once and always || enjonine

| iii

days eventually grew into weeks, which evolved into months, alluding to four seasons that eventually formed an entire year. that had officially become a year of separation between enjolras and éponine, and although they recalled the evening at the inn often throughout the summer, the thought fully abandoned them before autumn came.

éponine's year progressed with a few particularly noteworthy events. her father's inn continued to receive a steady flow of guests and they continued to receive a great deal of income, as well. she officially turned seven in october and received a gorgeous blue dress. for christmas, her and azelma each received a new doll— that had never happened before, as they were typically subjected to sharing their gifts. in addition to these bestowals, there had been a guest at the inn in spring who donated nearly a dozen used books to éponine, who graciously accepted them and immediately endeavored in reading them (her utmost favorite had been pride and prejudice by jane austen). nothing invigorating had transpired, quite to her dismay, for the routine that the thenardiers tended to observe had grown quite monotonous over the years and young éponine thenardier was fond of spontaneity.

enjolras managed to have an insipid year. although his summer was reasonably calm, he was miserable in the company of his parents and somehow began to yearn for the hectic months he endured at boarding school. when he returned to his school in paris, he earned exceptional grades and met a pair of new acquaintances: fellow parisian boys named combeferre and courfeyrac. enjolras recognized it as his first true friendship in school and felt quite content.

however, the school year eventually concluded and the time for the enjolras family's annual vacation arrived— and enjolras himself could not be more thrilled for it to end. he had apparently matured over his most recent year at school, for less than a kilometer into the trip, he had already grown exasperated at this parents' actions countless times and was impatient for august.

"is it alright if we stay the night at that peculiar inn in montfermeil again?" his father asked his family. "i didn't entirely mind it last year and adapting a routine is never disadvantageous."

his son perked his ears. blood coursed vigorously through his veins as images suddenly returned to his mind: pictures of a dimly lit inn, little girls with chocolate colored ringlets and pink dresses and spontaneous personalities. he furrowed his eyebrows, straining to fully revive these memories.

"oh, not again!" cried his mother. "one stay was enough for a lifetime!"

"i should like to stay there."

enjolras's sudden announcement caused his parents to turn their heads. they were unaccustomed to him speaking his mind around them: he was typically stoic and impartial.

"you see, my dear? even gabriel concurs, and you are fully aware that he does not vocalize his opinions often!" his father exclaimed.

his mother grew cross, huffing in disapprobation as she folded her arms.

satisfied in reigning victorious in the debate with his wife, his father gave directions to the coachman, otto (their previous coachman, elliot, had since died from a case of tuberculosis last winter).

enjolras anxiously anticipated their arrival at the sergeant de waterloo. he was apprehensive in seeing éponine again: what shall he say to her? had she forgotten him? he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt because he certainly had. he wasn't even aware how he had managed to, for the moment altered his life so severely that it had originally seemed impossible.

they approached montfermeil with haste. it was dusk in early june and the sky was a pleasant hue of periwinkle. the inn had not much changed: it had induced as much trepidation— if not, more— as it had the previous year, and the poor little girl sweeping the foyer now donned nothing but rags, rather than the reasonably decent hand-me-down dress she wore last year; however, she was equally as dismayed and enjolras continued to feel remorse when he fixated on her.

éponine sat on the road outside of the inn, her back against her wall, accompanied by a girl with similar facial features. her hair was a startling shade of auburn, but despite this and an apparent difference in age, the similarities between her and éponine were quite striking.

the chaise slowed before the inn and éponine glanced up from the dolls she merrily retained in her clutch. she was quick to recognize enjolras amongst the small crowd but didn't say a word, as not to frighten him: she couldn't be certain whether he could recall her, and if he had, he might take the initiative in approaching her instead.

the two older characters that she recognized as his parents stepped inside the inn as enjolras remained outside to assist otto in retrieving the family's trunks; however, he swiftly escaped the duty and was suddenly upon the innkeeper's daughter.

"éponine!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice. "i was not certain if i should see you again."

"apparently you should," she mused. "i'm glad of it: i prayed that it was not an erstwhile circumstance."

"as did i."

the younger girl at éponine's feet tugged on the hem of her blue dress, her green eyes large and weary. éponine obliged to whatever the girl was indicating and said, "enjolras, this is my sister, azelma. she is four and did not have the privilege of meeting you last year."

azelma blushed, her focus sheepishly shifting to her doll.

"i also have a new baby brother! but he is currently ill and mama would fret if you were near him."

"and the petite blonde girl clothed in rags?" he asked. "could she be your sister that i never met, as well?"

éponine and azelma shared a look of utter disgust.

"cosette? oh, i would absolutely die if that were the case!" the former expressed. "her mother forced her upon us nearly three years ago and we haven't been able to rid ourselves of her; mama and papa hate her, so naturally azelma and i must. the village refers to her as 'the lark.'"

enjolras was alarmed by the superciliousness of his acquaintance. he had believed éponine to possess a heart as pure as gold, yet he had been proved entirely wrong upon the discussion of cosette.

"why does your family dislike her so? she does not seem ill-behaved; she only appears to be quite sad and lonesome. you must assure me that your disapproval of her company has no relation to the observation that she is poor and you are indulged!" enjolras's blood was suddenly boiling: what had sparked this hideous notion within him?

"indulged!" éponine cried. "i am not indulged! i did not wish for cosette to be brought here! she is only another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, and another soul to satisfy! she is only more money that papa must spend! i will assure you that i am not indulged by any means because she is emptying our purses, not me!"

"i digress! you are the most indulged, disagreeable, unpleasant child i have ever encountered and i am disappointed in myself for having believed you to be better!"

"i am not the indulged one of us: i cannot be! i am not an only child like yourself! i don't receive a whit of attention following gavroche's arrival— you will never have to concern yourself with your parents forgetting you!"

unwilling to say another word in retaliation, éponine picked up her doll, stomped her foot once, and stormed off in frustration.

enjolras and éponine's fury from their earlier argument burned on. additional consideration often provoked additional frustration, yet remorse managed to gnaw away at them. they had certainly made daring expostulations that they eventually regretted following some contemplation; however, both of them were much too headstrong to admit their faults.

they didn't utter a word to each other throughout the remainder of enjolras's stay.

perhaps this would resolve itself next year— that is, if enjolras would dare to speak to her.