Chapter Text
“I’m assuming you want to come in,”Grantaire reaffirms. Enjolras refuses to meet his glance but nods anyway, following Grantaire in when he opens the door.
Grantaire falls back onto the sofa, leaving the invitation open for Enjolras. For a moment, he thinks Enjolras is going to bolt out the open door, but he doesn’t. He pushes it closed slowly, regaining his composure, and sits on the other side of the tiny sofa, twisted towards Grantaire.
“So,”Grantaire says, at a loss for words. He’s never been good with words, unless they’re point is to piss people off. That he’s very good at. “What brings you here?”
There’s an underlying Why do you give a shit about me? in his stare. Enjolras holds his gaze and his face morphs into that ugly grimace he had at the Musain. And, oh my God, it’s guilt. Enjolras thinks this is his fault, which no, it’s not. Well… Grantaire doesn’t actually know.
“I came to make sure you weren’t…”Enjolras starts. “I came here to make sure you were alright. You weren’t answering your phone; Joly nearly had a panic attack in the Musain, and Jehan… We were worried. I was worried about you, Grantaire.”
Grantaire stares down at his lap, because wow, his jeans suddenly became really interesting. “I’m sorry I made everyone worry. I won’t be a problem anymore, I promise.” Grantaire looked up to hold Enjolras’s gaze. “I’m not coming back, so don’t worry about it.”
Enjolras shifts forward on the tiny sofa, his thigh pushing against Grantaire’s own. “Why not?”
“You told me not to. You said,”Grantaire grits, and he can feel himself becoming angry, "And I quote, ‘You have no place being here.' And you were right, Enjolras. I’m a cynic. The only thing we ever achieve when I’m there is making you upset.”
“But you always point out the flaws in what I say,”Enjolras urges. His hand slides across the back of the sofa, and Grantaire can feel the ghost of Enjolras’s fingers scaling down his neck. “No one else does that. You remember when you pointed out the errors in our letter to the Board of Education?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, and I was pissed, sure, because I hadn’t even considered what you’d said when I wrote it. And you remember how we rewrote it, and you very the reason it even went through? ” Enjolras sighs. “Look, I was upset; I didn’t mean to be as harsh as I was. Please don’t let this change anything.”
Grantaire snorts, and pushes himself off the couch. Enjolras just doesn’t get it. “I’m not upset about you yelling at me, Enjolras. If I got hurt that easily I would’ve stopped coming.”
“So what’s the problem?”Enjolras asks. He pushes himself up and walks towards Grantaire, only a foot between them now. “Why won’t you come back?”
“You saw what I did, Enjolras, before I left,”Grantaire whispers. He goes to lower his head and bumps against Enjolras’s shoulder. He breathes slowly, trying to urge the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes to stop. “I can’t go back there.”
“No one is going to think of you differently, Grantaire,”Enjolras murmurs into his hair. Grantaire snorts, and he can feel Enjolras frown into his hair. “I’m serious.”
“I’m a smoking, alcoholic cynic, Enjolras.” He raises his head, painfully avoiding the damp spot he left on Enjolras’s shirt. “And now, boom, the secret’s out. I cut myself. There’s only so much shit people can handle.”
“Grantaire, I love you, we’re not just going to turn our backs on you-”
“What?” Grantaire says harshly, backing himself away.
“What?”Enjolras copies. He takes a step forward, unknowingly backing Grantaire all the way up against the wall.
“You said you loved me,”Grantaire states, like it makes any sense. Enjolras, love someone like him? It’s ludicrous. Grantaire’s used to the unrequited love, was content to let it run it’s course. Enjolras isn’t supposed to love him back; that’s not how this works. But then again, with the way things have been going-
“I do,”Enjolras says, and oh. His face softens and he back away, ready to face rejection. Like he believes Grantaire would ever refuse him. Which makes literally no sense.
“I do,”Grantaire says quickly, after a moment of deafening silence. “Love you, I mean. I love you. You’re not fucking with me, right?”
Enjolras looks at Grantaire in confusion, like he can’t believe it either. Like he truly thinks Grantaire is worthy of his mere presence. Worthy of his love.
“I’m not,”Enjolras confirms, and Grantaire doesn’t even see Enjolras move, but sure enough he’s pressed up against the wall of his apartment, Enjolras’s warm-God, so warm- mouth against his.