So Many Things Unclear ( Mylene )

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Combeferre smiled amiably as he spoke with his protégé outside the Musain. He turned his cap over in his hands absentmindedly, but despite his gesture he felt relatively at ease. Eponine was returning a book to him and he had initiated a conversation with her on it. He had been helping with her reading ever since the night she had stolen his copy of Rhetoric, and at her insistence he had allowed her to clean his flat in return. He felt funny having someone clean up after his admittedly nonexistent mess—save for his books and papers he kept all over his desk—but she had insisted on paying him back, and that was the only thing he could think of that was not too demanding of her. He would not think of using her to do any sort of labor in return for his help, and thus he had made an insistence of his own that she take as much as she wanted from his food cabinets.

He laughed good-naturedly at a comment she made and then nodded and tipped his hat as their conversation came to a close. He watched her walk down the street for a few moments before entering the Musain with a cheerful disposition. He set his satchel of books down on the floor at his feet and took out Plato’s The Republic as he waited. He had decided to come to the Musain to read somewhat peacefully as he took his lunch, but it was also in hopes he would see a few of his friends, since they frequented the establishment and he would not mind the company. In particular he wanted to speak with Courfeyrac. Undoubtedly he was his closest friend there besides Enjolras, and he knew that he could trust him completely. There were certain matters that he felt he needed to discuss with him that quite frankly frightened and confused him.

It started when his mother sent a letter asking him about his day-to-day activities, and he had mentioned to her that he was helping a girl with her studies, and then she had asked him if he fancied her. Instead of answering plainly, he had simply stressed that they were friends and left it at that. His mother pushed the matter further and now he was just ignoring her letters entirely until he could gather what was going on his head. Now whenever he so much as thought of Eponine his heart rate increased exponentially before returning to normal, and his face reddened—good Lord, it was reddening now. Besides heart palpitations and his complexion, he was worried about the regularity of this occurrence. His mind seemed to drift and he was taken to staring off into space for extended segments of time—which had never happened in his life up until now. He was terrified for his health, fearing that he had taken ill due to some undiscovered disease. He certainly couldn’t find anything in his medical books explaining whatever disorder he had succumbed to. Tomorrow he was set to see his physician—hopefully he would have an answer to the burning question that was on his mind: what the devil was going on?

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

It was a fact Mylène wasn’t even ashamed to admit, that whenever there was nothing of importance going on in the taproom of the Café Musain, she let both her gaze and mind wander outside, looking through the windows and the door to watch the people go by, hoping for a few special customers to stop by, even though the earlier it was in the day, the more unlikely it would be. But there was always the chance of Eponine dropping by, and even though the landlady sometimes crinkled her nose at the street girl being so often in her neat café, Mylène knew she would never say something concrete, not in the presence of Les Amis and also not in Mylène’s. Sometimes it was a clear perk to have someone owe you a huge, almost irrepayable dept…

Just as she was thinking of Eponine, she thought she saw her friend appear outside before the café and with a smile she prepared herself for her entrance. Just… that she didn’t enter. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Mylène watched her stopping and speaking to a figure that was yet concealed from her point of view. Curiosity once again got the better of her, even though she had a slight hunch on who it might be that had caught Eponine’s attention. Only Marius could make her stop and stand for an idle while, she would take every opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. With an inward sigh, Mylène edged closer to the door – and found herself profoundly surprised. For the man Eponine was talking with was not Marius, it was another member of Les Amis, and the one she would have expected the less: Combeferre, best friend of Courfeyrac but as different from him as any man could possibly be. For Combeferre there was nothing but his books… and yet…?!

From where she stood now, concealed by the shadows the door cast, Mylène had a clear view on Combeferre’s face, and what she saw surprised her… and also made her wary. For she saw the man’s eyes follow Eponine in a way she would have never thought, she saw the nervous wringing of his hands and even though she was herself not subject to such signs, she knew very well what they meant… or could mean. Combeferre of ALL people taking an interest in a girl like Eponine? Not that she would wish her friend any joy on earth, but there was always Marius to consider. He held her heart without even seeing it, the idiot, while he was pining after some cream-skinned blonde angel. This anewed entanglement was the least Ponine needed, right?! Did she see it? Or did her feelings for Marius blind her against any other form of male attention? And what, in fact, WERE Combeferre’s intentions? “If you hurt her…” she muttered darkly, her eyes momentarily throwing daggers at the unseeing man, before she quickly went back behind the counter as she saw him turn towards the café.

She plastered her usual carefree grin onto her face and greeted him: “My, Monsieur Bouquineur!¹ Did your precious books and scrolls give you permission to step outside your study this early? Or what is the reason for your visit here?” Was it the light in here or was he actually flustered? This was… interesting to say in the least!

¹: Bookworm

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Combeferre had no idea that he was being watched. Frankly he was blind to everything that was going on around him—a revolt could have started in the street right under his nose and he would not have been any the wiser. Such was the mindset of those in love—oh God, no. Why had that word even crossed his mind? What was wrong with him? He filled his mind with useless facts, pushing their conversation out of his mind. He did meaningless arithmetic problems to take his mind off these foreign thoughts of affection. This was not—could not—be happening to him. His only loves were education and love of country and he intended to keep it that way, probably until the end of his days. He had no desire to fall in love and consequently marry, since Combeferre believed the two went hand in hand. She was his student—that was as far as their relationship went or would go.

He would be—and had been—nothing but polite to her. He had asked about her well-being—he himself considered her a friend, but not a close friend. He could not let them become any closer than what they were or else he would be in danger of…of declaring that he was falling in love with her. He rubbed his temple in agony and shook his head vehemently as he tried to focus on Plato’s words. Why did his mind wander back to her every few seconds? This was insanity—he was sick, that was the only credible explanation. He refused to believe what Courfeyrac was suggesting. There were several reasons why he could not afford to fall in love with anyone—one, his mind would no longer be occupying at peak efficiency. Part of him reasoned that that could be the explanation for his issue now, but he pushed it from his mind. Two, they were quite possibly about to take over the government. They all needed to be focused, and he would feel like a complete hypocrite for getting after Marius when he himself had fallen in love. Love was nothing but a distraction and a feeling that he did not want to feel. But even now it was overtaking him against his will, and he felt powerless to stop it.

He looked up, still flushed, when Mylene addressed him. “Bonjour.” he answered, smiling a bit in greeting as he sat up from the book he’d been pretending to read. “Oh, I was just hungry and was tired of being shut up all day, I guess.” That was the worst lie he could possibly have told. “I-I was hoping that some of the others would be here—it gets to be a bore eating lunch alone. Have you seen Courfeyrac lately?” He needed to ask him how to get rid of this—it was suffocating him and destroying the thing he treasured most, his ability to think clearly.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Tired of being shut up all day, now really?! That would have been the last comment she would have expected from Combeferre, and together with his flustered expression which he desperately tried to hide, this just made her believe him even less. There was something going on, and she’d die to know the answer! The only thing missing would be him holding his book upside down without noticing it, but sadly he wasn’t doing her that favour. Since he hadn’t brought the conversation on Eponine himself, he either tried to hide whatever was going on between them or he didn’t even see it himself. He certainly wasn’t acting like Marius who had been gushing about his ‘blonde angel’ from the moment he had set eyes on her. But she knew there were different types of attraction, oh she knew that very well! But the ultimate question still was, what did he want with Ponine, if anything? Would she have to worry? Some might say this was by no means Mylène’s business, and she knew that her friend could very well look out for herself, but… she’d still like to know what was going on.

Approaching him further, she cocked her head and smiled at him openly. “I can ask the landlady wha’s up for a lunch, an’ get ye some, though, so ye at least get rid of the hunger if not of the boredom right away.” Apparently, she would not get something out of him directly, so she had to use different means, if she wanted to steer this conversation back towards Eponine. Maybe dropping her name in some non-related topic would do the trick, then she would at least see how nonchalantly or not he would react whenever she was mentioned. But how to find that right topic without revealing right away that she had watched them? She was not ashamed of it, since she hadn’t exactly planned it, but she knew people could react tersely to such things. She might even take offense herself, if someone… but well, that hadn’t happened until now!

The sudden mentioning of Courfeyrac threw her a little, even though she knew it should be expected. It was a completely innocent question to the unknowing ear, but for Mylène this name had gained a myriad of additional meanings and memories ever since the Parade two days ago. “Huh... er… N-no. Haven’t seen him in here today yet. Things been… different since the May Event.” Different for all of them in the way that things had certainly become more concrete and real for Les Amis… but she had not only meant that, which Combeferre gladly didn’t know. As far as she knew, none of his friends had yet caught on to the ‘change’ between them, since they weren’t exactly parading it. There was a time for action, and there was a time for… feelings of any kind. Mylène was sure that people like Enjolras would be irritated at more and more of the Amis discovering a life beside their cause. “Though we might not be staying alone for long… sometimes ‘Ponine peeks her stubborn head in.” she added with fake innocent, keeping a watchful eye out for his reaction.

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“Thank you.” Combeferre responded with a nod. That was of course only half of the truth. He would never admit it, even to himself, but he had walked here with the hopes of seeing Eponine, and his wish had been granted. He had just wanted to see his friend and pupil, that was all there was to it. There was nothing odd about that. Nor was there anything odd about the way he sometimes admired her countenance whenever she wasn’t looking. He was aware of the grime she was covered in—she had brought it to his attention the night she had stolen his book—but it was clear to him that she was a beautiful girl for reasons that were not simply physical. It was her intelligence and willingness to learn that made him hold her in such high esteem. She was like no other woman he had ever met, and he wanted to help her, not just because he thought he needed to, but because he believed that she deserved better than what life had given her.

He was torn from his thoughts when Mylene mentioned the May Day Parade. “Hmm? Yes, yes, everything has been different—terribly different.” he replied, embarrassed that he had spaced out for so long. “Things have altered irreparably.” Tension ran high after the National Guard had shot an innocent woman at the parade, and now General Lemarque was dead. Something had to happen or the people were going to revolt. An all-out war against the state seemed inevitable. So did the number of lives that would be lost in such a conflict. He was running out of excuses for why they should not fight. Overthrowing the government with an armed revolt seemed to be the only possible course of action. “I had feared it would come to this.” he stated sadly after a few moments. “In the days ahead, I fear things are going to get a lot worse. We all must be very careful.”

His eyes flashed upward immediately when he heard her reference Eponine’s stubbornness. “’Ponine.” he repeated, testing the nickname out. He never called anyone by anything other than their given name—he had never addressed her with that, and really it would probably be better for him if he didn’t. He needed to draw a line before he was sucked any further into the hole he had dug for himself. Any more familiarity than there already was and he would be completely lost. “Eponine is very resolute—indomitable even.” She had a strength of will that he had noticed very early in the time that they had known each other. Of course he had seen her at the meetings before, but he had had no reason really to speak with her for extended periods of time until now, when he was tutoring her. It would be a lie to say that he did not look forward to their lessons every week—he enjoyed her company, and he enjoyed teaching her. “Well, the more the merrier then…” he responded with a smile as he tried in vain to hide his excitement. The possibility of seeing her again filled him with an inexplicable joy that he did not want to think about, yet it kept seeping into his mind, along with countless questions. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? Stop this, stop this right now, the only rational part of his brain left screamed.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

It was nothing new that Combeferre was far away with his thoughts, far away from any conversation or attention, she had watched that with him a few times already when he was bending over one of his books, or drifting off while the other lads talked about their political views. Now however, there was a peculiar gleaming in his eyes, a gleaming Mylène could not quite put a name tag on yet, though she was getting more and more clues. Roi d’Enfer, would he really be that far gone?! How much had he seen of Eponine for her to cause such a reaction within the ever-studious bookworm? What on earth had she done?! There surely could not have been any encouragement, rather the other way around, Mylène knew of her friend’s fierce nature after all! She might laugh at him, if he ever voiced his confusion to her, or she would get angry and give him quite a lecture of her own. Eponine Thénardier, like she herself had often said, was no dainty damsel in distress, the kind that would make a student’s heart beat faster. Then again… Mylène wasn’t that kind either, and look where things had led with Courf… though that was of course completely different. There were no tender feelings and lunatic moon-gazing involved. They were friends… friends who had crossed a line once… that was all!

And anyway, this was not about herself, she couldn’t let her thoughts stray like that, she might miss important clues! Like Combe’s immediate reaction he showed when she had oh-so-innocently dropped Eponine’s name. For now, however, the talk of the parade and the aftermath caught her attention first, and she nodded with a grim smile. “If I didn’t know better – or maybe I dun – I’d say Thénardier did this on purpose… to thwart yer chances of a peaceful gatherin’. Everyone knows how trigger-happy the National Guard is. They need only be provoked enuf. ‘Twas like Champs de Mars…” She shuddered involuntarily, remembering the chaos that had broken out after the shot, the man that had been trampled down right before her and Courf’s eyes. How many dead, how many injured? And it should have been such a glorious day!

She was not going to let Combe off the hook though, even though the parade was a good topic to get lost in. There it was, his reaction to Eponine’s name, and how taletelling it was indeed! Mylène’s right eyebrow rose in a mixture of surprise and challenge as she heard the young man map out her friend in a few precious words. Even the way he repeated the nickname she had been given by many, it entailed so much,even though it was nothing distinct yet. And Mylène wanted to know! Not only by sheer curiosity, she wanted to know more in case Eponine came to her later with some concern about Combeferre, she wanted to know both sides, if there were even two to this. “Indomitable…” Mylène repeated with a chuckle. “Tha’s a find word. Most others once subject to her temper would jus’ call her a shrew an’ be done with it.” Of course Mylène would never really call her friend a shrew. That had been said as much to provoke as anything, since she wanted to know how much control he had over his… feelings towards Ponine, of whatever kind. Would he be offended by someone calling this girl a shrew, or would he agree with a laugh or just omit it?

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“That’s a horrible thing for him to do—I don’t see how it benefits him. I mean, yes, I know that he’s a criminal, but this is bad for everyone, not just us. If war breaks out in the streets then Thernardier and his gang are just as likely to be killed as I am.” Combeferre replied, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. The only people he was keen on blaming were the National Guard—of course it was not helpful at all for the Patron-Minette to have started a brawl, but the National Guard had finished it by shedding innocent blood. The indignation he felt toward Thernardier and his gang paled in comparison to the rage he felt toward the French government. “This cannot keep happening. I never wanted us to have to resort to violence, but this has to end. One way or another.” he mumbled, his hand curling into a fist for a moment before letting out another sigh. “I wish they would just listen to our demands.”

This was why if he did feel something—which he was not saying either way if he did—he could not tell Eponine under any circumstances. He was going to fight in the rebellion. He believed fully in it, and nothing, not even…love, could stop him from going to that barricade. He had a duty to his friends, his country, and the people. On the rare chance that she felt something for him it would be unfair for him to drop this information on her and then run off to his death. On the other hand, if he did tell her, at least he would have gotten this off of his chest before he ran off to his death.

Why am I thinking that way in the first place? He did not know if he would die. He needed to stop looking at it as if it was certain that he would fall in their battle. He was not naïve enough to believe that death was not a possibility. In fact, statistically speaking it was probably very likely. He had never held a gun before and had virtually no military training whatsoever. He would make the worst soldier because he did not want to kill or so much as hurt anyone. There was no guarantee that he would survive and get a chance to tell Eponine how he felt about her later.

You feel nothing! his rational half of his mind insisted desperately. He was just being nice to her, that was all—showing compassion for a fellow citizen, a friend of a friend. There was nothing more to it. If that is the case, why do you think about her so often? She occupied his mind far too much for whatever he felt for her to be platonic. Stop, please… his rational half begged. He rubbed his temple again and looked up in surprise and outrage when one single word dangled in the air: shrew. Was she honestly insulting her like that? “I beg your pardon, mademoiselle, she is a strong-willed woman but there is no need to be impolite. Eponine is an intelligent, witty, beau-bold, bold woman.” His face flushed scarlet as he realized what he had been about to say. “I have the utmost respect and admiration for her, and I’ll kindly ask you not to refer to her in such a way in my presence…” His words lacked conviction because he was too shocked at what had almost come out of his mouth. Beautiful. He did think her beautiful—despite the grime and the rags, she was beautiful. "You must tell no one mademoiselle, but...I think, I think I'm in love with her." The words came out quickly but purposefully, and when he was finished, he felt as if he had taken a burden off of his shoulders by admitting it at least to someone.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Of course Combeferre was right in saying that Thénardier was risking his own wellbeing by starting a riot in the city streets for nothing but the sake of mischief, bu Mylène had grown up alongside this man, and while she did not understand him always, this she knew. “He’s doin’ it for profit’s sake. He wants things to go awry, cause in a world where everyone’s equal an fightin’ side by side, he loses the grip of fear on people, and that will toss him down into the dirt he came from. Ye lads’d do well te keep a wary eye on him… or two.”
He was not the first of the amis she had voiced this problem to, but it certainly had been the most detailled warning yet. There was not much Mylène could do to really help their cause – apart from planning a downright explosive coup with Eponine none of the lads should know about until it was followed through succesfully – and so she saw it as her duty to open their eyes more to what kind of world they were living in. Much of it had been her world in former times, a world of scraping every last bit off the streets and always keeping an eye backwards for fear of getting backstabbed for the grime in your hand.

She had dropped the figurative bomb now, and success followed almost immediately as she saw the spark of anger and indignation flame up in his eyes. Mylène’s muscles tensed, preparing to be shouted at or possibly hit – not that she thought Combeferre ever would, but she had grown up around men whose weapon was not exactly the word. The words she heard then, she still had not expected in their exact fierceness and conviction. Intellgent, witty and – what?! A devilish grin forced her lips apart and she slightly slapped her hand on the table between them. “Ha! Now I have ye me friend! Bouquineur, yer seriously fancying my dear friend Ponine, Roi d’Enfer!” But that was apparently by no means the end of it! Mylène had wanted to say more, to keep on teasing more out of him, but that was not even needed! Her eyes widened in sudden understanding as Combeferre lowered his voice and admitted his… love for Eponine. Love… not a mere fancy… goodness gracious, were they all turning mad now?!

“Yer serious, aren’t you?” she asked, incredulousness audible in her voice. This… this could only be a very bad joke! Even though Mylène had wanted to know, now she almost wished she was still in the dark about this. For now she had seated herself quite inside a huge conflict. She was secret confidant to two parties, and their entanglement was desastrous. In plays she had sometimes acted in with Les Corbeaux, such constellations had be called ‘Love triangles’, and they had been the backbone of many a stage play. But this… this was freakin’ reality! Combeferre loved Eponine, Eponine loved Marius, Marius loved that gonzesse Cosette… and Mylène was right in the middle of this – and she could not say a word to clear this up, since she had promised.
“Combeferre, Ponine is my dearest friend, one of the few I have”, she said to him, her voice all sobered up now, without even the tiniest hint of teasing. “I won’t betray yer confidence, but I can’t have ye hurtin’ her either. If I - ever - “ she leaned closer, taking on a tone that hinted at danger, once more putting on the mask of fearsome, non-nonsense street girl that had gotten her through many fights in her former life, “ever see her in pain and discomfort because of something you did, I’ll have ye pay, and dearly. Regardless if yer Courfeyrac’s best friend or not.”

Why exactly Courfeyrac had found his way into this conversation once again, she did not know, but she brushed it off. It was true after all, wasn't it? Combe and Courf were like brothers, if she was mad at one of them, it might affect her... relationship with the other.

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Combeferre realized that Mylene was right, but he still could not see the logic in inciting a riot. Then again he could not and did not pretend to know what went on inside a vicious criminal’s head. “It’s not profitable for anyone when the streets run red with blood. If it gets bad enough the National Guard won’t care who’s wearing a cockade and who’s not, they’ll just shoot innocents who have nothing to do with the revolution like they did at the parade. But your warning is noted, I will not underestimate him.” he replied with a grateful nod. The last thing they needed right now was a gang war on top of a revolution.

The young man jumped when she slammed her hand on the table. “Please don’t tell anyone, especially her. Oh God…” He rubbed his face in anguish, ashamed that he had admitted even that much. “Wait a minute, ‘good friend’—you tricked me!” he exclaimed in disbelief. How could he have been duped so easily? Because love destroys all rationality, and you fell right into it. Now he knew there was no going back because now he could not even think clearly anymore. Why was this happening to him? He did not want this, he did not ask to fall in love with Eponine, it had just happened.

He had no idea how to fall out of love, just as he had no idea how he had fallen in love without being able to stop it. But did he really want to fall out of love? Everything had changed so drastically—the most prominent effect of his new…condition was the irrationality that had taken over his mind, but it was not the only one. He felt happier ever since he started tutoring her. Before that he had been content with his schooling and his books and going back and forth to meetings. But now as cliché as it sounded he was always looking forward to their lessons, because he would have the chance to see her and talk to her. And whenever they were not together, he was thinking of her constantly without even meaning to. He did not want to fall out of love because the joy he had whenever he was around her would vanish.

“Yes.” he answered without a second thought. The quickness of his reply surprised himself, and he blinked a few times before nodding gravely. “Yes, I am quite serious—I do love her.” he stated earnestly, looking up at Mylene. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, not with the uprising so close…not at all to be honest because I’ve-I’ve never had any interest in love.” He didn’t know why he was revealing all of this—if he was to tell anyone, it would be Courfeyrac, but he supposed this was just practice for when he finally did work up the courage to speak with him. Not that it would take a lot of courage, because apparently he knew what he had just realized now.

His azure eyes widened when Mylene cautioned him not to hurt Eponine unless he wanted to face her wrath for wronging her friend. “Heavens no, I wouldn’t dream of it!” he responded immediately and emphatically. “That’s why she must never know what I’ve just told you. I could never burden her with what I feel when I know that there is a good possibility that I might die when, when we build the barricade. I would never hurt her—and I know that the knowledge of my affections for her would certainly do just that.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Even though this was basically and profoundly a serious matter, Mylène could not help but laugh as she saw the begging and pleading expression of Combeferre slowly dawning into the realization that she had, in fact, tricked him into admitting his feelings. He just looked so cute, his eyes wide and ablaze with consternation and confusion alike, not at all like the serious, studious face she was known of him. Whatever had happened to him concerning Eponine, it must have changed him into a different man, just like seeing Cosette only once had done it for Marius. The schoolboys, she realized with a flash of wisdom beyond her age, had grown into men now. If that would aid or hinder them with their cause, they would have to find out, though she fervently hoped it would be the former.

“’Twas not that hard, mind ye”, she chuckled. “I just needed te be sure o’ this, an’ tha’ seemed like the easiest method. We’d never let anyone say a bad word ‘bout those we love.” Mylène was by no means an expert of love, but she had seen enough in her time, by watching and observing as well as by sticking her nose into things that weren’t her concern. Even though she had learned at a young age to not let other people’s worries get close to her, her heart still went out to Combeferre and his ailment. And he didn’t even know half of the mess he had unwillingly created. For him, there was only the problem whether or not HE could allow himself to love, he seemingly hadn’t even thought about what Eponine would say or think. Wasn’t that typical? Men could be so blind sometimes. Or was it Mylène had some sort of sixth sense for the feeling she did not allow herself, detecting it in others? Either way, being a multiple secret-keeper was not a role she would have aspired, but now it had happened.

“Well, I guess such things are out o’ our hands”, she agreed with a sigh and a shake of her head. “An’ apparently I needn’t tell ye tha’ yer timin is indeed ‘excellent’.” She left it at that, not wanting to get even near Eponine’s own secret she was keeping in her heart, but the timing still couldn’t have been any worse, even without the revolution close by. But then… as chaotic as this was, maybe Combeferre’s sincere feelings – and sincere they seemed to be! – would finally in some way open Eponine’s eyes about how futile her pining after Marius was. This young man was clearly gone and done for concerning Cosette…though she could understand Eponine as well… the heart was slow to learn, and it never was subject to reason.

Combeferre’s heavy reaction surprised Mylène a bit. She didn’t think that secrecy in some matters was the right policy, especially not in matters of life and death. Oh, you innocent soul… she thought with an inward sigh. As if Eponine’s heart could be broken by your possible death… it will already be broken by Marius’
“Well, sadly often we hurt those we love unwittingly and unwillingly”, she commented, then out of an impulse put a comforting arm around Combeferre’s shoulder for a second, if only to distract herself from thoughts and pictures that suddenly wanted to assault her own mind. She didn’t like the possibility of them dying at the barricade, she did not even want to THINK about it. The lads had become her friends, she had grown fond of each of them in all their variety of character… and even fonder of some. She had wanted to stay detached like she always did… but somehow it was not quite working.

“Do many of you think like that? I mean… not allowing love for the possibility of death?” Marius obviously was an exception to that rule. But she was not exactly thinking of Marius right now, she was remembering a promise asked and given.

[Deleted]

Combeferre could not bring himself to get upset over the fact that he had been so easily deceived. He simply let out an indignant huff and shook his head. This was further proof that he had only been denying the inevitable truth—that he loved Eponine. He couldn’t even think straight anymore because his mind dwelled on her so consistently. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I’m not sure when it started—but I should have known. Perhaps I always knew but didn’t want to admit it.” he stated soberly. He had never given her a second glance until that night in the café—what had happened? Perhaps that was when he truly saw her for the first time. It had only taken a single look for everything to change as terribly romantic as it sounded.

“I know.” Combeferre answered, his eyes distant. This was the worst possible time he could have picked for falling in love, if he could have chosen—but he had not chosen. It had simply happened and he tried to tell himself that these feelings were an illusion, that all the constant study and scarce sleep was finally getting to him, but they were as real as day and night. “I didn’t even expect this at all—I just wanted to help her with her reading because she was trying to read one of my books. She’s so astute, it’s fantastic. She tried to convince me that she would be a bad student but that wasn’t at all the case—she’s so attentive, so eager to learn. Her responses are so intelligent as are her questions. She doesn’t want me to help her even though I know she’s starving—yet she carries on without complaint. She is by far the most phenomenal and complex human being I have ever met.” he mused aloud. He blinked in realization that he was practically gushing over her and then fell silent.

He was surprised when she put a comforting arm around him, but he appreciated her show of concern. “Am I hurting her? Do…do you think I should cease our lessons? That I should stop seeing her?” He would go on as if nothing had happened—he was determined not to reveal how he felt about her and not to drop any clues either. Would even that unwittingly cause her pain? “I mean, I don’t want to stop—and I don’t think that she would want it either, but if it’s the best course of action for all parties involved…” he trailed off, his voice thick with uncertainty.

His blue eyes glanced up at the barmaid briefly before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t know—we don’t usually speak about that much at our meetings.” If they did, Combeferre usually tuned it out as he did everything pertaining to romance. He knew perfectly the other men were not as averse to romance as he was, and he doubted that they would purposefully isolate themselves from the women they loved simply because they thought they might die. In fact, it was more than likely they would do completely the opposite. “I don’t want to put her on the spot either. I’m sure she doesn’t feel the same way, she has no reason to.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

A fine smile worked itself over Mylène’s face as she listened to Combeferre’s endless praise of her best friend, and all she could think for a while was: Finally…! Finally someone was seeing what she herself had been seeing so long, finally Eponine was getting appreciation for the complex yet wonderful being she was. Eponine had never been easy to handle, but underneath the fierceness and the sometimes ridiculous pride was a true heart of gold, one that was rare amongst the rarest pieces in the world. And yet, she could not help but wish for Eponine’s sake that it was a different man seeing this and loving this, speaking about her with such poorly concealed awe in his voice. If life was truly fair, it should be Marius sitting here now, gushing not about his darling Cosette, but gushing about Ponine Thénardier in the same way Combeferre did. But life was not fair, nor would it ever be.

“My my, Bouquineur”, she replied with a wink, but a voice that was full of warmth. She might be teasing him, but only mildly. “As much as ye dun want it, I’d like Ponine to be in this very room now, so she’d finally believe ME wi’ all o’ this. I’ve been tryin’ te tell her tha’ for as long as I care te remember. Maybe she’ll believe it when it cums from the mouth of an educated man, and not a gamine as I am.” But Eponine would most likely not even want to listen. She had been waiting for such words from out of the mouth of another man for so long, and stubborn as she was, she’d probably not accept it from any other. Once that girl’s mind was set, you might need a heavy club to convince her otherwise. Hmm… what an interesting idea…! The flicker of a malicious grin flashed over Mylène’s face for a second as she imagined to have to beat some sense into her friend for her own good.

Though… would it even be her good, to get involved with any of them? This was no time for love, both Combeferre and Courfeyrac were probably right in that. But then… things HAPPENED. And it needed a lot more brain power to deny and forget than it needed to simply accept a fact. Accept and act on it perhaps, as long as the main cause wasn’t forgotten. “Ceasing your lessons might make her suspicious, and she’s a sharp one like ye know”, Mylène pointed out with a shrug. “An I know for a fact she’s darn good at weasling things outte ye, ye dun want te say. If ye really dun want her te know, keep things as they are and grow a thick skin, me friend.”

But what good would denying do? Especially now, life was too short to waste it with regrets and grave secrets. No matter what you do or do not do, Combeferre, Eponine will weep upon a man when the barricades fall, whether it’s you or Marius. This will just make it easier for you, not for her But she could not tell him that, of course. As much as she’d like to get all four of this chaotic ménage-à-quatre into a sealed room to finally sort this out, it was not her place to initiate it. Or… hm… now that idea sounded appealing, too!
“As ye yerself have found out, Combe, love has lil te do wi’ reason, right? Do YE have a reason te love ‘er? An’… do ye really think it’ll make such a difference te her whether she’ll weep upon a friend or a lover?” Mylène sure as hell knew it would not make much of a difference to her. She’d go insane with grief either way. “Dontye think it’s worse te think yer not loved at all, than tha’ ye COULD have been loved…?”

[Deleted]

“Maybe I’ll leave her a letter, then. I’d be mortified if she was here…I’d turn into a stammering mess as I always do…” Combeferre muttered embarrassedly, running a hand through his hair. When she put it like that, he then had to reconsider whether or not he wanted his feelings to be known. It would be much easier to put it down in writing, that was for certain. And then he would not have to see her reaction, which, for whatever reason, he was afraid of seeing. He didn’t know what to do, there was no clear answer and it was maddening. He hated how reason was no longer doing him any good. He hated himself for allowing this to happen, but he could not—would not—regret what he felt.

“Of course.” he realized with a wry smile, conceding defeat on that front. Of course she would not accept him ceasing his tutoring without an explanation. And when she confronted him he would either have to lie or tell the whole truth, and since Combeferre was not given to dishonesty he would be forced to choose the latter. So no, that could not possibly be a solution to the problem. He sighed at Mylene’s suggestion and nodded. He did such a poor job of hiding how he felt about Eponine, it was a wonder she had never commented on the way he was acting. He supposed that he should be grateful for that, but part of him was resentful because if she just looked then his suffering would end, and his secret would be made known.

Then he remembered that it was better if she did not know. If she did not know, then there would be no question of what could have happened had he lived through the revolution. She could simply remember him as he was—her tutor—and not the man who loved her. He did not want to cause her any unnecessary suffering, he did not want her to mourn him with regret or guilt. His contemplative eyes flickered up to Mylene when she spoke again. “I…I don’t know…I mean I know why I love her, but it doesn’t make sense how it all happened without my knowing it or wanting it. I suppose it…it doesn’t have to?” As he spoke, his eyebrows were knit together in thought as if he were considering how best to solve a particularly difficult equation, or poured over a medical textbook. This was where his reason failed him—rationality was useless in love, which he should have known. This was why he had been so averse to it, but he was trapped. It was easier now to accept what had happened instead of denying that he had fallen deeply in love with his student.

His eyes widened at her next words. It had never even occurred to him that she would mourn him either way. “But wouldn’t it be worse if we were…i-if she felt the same way?” he amended, refraining from using the word ‘lovers’ because just the thought caused a blush to spread across his face. He was further dumbfounded at Mylene’s last question. “Is…is that what she thinks? That no one loves her?” He was shocked, and he immediately stood, which unfortunately shook the table. “Sorry.” He steadied it and then looked at Mylene again. “If that is true…then she must know.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

A flash of disbelief lit up Mylène’s face as she heard Combe suggest such a thing. If she knew her friend at all, that would make things worse instead of better, stammering or not! “A letter?!” she echoed, chuckling. “No offense, Combe, but I doubt that is the way to win Ponine’s heart. Ye might teach her te read, but in this world, an honest word is still worth more than a few finely put scribbled words. She might even think ye a coward for not darin’ te look her in the eye while sayin’ it. An’ above all, this girl hates cowards!”
Part of her still couldn’t believe she was doing this, giving one of the ABC friends love advice when it came to Ponine. As if Mylène was the person to go to about this! She might know Ponine like the sister she couldn’t remember having, but she wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to … love, and all that! But as little as she had asked for the role of mediator, Combeferre had probably asked for the role of the lovesick suitor. Nothing was ever fair.

With a helpless shrug, Mylène showed her consent to Combe’s notion that there apparently had to be no sense when feelings were involved. If he hadn’t started tutoring her, he might not have seen beneath Eponine’s rough shell and he might have not fallen in love with her. But then, Marius knew her even better, and he had NOT fallen for Mylène’s friend. Love never seemed to make sense. That was a reason to stay away from it, especially in times like these, when you needed a straigh head. But love, it seemed, as much like Lady Liberty, could not be denied in the long run. It was too strong a force to ignore, too strong a feeling to deny. Mylène’s head started to hurt with so much abstract thinking, and she shook it as if to clear it of the fog that had gathered in her mind. What to do? What in fact COULD she do other than offer her advice and hope for the best? Gladly her own life wasn’t that difficult. Or… was it?

“Oh, Combe, I dun KNOW!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not exactly an expert in love things. Ask Courf maybe, or ask Marius. The former seems te know more ‘bout passion though, an’ the latter is so far gone he might not even listen te ye, if the sentence ye said dun hold the word ‘Cosette’.” She had exploded a little, impulsive like she always was without thinking, and as always, she regretted it immediately after. “Scuse-moi, mon ami, didn’ want te shout at ye…” she murmured, raking a hand through her long hair with a sigh. “Jus’ a bit much these days.”

She winced when he jumped up so vigorously, momentarily thrown by his exclamation and the conclusion he threw from her words. Yes, it might be that Eponine was missing the feeling of affection, even though she never would admit it even to herself. Mylène had not thought much about what she had said, it just had slipped out of her mouth. Such was the life of gamines after all. They could not afford to lose their hearts, since the men they COULD reach were not ones for starry nightskies and lovely sunsets. Mylène was not blind, she had seen the way Montparnasse leered at Eponine. She was strong enough to counter him of course, she always was strong, but her crush on Marius had seemed hopeless, a different league. Now one of the same league, an intellectual, a student as well, wanted her. it threw the order of things, and yet it was what every gamine wished for, especially one with a father like Louis. But that was the problem. How could Combe not know how dark Eponine’s life was, if he…
“Combeferre…”, Mylène’s voice was low, almost wary. “What DO you know ‘bout Ponine apart from her… personality?”

[Deleted]

“But it would be honest written or spoken!” he protested indignantly. Combeferre gradually began to lose faith in his idea as Mylene kept speaking. When she mentioned that Eponine would most likely see him as a coward for not telling her face-to-face, he sighed, conceding defeat. “You’re right.” Did he dare to tell her how ardently he felt for her? Was he a coward? Blaise Thomas Combeferre you are no coward. If he was willing to die beside his friends at the hand of the National Guard because he felt so strongly about the future of France, then he should be more than willing to tell Eponine that he loved her. “Alright. Alright I’ll do it.” he stated before nodding with conviction. “I’m going to tell her.” The problem was figuring out how to word it. “Maybe…maybe I should write it down first and then tell her.”

But how best to tell her? He had no experience in these matters and as had been previously established many times in the past—he was no romantic. He had no interest whatsoever in romance until now. Should he simply come out in say what he felt, or should he use poetry? If he was going to use poetry he was going to either need Jehan’s help or search through the tomes he had at home for the perfect verse. However, it seemed so superficial to Combeferre to use verse—and right before he was about to go to the barricade as well. If he used poetry it would seem as if he was not serious about his affections—which he was.

He jumped at Mylene’s outburst and then made a face when she suggested he ask Marius of all people for help. “Whatever help Marius would give me would put me in the same boat as him, and that to be honest is something I would like to avoid.” He was referring of course to his almost dreamlike state whenever he showed up for meetings, and his constant babbling about ‘Cosette this’ and ‘Cosette that’. No, he would never take advice from Marius Pontmercy. He nodded and waved a hand at her apology. “It’s alright. Everyone’s on edge—I know I am.”

Combeferre was already shrugging on his coat, lunch forgotten, as if he were going to run to the address Eponine had given him the night they met at that very second. However he paused while picking up his hat when Mylene asked her question. He blinked a few times. What did he know about her? He knew nothing of her family, or if she had any family at all. He didn’t even know her surname, he realized. He had asked for it once and she had not told him, and he had decided not to press it. “I…n-not much besides where she lives.” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But what…what else do I need to know? All I know is that I love her—more than I’ve loved anything.”