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Enjolras looked out the window as well, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see—”
“Do you not?” Grantaire interrupted, giving Enjolras a small, lopsided smile. “One would think that Apollo would recognize the sun as it emerges yet again over the horizon.”
“Evidence, perhaps, that I am not Apollo,” Enjolras shot back. “Evidence, I am certain, that you shall ignore lest it ruin your metaphor.”
“I do love a metaphor,” Grantaire agreed, his smile widening.
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“I still don’t understand,” he admitted. “If you think you might relapse…” Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression, and Enjolras felt his stomach plummet with realization. “You’re not worried about relapsing, are you.”
He didn’t pitch it as a question, and Grantaire shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I’m not.”
Enjolras’s mouth went dry. “R—”
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“Be serious.”
Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”
Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”
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“What are you doing?” Enjolras interrupted, equally parts confused and incredulous.
Grantaire broke off and glanced up at him, and Enjolras noted that he didn’t even have the good grace to look abashed. “Reading the Wikipedia entry for the Energizer Bunny.”
As if that was an even remotely normal thing to be doing. “Why?” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead.
Grantaire shrugged. “Seemed appropriate,” he said cheerfully.
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Grantaire rested a hand against Enjolras’s chest, rubbing his thumb in small, comforting circles. “I don’t know that you have a choice,” he told him. “Besides, believe me, there is no one who wants you to pass more than I do.”
“I don’t know—”
“I do,” Grantaire interrupted, still with that same firm tone. “Because I think having to listen to you study for this thing a second time may actually break me.”
Despite himself, Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head. “And here I was wondering when you were going to make it all about you,” he sighed without any real heat.
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Marius and Cosette share a moment on a later June 5th.
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Five times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time…
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Courfeyrac leaned against a shelf that creaked ominously, and he hastily straightened. “Well, it’s not Christmas,” he reasoned.
“Not Grantaire’s birthday, either,” Combeferre added.
“And no judgment, Enj, but it’s a little late for Valentine’s Day.”
Enjolras ground his teeth together, glaring a garish painting of a sad clown as if it had personally offended him. “It’s an apology gift,” he said sourly, staring determinedly away from Courfeyrac and Combeferre so that he didn’t have to see the look they inevitably gave each other.
He was already familiar with it.
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“Don’t you think it might be different since you have someone to celebrate with?” Joly pressed, after exchanging a look with Bossuet. “On either account?”
Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Different how?”
Joly sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you won’t jointly loathe both your birthday and Valentine’s Day for the first time in your life?”
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“Never have I expected to hear those three sweet words from your lips in this or any lifetime.” Grantaire leaned over so that his lips were practically against Enjolras’s ear. “I would settle instead for two.”
“Two?” Enjolras breathed.
Grantaire nodded. “Don’t go,” he murmured.
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But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day...
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“Whether or not Grantaire believes isn’t important,” Enjolras interrupted firmly. “What matters is that we make everyone else believe. And when we’re finished, I think they will.”
“Finished?” Kris repeated. “Finished with what?”
“I’m going to ask the judge for a hearing to determine if you’re competent to stand trial,” Enjolras told him. “I’m going to defend you. And more than that, we’re going to prove that there is a Santa Claus, and that you’re him.”
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Enjolras scowled and thrust his phone at Combeferre. “Here,” he said shortly. “Look at this shit.”
Combeferre glanced down at the phone, his brow furrowing. “It’s a Wikipedia page for – oh.”
Enjolras nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly. Someone made a fucking Wikipedia page for me.”
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“Le Coeur de la Mer,” R murmured, his expression curiously blank as he stared down at the piece of paper, or more accurately, the figure in the charcoal drawing on the paper, a young person whose fierce expression was framed by luscious curls.
Montparnasse nodded. “That’s right. The Heart of the Ocean. Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond.”
“Which I imagine is your interest in it,” R said. He reached out as if to touch the paper, then seemed to think better of it, pulling his hand back. “Enjolras said it was a dreadful, heavy thing,” R told them, his voice low. “He only wore it the once.”
“Enjolras?” Montparnasse pressed.
R nodded. “The man I drew the night Titanic sank.”
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Grantaire spotted him as he approached, and even now, even after everything, Grantaire’s entire expression lit up as he did. “Enjolras!”
His smile was wide and wicked, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar, but even his ebullient greeting couldn’t quite hide the fact that he slurred a little on Enjolras’s name. Enjolras pursed his lips, just slightly. After the fight that they’d had, he had fully expected Grantaire to drink his cares away, but Grantaire seemed long past the point of any cares whatsoever.
“C’mon,” Grantaire said, patting the barstool next to him. “Sit. Drink. You’re a few behind.”
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Grantaire took a long pull from his bottle before telling them, “What I mean is, I remember not with whom I made friends first, but even if I did, that is not the matter at hand. The answer to how I became acquainted with Les Amis does not lie with either of them.”
Bossuet and Joly exchanged surprised looks, and Courfeyrac leaned forward, intrigued. “This seems a story worth telling.”
Grantaire considered it and shrugged, settling back into his seat. “Well, I suppose that is for you to determine, not myself…”
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“Is everything ok?” Enjolras asked cautiously.
“Yeah, it is,” Grantaire said quickly – too quickly. “I just, uh, I’m not going to be able to come to Thursday night meetings anymore.”
Enjolras blinked. That certainly hadn’t been what he’d expected. “Why not?”
He hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory, but judging by the look on Grantaire’s face, it did. “My schedule changed,” Grantaire said shortly.
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Combeferre took a deep breath before blurting, “I believe Enjolras is being haunted.”
Joly blinked. “Haunted,” he repeated.
Combeferre nodded. “Yes.”
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Almost as if on cue, a waiter appeared at the tableside, looking at them expectantly. “Can I get anything for your…”
He trailed off. “Husband,” Enjolras supplied.
“Ex,” Grantaire corrected. “Or didn’t you get the papers?”
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Back to Where We Started by kjack89 for theworldfallsup
Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types
19 Sep 2023
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“No, the point is, I need to lie low until the heat from any and all of those dies down,” Enjolras said, with conviction. “And the sane thing to do is to flee to a non-extradition island somewhere and wait it out.”
“Exactly, the sane thing—”
“And the predictable thing.” Combeferre fell silent and Enjolras paused before asking, “Can you honestly tell me that you think the CIA is going to come looking for me in a suburb in middle America? Let alone Mossad, or the SVR?”