Work Text:
Sunday
Montparnasse is tall, dark, with an infuriating smirk and a lean frame. He walks about town in his black leather jacket, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, with a slick, catlike grace. He has a reputation – a bad reputation – that keeps people whispering about him, whispering about what he's done and what he could do. There are a lot of things that people should know about a man like Montparnasse, but most importantly?
He's as hot as the fiery depths of hell.
Maybe that's what attracted Eponine to him, at first. Maybe it's the way his lip curls up when he's secretly amused. Maybe it's the peak of tattoos from under his shirt collar that teases what's underneath. Maybe it's the cheesy "bad boy" persona that, somehow, he pulls off in spades. Or, just maybe, Eponine is notoriously bad at making good decisions.
She knows Montparnasse through her father. He works for the Thernadiers occasionally, and is a few years older than she is. Eponine's just about to start university, and Montparnasse won't stop teasing her about it, though she knows he's never been. ("I've been kicked out of too many schools to go to university, 'Ponine," he said when she asked for the first time. "Why do I need a degree in something that won't help me in the long run when I've already got a PhD in fucking life?"
Still, Eponine is proud of herself. She's the first in her family to actually go to university – on a scholarship, no less. She’s also meant to be looking for somewhere to live – she can’t commute to London every day, it’ll cost more than an actual flat – but she’s got months and the lure of summer heat and lying in bed all day was just too appealing than taking a stuffy old train to a stuffy old city.
Especially since the guy sprawled across her bed has ink sweeping across his shoulder blades and smells of leather and smoke and orchids.
“Get up,” she says, swiping at his back with her hat as she passes the bed. He turns lazily, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He grins easily at her, and reaches out to wrap his long fingers around her wrist and tugs.
Eponine shrieks as she lands on the bed, but turns her face to kiss him anyway. He tastes like smoke, too, and his day-old stubble is rough against her cheek. “I still need to go look for somewhere to live, you know,” she whispers to him, and he smirks.
“No, you don’t. You keep putting it off, don’t think I don’t know.”
“Christ, ‘Parnasse. I can’t live here forever, can I? I’m going to London. For school. I'm gonna need a goddamn place to live.”
“You could live with me?”
Eponine barks out a laugh. “No way in hell, ‘Parnasse. I’m not moving in with you and your creepy little friends.”
Montparnasse shrugs, and flops back down onto the bed. “Suit yourself, Ep. Just don’t come crawling back to me when you can’t find a place.”
Suddenly, the lure of lying in bed all day in the heat becomes too stifling, and Eponine stands up. “You know I’ll prove you wrong,” she says, grabbing her purse and sunglasses from her bedside table. Montparnasse raises an eyebrow at her and laughs.
"You always do, Ep. You always do."
London is ridiculously warm, even for this time of year. The train there is packed, the streets are bustling with disgruntled, sweaty people, and even the cheerful sun beating down on her back isn’t enough for Eponine’s mood to lift. Eponine ducks into a department store and breathes a sigh as the cold air hits her skin. She tucks her sunglasses into her shirt pocket and walks aimlessly through the halls, flip-flops slapping against the polished floor.
She browses the counters for a while, but soon grows tired of the amount of products being forced on her and turns to leave, but a hand on her elbow stops her.
"Get the hell off me you-"
"Eponine! I just knew it was you!" The girl squeals, and hugs Eponine tightly.
The girl has long, thick flaxen hair and big green eyes framed with long sooty eyelashes and Eponine swears she’s seen that face before but she’ll get to that before she gets over the fact that this girl is really freaking cute.
She raises her eyebrows at Eponine’s bewildered expression and laughs and dammit that’s a pretty laugh.
“Don’t you recognise me, ‘Ponine? It’s Cosette!”
Oh.
Oh shit.
“Oh my god.”
Cosette laughs that pretty little laugh again, but Eponine’s stomach turns. She never thought she’d ever run into Cosette again, especially not after Mr Valjean took her away from the Thernadiers.
Cosette blinks up at her, and Eponine realises that it’s kind of been a few minutes since anyone’s said anything and she should probably say something to stop it from being too awkward.
“Wow, I’m sorry, it’s been such a long time,” Eponine says, still slightly shell-shocked. “How are you these days? I thought you moved to France…?”
“Oh, Papa and I only recently moved back here a few months ago! He’s got a job at a university, and of course I’m starting this year too!” Cosette gushes, clutching at Eponine’s hands. “How are you doing, ‘Ponine? You’re looking well!”
Eponine flushes a little at the compliment and replies, “I’m doing alright, you know? I’m actually starting uni this year too.”
Cosette mimes smacking herself in the head and laughs. “Oh of course. I’m just so excited for it, are you? Are you going to be living with your parents?”
Eponine laughs loudly, “Oh God no. This is an excuse to get out of there, and I’m taking it. Of course, there’s the little detail of actually finding a place to stay, but I’m sure I’ll find someplace that’s not half bad.”
“Well,” Cosette smiles, “Today might just be your lucky day.”
And maybe it is a little too good to be true, when Cosette tells Eponine that she’s looking for a flatmate. But as Cosette scribbles her number on Eponine’s palm (with little hearts for zeroes and signed with a smiley face) and tells her not to forget to call, and on the train home, Eponine realises that she really couldn’t care less.
Montparnasse is still asleep in Eponine’s bed when she gets home, and she rolls her eyes as she reaches over to wake him up.
"Hey," she says, slapping the back of his head.
"What," he says groggily, glaring up at a smirking Eponine.
"Proved you wrong, asshat. Now get the fuck out of my bed."
Wednesday
A few days later, Eponine is standing before Cosette’s door, hand raised to knock. But she hesitates. Eponine could just walk away now, and forget she’s ever seen Cosette again and then she won’t have this… this debt to pay back for her kindness after all she’s been through with Eponine’s family and–
Eponine takes a deep breath and tells herself she’s being stupid. She steels herself and knocks twice, and the door springs open almost immediately. Cosette beams at Eponine, and welcomes her with a hug and multiple kisses to the cheek that makes Eponine giggle like a little girl.
Cosette’s flat is quaint and cosy and just radiates the same kind of homeliness as Cosette herself.
Though still bare, the flat is littered with pictures of Cosette and her father. Jam jars full of colourful flowers sit on the windowsills and along the patio and there are cardboard boxes overflowing every corner. Cosette blushes as she moves a stack of old books out of the way for Eponine to step into the flat. “I’m sorry about the mess, I’ve only just moved in.”
Eponine laughs as she surveys the space. “If you think this is messy, I’m scared of what you’d think of my room.”
“Oh, of course, your room! Come on, you must see it–” Cosette starts, but Eponine grabs her by the elbow.
“Cosette, look, there’s no way we can avoid this, so we’d better talk about it now.” Cosette looks up, confused at Eponine.
Eponine takes a deep breath and says, “Do you really want me to move in, Cosette? Especially after what my parents have done to you? How the hell do you not hate me on that basis alone, Jesus Christ, let alone ask me to move in with you?”
Cosette takes Eponine’s hands in hers and shushes her quietly. “Because it’s not your fault,” she answers calmly, and Eponine’s breath stutters. “I’m not excusing your parents – they were awful to me, to you – but you’re not like them, Eponine. You need to believe that. I asked you to come see the flat because I’ve missed having someone around that I can just be normal around, you know? Papa’s great but I just really need a friend. And I know that’s selfish but…”
Eponine breathes out slowly. “You ask people to be friends with you by asking them to move in?”
Cosette lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head. “No you’re just… You were a familiar face. And there’s some good about you, Eponine.
Eponine scoffs, but Cosette holds onto her hands tighter. “Really. Now, do you want to see your room?”
Cosette leads Eponine to a room with a bright, poppy red door. The walls are pleasant cream colour, and the window frame is painted the same colour as the door. But besides that, the room is completely bare.
“I wasn’t going to decorate this room, but the door was already red, and I just couldn’t help myself with the window frame, I’m afraid.” Cosette says.
“No, no it looks really good,” Eponine says. “It’ll be a bit difficult finding stuff that goes with it though.”
Cosette hums thoughtfully, and takes a few steps around the room. “I’m sure we’ll make it work, though.”
Eponine raises and eyebrow at her, “Are you assuming that I’m moving in with you?”
“Am I wrong to assume that?” Cosette smiles innocently up at Eponine, who looks away, but she’s smiling. “It is a nice room… I certainly wouldn’t mind living here…”
All the air rushes out of Eponine’s lungs as Cosette squeals and wraps her arms around her for a hug. “Jesus Christ,” She wheezes, but Eponine can’t help but smile wider at Cosette’s excited face.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I just can't wait until you move in for real. Do you need help getting your stuff over here? Oh my god we should totally go shopping for–”
“Ooookay,” Eponine says, laughing. “Someone needs to calm down just a little.”
Cosette blushes prettily and brushes her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just so excited.”
“Yeah, I gathered,” Eponine says. “I haven’t got a lot of stuff, so it won’t take long for me to move in…”
“Do you need any help? Papa and I can come by and help you pack if you want?” Cosette offers, but Eponine almost jumps in her haste to say no.
“Oh man you do not want to come round my house right now,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind if you helped me pick my stuff up or anything but you can’t come to my house.” Cosette just nods, tilting her head slightly.
“We’ll park the car around the corner, is that alright? Then you can bring your stuff out to the car without worrying that people are going to see us. I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. How about we sort this out in a couple of days, get you out of there quickly?”
Eponine slumps her shoulders slightly, staring at Cosette in disbelief. “How are you so nice?” she says, verging on hysterical, and Cosette hides her giggles behind her palm. “Seriously, how do you not have thousands of people falling at your feet thinking you’re Jesus or something I can’t believe–”
Cosette laughs and tugs Eponine around the rest of the apartment, with Eponine still pretending to grumble behind her.
It’s four in the afternoon when Eponine gets back home from Cosette’s. She climbs through the window into her room and passes Montparnasse, who’s lounging on her bed, as she always does, but something’s different.
Eponine turns on her heel to look back at Montparnasse, whose mouth is curled at the edges into an infuriating smirk. Her gaze drags across his body – Montparnasse smirks again – and she gasps.
“What have you done to your hair?” she asks, not knowing whether she wants to laugh or cry or both.
“Don’t you like it, ‘Ponine?” he asks, running his slim fingers through his hair, which is now short along the sides and long at the front and wait, why is Eponine laughing?
“My god, ‘Parnasse” she snorts, shuffling across her bed on her knees to ruffle his hair. Montparnasse ducks away from her hand but grabs her around the waist anyway. “I’m hurt, Eponine. I thought you’d like it.”
Eponine squirms out of his arms and taps him lightly on the forehead. “You still look like an idiot. Now get out of my room, I need to pack.”
“Aww, you goin’ somewhere Ep? You finally getting out of this place?”
“Yup,” she says, slipping off the bed. "Getting away from my parents, from all this shit, even from you and your pretentious ass."
"You found someone with a better ass than me?" He asks, pressing a hand to his chest. "Is that even possible?"
Eponine snorts. "Oh yeah. And she's cute, too."
Friday
Cosette texts Eponine to let her know that she and her dad are just around the corner, so Eponine lugs her bags down the stairs. She stops suddenly when she sees her father’s worn boots peak out from behind the kitchen counter, but releases a sigh when she realised he’s still passed out.
She tiptoes past Gavroche and Azelma’s room, and feels a pang of guilt rush through her. She doesn’t want to leave them – a part of her can’t leave them – but the only way she could someday help them is to leave. If she didn’t she’d get caught up in her parents’ work, in her parents’ lies, in her parents’ lives and she can’t do that.
She can’t do that to herself.
Eponine leaves her keys on the table next to the door and doesn’t look back when she closes the door. All that’s important to her is packed into a large suitcase and a few bags. The Thernadiers have never had much – and what they did, they certainly didn’t earn. In fact, Eponine is surprised that they had lived in this house for so long.
Eponine walks a few doors down and almost collapses against the wall. She’s leaving her family behind. She doesn’t care for her parents, but her siblings? Gavroche and Azelma? What are they going to do without her? Why didn’t she think this whole thing through why does she think it’s okay to do this why–
“Woah there,” Montparnasse says, and where did he come from, what’s happening, what–
“I’ve got you,” he says softly, and Eponine isn’t used to this side of Montparnasse, the side that gives a shit, and it almost brings her back down to reality.
“You’re freaking out, Eponine. You don’t need to be. You’re leaving, remember? You’re gonna be a better person than the rest of us, so you need to get the fuck up and move, okay?”
Eponine bends down to pick up the bags she hadn’t realised she had dropped, and reaches up on her tiptoes to bring him down for a kiss she promises will be the last.
Montparnasse graces her with a smile – a real, rare one – and shoves her lightly at the shoulder. “By the way,” she whispers.
“I like the hair.”