Hello my lovelies! So I've been working on this Enjonine fic for about a week and a half or so. They're my OTP, without a doubt, and literally all my feels have revolved around them recently.

I am on tumblr (thisislavieboheme . tumblr . com) but I didn't want to post this there because I have too many real-life people on there that definitely do not need to be reading my smutty fanfic. So drop me a comment there or on here (or a prompt - as soon as I'm done writing this, I want to get started on a series of Enjonine drabbles, some of which I come up with and some of which are prompts from all you in this tragic OTP).

This started out as a oneshot, but now I'm so far into writing it I don't even know how many chapters it'll end up being. What can I say? I don't write the stories, they use me as a vehicle! Anyway, I hope this first part is long enough. I just chose a random place to stop, because I've been writing with little page breaks the whole time rather than chapters.

It's mostly musical-based, but I took a lot of names and, especially concerning Eponine, familial relationships, from the brick.

Please, please, let me know what you think! I want to post more, but I also want to get a positive response, of course! Also, PLEASE BE MY FRIEND ON TUMBLR! I need someone to fangirl incessantly with...

Disclaimer: Very little of this is mine, but instead belongs to the incomparable Victor Hugo, without whom my life would not be the same. I would also like to remind everyone that as much as we love this story/musical and these fictional characters, this rebellion did actually happen, and some students probably quite similar to our favorite barricade boys lost their lives standing up for their ideals. Please, don't ever forget that this is based in reality!

They had met freshman year. They lived in the same building, all these boys who had since become his backbone, his support, the closest friends he had ever had. She lived on the floor above, along with her roommate Musichetta.

He had seen her coming in and out of the dormitory and even in a few of his classes those first few weeks, but it wasn't until almost a month into their first semester that they met at a party hosted by one of the campus' frats. It was hardly Enjolras' thing, although he did enjoy the occasional drink, and he was only there because his hall mates had dragged him out. They had been debating for weeks joining the various frats, and Rush was the following weekend.

Enjolras had no time for frats. No, he was there to make the money he was spending worth his while, to graduate at the top of the class and get into a top graduate school. The sooner he could start changing the world, the better.

He saw her in the throng of students well before she saw him, but when they did make eye contact – his intense, hers curious – she pushed through the crowds to join him. She was pretty, petite, wearing a halter top that pushed up her chest and bared her midriff, low rise jeans, and flat shoes; she was several inches shorter than him. Her raven hair tumbled over her bare shoulders. He remembered it well.

She recognized him as Marius' roommate. It sickened him, even now, to know how hard she had already fallen for that fool, even after only a few weeks of school. Marius had mentioned her frequently, had grown fond of her, but clearly was uninterested romantically.

They got to talking. He told her he was a philosophy and political science double major, that he wanted to be a lawyer some day and defend people that could not afford a good lawyer themselves. She was undeclared, but liked psychology and art history and French. Maybe she would major in one of those.

She had been just as bored with the party as he was; her roommate Musichetta had brought her along, but was busy flirting with one of his new friends, Joly, in the corner. So they left together. She had wanted to know if Marius was around, but he had gone home for his grandfather's surprise 75th birthday party.

He thought she was pretty, even then. Thin, but healthy, with a face quicker to smile than to frown, and pronounced dimples on her cheeks. Her eyes were the color of rich chocolate flecked with gold, and her lashes were long.

They had kissed in his room, after confessing their lack of experience to one another. Desire and curiosity had gotten to the both of them after that, and he had learned what it was like to have a beautiful woman kiss him someplace other than his lips. He liked it. They stopped short of doing anything else, however, both too afraid to take that leap, so instead they had gone to the dining hall to get some pizza.

They settled into an easy friendship after that, though they never got physical like that again. They did their homework and studied together; she was smart, though much more distractible than he, and she frequently did not apply herself. Except in her art courses.

She was, quite frankly, a force of nature. Back then she was a wild, somewhat bohemian being, one that swept from place to place, always in motion, seeming to dance from place to place rather than walk. Each time she was still, it was a stillness that reflected a lioness about to pounce on her prey. And she had washed over him like a wave at high tide, crashing into him with all her mania and her free spirit.

He learned that she had a bad relationship with her parents, that they had physically and emotionally abused her, that she rarely saw her younger brother, Gavroche, and her sister, Azelma. But she frequently spoke to them on the phone.

She fell hard and fast for Marius, and was crushed when, at the start of the second semester a pretty blonde transferred in from another school. Her name was Cosette, and Marius was instantly in love. They started dating almost immediately; he met her father, a kind, wealthy man, and the young couple became inseparable.

At the end of the year, they all went their separate ways. The boys were all staying together on campus the following year, and were already making their plans. He was most sad to say goodbye to his own personal hurricane. But they talked almost every day over the summer; she was working two jobs and was debating taking on a third to save money, but remained as happy and optimistic as ever.

It came as no surprise to him when she told him she had dropped out. She insisted that she was coming back as soon as she had saved up enough money, but he knew it would never happen.

Still, she lived close to the campus, and visited frequently. The boys would visit her at the restaurant where she waitressed sometimes, though they never over tipped her. The first and only time they had, she was so angry with them all that she wouldn't speak to any of them for a week. For him, it was two. She told him later that she had given the extra money to the food runners, who worked incredibly hard.

She had always made it very clear that she was no one's charity case. No, she was independent, strong, and deeply stubborn, desperate to convince the world that she didn't need any help or anyone.

The following year, the boys broke up into several apartments off campus. Musichetta and Joly got a place with Marius and Cosette. Bahorel was living with his parents to save money, so she moved in with Enjolras, Combeferre, and Grantaire when her lease was up.

And they had been living together ever since, even in the two years after graduation. Not all of them necessarily in the same living arrangements – some of the boys moved in with girlfriends or into nicer apartments, but she was still his roommate. Now they lived in a four-bedroom apartment with Grantaire and Courfeyrac.

His phone rang, breaking him out of his reverie. "Eponine," he said.

"Enj, I'm heading home from work. I'll meet you at the café in twenty. We can get some food and we'll go over your speech for your class.

Enjolras was in his second year of law school, and his most challenging class by far was a speech class. He struggled to come up with his speeches for each assignment and struggled even more when it came time to present them, but he enjoyed it. His friends were always more than willing to meet in the café down the block and listen to him.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting at a table with two coffees and his note cards laid out in front of him when she swept in.

Eponine's long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was still wearing her shorts and work shirt.

"I know," she said, dropping gratefully into the empty chair, "I smell like food. It's so gross, I'm sorry."

Enjolras shrugged, and passed her a coffee. 20 ounces, Kona blend, milk, and no sugar. He watched her take an experimental sip. She sighed and looked at him appreciatively. An instant later, she was up and buying a pastry for them to share. Together, they went over his speech until they both got hungry, then they ordered dinner. Eponine insisted on paying for her own.

A few weeks later, Eponine came home from work with Gavroche in tow. His high school was on spring break so he had come to stay for a week. After dropping out of school, she had changed her last name from Thénardier to Jondrette, in order to distance herself from her parents, but she had remained close with the younger boy. She once told her friends that she liked exposing him to such successful older role models. It was one of those rare moments she had been serious; she never joked when it came to Gavroche.

After he went to sleep on the pullout sofa that first night, Eponine knocked on Enjolras' door.

"I quit my job," she said, coming in and sitting on the bed. "I'm tired of dealing with all the shit."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, turning in his desk chair to face her.

"I got a second job – but you're not gonna like it. None of you will."

He said nothing, just waited.

"Hooters," was all she said, readying herself for his lecture.

He regarded her seriously – though he very rarely looked at her any other way. She looked exhausted. She had lost a lot of weight since they had first met, seven years back. Her pretty eyes were always tired, with big, dark bags beneath them. She was no longer the wild child, no longer the lioness. He worried about her frequently, but the fire was still in her, so he truly believed that someday she would be all right.

"Ep," he said quietly, "we can help you if you need it –."

Her eyes grew hard then, her lips twisted into a scowl, and suddenly there she was, the old Eponine, a tornado spinning out of control, a tsunami about to sweep away everything in its path.

"I'm not your bougie fucking charity case," she snapped, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her. Enjolras sighed. He knew better than to offer Eponine his help. She never wanted it. She was independent, she didn't want pity, she wanted to do everything on her own. Relying on someone, becoming too indebted to them, he knew, made her vulnerable, and she much preferred the safety of her own walls. He often considered how lonely she must be inside her own head.

A few weeks later, on one of her rare nights off, she was lying on the couch, her head in Enjolras' lap, her feet on Grantaire (already several whiskeys in). Courfeyrac was getting ready to go out on a date, but his three roommates were parked for the night. The Count of Monte Cristo was coming on in a few hours. It was Enjolras' favorite movie.

Courfeyrac came into the room, and spun around. "How do I look?"

"Dashing!" proclaimed Eponine, laughing.

"I think I'm a little gay for you," Grantaire sarcastically confessed, making them all laugh.

Courfeyrac surveyed his friends with a look of mock pity before telling them, "We have got to get you three some dates. Especially you, Enjolras. I haven't seen you with a girl since that time you two made out freshman year." He was pointing between Enjolras and Eponine.

She threw a pillow at him. He caught it. "I don't believe in love," she declared. "Or monogamous relationships."

"How are you still single? I think that's every man's dream," Grantaire said.

Eponine just smiled innocently.

"How do you not believe in love?" asked Enjolras. She looked up at him, a half smile lighting up her face. "You watch, like, 85 romantic comedies a week. You cry in the romantic tragedies. You eat that shit up."

She shrugged, "They're stories. Pretty separate from real life. Nothing that happens in books or movies ever happens to real people. I can still enjoy things without believing in them, right?"

He just grunted.

Courfeyrac sarcastically said, "Good luck with that," as he put on his coat.

In response, his roommates very seriously wished him luck and fun on his date.

A few hours later, Grantaire was lightly snoring on the couch. The movie was on commercial break, and was nearing the end.

Eponine had been nudging their passed out friend with her foot for the better part of twenty minutes before she finally started hitting him with a pillow. He woke up enough for her to yell at him that he should go to bed, and he stumbled away, shutting his door behind him.

"And the there were two," she remarked.

Enjolras nodded, shifting so that one leg was sprawled on the couch and the other propped on the coffee table. He leaned his head against the wall, one arm draped over the back of the couch and the other on the armrest.

Eponine let him get comfortable, then curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He supposed, given his position in the crook of the couch, that it mustn't have been all that comfortable, because she quickly grabbed a pillow, propped it up against the armrest, pulled her blanket back over herself, and laid across his lap.

"You really haven't ever had a girlfriend?"

"No," he said shortly, not really wanting to have this conversation, least of all with her.

"Was I the last girl you kissed? Enj, that was six years ago."

"No, I've kissed other girls. Not too many, but at a few parties here and there when I was drunk. Having a girlfriend has never been a big deal to me."

"Are you still…?"

He was glad the darkness hid his flush as he kept silent.

She sat up very suddenly. "Oh my god, you are!"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's none of your business, Eponine," he told her sternly.

"Enjolras, don't be embarrassed. It's not a big deal," she replied with a giggle.

"You're laughing at me!" he snapped angrily. "I'll have you know that I most certainly am not. I… I had a one night stand with a girl just after my 22nd birthday. I'm not particularly proud of it, so I've never told anyone about it. Sleeping with random strangers is not really my cup of tea."

She regarded him suspiciously for a second before leaning over and planting a peck of a kiss on his cheek. She patted the other cheek with her hand. "I'm just teasing you, Enj," she said. "No need to get yourself in a tiff."

Enjolras turned to look at her; their faces were only a few inches apart. Her teasing smile slowly faded, and he became aware of her small hand burning into his cheek. She was staring at his lips, and he became aware that his own eyes were flickering back and forth between hers and her lips. When the corners of her mouth twitched, bringing the ghost of a smile onto her face, he couldn't take it any more. He swooped in, bringing his hand off the back of the couch and entwining it in the hair at the nape of her neck as he kissed her.

Eponine's lips parted almost immediately, involuntarily. The kiss was feverish, hungry, but short – Enjolras pulled away after only a few moments in surprise.

Eponine was staring at him for a moment before a slight smirk grew. "Well that hasn't happened in a while," she said, somewhat breathlessly. She licked her lips, and Enjolras' only response was to kiss her again, harder.

She slid down, pulling him with her, and he ended up kneeling over her, supporting himself with his hand on the armrest. Her arms were laced around his neck, and his free hand was rubbing the bare skin at her hip. His hand slipped under her shirt, pulling it with him as he dragged his fingers across her stomach. She was pulling up his shirt, when suddenly, they heard the sound of the bolt tumbling back, the door opening, and then the light being flipped on. They jumped apart, Enjolras clear to the other side of the side of the couch, as Eponine pulled at her shirt and ran a hand through her hair.

Luckily, Courfeyrac noticed nothing, because he was stumbling into the room tangled with a pretty brunette. Both of them froze when they saw Eponine and Enjolras on the couch, though neither seemed to notice the swollen lips, heavy breathing, and mussed clothes.

Courfeyrac cleared his throat awkwardly. "This is Clémence," he said. She waved, clearly a bit embarrassed. Enjolras and Eponine each greeted her, avoiding looking at each other.

"So, um, see you tomorrow…." He put a hand on his date's back, and gently led her toward his bedroom. Eponine grinned at the handsome boy across from her, and high-fived him as soon as they heard Courfeyrac's bedroom door close.

Enjolras smiled back, but it was more thoughtful than joking. Eponine settled in on her end of the couch, laying against the armrest and pulling the blanket over her shoulder, apparently over their kiss. She was never one to let situations be awkward.

The movie was in its last minutes, and when it ended she warmly bid him goodnight as though nothing had happened.

And just like that, the tide swept back out to sea, leaving him beached.

He laid his head on the pillow that night, wondering how he was going to get to sleep. Eponine was completely occupying his thoughts.

Enjolras must have dozed off, because it wasn't until a slight weight shifted him in his bed that he woke up. He sat up quickly, wondering why he hadn't heard his door open and close, and looked over to see Eponine sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top. He froze, unsure of what she wanted.

She stood, and came over to stand in front of him. "I'm glad you're awake," she told him softly. "You sleep like a fucking log." He just stared up at her, not moving even as she ran a hand through his hair and down the side of his face and neck.

Eponine let her hand drop to his shoulder, placing her free hand on his other shoulder, steadying herself as she slowly climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Enjolras felt one arm snake around her waist, as his other hand squeezed her thigh.

She was pressed flush up against him, resting her forehead against his. He found he was breathing hard, and wondered if she could feel his erratic heartbeat against her breast.

Eponine cradled the back of his head in her hands, and gently kissed him. It was slow, at first, but Enjolras felt himself deepening the kiss, speeding things up. He was suddenly aware that she was swiveling her hips, and he wasn't sure whether or not she realized it.

He flipped her over then, and they stared at one another for a moment before he dove back in, kissing every inch of her bare skin he could find. Together, they crawled the length of his bed, until her head was resting on one of the pillows.

They each lost track of the time after that, consumed entirely by the moment, by the heaving chests and heavy breathing, the sweat and wet kisses, the movements of their dance. It must have been days, maybe even years, of this drowning sensation before they finally surfaced for air. They had been forever falling, and all of a sudden, they hit the ground, collapsing into each other wordlessly.

When Enjolras opened his eyes the next morning, he was certain he had dreamed it. It was the product of kissing her so feverishly, that was all. Eponine was not there, and there was nothing indicating she ever had been. Enjolras wasn't sure how he felt about this, whether he was disappointed that she hadn't actually visited him, or relieved that their friendship was not about to become more complicated.

That is, until he stood up. He was completely nude.

Enjolras peeked into her room on his way to the bathroom. Eponine was sound asleep, looking more peaceful than he had seen her in years, perhaps even since they had met.

Later, when they were quite alone, he broached the subject.

Eponine gave him that signature smile of hers. "I totally believe you. No guy is that good his first time," she told him with a wink. "And the best part," she continued, "is that Courfeyrac and his lady were equally as busy in his room, and Grantaire was passed out drunk, so no one will ever know."

And that was that.

Enjolras agreed with the need to keep what had happened a secret, and was relieved that things did not seem to have changed between them. They had always been close, and she seemed to be fine with adding this new layer of literal, physical closeness to their relationship.

They went about their day as usual, Eponine at one of her jobs, Enjolras at school, and they met all their friends later that night at the café to hear about Courfeyrac's date. He seemed completely oblivious to their affair, neither giving them any telling looks, nor bringing it up to them when the rest of the boys were distracted.

Enjolras gave them one of his speeches. He told them all that he had written it just today, that he had slept really well last night and he supposed inspiration had struck then. He avoided her eyes.

Eponine watched as he spoke. He was a charismatic, naturally talented orator, despite what he thought. She could tell he believed passionately in what he was saying, proclaiming that the poor needed help. It made her want to take up arms by his side and storm the government.

She sipped her coffee instead.

His clear blue eyes were on fire. The sun was shining in the café window, alighting his golden hair and shining on his pale face, giving him the appearance of a moving statue. She eyed his jaw; it was strong, completely lickable (she would have to remember to try that). She loved when a man had a jaw that could seemingly cut glass. He was no longer the scrawny boy she had hooked up with in college; he was bigger, more muscular, but still lean. His body was hard in all the right ways. Taking another sip, she congratulated herself.

At that moment, Marius and Cosette joined the group, attentively listening. Eponine's heart skipped a beat, and she completely forgot Enjolras for a moment. But Marius' arm was around Cosette's shoulders, she was leaning into him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, planting small kisses on his jaw and neck and lips, looking up at him lovingly.

It made Eponine sick, in the stomach and in the heart. She put down her coffee, no longer interested, and looked away. She was startled to find Enjolras watching her, even as he delivered his speech.

When it was over, and after everyone had settled down, Marius announced that he and Cosette and Joly and Musichetta were hosting a party that Friday. "'Ponine," he called across the table, "If you're on the schedule, get coverage! It will be a great night, I'd hate for you to miss it."

Enjolras watched her flash that lovesick smile at him, but wasn't even sure that the other boy saw it. He was too wrapped up in Cosette.

She doesn't believe in love my ass, he thought, somewhat bitterly. It angered him that Marius would flaunt Cosette in front of Eponine. The boy probably wasn't even aware of her feelings, but that made Enjolras even angrier – how could he not know? Everyone knew. He was pretty sure even Cosette knew.

He watched Eponine – first the disappointment, then the total shut down. She adopted that indifferent, unaffected countenance, pulled the veil over her eyes, and retreated within her head, staring off into space.

Sometimes Enjolras wished he could follow her in there.

Back at the apartment several hours later, Courfeyrac and Grantaire were asleep, and Enjolras found himself at it with Eponine again. She was a little rougher tonight with him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if it were because she had been unsure of his own skill the night before, or if she were actually taking her emotions towards Marius out on him.

He was too afraid to ask.

Eponine did get coverage and attend the party that Friday, but Cosette and Marius were being so gooey that she downed several tequila shots and left within the first hour.

Enjolras ran after her, not very much in a partying mood, and escorted her home.

He had been supporting her the whole way home, but even in her tequila-soaked state walking (in her case, stumbling) down the street, he could smell her hair, her tangy perfume, and he found himself caressing her hip. She was on him as soon as they were in the door to their building. The cage-like elevator doors opened and she backed in, pulling him with her, but shoved him back out and closed the gate before he even realized what was happening. He stood there, shocked, for a moment as she began her ascent, then started bolting up the stairs. She watched him run, biting her lip in anticipation, and was waiting for him for just moments after she arrived on their floor. He pounced on her, breathing hard from his exertion, and they fell into their apartment, not even bothering to go to one of their bedrooms.

Enjolras was positive that he had left Courfeyrac and Grantaire behind at the party, that they wouldn't be back until much later, so he pulled Eponine inside, bolted the door, and pushed her up against the wall. Neither bothered to remove their clothes, and soon, he was supporting her with his hips, pressing her into the wall with his chest, arms anchored on either side of her. Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly around him, like the white foam of the tides holding him under as he drowned.

The next several weeks progressed in this fashion. When he was stressed about school, she was there, helping him to release. If she had a tough day at work she came to him.

He would give a speech in the café. Afterwards, one would leave, and the other would follow a short while later, only to find their bed occupied when they arrived home. They would go out as a group to the local bars at night, brushing one another's legs or bare skin with warm fingers when it would go unnoticed and entwining legs under tables. Then they would casually leave together, before Courfeyrac or Grantaire headed home. By the time the boys returned, they would either be in their separate rooms, or lounging on the couch watching a movie.

Finals week was particularly tough. At first, he told her that he needed to concentrate all week. But Eponine seemed able to read him too well, because right when he was so stressed out he could no longer think, there she was, kneeling on the floor and helping to distract him for a while.

They had never before had so much sex as they did that week.

After a while, however, Enjolras began to notice that she would come to him, extra zealous, after an encounter with Marius and Cosette. The thought that she was using him to forget her feelings for his former roommate made something ugly twist in his stomach.

But wasn't that what this was? They had briefly discussed it, back towards the beginning. They were friends, and they were fucking. Nothing more, nothing less. The whole idea was to use each other as much as they each wanted.

Enjolras asked her about it one night. Gavroche was visiting, and usually when he was around she stayed away from Enjolras' bedroom, but she had been forced to sit through an entire dinner of staring at Marius and Cosette cuddle in a restaurant booth. She came to him, and they proceeded as quietly as possible, resulting in a night that was slow and steady and satisfying. She would moan into his mouth or neck or shoulder, and he into her mouth or her chest.

Afterwards, they lay together on his bed giggling and bantering back and forth. A moment of comfortable silence fell, and Enjolras took advantage of it.

"Ep, back on the night we started this, you said you didn't believe in love."

She regarded him critically, propping herself up on her elbows. The sheet slipped, exposing her, but she ignored it. "Enjolras, if you're about to confess your love to me, you are never getting laid ag-."

"No, no," he cut her off with a wave of us hand. "I just wanted to ask about Marius."

"What about him?" she asked coolly.

"You're in love with him. It's no secret, except to him. Yet you claim you don't believe in love. So what's your logic?"

"No logic," she said, her voice icy. "I don't believe in love."

He raised his eyebrows, inviting her to explain. She twisted onto her side, facing him, and said, "Look, Enj, I do have feelings for Marius. Strong feelings. But you know what those feelings are? They're chemicals. Oxytocin, seratonin – they're the neurotransmitters that fire in our brains and make us feel the way we do. I don't consciously decide to have feelings for him, but when I'm around him it's not real feelings, it's something else telling my brain and my heart to feel a certain way."

"That makes no sense. Chemicals are a part of us. They release all the time, but we don't always react the same way. A lot of chemicals are released in our brains when we fuck. That doesn't mean either one of us is more affected by them."

"Exactly my point, Enjolras. These chemicals decided, not us."

He shook his head. "Chemicals can't decide anything. They don't have brains, they don't have hearts, they aren't alive. It's something else inside you – your heart, maybe, or your pancreas or your spleen or whatever – that instructs those chemicals to be released."

"I disagree," she sniffed.

"Eponine, you're letting your brain tell your heart how to think. And look, I get it. You're afraid of getting hurt. You've had a tough life, and you've built up these walls around yourself for protection, and that's fine. But telling yourself you don't believe in something or feel a certain way when you very clearly do, that's just a defense mechanism. I just wish you'd let me in sometimes," he murmured the last part, more to himself than to her, and reached up involuntarily to brush a raven-colored lock out of her eye. She flinched away.

"You don't know anything, Enjolras," she hissed at him furiously, ever conscious of Gavroche on the couch and the others in their bedrooms. "You think you know me so well, you think you have me all figured out. Well you don't know shit about me, so don't tell me how I think, and certainly don't tell me how I feel."

"Eponine –," he implored. She had hastily dressed herself as she spoke, and opened the door, turning to cut him off with an enraged, "Go fuck yourself, Enjolras."

And then she was gone.

Eponine pointedly ignored him for the next several days. She locked her door at night, avoided him in public and at home, and even locked the bathroom door so he couldn't corner her there (it wouldn't have been the first time).

After a few days of the cold shoulder, the boys' inquiries to the nature of their fight stopped. Whether any of them knew the truth was unclear, though Enjolras was suspicious that Courfeyrac's girlfriend, Clémence, had discovered their tryst and mentioned it to him, for every time he and Eponine were near each other, or left a café or bar together (before their fight, that is), he would give Enjolras a knowing look and a smirk. But he said nothing, and it didn't seem like he had told anyone else.

One evening in the café, Marius and Cosette announced another party. He instructed Enjolras to encourage Eponine to find coverage again. "It's going to be really special this time, man," he said cheerfully.

Eponine found coverage, and went to the party. She looked incredible, and Enjolras was unsure of whether or not she was trying to make him jealous or uneasy, or if she were trying to catch Marius' eye.

"Women," Courfeyrac drawled, suddenly appearing at Enjolras' side. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." He took a swig of his drink.

"I don't know, Eponine is a pretty good roommate," he said evenly. Then he wanted to kick himself. He had walked right into that one.

Courfeyrac was grinning. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well she's certainly a little friendlier towards some of her roommates than others, but I would never trade her for anyone else.

Enjolras continued to stare off into space. "Look, I –."

But he was cut off by Marius calling for attention. When everyone was quiet and had gathered a little closer, the young man said, "I'm afraid I'm not quite the orator that our friend Enjolras is," everyone except Eponine turned to look at him, grinning, "but I'll do my best.

"Cosette and I are beyond grateful that you all are here tonight. We've been together for nearly seven years now, and I can honestly say I've never felt this way about anyone before." Cosette smiled sweetly and joined Marius, who put his arm around her and continued, "I never thought I'd even be given half a chance to find as much happiness as I have, and everything I am today is because of this woman." Cosette blushed.

"Baby," he said, turning to face her and taking both her hands in his, "I never want to spend a minute away from you, not for the rest of my life. You are my heart, my soul, and I am nothing without you."

He reached into his jacket pocket with his right hand, going down on one knee as he did so. An excited gasp buzzed around the room, followed by people shushing as the young man fished out a black velvet ring box. Cosette, covering her mouth, began to cry as the man kneeling before her opened the box with trembling fingers, revealing a giant, gorgeous diamond ring. "Cosette," he said in a quiet, shaky voice, "Will you be my wife?"

The beautiful blonde laughed through her pretty tears, and nodded her head. Marius started to beam. She gave him her left hand and exclaimed, "Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you!" He slipped the ring on her finger and then kissed her passionately, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around in circles.

Enjolras had realized quickly where this was going, and attentively watched Eponine as the scene unfolded. When Marius got down on one knee, he could see her panicked expression as she looked for a way out of the crowd of people she was trapped in. No one noticed, because they were all so fixated on the proposal. As soon as the group thronged forward to congratulate Marius and Cosette, she found an opening, and sprinted out of the apartment. Enjolras tried to follow, but he was caught in the current of his friends.

When he freed himself, he followed her out without a second thought, but by the time he reached the pavement, she was nowhere to be found. He ran back to the apartment, but she wasn't there, or in the café, or in any of their usual bars.

She's a shadow, one drop of water in millions, he reminded himself, if she doesn't want to be found, she won't be.

But he suddenly remembered the name of a bar she liked, and, sure enough, he found her there a short while later.

Enjolras approached her carefully, noticing the three empty shot glasses piled next to her, and the fourth full one in front of her. She downed it without a second thought, then swirled the glass at the bartender to indicate that she wanted a refill.

Enjolras took the seat next to her. "Eponine," he said softly, afraid to touch her. She jumped, startled, and whipped her head around to look at him

Her eyes were read and puffy, but her cheeks were dry. I've never even seen her cry, he realized, slightly shocked. Indeed, she was never emotional, never sentimental, always either making jokes or retreating deep within her mind. But Enjolras had never expected the sight, even after the fact, to be this pathetic. When he had imagined her crying in the past, she was tough and as precocious as possible. And even though she was no longer crying, her expression was far from strong.

She's broken, was his only thought. There was no more fire in her chocolate eyes.

"Fuck off," she ordered, sounding tired and small and defeated.

The bartender placed the shot in front of her reluctantly, recapturing her focus, and eyed Enjolras. He got the message.

"Eponine, I think you've had enough. Let me take you home," he said kindly, gently laying a hand on her elbow.

Eponine wrenched free, slammed her shot back, and ordered another.

"Ma'am," the bartender said, leaning on the bar, "I think you should listen to your boyfriend here and head home."

"He's not my boyfriend," she scoffed. The bartender shrugged, but did not refill the shot. "And I can hold my liquor," she snapped, though Enjolras wasn't sure who that was directed at.

He threw some money on the counter and nodded to the bartender. "Come on, Ep," he said, helping her off the stool. "Let's go home."

Eponine got sick a few blocks away from their apartment, leaning over a storm drain. Enjolras supported her slight frame with one arm and held her hair with the other. When she was done, he got her the rest of the way home.

She slept on the floor of the bathroom that night, and he stayed with her.

I hope you liked this first bit! Please, give me some reviews or some love or hate or something. I hope I've done this incredible pairing justice!