Chapter Text
Grantaire woke in the middle of the night to soft kisses across his collarbone and shoulder. He giggled, “Enj, that tickles.”
He felt the press of lips to his neck, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine.” He turned to look at Enjolras, who, though he was a being of the sun, was incredibly lovely in the moonlight. However, at the moment, he was biting his lower lip nervously, and that concerned Grantaire deeply, “What’s wrong?”
Enjolras forced an unconvincing smile to his face, “Nothing.” He shook his head and gently took Grantaire’s hand in his.
“You’re lying.”
“It’s silly.” Enjolras was studying their fingers.
“I doubt that, and I wouldn’t care if it were.” Grantaire tried to smile reassuringly.
“How…while I was gone…how many people have you been with?” It looked as though Enjolras was consumed with guilt for just asking, but that didn’t help ease Grantaire’s tension.
“What?”
“You just…I mean there was already a box of condoms in the drawer, and–”
“We weren’t together, Enj.”
“I know–”
“What if I told you that was leftover from us? What would you say?”
“I would…I’d be thrilled…was it?” He didn’t sound particularly hopeful.
“No. It’s not. I’ve slept with a lot people, while you’ve been gone.” Grantaire rolled over to turn his back to Enjolras. What now?
“‘Aire, love, please, I’m not mad.” His arms slipped around Grantaire’s waist, and he pressed his lips repeatedly to Grantaire’s spine, “I mean. I’m jealous of anyone who you slept with, because they received your attention. They had the gift of your heart and body, while I was taking myself in hand, with only thoughts of you. But, you’re right. We weren’t together, and I wouldn’t expect you to deny yourself anything, because I was gone.”
Grantaire let himself minimally relax into Enjolras’s embrace. “They never had my heart.” He murmured. Taking yourself in hand? “Were you with anyone? I can’t believe all the New York singles were blind.”
Enjolras laughed, sending puffs of air across Grantaire’s shoulder. “No. I went on a couple dates, but nothing ever felt right. I couldn’t get over you, which is of course what led me to beg at your door.”
“I never got over you. The hookups were my way of trying…”
“And, it didn’t succeed?” Enjolras’s mouth was curved into a smile pressed against Grantaire’s spine.
“Not at all. Really, they all looked like you.”
“What?”
“Blond hair, blue eyes, strong jaw and cheekbones.” Grantaire explained, softly, “Usually I was drunk, and I could imagine. It never lasted past the morning, when I had to stop pretending.”
“They all looked like me?”
“If I can’t worship Apollo, why shouldn’t I at least admire the image? False, though it may be.”
“‘Aire, please.” Enjolras whispered.
“What?”
“Please, don’t call me ‘Apollo.’” He pleaded.
Grantaire turned to face him, “Why?”
“I just–it scares me when you do…”
“It’s meant to be a compliment.” Grantaire ducked his head, looking way from Enjolras’s eyes.
“Hey–hey, look at me.” Enjolras tipped his chin up and kissed him. “I know it is, and I appreciate it, but…it’s taken me a very long time to understand what ‘Apollo’ means, and now that I do, I would rather–”
“What it means? Enj, it means that I think you’re beautiful, and I love you!”
“No. It means you worship me. I don’t think you mean to, but you call me ‘Apollo,’ when you don’t think you can reach me…when we first met, when we fight, when you get very drunk, when we were…apart.”
I didn’t even realize that…
“You say it, when you don’t think you deserve me, and I don’t want that. Ever. I never want you to believe that you are unworthy of me, because it has never been the case, and it frightens me when you think it.”
Grantaire spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s as much my fault as anything else. I let you think these things, instead of being clear. Instead of making you understand and believe that I have always loved you, and that you are second to no one.” Enjolras pulled him closer into his arms, pressing kisses to the top of Grantaire’s head, as the other man burrowed into Enjolras’s chest.
“You are my everything…I just wanted you to know that.” Grantaire half-apologized to the blond’s collarbone.
“I do.” Enjolras kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips, “I do, and I thank you. But, I don’t need worshippers. I am not higher than you or anyone. All I need to be happy, to be complete, is for you to love me.”
Grantaire smiled, “I can do that.”
They woke again late the next morning.
Holding hands, they walked from the bedroom to the living room, letting go of each other, only when Jehan came bolting forward, instantly trapping Grantaire in his arms, “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it would end like this! I knew you two would find each other!”
“You didn’t know. You were panicking half of last night.” Courfeyrac mused from the corner.
“Oh hush, you.” Jehan smiled back at Courfeyrac, who grinned to match him.
Grantaire hugged Jehan firmly, “Of all the things in this city, little one, I will miss you most of all.”
Quickly, Jehan pulled away, with wide eyes, “You’re leaving me?”
“Moving to NYC with Enj. Ep will be joining ‘Ferre.”
“You, too?” Jehan asked, looking to Eponine, who was entering with Combeferre in tow.
“Sorry, love.” The right corner of Eponine’s mouth twitched up in an apologetic smile.
“No, don’t be sorry.” A bright smile broke across Jehan’s face, and suddenly the world seemed to make more sense. “I’m so happy for you both.” He walked over to hug Eponine tightly. “I’ll miss you, though.”
“Don’t worry, Jehan,” Enjolras assured, “It’s not like we can stay away for very long.”
Jehan made his way to Enjolras, hugging him in turn, “You already left me.” He said into Enjolras’s chest.
“I came back, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but not for me.” Jehan pulled away to glance at Grantaire.
Enjolras blushed lightly. “No…but, I promise we’ll be back soon.”
“And New York isn’t so far,” Combeferre encouraged. “You could come visit, if you like.”
“Yeah!” Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around Jehan, “We’ll see them. I’ll just say, ‘my beautiful boyfriend is pouting and sad,’ and they won’t be able to help but run back to you.”
That’s not inaccurate. No one can stand to see Jehan sad…
“But!” Courfeyrac announced, “Before that, we need to have a celebration!”
“A going away party?” Eponine asked.
“Partly, yes.” Courfeyrac plastered on a true showman’s grin and stepped forward, “But, also to celebrate the fact that these two idiots finally got their act together.” He waved at Grantaire and Enjolras. “Because, seriously…” his smile softened, “We have been hoping for this forever.”
At the party Courfeyrac played music that was too loud.
Bahorel drank inordinate amounts, to the point of boisterousness, while Feuilly laughed at him.
Joly didn’t drink at all, because he was unsure that the cups were sanitary. Bossuet spilled his beverage four times, before he gave up drinking. Musichetta laughed at her boys and played bartender for the crowd.
Jehan danced and sang, and occasionally grabbed people’s arms to write poetry on their hands. On Grantaire, he wrote in delicate script:
So follow your heart and never give up,
as dreams and wishes do come true,
for I know that someday we'll meet again,
so never forget I will be praying for you.
Eponine spent most of the night in Combeferre’s lap.
Grantaire drank, but not to the point of drunkenness. He wanted to remember the night. Enjolras looked at him warily, but smiled after he stopped with his second drink.
Enjolras never left Grantaire’s side. They danced once, swaying to a heavy beat. Most often, their hands were entwined, though they had to let go, when Feuilly filled their glasses, when Jehan embraced them, or when Courfeyrac on a dare, picked Enjolras up and threw him over his shoulder. But, each time he let go, Enjolras’s hand came right to Grantaire’s as soon as it was free.
Over the next few days, they would plan and discuss logistics. How they would actually move in together in New York: ends of leases, moving vans, all of their issues that had so far been left untouched. But tonight, they had a final celebration, well final for the near future, with their friends, and took comfort in the fact that apparently, no matter how many walls and barriers they had put between themselves, they were pulled together like magnets. As they had been in the photo Jehan took of them, constantly drawn to each other’s arms.