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Enjolras sits down next to Grantaire as the others filter out the door, tentatively trying to plan out how to begin this conversation. It’s been years since the last time he considered asking someone out on a date- he was sixteen, actually. And he’s out to Combeferre and Courf (the latter of whom had stared dumbly at him, repeating ‘But- but how?’ until Combeferre punched him in the arm) but very few people know. Enjolras has never been good at talking about personal things.
“What are you drawing, if I may ask?” he says, finally.
Grantaire’s eyes soften as he looks up at the other man. “You. You look particularly handsome today, you know.” He shows Enjolras the sketch. It’s a close view of Enjolras’ face, most of which is still only a vague outline. His lips, however, are rendered in exquisite, naturalistic detail.
Enjolras stiffens, hoping Grantaire won’t notice.
Of course, he does. Grantaire is too perceptive for anyone’s good. “Shit, E- I didn’t… did I upset you?” he says immediately, reaching a hand towards Enjolras, then dropping it back into his lap.
“No. It’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry,” Grantaire immediately apologizes anyway.
“Don’t worry about it,” Enjolras assures him.
“No, I should be better about hiding this. I know I disgust you-“
“What?” Enjolras demands.
“Sorry, that made you sound like an asshole, and you’re not. You’re beautiful, I’m ugly and kind of a loser, we’re friends- I hope we’re friends- I shouldn’t pay you awkward compliments and draw you all the time and shit I just did it right in that very sentence, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you’re ugly. Or a loser,” Enjolras says, somewhat dumbly.
“Then, uh, why don’t you like me? Not that you owe me an answer or anything!” Grantaire hastily adds.
“I don’t. I like you,” Enjolras says, setting his shoulders determinedly.
“But, well, every time- Aw, I’m gonna sound like such a dick, but-“
“Tell me.”
“Well, every time you talk to me, or whatever, it seems… it seems like things are going really well, and like maybe you don’t totally despise me or whatever, and you maybe smile at my jokes and stuff, and then I say something and you uh kind of freeze up. And it’s usually after I say something like about how good-looking you are, which is very, I will not deny that I find you very attractive, but it obviously makes you uncomfortable when I say it. So I um deduced that you know how much I like you and you aren’t interested, obviously, why would someone like you be interested in someone like me? And I promise I can try and tone it done, I mean I can’t stop liking you but I can stop all the flirting with you and stuff, and drawing you which is probably really fucking creepy anyway and I’m sorry, just please don’t kick me out ‘cause I really do like you and everyone-“
“Oh my god, Grantaire, stop talking.”
It’s not exactly the first time in his life Grantaire has heard those words. His mouth closes hard.
“’Aire, I promise, I’m not disgusted by you. And I’m not angry that you’re attracted to me, that would be… that would be irrational.”
“Then what?”
Enjolras hesitates.
************
“Oh, come on,” Peter muttered, pulling Enjolras into another slow kiss. “It’s my birthday.”
Enjolras shifts away. “I’m sorry, P.”
“You don’t even have to do anything. Just let me.”
“I don’t want to,” Enjolras says, but he’s only sixteen, and his voice wavers a little.
“You’ll like it when you try it. I’ll make it good, I swear.”
“I’m not ready,” Enjolras repeats, his voice getting slightly higher. Hysterical. He needs to stay calm, needs to-
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Peter says, and then he’s kissing Enjolras again, and Enjolras likes kissing, usually, but this time it’s different. This time he’s scared. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby, I promise-“
“No,” Enjolras tries again, and Pete is lacing their fingers together, and that’s okay, but then he’s pushing Enjolras’ hands up above his head, pinning them to the headboard. Enjolras makes a small, distressed sound and Pete grins.
“That’s it, you little tease, I know you want it.”
“I don’t,” Enjolras says, and he’s going to vomit, he is, he’s going to-
“But don’t you love me? Am I not good enough for you?”
It’s almost enough to make Enjolras give in. He doesn’t want to make Pete feel bad about himself, and he isn’t disgusted by sex exactly, he just… has no interest. “I love you, you know that.”
“Then why won’t you give me this one little thing?”
“I’m not interested. In sex. Not at all. Never have been,” Enjolras confesses. “I’m sorry. I- maybe I could- for your sake, one day, but… it scares me.”
Pete sits back. “Then what’s the point?”
“What?”
“Of all this? If you’re never gonna put out?”
“I love you,” Enjolras says in a small, frightened voice. “Isn’t that enough?”
Pete laughs. It’s a cold, cruel sound, and Enjolras hears it ringing in his ears for years afterwards. “I’ll be careful,” he says. “Just let me fuck you.”
“I can’t,” Enjolras whispers. “I’m sorry.”
Pete just looks at him. “You think you'll ever find someone who doesn't expect this? You're not going to get better than me,” he says, and Enjolras gets his things and goes.
*************
“I’m interested in you,” Enjolras says with a calm he does not feel. “Romantically, I mean.”
“Oh,” Grantaire says softly, with a tone of wonder in his voice, and Enjolras knew Grantaire liked him, but he had no idea how much.
“I was going to say something before. Much before. But I-“
“You’re nervous? Did you not know how totally fucking gone for you I am?”
“I, um, it’s not that.” Enjolras looks down at his hands. “You’re attracted to me.”
“Yeah. Very.”
“I- I’m- I-“ Enjolras stammers, words betraying him.
“What?” Grantaire asks, deeply concerned, reaching instinctively for Enjolras. “Whatever it is, Enjolras, it won’t change how I feel about you, okay? I won’t be upset, I promise.”
Enjolras bites his lip. “But you-“
“Whatever I did to make you so nervous, I’m sorry,” and his voice is so concerned and gentle that Enjolras can almost forget.
********
“Eight times,” Combeferre says with a smirk, and Courfeyrac drops his glass.
“No way.”
“Indeed,” Combeferre retorts.
“You came eight times in one night?”
“My best is only five!” Grantaire says, impressed “and I’m a champion masturbator.”
Enjolras freezes where he sits. Last week, he had noticed the little flutter he got in his chest sometimes when Grantaire walked through the door. He had felt Grantaire’s warm eyes on him and started to wonder.
Now he tries to forget, because Grantaire looks at him like he’s everything in the world and then some.
He doesn’t want Grantaire to laugh at him, but even more he never wants Grantaire to be disappointed.
“You look beautiful in red,” Grantaire says, dreamily drunk, the next night, and Enjolras wears his red jacket every day for a month until it’s frankly rather disgusting, because he likes that Grantaire thinks he’s beautiful.
He just hates that it means they’ll never be together, because Grantaire would never be able to accept a relationship without sex. It would be beyond selfish to even ask, so he’ll just accept the admiration Grantaire so generously gives and tries to forget that every smile from his friend makes him want so much more.
**********
Enjolras has to get that nervous, sad look off Grantaire’s face. He has to. So he just blurts it out. “I’m asexual.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Grantaire says. But it isn’t ‘so I can forget this ever happened’ or ‘so I don’t do something stupid like date you.’ It’s sweet and genuine and warm. “So, uh, you’re aromantic, and you’re trying to let me down, or-“
“No, I’m homoromantic,” Enjolras explains, surprised that Grantaire knows the terminology. “And I am, as I said, romantically interested in you.”
“Shit, really?” Grantaire exclaims, an expression of total joy spreading across his face.
“Yes. I have been for a while, but…”
“But?”
“I am concerned you won’t be satisfied with a completely sexless relationship. Because any relationship with me would be a celibate one,” Enjolras says, not looking at Grantaire. “However much I may… I may want you to be happy, I cannot bring myself, to- to-“
“Oh my god, Enjolras, I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me?”
“Since it clearly terrifies you, no. Jesus, Enjolras, has someone done that to you before? Pressured you into-“
“Unsuccessfully. But he did break up with me. Which I understand. It is fundamentally selfish to ask one partner to totally sublimate their sexual needs in favor of-“
“No, it isn’t,” Grantaire says, “and whoever told you that is an asshole.”
“I am never going to have sex with you,” Enjolras says, with emphasis. “Not today, not in twenty years, not if we get married. Never.”
“Okay,” Grantaire says.
“And I don’t want you to have sex with anyone else either! It’s irrationally possessive but I can’t bear the thought and-“
“Okay,” Grantaire repeats.
“And I know you like sex, you talk about it all the time, you talk about finding me attractive all the time, and I thought-“
“Okay,” Grantaire says again. “I’m sorry I made you think that way.” And he’s so calm, it’s basically a miracle, because internally he is panicking.
“It’s not your fault, you didn’t… you have a right to want sex.”
“I do. But I don’t have a right to demand it.” Grantaire bites his lip. “Look, I get if you’ve been… if you have some issues about this, and I- I understand. I will totally understand if you don’t want to be with me because I said all that shit, or for any other reason. But. Um. If you’re giving me a choice between sex and being with you, I will pick being with you. Like I would pick that every second, every day, for the rest of my life, happily. I like sex, but I- I’m in love with you.”
“Oh.”
“You are the best thing in my life, and I don’t care if I never get to touch you. I’m used to fucking worshipping you from afar, and I promise, I swear I will respect every limit you set and- not just respect, Enjolras, I will be thrilled to be with you, I swear. I love every single thing about you and I could never want anything more than you are and I’m probably scaring you off, and I- I’m sorry.”
“I like touching,” Enjolras says.
“What?”
Enjolras blushes. “Um, like, kissing and- and holding hands and stuff? And cuddling. I like that.”
“I like that too. Would you ever want to kiss me?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Enjolras says.
“Oh. God, Enjolras, can I, please-“
“Yes,” Enjolras says, because Grantaire incoherent and begging for a kiss is too much. “Yes,” he says, and then Grantaire is carefully kissing him, so gentle and his fingers are caressing Enjolras’ face and Enjolras melts into his touch.
“You’re stupid,” Grantaire informs him as he pulls away.
“What?”
“If you thought I could like anything more than I would want to be with you. I’m crazy about you, Enjolras.”
“You can- just, just promise, if it gets to be too much, give me some warning, okay? Just don’t… don’t up and dump me out of nowhere, I couldn’t-“
“I won’t,” Grantaire says, promises. “You’ve just given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ll never give that up for anything.”
“Thank you. Um.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mind the compliments. As long as- as you don’t expect-“
“No expectations from me. No demands. Just happiness, love. Happiness that I get to be with you. Because you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen- inside and out. And you make me a better one.” He holds his hand out to Enjolras. “If you permit it?”
“Happily,” Enjolras says, with a smile.
He looks over at Grantaire, at the radiant joy on the other man’s face, and begins to believe that, with Grantaire, things will be better.