Alone - Chapter 9

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"Well, obviously Marius and Cosette, Couferauc, Combeferre and Grantiare. Who else?" I ask, as we discuss the guest list to our wedding.

Our wedding.

That's such a strange thing to say. Even for me to look down to my hand and think that we're getting married is a foreign thought to me.

"The other survivors?"

I swallow the lump rising in my throat and push the memories to the back of my mind, "Sure,"

"If you don't want to we don't have to,"

"No, you're close with them so we can invite them," I sigh, trying to sound enthusiastic and slapping a smile on my face.

"As long as your okay with it,"

"I'm perfectly fine with it," I smile.

"So, uh, what about your parents?"

"No."

"They're your parents 'Ponine, they raised you,"

"Yeah, until I was too old to be used as a dress up doll, then I raised myself,"

"So, no?"

"No," I confirm strongly, "They'd probably steal everything anyhow,"

"What about your parents?" I'd never heard much about his parents, he had never really spoken about either of our parents.

"They won't come,"

"Why?"

"Because they can't," He snaps, his eyes watering ever so slightly.

They must be dead or have moved away a while ago. I'd love to meet them though, without them I wouldn't have found my love.

"Okay, that's fine,"

After many more hours of discussing and debating people, we came up with a fairly small guest list, just the main people we really needed to be there.

"Are you alright?" He asks as he walks in and sees me, sitting on the couch, resting my head back,

"This wedding is tiring," I mutter, closing my eyes, as he sits next to me and wraps his arms around me.

"It will be worth it in the end,"

"It better be,"

"I know it will," He smiles looking down upon my face,

"How?"

"Because I know you love me and I love you and if it has worked out this far, why can't it work out forever?"

"You always know what to say," I smile sheepishly and rest my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes.

_____________________

"Where are you going in that?" He asks me as I try to get out of the door without him knowing, wearing my old rags

"To go for a walk,"

"Why?" He asks taking one step towards me,

"I want to see someone,"

"Do you want me to come? What if you get lost?"

"No, I know my way around Enjolras,"

"It's just not proper for a young woman to be wandering around the streets alone,"

"I won't be wandering around, I'm going to see... Some old friends,"

"Would I know them?"

"Yes, but I was hoping to go alone...."

"Well, just be careful,"

"I'll be fine," I smile, skipping over to him and kissing his cheek.

The walk to the inn is one I'm no stranger to. The surroundings are as familiar as the back of my hand. The square, the old door on the front, the windows of shops with beautiful dolls standing there proudly.

I walk up to the door and sigh, lifting my hand and knocking.

My mother swings the door open within the minute, with a huge smile on her face, dropping as she sees who the visitor is, "Eponine," She says bluntly, "What are you doin' 'ere?"

"I came around to tell you something," I snap, walking past her and sitting on the closest seat,

"Where 'ave you been? What is it?"

"I'm getting married," I answer, avoiding her first question,

"To who? Who would want a streets girl?" She scoffs, her words stinging my heart,

"A revolutionary,"

Her eyes widen and she calls my dad over, my stomach sending butterflies throughout and making me incredibly nervous,

"What's this about you not showing up for work Eponine? Some man bought you or somethin'?"

My mum cackles and slaps the table with her hand, "So it's not a real relationship?" She scoffs.

"It is, he bought me so I didn't have to go back there and we could go on with a normal life,"

"Someone did that for you? What did you do?"

"Nothing mother! You don't always have to give to recieve,"

"I know," She smiles, "I never give and yet we seem to be wealthy," She smirks slyly.

"Not what I meant," I snap, "Well, I'll be going now, I knew it was useless coming to talk to you," I say as I stand up, pushing the chair back roughly, and storming out the door. Slamming the door so hard, the walls shake.

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