a/n: i'm so sorry for the super late update but i've been so busy! also i'm working on a one-possibly-two-shot é/r/e fic which i hope you guys will all check out once i publish it (probably tomorrow or later in the week) anyway, i hope you enjoy this :)

disclaimer: i realize i forgot to do this for the first chapter, but only the plot belongs to me

Chapter 2

"You're late." The strict eyes of the director bored into the newcomer, a young man who casually walked into the set.

Behind him, employees were working to dispel the amount of yelling and flashes that attempted to follow him. Enjolras, our dear Apollo! Look here and give a smile, they shouted from outside. A loud crash ensued, and the mass of paparazzi outside was soon blocked from the set. The man, Enjolras, did not seem perturbed, and headed towards the group of actors beside the crew preparing the cameras.

Éponine stood in a circle with her fellow co-stars. They were warming up for the long day of filming ahead. She regarded the other cast members with indifference. Most of them looked somewhat familiar to her, but a couple of them seemed like fresh meat in the acting world. The tell-tale sign was in their eyes; fear and anxiety shone quite obviously in their eyes.

Enjolras walked up to the circle of actors who were shocked and gaping at his sudden appearance. It was clear they knew who he was; some of the younger girls swooned and the men gasped in admiration. Éponine herself smirked at the girls who were complaining to the director, why oh why didn't you tell us he was going to be here?

She herself had rather mixed feelings about the latecomer. He was certainly handsome, with his famous mane of blond curls and cold blue eyes. Enjolras had chiseled features, and he shone with an air of confidence. Certainly, he looked exactly as Éponine remembered from the screen. She recalled his arrest; he was aloof and haughty, just as he looked now.

Éponine wondered if Enjolras was as nice as Marius made him out to be. After Cosette's visit a couple of days ago, she called Marius and asked him about Enjolras.

"Don't worry, Ép. He's a very nice, if not passionate. You'll like him for sure."

"Passionate? Don't you think he's a little insane?" Éponine replied, her voice incredulous.

"Well, he's not like what the media says. Enjolras is pretty nice once you get to know him. And pretty fierce, I guess. He invited me to one of his meetings, for les Amis de l'ABC."

Les Amis de L'ABC was the activist group that Enjolras belonged to. Known for its love of violence and liberal views, it wasn't hard to see why young, opinionated young men such as Enjolras would be attracted to it. The members were not known to the public; Enjolras was the only member who'd been discovered and jailed. It was highly believed that les Amis were not in great numbers, and each were wealthy or famous in their own way.

"You didn't accept, right?" Éponine asked suspiciously. She didn't want her dear friend mixing with the dangerous group.

"How could I not accept? My curiosity was too great to withstand." Marius had been rehearsing his new script, for a film based in the Victorian era. Éponine could always tell when her friend had been trying out another script. And for that, she giggled at his odd language.

"But what if you get arrested?"

"I'll be careful. I told Enjolras I didn't intend to rat them out, and he said he believed me."

Éponine scoffed at Enjolras' apparent naïveté, in trusting an acquaintance with such a precious secret. But she couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased, as Marius was an honest person and always likely to keep his word. That was one of the reasons why they were such good friends, and she liked that Enjolras saw this quality.

Back to the present, the circle broke beside Éponine as Enjolras squeezed himself in. He remained aloof and distant as whispers spread like wildfire among the group. Not knowing anyone particularly well, Éponine awkwardly found herself the only silent one besides Enjolras, who stood tall like a marble statue.

Suddenly and inexplicably, Éponine found herself face-to-face with the feared and admired Enjolras himself. It came as a great shock to her that Enjolras was smiling kindly at her, his eyes crinkling nicely and his face unshaven. But this lasted for about a moment; he returned to being cold and aloof to the rest of the world, among the chatter of the other stars. He seemed to regard them with certain distaste, as though he valued himself above them. Though Éponine saw through this façade—she noticed a strange fire in his eyes that proved he was, at least, human.

She was about to make conversation with the actors who stood beside her when the director came back to the circle, red-faced. Enjolras snapped his attention from the girl beside him to the tired-looking man.

"Now, guys I see you've all warmed up… with the exception of Enjolras." With that, his face soured considerably. "You're all in your costumes, again, with the exception of Enjolras. I hope you're all ready for a long day of filming, folks."

Éponine truly and immensely enjoyed the world of acting. She loved the experience that came with making a movie and the ability to be someone else. It was surreal, to say the least. And a lot of work, unlike what most people imagined. It was one of her only passions, discovered at a young age, and the only thing she ever totally put effort into.

The morning passed by blissfully fast, with many scenes being taken and retaken. Even with the initial dispute, the director seemed to be on great terms with Enjolras throughout the filling process.

"CUT!" The director yelled rather sourly.

He needs a break. Éponine mused darkly. She was tired and hungry; her mood drastically reduced by the effort thrown into her work.

He gave them short, five-to-ten minute breaks every couple of hours, but everyone was still exhausted. This was the twentieth take already, and she was getting sick of the director's irritating and overbearing voice.

"Again! Éponine, work on your facial expressions; you're looking positively glum for an upbeat teenage. Let's see you really get into work, girl!" The director man shouted again, this time directed at Éponine.

Scowling deeply, she caught the eye of one of the girl co-stars, who shot a look of sympathy towards her. It wasn't her fault she was tired. They were working her to the bone, and Éponine was sick of the same scene over and over again.

Éponine's had her fair share of angry directors before, and by all means, this one wasn't too terrible. She remembered sharply the one she had for her second film; he yelled so much that Éponine was reduced to tears after almost every take. It was a good experience for her, though. That she had to admit, but she despised him so much that she could never watch the movie in total and not remember his voice.

The screenwriter had done an absolutely marvelous job, Éponine reflected as Enjolras recited a certain line that sent shivers down her back. His acting amazed her; she had no idea that the cold, distant man that was Enjolras could realistically pretend to be a suave ladies' man. As much as she'd studied his movies for acting techniques, Éponine couldn't have prepared to see a genius at work. Strange as he was, Enjolras truly fascinated her.

The morning was over before she knew it. Everyone was tired, especially the director, who seemed older after having been shouting bits of advice to everyone all day. The set, a high school cafeteria, seemed woefully unpleasant to an exhausted Éponine, who was relieved to break for lunch.

"Great progress! Take an hour, go have some lunch. We'll meet back here at one, don't be late." At the last word, he looked pointedly at Enjolras, who didn't look the least bit fazed. In fact, his expression challenged the director with a nonchalant smirk.

Relieved, hungry, and absolutely exhausted, Éponine trudged from the set to the big doors, where it was surprisingly quiet and empty, the paparazzi from the morning, all gone. Lazily, she pushed open the gates of the building of the set to reveal trees and a grassy atmosphere. Fresh air blew into Éponine's face violently as she walked along a muddy path towards her trailer.

On account of the recent rain, the pathway was still wet and filthy, and Éponine groaned, for her Christian Louboutin boots were already dirty. How awful! And they were brand new.

In her untidy trailer, considered too small by most celebrities' standards, she threw on her red Chloé trench coat over her schoolgirl uniforms and brushed her long, brown tresses. Éponine grabbed her phone and wallet from the white couch and promptly rushed out, eager and very ready to eat.

Overhead, the sun shone brilliantly, in contrast to the despicable mood Éponine resided in. She heard birds chirping merrily, but it only served to make her angrier. She knew what she had to do—lunch at Café Musain, her favorite coffee shop. The little restaurant never failed to cheer her up. Thankfully, it was small enough so that no one recognized her whenever she went there (which was quite often) with the exception of the waitress who worked there all day, Musichetta.

Éponine smiled inwardly as she thought of one of her good friends, Musichetta. Though she did know who Éponine was, Musichetta didn't care for her fame or fortune, but seemed to like the fact that she was as down-to-earth as any of the other people their age.

She'd barely gotten another three steps when she suddenly awoke from her reverie by a magnificent-looking figure standing awkwardly close by.

It was Enjolras.

He was in his normal street clothes—a blue shirt with rolled up sleeves and jeans—and he walked along the muddy pathway deep in thought.

He certainly looked very handsome right there and then, but Éponine couldn't care less. Her mind wandered back to the conversation she had with Marius, and her interest piqued. Was he more than a marble statue, like the media christened him as?

Gathering up the courage, Éponine tapped him on the shoulder softly. In a strange voice, she found herself saying, "I was just about to go get some lunch. Care to join me?"

Éponine froze as she blurted out the question. Why did she say that? She couldn't care less if the famous Enjolras joined her for lunch. Maybe her curiosity for him was finally getting the better of her.

Enjolras replied curtly. "No, thank you." His tone made it rather obvious that he would rather die than join her for lunch. Enjolras' expression remained impassive and blank.

Éponine's bravado diminished rapidly, quickly replaced by anger. What a horrible, rude man! And there she was, trying to be nice and make friends! And him, snubbing her like that—doesn't he know who she is?

Golden brown eyes flashed. "Well, okay, whatever. Just a suggestion."

She pushed past him and began her way down to the café. Éponine wasn't about to let this awful man ruin a perfectly good lunch break. But she'd already begun to feel the sting of rejection, with tears threatening to fall from her long lashes.

Éponine didn't like rejection, and she was pretty sure nobody did. And of course, she had been rejected before—many, many times, in fact—but those times hadn't bothered her. She'd dealt with hate mail, threats and everything her critics sent her way, but the sting of personal rejection was bitterer. But of course, she was a stranger to him, she supposed. He could've been nicer to her.

Enjolras' voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What is your name?" Enjolras asked coolly.

Of course. Of course, after working together on the same set for approximately five hours now, of course this man wouldn't know her name. It wasn't like the director hadn't shouted it out many, many times. Éponine had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the oblivious man.

"Éponine," she said in a deadpan tone, turning around to face him full on the face. "Éponine Jondrette Thénardier."

The name seemed to surprise him; his blue eyes lit up for a fraction of a second, but Éponine caught it. One of his eyebrows cocked up, and his voice barely contained his shock.

"Oh."

"Why?" Éponine asked curiously.

"I didn't realize. I'm sorry for being rude."

Éponine's eyebrows rose up. What was he thinking, this Enjolras, what with his cryptic answers?

"Excuse me? Can you tell me what's going on?" Her voice showed hints of her disbelief and annoyance.

They were standing very close together now, Éponine realized. Face-to-face, she could feel the heat radiating off his body despite the coolness of the weather.

"You're Marius' friend. Marius Pontmercy, right?"

The one and only.

Éponine couldn't help but suppress an unnatural giggle at the mention of her friend. Marius, as it turned out, was a rather clumsy, awkward young man with a heart big enough to soften even the hardest of critics. No doubt that came as an advantage when dealing with the press, but also when meeting other celebrities. It came as no surprise to her that Marius easily became friends with Enjolras.

"Yeah, why?" Éponine wondered how Enjolras seemed to know this. It wasn't like Marius to gossip to new friends about old friends.

"Walk with me," he said simply. Éponine scowled deeply. How rude he was, that Enjolras man. So aloof and secretive, it was a wonder the man had any friends at all.

"Come on," he said, suddenly grinning at the annoyed expression on her face. Enjolras held out a pale, slender hand for her, looking at her rather expectantly.

Éponine absolutely did not shiver at Enjolras' beautiful smile. Certainly not.

She let herself latch onto this stranger's arm as they strolled down the road towards the sidewalk and the rest of the city. Keeping her face calm and blank of any expression was not as easy as she forced it to be. She, Éponine Thénardier, walking with one of the most famous and recognizable men on this planet! Granted, she was pretty famous too, but that was one of the many disadvantages to being an actress. Though in her early acting stages she basked in the glow of the press, she'd learned to hate it eventually.

But nevertheless, she could feel her face burning up, despite the cool breeze of the spring air. They reached the sidewalk in silence, and passersby glanced interestedly at the attractive couple: the golden Apollo and the raven Daphne. Occasionally, some younger bystanders would stare in wide-eyed shock at the both of them, wondering if they really were the people on the covers of magazines and the stars of their favorite movies.

Éponine wondered where Enjolras intended to lead them. She was curious, but tried hard not to show it. She couldn't bear embarrassing herself in front of such a man. She felt every second they were together; while electricity pulsed through the arm which he still held. No, no, she was definitely not attracted to him. It was just awkward, walking with him like that, with passersby staring at them, wondering why they looked so familiar.

A marble statue. That's what everyone called him.

So far, he seemed to be living up to this nickname, and that of Apollo, another fan favorite.

The heels of her ankle boots clicked on the cobblestone walkway as he led her down yet another intersection. By her estimation, they'd been walking for approximately ten minutes now, and were quite close to the Café Musain. Éponine wondered if that was where they were going.

New York, she mused. New York City, where she lived right now, was the land of opportunities. The usual crowd of tourists and busy adults were all there, just as they always were. She supposed that was why the city always attracted her so—she loved the hustle and bustle of people. But right now, at this very moment, New York City seemed empty. Maybe it was the rain, but the usual masses of people were missing.

Éponine could feel Enjolras right beside her. She felt it with every movement she made, every sound she heard, and everywhere she looked. She was conscious of him for every moment, and there was no way in hell she would admit it didn't make her uncomfortable.

But it did.

"I hear you like the Café Musain." They had stopped now, in front of her favorite coffee shop, and Éponine's fears were finally confirmed. So Marius did tell Enjolras about her. But why?

Café Musain was a dingy, dirty little coffee shop, and spent most of its time unnoticed by others. Red and white, it had two old-fashioned windows with flowers hanging from above. Outside, it looked as though it had not been cleaned in a long time, for the red bricks were muddy and damaged, and the flowers badly needed watering and grooming. Above the two windows, the words "Café Musain" were printed unwittingly in a black, unreadable cursive.

Despite its unwelcoming impression, the inside of the shop was much different. Although it was quite dark, the atmosphere in the room was warm and cheery. Besides, the sunlight that streamed in through the doors and the windows was more than enough to light up the little place.

Éponine led Enjolras over to the counter, where an old lady, Mme. Hucheloup stood, looking at the two of them and smiling knowingly. The café was devoid of any other customers besides them.

As per usual, Éponine ordered an iced caramel macchiato, greeting the old woman with a small smile. Enjolras himself ordered his usual: coffee, as black as possible. No sugars or milk. Musichetta looked at her with a bizarre expression on her smooth, brown face, but it passed quickly, and she winked at the Éponine.

"Yes, I do. How did you know that?" Éponine knew the answer, but she wondered whether Marius really had the shame to talk about her to a stranger. A well-known, famous stranger, but a stranger no less. "Come on, let's sit here."

Éponine pointed to her favorite spot, a small table near the doors. They sat down on the old rickety chairs, and Éponine folded her arms in front of her waist. Now that they were comfortably settled in, she demanded an answer from the man sitting in front of her.

"Marius says you're very feisty," Enjolras began, and Éponine cocked up an eyebrow, as though asking, "So?"

"Why did Marius tell you about me?" Éponine asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. Much to her annoyance, Enjolras ignored her question and continued to speak as though he was reciting a monologue.

"He also said that you're very nice, which I'm not too sure about—" Enjolras held up a hand to stop Éponine from speaking up. Éponine's red lips pursed together tightly, but she didn't fight back.

"But anyhow, I just want you to know that I'm not looking for a girlfriend right now." Enjolras smiled obliviously, but in Éponine's eyes, it came off as more of a smirk. "And I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, Éponine."

With that, Éponine's anger began to boil over. All morning, she'd endured him, his rudeness and cryptic responses to her eager questions, him interrupting her every single time she had something to say, and finally, enough was enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Musichetta barely hiding a massive grin, and sharing an amused glance with Mme Hucheloup. Éponine's love life was a favorite discussion among the two women, and that didn't please the young woman. Her eyebrows drew together in an angry line; her face flushed furiously.

"Excuse me? What makes you think that I would want to date you? Especially since I've never talked to you before, and how rude you were to me all day! Why exactly would I care if you were looking for a girlfriend?" Her voice resonated harshly, her fierceness radiating off her anger. Éponine's eyes glinted in the bright sunlight, glaring defiantly at Enjolras.

He sputtered, completely shocked at her reaction. "W-well your friend, Marius, h-he said that you were looking for someone, and he strongly hinted at me, so, well, I assumed that he meant me…"

Enjolras trailed off, and Éponine realized with a start how different he looked when he was startled. With his powerful aura gone, he seemed to resemble any other person. Not like the great god in which she'd always seen him as.

But Marius! Oh that horrible man, she was definitely going to place a call to Cosette when she returned home. She was going to let Cosette deal with this one. Not even the Lark could spare her fiancé this time. He'd embarrassed her terribly, and she wasn't about to let him forget this.

But Éponine had to suppress a grin when she glanced briefly at Enjolras' face. He was bright red, his brow was sweaty, but despite his embarrassment, he stared at her fiercely, waiting for a reaction.

She had to feel bad for him. It wasn't his fault, even though he was so rude to her. If anyone was to be blamed, it would be Marius, that terrible man.

"What I mean to say, is," Éponine sighed. "Marius likes to butt into my love life. Occasionally he tries to hook me up with his friends. Needless to say," here, she waved her hands in a gesture of annoyance. "It never works."

He was looking at her quite curiously now. "Well, are you looking for anyone then?"

"Whatever it takes to get Marius off my back, I guess," Éponine laughed, and surprisingly, he joined in heartily. "Yeah, I guess I am looking for someone. When I'm not too busy with work, of course."

Enjolras smiled, but his face was clouded, as though he was contemplating something. Finally, he seemed to have made up his mind, and his face relaxed.

"Well, I have something that might answer your relationship troubles."

Éponine, sipping her iced caramel macchiato, perked up. She laughed internally; what could this marble man suggest to her that hadn't already been suggested? She understood her problem: it was completely and utterly hopeless. Éponine was already preparing to become an old maid, along with Musichetta. They'd grow old and crash at Cosette and Marius' place until their deaths.

"What do you know of Les Amis de l'ABC?" Enjolras asked, Éponine could see the passion that flickered up in his eyes.

please review :) thank you for reading