Here I am with Chapter 2! I'm sorry this update took so long - my muse has been all over the place. You guys have been so awesome with reviews just for the first chapter! I'm not sure how I feel about parts of this chapter, but a new character (!) is introduced, and the main point of the story is introduced, as well. Hope you guys enjoy it. (As well, I know that characters should be different, as it's modern day, but if you feel like anything is strikingly OOC, please let me know!)
As well, to clear up a question posed by Warblette, this story is set in modern day - i.e. Paris in 2013.

x

Éponine walked ahead of Enjolras, leaving him to follow behind her blindly. The two of them walked, a skip in Éponine's clumsy step, Enjolras' quick feet moving at a steady pace. It took them some time to reach the 'factory' - the odd cars were out now, along with some wanderers in business suits making their way down sidewalks. Enjolras did his best to avoid the looks people shot him and Éponine - some looked amused by the two, while some took the opportunity to quietly disapprove. (Really, though, Enjolras liked the stares - had ever since he'd gone against his parent's wishes. It gave him a sense of power, as if he was so good to not care what they thought.)

The two of them turned onto a side-street - then another, then another, another. They neared the Seine - Enjolras could see it in the distance. By the time they reached what looked like an abandoned building bordering on the Seine, it took Éponine's shoulder in Enjolras' side to stop him from walking. He looked at her first, eyebrows furrowed in confusion (and frustration and anger and impatience), but then his eyes moved to the large, grey building in front of them. After a moment of evaluating it, Enjolras turned his eyes back to Éponine. He pointed at it.

"This it?"

"Oui," Éponine grinned wickedly, thin lips turned up mischievously. "This is it."

Enjolras waited another moment by the street, eyes stuck to the building. It's sides were sloped and nearly bumpy with wear - the grey of it looked ready to peel off like old wallpaper. It was an ugly old thing - a wonder, in Enjolras' mind, that it hadn't yet been knocked down by the city.

Éponine ran ahead of Enjolras, oversized jacket flapping around her sides in the wind. She rushed up along the side of the building - grass nearly gray spurts out randomly and sparsely on the edges of the building. Enjolras followed along, eyes kept on the building. In the back of his mind, he was frightened - Éponine could be leading Enjolras into a trap easily. He's easy bait, after all, as proven by him following at the girl's heels like a lost pup.

The girl grabbed a handle Enjolras didn't even notice, walking sideways with her hands still gripping it. The wall moved - a huge, wide door that went along nearly the expanse of the building. Enjolras whistled mockingly. Éponine seemed to pretend not to hear.

The door opened to reveal a fairly sparse building. The only correct word to describe it, in Enjolras' mind, was abandoned. While large, there was not much around the floor-space of the 'factory'. In one corner, there was a pile of small blankets. A metal stair case in another corner - though Enjolras was't sure he'd trust his own weight on it.

Despite the abandoned and ugly nature of the place, along the back wall of the building - the side facing the Seine - there was a large window; nearly as wide as the wall. Cracked, stained and graffitied; none of that matters. The window seemed to have the same effect as it would if clean - it brings a sort of fascinating light to the place.

Enjolras looked to his side to find Éponine grinning up at him - at once, he could tell her lips were turned up in mocking, and he shrugged her off, shaking his head. Out of his bag, Enjolras grabbed his camera. Éponine stared at it a moment.

"Nice thing," she nodded in acknowledgement.

Enjolras shrugged, removing the lens cover from it.

"Is it film?"

Enjolras nodded, looking back up at Éponine. Her eyebrows were furrowed. "Why?"

"Just very -" Éponine seemed to have a moment of an internal struggle, wherein she debated between chewing down the words or biting them out. In the end, her sharp tongue won out. "Artistic of you, that's all." She shrugged her jacket tighter around herself - the place, while a fantastic location, was freezing, with only metal walls to keep it warm.

Enjolras chose not to respond - he had decided to get the photo done with as soon as possible, and then to go on his way.

Enjolras, despite himself, couldn't resist asking her a question, though. "How'd you find this place? The 'factory'?"

Éponine seemed pleased at his curiosity. "M'brother lives here. Him and a couple of his mates." She pointed at the blankets, and then above them - where the untrustworthy staircase lead to. Enjolras wanted to ask more, but just nodded. "His name's Gavroche," Éponine went on, seemingly eager for his attention. "He's been out even longer than I have, really, even though he's younger. He couldn't make the same money I could." At this, Éponine looked down, eyes closing shut. Enjolras wasn't sure what to do - what was she playing at? But she seemed to be awake again in no time, though uncomfortable. "Where should I go for the photo?"

Enjolras shrugged, adjusting the filters on his camera. "That's up to you." She nodded awkwardly.

"Right. Yeah. Okay…" she mumbled to herself as she looked around the building. Enjolras choked down a groan - even when doing absolutely nothing, she couldn't manage to stop talking.

In the end, after a moment's search, Éponine leaned against a pillar in the middle of the room. A skinny arm stretched out to hold herself up, and her other arm hung at her side. While her body faced the front of the factory, her face was turned to the Seine, and Enjolras settled in front of her, facing the Seine. Two hands on the small camera, he focused the lens and readied himself to press down on the shutter button.

At the last moment, just as the shutter button made a faint clicking noise, Éponine turned her head to face Enjolras. He waited a moment, ensuring no further quick movements ruin the photo, and then Enjolras stuffed the camera back into his bag, zipping it shut. He did not say anything to Éponine, going through his motions. She couldn't even take a simple picture, he thought, anger settling into his cold bones. Is it that difficult for her to do one simple thing?

He turned to walk out of the factory, feet moving quickly, but Éponine follows.

"Enjolras?" She said loudly, voice rough.

He did not answer; he continued walking quickly, hand on his bag, least she makes the decision to steal it. Enjolras supposed he shouldn't put it past her.

"M'sieur?" Éponine said loudly. Her low voice cracked.

Again, he did not respond. He was out of the factory and back on the street quickly, but Éponine followed along. Enjolras pretended not to hear her footsteps, but could not do any ignoring when Éponine ran in front of him, stopping him from walking.

He raised his eyebrows in mocking, breathing heavy. "Yes?"

Éponine was breathless - not from the run, but from a combination of anger and confusion.

"Why did you just walk away?"

"I got the photo." It was the only response Enjolras could think of given the state of his anger, though it was pathetic. Later, he would reprimand himself for not thinking of something more clever. His anger, even, seemed to be irrational and misdirected, but it burned in him, and he was easily privy to it.

Éponine's eyebrows furrowed, and she frowned at the ground. "Yes." She paused, again seeming to argue with herself, and then nodded curtly. "Yes. Salut, then."

The girl walked back towards the factory quickly, arms holding her jacket shut, and Enjolras took a moment to collect himself, to remind himself to not feel guilty.

He was annoyed and angry and tired, so, despite the tugging sensation in his belly telling him go back and see this girl, he walked back to his apartment. Enjolras didn't count on seeing her again; unless he went back to the Lamarque shelter again to take a photo of someone else, it was unlikely the two would ever run into one another in a city large as Paris. Enjolras was thankful for that small comfort - the idea of seeing this girl again made him feel slightly queasy.

Enjolras tucked his hands inside his jacket pockets, and walked on.

He did not know it yet, but he would regret this.

x

Later that night, Enjolras and one of his roommates (and self-appointed and declared wingman), Courfeyrac, walked back to the camera store, where his film was being developed.

"You're so impatient," Courfeyrac whined.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but didn't respond. He knew the argument would go nowhere.

"Seriously! You took those photos today! What's the goddamn rush, Chief?"

Enjolras choked down his annoyance - it still hadn't simmered down from his encounter with Éponine. "I just want to get my photos, Courf."

His friend raised his hands in surrender, but grinned in victory. Between him and Marius, annoying Enjolras was a game well-played.

The two arrived at the store, and waited by the counter as the clerk fetched the photos from the back room.

"What'd you say the girl's name was?" Courfeyrac asked it casually, but Enjolras knew that nothing was casual with Courfeyrac. Not when it came to Enjolras and girls.

"Éponine."

Courf nodded, beginning to kick his foot against the counter with impatience.

"She cute?"

Enjolras was looking at the ground, but could hear the smile in Courfeyrac's voice. He shook his head.

Courfeyrac paused his kicking, and leaned against the counter. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Enjolras bit out. "Is it so hard to believe I don't fancy an annoying, immature, likely insane homeless gi -"

"Hey!" Courf interrupted. "You're the one always on about them being people, too. Equal rights, all of that."

Enjolras did not respond.

The clerk returned with the photos in a small, laminated envelope. Enjolras paid his money, and the two left. He even allowed Courfeyrac to take the envelope to scan through the photos - it would, if nothing else, keep him entertained. The two began to walk to Cosette's, their roommate's girlfriend, apartment - Marius was there, and the four of them would leave from there to eat dinner with friends of theirs.

"Fingers only -" Enjolras began.

"On corners, I know, I know," Courfeyrac waved him off.

The two then walked in silence, Courfeyrac amused and Enjolras brimming over with annoyance.

The two were nearly at Cosette's apartment when it happened. Courfeyrac had slipped the photos back into Enjolras' hands - all casual. He waited a moment and then, seemingly out of nowhere, smacked Enjolras on the back of his head - hard.

"You fucking liar!" Courfeyrac nearly shouted.

Enjolras, ready to punch his friend, wiped at the back of his head, groaning in pain. "Excuse me?"

Courfeyrac shook his head, stubborn and amused. "Excusez-fucking-moi!"

Enjolras straightened himself out, cracking his neck. "I remain confused." And pissed off, he thought.

"She's a fucking fox!" Courfeyrac seemed scandalized by this information, his mouth hanging open.

Enjolras looked up at Courfeyrac, eyes narrowed. "You - you just assaulted me -" Enjolras paused here, breathing out heavily. "Because you think Éponine is hot?"

Courfeyrac shook his head. "Enjolras. Seriously." Under his breath, Enjolras could hear him mumble.

Courfeyrac snatched the envelope from Enjolras impatiently, flipping through the photos. (His fingers strayed from the edges, Enjolras noted.) He thrusted a photo into Enjolras' face, and Enjolras grabbed the print before Courfeyrac could do any further damage.

Enjolras looked down at it, seeing the photo of Éponine for the first time.

What he saw is very overwhelming to him - it was harrowing and beautiful and a bit frightening and ugly and he couldn't look away. Enjolras' breath caught in his throat, and he had the sensation of vomit rising at the back of his throat. The photo he thought destroyed by Éponine's moving was - without a doubt - the best shot he'd ever taken, though Courfeyrac's main concern was her being a 'fox'. Her turning her head towards the lens left it a shot of only her upper torso and face. Her tanned, sun-worn skin shone through, despite her mangled hair. The effect of her features - both beautiful and ugly all at once - was profound on camera. The cheekbones, the eyes, the lips. Her face was sunken in and pointed, the edges of it sharp as her tongue.

She is beautiful. Ugly, too, maybe, but beautiful all the same. The photo is beautiful. Enjolras knew it is this way because of Éponine - all of his photos are quality just because of the subject. He wanted to know her all of a sudden, wanted to ask about the brother who lived in the factory, about why he left, about everything. Despite this sudden want to get to know the girl, though, Enjolras remained angry with her for a reason he couldn't vocalize. The photo he held was something special - if he made it anywhere, he was sure the photograph would be the reason for it. Guilt swells in his belly - he owes Éponine quite a bit.

"I was so fucking right," Courfeyrac boasted, his left fist in the air, his smile triumphant.

Enjolras looked down at the photo, studying it for another moment. It was beautiful and ugly frightening and he didn't want to look away.

Enjolras shook his head. Under his breath, he murmured the word.

"Fuck."