It was Saturday night, and the Musain was crowded when Éponine arrived.

She hadn't seen anyone in days and she was going stir Gender Studies class required her to submit a 5000 word essay on 'Sex and Sport in Film' that afternoon and she was finally able to celebrate. She might not have loved the subject, though it was interesting enough, but give Éponine work to do and she would try her hardest to get a great mark.

She wanted to make herself proud, she wanted to break away from the failure that was her parents, even if she didn't see them anymore. Even if she didn't see Azelma or Gavroche anymore. She was glad they'd escaped too, though. Azelma had moved in with a friend halfway across the country and taken their little brother with her. It was for the best, but she still missed them.

Éponine sauntered up to the bar, shooting the bartender her sauciest grin and hoping that he'd step away from the thirty-or-so year old men ten feet away and come serve her. She needed a drink. A big one. A strong one. She needed her friends, too.

She looked around, hoping to catch a familiar face, but she saw no one. No one. Was everyone avoiding her? Did she do something wrong? No. Éponine hadn't received one text or call from Enjolras since that Wednesday, when they'd sat reading together, and the others were remarkably silent also; she'd exchanged greetings with Marius and Cosette the night before, when she'd run out for pizza, but received not a peep out of them otherwise.

Finally, drink in hand, she made her way to their usual table and was able to finally give a genuine smile to Feuilly, Musichetta and Courfeyrac.

She knew them decently, especially Courf, who was always innocently flirting with her, but she had never really hung out with them without Marius or Enjolras. Where was he?

"Madamoiselle Thenardier! Come sit by me!" Courf grinned widely, wiggling his eyebrows. She perched next to Musichetta on the opposite side of the booth. He looked stricken, "You wound me!"

The three others laughed, ignoring his theatrical attempt at a death-scene. Death by invisible arrow to the heart just wasn't working for him. They spent the next few hours in a similar fashion; everyone laughing at Courfeyrac, except when Grantaire sauntered cockily from the door and slipped over right in front of their table - then even Courf was laughing.

A hand fell on Éponine's shoulder, startling her.

"Can I have a word?"

Though the light was behind him, she knew exactly who the shadowed figure was. Had she not recognised his voice - why wouldn't she? he was her best friend - she couldn't not recognise his unruly hair or the feeling of his warm hand on her.

She hesitated for a second. She wanted to say no, wanted to give him back what he'd been giving her for the last few days... utter silence and rejection. But Éponine was all for second chances, so she slid an easy smile on her face and, sliding out of the booth, said, "Sure!"

Enjolras led her to the dark hall that led to the back door. Surprisingly - it was where everyone went to make out - the hall was empty.

"Look, I'm sorry for..." he frowned. "I've been... dealing with... some stuff, and I didn't want to really worry you, but I had to have some space. But everything's all good, I think, so there's... uh... no need to worry. Are we good?"

He rubbed his hand across his stubbly jaw, looking worriedly into her eyes. She'd seen Enjolras be a lot of things, but she'd never seen him nervous. Almost... scared?

It had hurt, sure, but she hadn't contacted him either. The dynamic in her room had done something to their friendship. She'd found him attractive, and didn't know what to do with that information. She didn't like him or anything, but there was definitely something messed up with finding your best friend attractive. So what if he was attractive? He was Enjolras, her awesome friend, and he needed her help to get over whatever he was dealing with.

Éponine gave him a reassuring smile, "We're good."

"Oh thank god."

He released a sigh and threw his arm over her shoulder as they made their way back to the table. Had he always done that? She wondered. Probably.

Everything was fuzzy as Éponine's eyes fluttered shut, her face buried in the nice warm chest she was using as a pillow.

What?

She lifted her head slightly and found herself looking into her best friend's eyes.

Enjolras just smoothed her hair and she settled back into her former position, eyes shut. As she drifted off, she felt his movement stop for a second as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the crown of her head.

The last thing Éponine did before drifting into oblivion was smile; she was quite content to sleep in his arms.