For Michelle

Normally Marius drank black coffee each morning, but on this particular day he had been running late and had subsequently left the mug at his cousin's flat. He showed up on the set a mere hour before filming was scheduled to commence, and after being told off by Feyra he rushed to his tiny office near the back door and proceeded to shuffle frantically through the mess of papers on his desk. Locating his script and notebook containing details about the upcoming location shoot, he paused just before he reached the door, taking a moment to attempt straightening his tie and smoothing his unruly hair. He gave up two short seconds later.

Marius's job consisted primarily of organizing the set: ensuring pieces were in the right place at the right time, setting up trips to possible destinations for location shoots, and playing middleman for designers, ordering materials and anything else they needed. It was something he enjoyed, despite the long hours, but recently the production had been moved in a new direction that required a complete change of scenery, which of course required time. Precious time was not given out freely by the looming release date, and so it unfortunately came from Marius's own life. For the past two months he had lived at the studio, with the director demanding the new set and the frustrated designers refusing to compromise.

Marius believed after the first five twenty hour days his wages would be increased, but as he stayed longer and longer and the bills for his unused apartment piled up, his creative passion dwindled and cold panic began to set in. He pleaded with the producers along with the rest of the cast and crew, but they were assured they would be paid after the premiere and they were sent away. He sold his apartment and moved in with his cousin Feyra and her boyfriend, but felt terrible intruding and began sleeping in his office.

Last night, sometime around 3 am, Marius had caught a cab back to the shared flat for a meal, shower, and nap. He discussed the possibility of a strike with Feyra and Com and went to bed with radical ideas stewing in his head. He wasn't sure how he felt about being part of the belligerency when his family historically had owned a large share if the company, but he recalled the contempt in his grandfather's voice when discussing the unsettled crew and fell asleep more determined. Unfortunately, that nap had cost him breakfast and very possibly his job.

Bringing his thoughts back to his looming unemployment, Marius hurried out of the office straight into Éponine. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off and tried to push past. "Not now, 'Ponine, I've got to check the sets at-"

"I already did, Marius."

"You what?" he said.

She glanced at her feet. "I, uh, didn't see you this morning so I thought you maybe got stuck in traffic so I checked the sets. They need more flowers in balconies and one of the chairs in the dining room was broken so I sent it back to the shop. But everything else was fine."

He stared at her.

She looked everywhere but his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, snapping out of his reverie. "Dear god, you've saved my neck again, Éponine!" He grabbed her hands and gave them a quick squeeze, then slid past her in the tight hallway. "I'll make it up to you however you want, I promise!" Throwing another smile and a last "Thank you!" back to her, he left her standing motionless and raced for the hair and makeup trailer, the usual haunt of the head designer. Little did he know the defining day of his life was ahead.

He held my hands.

Éponine leaned her back against the wall and slowly slid down, the soft material of her blouse catching against the rough bricks. She rested her head against them and breathed out heavily, closing her eyes. She'd spent the night driving around the city, running memos and orders to suppliers. When she finally finished and returned to the studio, it was 4 a.m. She'd opted against going home and simply walked around the corner to a small cafe. A coffee would not keep her awake all day, however, and already she was running on fumes. Lack of sleep did nothing to settle the nervous energy buzzing in her head, her stomach, her fingers.

Every second I had to stay up was worth it.

She recalled the way his fingers had squeezed hers, the way the corner of his mouth quirked up before he smiled, how he smelled like aftershave and sawdust and mint toothpaste. There was nothing she liked more than the quick jokes they exchanged between takes and the stories they'd tell when they were both stuck at the studio late at night, waiting for the film to process so they could ship it out.

God, I sounded so stupid.

Éponine drummed her fingers against the floor, replaying the conversation in her head. She thought about the time Marius had swung her around and planted a warm kiss on her cheek when she told him he'd been promoted to Assistant Set Manager. Pulling her knees to her chest, she curled into the memory.

Com and Feyra were throwing a party to celebrate the wrap of a shoot, and everyone was a little drunk, with Grantaire maintaining his long standing title of More Drunk Than You. Com had invited the rest of Les Amis, and Joly, Lesgle, and Jean Prouvaire were all telling tales from films they had worked on when they were younger. Enjolras and Feuilly were on the small balcony, smoking, their heads bent close in conversation.

"And get this, Joly, he was hiding in her trailer!" Raucous laughter filtered out to the pair. "He was having an affair with the supporting lead and still had the guts to hide in her trailer!" Grantaire's story carried over Joly and Lesgle's gasping chuckles. Com and Feyra were curled up on the couch together, his head on her lap. He said something, gesticulating wildly with his hands, and she tipped her head back, laughing before gently pushing his hair out of his face.

There was a loud bang as Marius flew through the door, clutching a bag of groceries and a box, presumably a cake. "We did it!" he shouted. His cry was met with cheers from the couple on the couch and hooting from the more inebriated group in the kitchen. He slung the bag onto the coffee table and carried the box to the kitchen, Lesgle meeting him halfway with a pat on the back and a drink. Marius sat down at the crowded table and exchanged greetings in the way only young men can: a blend of jokes and insults, handshakes and secret language only they understood.

They were interrupted soon after by the figure of an older girl sliding into the kitchen, a smile on her face like she knew the best secret in the world. Grantaire called out a friendly "Éponine!" before falling unconscious on his arm.

"Ready for a game of cards, ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''Ponine?" Joly asked, pouring her a cup of wine from the fast-dwindling bottle.

"Actually," she said, "I've got some good news."

Éponine recalled the way Marius's cheeks were flushed the color of cranberries. Or apples. Or cherries. Something sweet she couldn't quite remember, right on the tip of her tongue.

"You finally got a man?" Feyra called out. Com laughed.

"Well, no," she blushed. "Listen up everyone!" Enjolras and Feuilly had made their way back inside and came into the kitchen, concerned with the level of noise emanating from the flat. Feyra and Com followed.

"We have in our midst," she announced, "the newest assistant set manager." She turned to Marius. His mouth was wide open, the drink in his hand long forgotten. "Marius, if you would, please," she said, gently gripping his arm and pulling him to his feet. He rose shakily and she turned him to face their friends.

Éponine remembered the soft material of his shirt against her hands and thinking "One layer."

"Finally, he's gotten his just desserts. Congratulations, Assistant Set Manager!" she exclaimed.

The flat burst out in applause and shouting. "You've done it!" "Good for you, my friend!" "Everyone saw it coming!" "We knew it!" Marius stood bewildered for a moment before breaking into an enormous grin. He jumped in the air and whooped, only to come back to Earth in time to grab Éponine by the waist and lift her up, spinning in a circle while he laughed.

For Éponine, time had stopped. All senses condensed down to his breath on her ear, whispering "Thank you," his scent of sweat and mint, his hands on her waist, supporting her. Her arms were trapped between them, pressed against his chest. Her heart pounded wildly, her brain was empty, everything in the room was suddenly too loud to hear but in a second her feet were back on the ground and Marius was being hoisted onto the kitchen table with the bottle to cries of "Speech, speech!" He took a long swig and dragged his sleeve across his mouth. Éponine stood on shaking knees near the door as everyone crowded around the table, oblivious to her racing pulse. I don't even know what to say-" Marius began, but Feyra cut him off. "Tell us about your day, sweetheart!"

"Give him a minute, you barbarians," Enjolras called from the back of the group, receiving a thankful smile from the Assistant Set Manager on the table.

"I can't even believe what's happened, everything has just been-" he stopped, running a hand through his hair. "Today I didn't think I'd get such a big promotion, not even counting finding a new apartment and meeting this-" He suddenly turned very red.

"Meet WHO?" Feyra reached out and hooked her hand behind his knee, tickling him. Marius jumped back. "Okay, okay, promise you won't laugh and I'll say-"

"Whatever you say, M-" "We'd never-" "I swear-"

"Okay," he yelled over them. "Well," he started quietly, taking another drink. "Today I fell in love with a girl. And I think she's the one."

The room went utterly silent, until Grantaire raised his glass and shouted, "About goddamn time!" and everything exploded once more.

Eponine's knees gave out ever so slightly and she shot a hand out to the counter, shattering a glass and slicing her hand right down the palm. Stars imploded in her eyes. She couldn't see, or think, all she knew was that she had to leave. She slid out of the kitchen silently, leaving the party behind and heading out of the flat, down the hallway, up the stairs, and onto the roof. The entire walk she had felt nothing. Not her bare feet on the carpet, not the blood dripping from her hand, not the cold metal of the door she pushed open to reveal a black night sky. It wasn't dark enough to see the stars. She shut the door and walked across the edge, putting one foot up on the chilly bricks. She stood for a moment. "What if-" she started hoarsely. She made to step entirely onto the ledge, but leaning over the side she could see the balcony of the flat below her. She placed both feet solidly on the rooftop. "Not to him," she thought, turning and lowering herself to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest and waited for the tears. None came.

A while later, Éponine heard the door open. Her head shot up and her heart jumped, but it was only Enjolras. She put her head back down. He came over and sat beside her. "I followed the blood," he said dryly. "I know you wish I was Marius. He wasn't, well, he didn't think-"

"You're right," she said. "He didn't think." And with that her eyes finally watered and every ounce of pain washed over her. Enjolras gently rubbed her back as she cried, screaming silently. He said nothing as she wrung every drop of sadness from herself until she was simply sitting there, motionless. She felt empty. "Sorry you had to see that," she began hollowly, but he stopped her with a quiet "No." She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm here if you need me," he said kindly, looking straight into her eyes. They remained that way for a while, listening to traffic and looking at the sky, Enjolras with an arm draped loosely around Éponine as her breathing slowly returned to normal and her face dried.

"Sometimes I wish I could jump into the stars," Éponine said. She looked at Enjolras, studying his profile as his head tipped back to stare upwards. He smiled.

"Wouldn't want them to cut that pretty face of yours, though, would we?" he said. He turned to her, his eyes serious. She hesitantly trailed her right hand up to his shoulder, feeling the muscle leading to his neck. "Éponine," he warned, his voice low, but she cut him off, pushing her lips to his. He responded clumsily, but pulled back a moment later. "Why do I feel so alive," he gasped. She shut him up with another kiss. "Why do I still feel empty?" she wondered.

That night was the first of many. One would say they were lovers of convenience. It was simple: she was empty, he was hungry for life. It wasn't known to their friends how they chose to conduct themselves in private, and to most of them the truth would remain secret. They shared a kind of affectionate, companionable intimacy, however, and if anyone had ever thought to question them neither Enjolras nor Éponine would lie.

Still, that didn't stop Éponine from questioning her every decision after that night. Whenever she saw him and Marius together, she asked herself what she wanted and found that she had no idea.

Sighing heavily, Éponine glanced quickly down the hallway in the direction Marius had left. Getting to her feet, she left the hard brick walls and headed out onto the studio floor, preparing herself for another day of overwork, one-sided passion, and complete emptiness.