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Before the start of every school year, they drive up to the lookout over the beach and sit on the hood of the car and watch the sunset: it’s a tradition. But this year it’s more important than usual.
“Freshman year of college,” Eponine says, somewhat astonished. “Can you believe we made it?”
“Out of high school or our rotten ass homes?”
Eponine playfully nudges Grantaire. “Oh c’mon. You know you’re excited.” It’s almost a song; the joy radiating out of her being. And of course Grantaire notices how excited his friend is. He won’t admit it, but he is too (but it’s not like Eponine can’t tell).
They sit in silence and watch the sun dip under the horizon. They feel the breeze and the cool metal of the hood of Grantaire’s shitty car and reminisce quietly over the years they’ve spent in this town (and how they know they won’t regret leaving it).
“Are you going to miss it?” he asks her suddenly, reaching to clasp her hand in his.
She glances down, considering it. He can feel her pulse through her hand and he watches as she thinks with her mouth (“You do that thing when you think.” “What are you even talking about. Are you drunk?” “No, with your mouth. You shift your jaw and chew at stuff.” “Wha—no I don’t.” “You do.” “I don’t.” “You definitely do.” “I don’t think you understand, Grantaire. It’s my mouth and I definitely do not ‘think’ with it.” “Do you remember that one time we got locked in Target?” “I—“ “You’re thinking with your mouth.” “You did that on purpose!” “Of course.”).
“I won’t.” There’s no room for debate in her tone. She’s sure of this. She has to be. “I’ll miss Gavroche though.”
“Are you sure he’s gonna be okay?” Grantaire asks, looking at her.
She meets his eyes. “Of course,” she starts, her tone even and assured, “He’s a Thenardier. He’ll survive. It’s the only thing we know how to do.”
She’s not sad or lamenting her brother’s sad existence. She never does. She’s never turned her shit family into an excuse to be broken and instead has always tried to be good despite them. When they first met Grantaire thought Eponine was just a small, broken girl. But when he looks at her now he sees the fire in her eyes. He looks at her at instantly sees that she knows what she’s doing and despite what he used to think, she doesn’t need him to save her (though the same thing cannot quite be said for him (“You need to stop.” “What?” “You know what I mean, Grantaire.” “I don’t.” “Drinking. That’s what I mean.” “Hey, give that back!” “No.” “You’re being ridiculous.” “You’re being a stupid asshole who needs a reality check. This is dangerous shit, Grantaire. You can’t just keep doing this.” “Says who?” “I don’t want you to die.” “Maybe I want me to.” “And prove all them right? That neither of us is good for anything because we’re the scum of the streets? Get off your ass, Grantaire, and sober up.”).
“So what’s your new year’s resolution?” She asks suddenly.
“You know,” Grantaire says, sounding ashamed.
“But I want you to say it. Out loud. For yourself.”
“Quit drinking.” He says it without a second though. When it comes to his alcoholism he’s taken to the habit of just listening to whatever Eponine says. He’s found that she’s quite the motivator when she wants to be (or maybe it’s the fear that she’ll pull a knife on him. Who knows.). “Yours?”
“You know,” she parrots back to him.
“That’s not fair, ‘Ponine.” It’s playful. He won’t make her say it if she doesn’t want to (but of course she does).
“Finally get over Doofius Pontmerdork.” She smiles when she says his name. Grantaire’s not sure if it’s because she’s so attached to him or if it’s because of the (very clever, if he does say so himself (and he does, whenever he can)) nickname they’ve (he’s) given Marius. She knows it’s not quite healthy, and she’s resigned herself to the fact that he’s not going to suddenly start loving her. Grantaire thought his addiction was bad, but Marius is Eponine’s alcohol, weed, cocaine, and every other drug in the book.
The silence is easy as they watch the last of the sunlight disappear. The stars start to twinkle above them. This is the last night they’ll be together like this. From here on out, it’s getting packed and getting everything sorted and then they’ll both be on the road, hopefully headed to something better (they can’t help but feel a little sad though. Just a little.).
“We’re going to be ‘capital H’ happy, ‘Ponine,” Grantaire says, breaking the silence and staring up at the sky.
He doesn’t know quite why he says it or if he believes it at all, but it felt appropriate to say.
Eponine snorts, but leans into him. “Yeah, whatever you say, kid.” She can’t help but smile as he wraps an arm around her. The optimism is weird coming from him, but she’ll allow it to go without teasing just this once. It’s nice to see him hopeful again (but she knows that the world isn’t nice enough to let the hope go unbroken for long (but if anyone deserves to be happy, Jesus Christ is it Grantaire)).
Grantaire is warm and comfortable and Eponine curls into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist. The night is cool and she starts drifting off to sleep (if she falls asleep, there’s a 98% chance he will too (they’ll stay there, wrapped around each other, until morning. No one will miss them back home)).
When he thinks she’s fallen asleep, he leans back onto his windshield a little and starts to lose consciousness himself. He doesn’t quite know why he’s going to college. Probably in part to stay with Eponine, but probably mostly to get away from his family and this town filled with too many bad memories. Either way, it’s not like he’s planning on doing something ‘capital B’ big with his life (not like Eponine, who’s determined to do something). A part of him admires her, a little. The way she can manage to work in despite of her life, strive for something better for herself and her brother (and knowing Eponine, Grantaire himself too). The other part of him calls her an idealistic dreamer, but he knows that she’s being as realistic as she can be about it (“Do you actually expect to change anything?” “Not quite, but I figured I’d try. See what happens. It’s not like staying here is any better.” “That’s true.” “I know it is. So come with me.” (and he did)).
He feels himself drift off into Sleepland when he hears Eponine murmur.
“I hope you’re right.”
At this point he’s pretty sure she’s conscious, but she’s showing zero signs of wanting to move, and that’s okay with him.
He looks up at the stars before closing his eyes again.
He hopes he’s right too.