𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐫𝐲 [ 𝘫. 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴 ]

16, confessions d'un amant

tw: mentions of past SA and violence

don't forget to press the little star at the bottom🫣

[listen to: hallelujah by lily lyons]

Eponine and Simone giggled when they skipped back home in the light drizzly rain. They'd just eaten the most delicious apple pie they'd ever had, and Simone and Jean Pierre had smoothed out their issues. At least one of them was happy now.

Eponine had almost thrown out her favourite scarf, because Joseph had given it to her and it still smelled like his cologne. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She felt conflicted in her feelings and what to do, so she refrained herself from doing anything she might regret in the future. The rain intensified, thick drops wetting their hair.

The girls' heels clacked against the cobblestones as they giddily jogged back to Eponine's place. "I don't know how you do it, Nine," Simone said, flabbergasted. Eponine shrugged. "I guess I'm just amazing," she flipped her moist hair.

"No way is violin as easy as you make it seem, girl." Simone adjusted her hairband. Eponine turned around, walking backwards for a bit. They rounded the corner to her street. It was dimly lit with Voltaire's crappy yellow natrium lights.

Eponine was still laughing at Simone when she saw her friend's eyes go wide, fixated on something over her shoulder. "What're you looking—" Eponine whirled around. "—at?"

Joseph. He stood in front of her door, shaking slightly. Simone grabbed Eponine's wrist. "I'm right behind you, girl. Do what you need to do, call me for help when you need me to."

Eponine nodded, and squeezed Simone's shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. Joseph hadn't seen them yet, and was still knocking on her door and ringing the bell. No one was home luckily, as her parents had taken Colette to see a play. Simone moved back to stand under a roof.

When Eponine approached, she immediately noticed the drying blood on his hands. She took notice of his unstable appearance, and the splatters of blood on the bottom of his pants. She neared warily, prepared to run at any given time.

"Descamps?" she called out for him hesitantly, just a little out of his reach. His head whipped to the side. His frame looked frantic, and his gaze was laced with a look of regret. One she'd learned to recognise long ago. Bruises were forming on his knuckles. His eyepatch was gone.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, clearly pronouncing every word.

Joseph stepped forward and reached out, but Eponine stepped back. He dropped his hand.

Eponine quirked a brow. "What, did your ratchet informant Michéle spit another lie? Are you here to beat me up for real this time?" she snapped. "Seems like I wouldn't be the first tonight."

Joseph gulped. "I beat up Vergoux." His voice was rough, laced with undertones of anger. "And I should have done a whole fucking lot worse for what he did to you," he met her gaze with a surprisingly passionate look to his eye.

Eponine blinked. She felt her eyes prickle. She was suddenly aware of everything. Her drenched hair blowing in her eyes, the tag in her shirt tickling against her top colon, and the dishevelled boy in front of her.

"I called him to go out today, after what you said. And he admitted it. And I should've—" he breathed heavily "—I should've beat him up even worse than I already did for just what he said about you."

Eponine rubbed her eyes slightly, begging the tears to not well up. "What'd he say?" she said, voice barely distinguishable.

His jaw ticked. "I didn't let the bastard finish, but believe me when I say you don't want to know." She nodded, and looked at the stones beneath her feet that were suddenly the most interesting things she'd ever seen.

"Eponine."

His voice sounded demanding, but like a warm hand on her cheek at the same time. She glanced up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, voice airy. Eponine sniffled. She dragged her sleeve past her nose, and turned her eyes to the sky. "I was scared you were going to say I was vile and disgusting," she declared.

Joseph frowned. "Why would I say that?" he asked with shock in his voice.

Eponine shuddered at the memory. "Something similar to this has happened before. And my semi-boyfriend at the time, he..." She fell silent at the remembrance of the cold blade against her skin. "...He made sure no one would want me ever again."

She pointed to the pink scar on her face. As she uttered the words, thick tears streamed down her face. When Joseph stepped forward, she didn't make the effort to step back again. His hand tilted her chin up. His thumb lightly grazed the scar, but stopped when he saw her flinch.

"Eponine. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever had the honour of meeting, and don't you think a scar changes that for me. I'd be a hypocrite if I did, and I fucking hate hypocritical people. Anything that aims to harm you will have me to deal with first, got that?"

Her tears slowly came to an end. She sniffed again, but couldn't drop her head to the floor. "You shouldn't do anything with that level of devotion for me, Joseph."

"But I want to. For you," he said. His hair clung to his face.

"I don't want to think of love and think of pain," she replied. He seemed conflicted. "But I want to protect you," he argued.

"And I want to be able to protect myself, and come home to someone to support and console me. Not someone who'll just beat up whoever did anything," she stated. He nodded slowly, and dropped his hand. "I'll be whatever you need me to be," he whispered. Eponine's eyes widened. "But, why?"

"Not a moment has gone by where I haven't thought of you. And I love you, most ardently." he spoke. "Are you quoting Jane Austen to me?" she cheekily inquired. "I figured that you'd rather have me be Mr. Darcy than Heathcliffe," he laughed.

"I don't want you to be either of them. I want you to be Joseph."

His Adam's apple moved. "Even without my pirate-like eyepatch?" He assumed this was the first time she'd seen him without it. "I've seen your scar before, when you were ill. And I don't care if you lost both eyes, or more. I'd still care about you. I think I would have loved you even if we had never met," she explained.

"What did I do to deserve an angel like you?"

a/n: i honestly hate this chapter ngl