, she didn’t appreciate. “What about him?”
“Well, he told me today he’s going on a trip to South America, he’ll be away for six months.” Jehan says, “He wants to sublet his apartment, and asked if I knew anyone who would be interested. Should I give him your number?”
Eponine frowns, stopping just in front of the metro steps because she doesn’t want to lose her signal. “Why would you give him my number?”
Jehan pauses, but then says slowly. “Um, so you can move out of Enj’s?”
Oh.
Eponine hadn’t even thought about that.
She’s been living with Enjolras for several months, paying rent and doing her share of the cooking and cleaning and decorating her room to her liking. Gavroche and Azelma stay over on weekends, she sees Grantaire there at least five days a week, and otherwise it’s just her and Enjolras, living together in the comfortable space that had been carved out of what was previously considered an acquaintanceship, at best.
She likes to think they’re friends now.
Therefore, it’s probably time she got out of his hair.
“Um, Eponine?” She hears Jehan say, “I don’t have to give him your number, if it doesn’t suit…”
“No, Jehan.” She clears her throat, trying to swallow the sudden lump that’s formed there. “Give him my number. Sounds great.”
***
“Hey, so.” Eponine says, when she gets back to the apartment. Enjolras is sitting at the table with his laptop open and a pen behind his ear, working on a paper or something for Les Amis, she’s not sure. The bruises from the police precinct are still healing and have turned yellow and green now, which is kind of gross. But at least his lip has healed, and he can see out of both eyes. According to Grantaire, he’s still pretty either way (God, Eponine had rolled her eyes so hard when he said that).
Enjolras looks up. “Hey, so?” he repeats questionably.
“You know Jehan’s friend Joe, from the yoga classes?”
He nods. “Yoga Joe, sure.”
“Well, he’s going to South America for a few months. He said I can sublet his apartment while he’s away. So…” Eponine finds that, for some reason, she can’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes. “So...I guess I’ll be moving out.”
Enjolras is silent for so long that Eponine nearly repeats herself, thinking he hadn’t heard her. But then he says a quiet “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Eponine says. She gives him her best approximation of a smile. “So I guess you’ll have the apartment to yourself again. Lucky you.”
Enjolras looks down at his laptop again, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows as he frowns. “I- Yeah, I guess so.”
Normally, Eponine would hang around. Maybe put on a pot of coffee and sit opposite Enjolras at the kitchen table, start working on her assignments or job applications or something else, ask Enjolras how his day was, what’s the plan for the meeting on Friday, did you see what this asshole said on Twitter, et cetera. But for some reason, the atmosphere in the room has shifted, and she feels awkward and tense, like she did in those first few days of living together.
“I’m going to go to my room.” She says.
Without looking up, he replies in a vague voice, “If that’s what you want to do.”
Eponine doesn’t know if he’s talking about her room, or something else.
***
Three days later, she goes to view Yoga Joe’s apartment. She hadn’t told Enjolras where she was going, but keeping it a secret wasn’t a challenge. They’d been largely avoiding each other since Eponine had told him she was moving out; she knows it’s intentional on her part, but can’t quite work out if Enjolras is doing the same thing.
Yoga Joe lets her in and shows her round; talking about his plants and magic mushrooms and his upcoming trip. Eponine just barely resists the urge to roll her eyes.
The apartment is nice, and comfortable, and clean, and roomy.
Eponine feels absolutely nothing for it.
They finish the tour, and Joe is standing in front of her, saying “You can move in in two weeks.”
“Okay.” Eponine says blankly, looking around the apartment with her arms crossed over her chest.
He nods, and holds out his hand for Eponine to shake. She goes to take it, and then something makes her stop.
It just doesn’t feel right.
She doesn’t want to live alone, in this big apartment with its balcony she doesn’t need and the flatscreen TV she doesn’t want. She wants her tiny bedroom with the fairy lights Jehan and Cosette put up and the coffee machine she still doesn’t really know how to use and blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning.
She withdraws her hand. “I’m sorry, Joe. I have to go.”
He looks extremely confused. “What?”
“I hope you find someone to sublet to.” Eponine says, bending down and picking up the bag she left on the floor beside the front door. “But I have to go home.”
***
Eponine sprints back to the apartment, running up the stairs two at a time in her urgency. But she pauses when she reaches the front door, and forces herself to take a few deep breaths before she takes her key and unlocks it.
Enjolras is in the kitchen, back to her and headphones on as he brews coffee. She stands, watching him, trying to think of what to say.
She stands in silence for too long apparently, because before she can announce her presence Enjolras turns around and yelps when he sees her, hand coming up to clutch at his chest like a fainting Victorian lady.
“Holy shit, Eponine!” He chokes out, “Have you ever heard of knocking ?!”
“The kitchen doesn’t have a door.” Eponine says slowly.
He rolls his eyes, looking exasperated. “Why were you just standing there?”
Eponine opens her mouth, closes it again. Swallows and tries to assure herself that this is okay, it’s okay to ask. It’s okay.
“Ep?” Enjolras is looking at her, eyes wide, concerned. The coffee machine beeps to announce that it’s finished brewing, and they both ignore it.
“Okay,” She breaths, and closes her eyes. “I’m about to be really stupid and vulnerable, and I hate being stupid and vulnerable, so I need you to listen and not interrupt. And if you laugh at me, I will kill you.”
“Okay…” Enjolras says, sounding extremely confused.
Eponine sighs, and then says in a rush; “I don’t want to move out. I want to stay living here. Because I like living here and I like living with you and I like how Gavroche and Azelma feel comfortable here and I like how we’re friends now when we weren’t before. And I haven’t felt at home anywhere since I was ten years old but now I’m here and it feels like home .” Her voice cracks slightly on that last word, which is very embarrassing. “So, yeah. Obviously I’ll leave if you want me to leave, but I also really, really want to stay.”
Enjolras is completely silent, and Eponine braces herself for rejection and opens her eyes.
He’s beaming.
“Eponine, I would love for you to stay.” He says, smile so wide it’s crinkling the skin around his eyes. He laughs, and then continues, “I was actually really upset when I thought you wanted to leave. I like living with you too. Of course you can stay. You live here.”
Eponine isn’t a hugger.
But at that moment, she can’t do anything other than stride across the room and fling her arms around Enjolras’ neck.
“Thank you.” She whispers, and he hugs her back in a way that’s almost fierce, rocking them both slightly.
“Of course.” He mutters.
She doesn’t know how long they stand there, but eventually they break apart, and Eponine sniffles and says, “If you tell anyone about this, I will punch you.”
Enjolras raises an eyebrow. “Tell anyone that we’ve both been emotionally vulnerable? In front of another person? I would never.” and Eponine snorts.
She knows it won’t last forever. The last of them will be graduating soon, and Eponine had overheard, early one Saturday morning, Enjolras and Grantaire making quiet plans to find their own place, just the two of them, once that happens. And then Eponine will be on her own again.
But then, she thinks, as Enjolras hands her a coffee-black with two sugars, the way she likes it, in her favourite mug- she’s not really on her own. She has her friends. She’ll be fine.
And in the meantime, she has the apartment she shares with Enjolras. And Grantaire. And Gavroche and Azelma.
And for now, it works.