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“Apollo?” Grantaire’s hoarse voice asked over the phone, sounding both weak and regretful.
“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, checking the time. 2:47 AM. “What is it?”
“I, um, I kinda need help, and I didn’t know who to call…” Grantaire trailed off, clearly unsure of himself. Hearing the other man ask him for help was like throwing a bucket of cold water on Enjolras, and suddently he found himself wide awake, his earlier grogginess gone.
“What is it?” He asked again, this time more urgent and concerned. Silence was the only response he received. “Are you okay?” He asked, unconsciously raising his voice. “Grantaire?”
There was a muffled cough from the other end of the line, another moment of silence, and then, finally, Grantaire’s loathsome voice. “Sorry for waking you, I—never mind.” Enjolras was about to hang up, exasperated, when he picked up on Grantaire’s shaky breath and quiet sniffles. He opened his mouth to demand Grantaire tell him what was wrong just as the other line went dead. Great.
So there he was, 2:49 AM, wide awake and worried about Grantaire.
Despite his better judgement, Enjolras left the welcoming embrace of his warm bed and wrapped up in a coat to greet the frigid November morning. His first stop was Grantaire’s apartment, a few blocks away in the shabbier side of town. Enjolras didn’t live on any sort of “high-end” specter of society, but he faced a lot less crime than Grantaire’s side of town.
He arrived in his sputtering Coop, far too old and under kept to be out in this cold weather. He ventured up to the apartment complex, cautiously watching his back, before he rang Grantaire’s door. At first, he was afraid Grantaire wasn’t home, that he had called from some alleyway or a bar, but after a minute the door unlocked and he was greeted with a hollow face.
“Oh.” Grantaire stood there, puzzled, practically petrified, with disheveled hair and puffy red eyes accompanied by wet cheeks. “You came?”
Enjolras was alarmed by the sight before him, the shorter man hunched over and… hobbling? “What the hell happened? Did someone hurt you?” He asked angrily, pushing past Grantaire and entering his apartment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grantaire stared, wide eyed. “I shouldn’t have called you, I knew you’d freak out and go all politically correct on me.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t brought up anything political!” Enjolras shot back, confused. “Just tell me what happened! I want to help.”
Grantaire looked embarrassed, reluctant to open his mouth. “It’s mostly my fault. I was tipsy, and this guy was getting handsy, and I guess I didn’t make myself clear but he tried to…. Uh, he tried to, you know,” he gestured towards his body, arms weak.
Enjolras’ face morphed into one of contempt, righteous fury fuming inside him. “Someone sexually assaulted you? Have you reported this? Grantaire, it is never the victim’s fault. What did he look like? Have you been to a hospital? Did he give you any drugs?”
Grantaire frowned, falling back on his couch and pulling his legs into his chest. “I knew you’d do this,” he muttered, “I knew I should have called Combeferre.”
“Grantaire, this is important!” Enjolras said, standing before the other man confidently.
“Look, I’m sure this kind of thing happens all the time, I just wanted to talk to someone,” Grantaire said, trying to calm Enjolras.
Enjolras looked hurt and appalled. “I can’t believe you! That’s the kind of thinking that promotes rape culture! Grantaire, you have to stand up for yourself.”
Enjolras looked at Grantaire, really looked at him, and did his best not to feel pity. The man was tired, dark rings around his eyes, stubble littering his pointed chin and sweating profusely. His wrists were bruised, along with what he could see of his thighs. When he saw this, he felted enraged, an odd possessive anger ripping through him. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Grantaire let out a shaky breath, looking back up at Enjolras. His Apollo. Confident and strong, urging him to get help, to let him help. He felt so small next to the radiant man in his apartment. The stern glare Enjolras was giving him told him the other man was not planning on letting up, so he figured he should go ahead and divulge exactly what happened.
“I went to a new bar last week, the Corinth. There was this guy there, he kept watching me. I didn’t realize at first, but when I noticed him the next time I went and I got a little suspicious. I figured I’d approach the guy, maybe get him to buy me a drink, and he did. He bought me a lot. I’m usually pretty good at holding my liquor, or at least conscious of what I take in, but I guess I was a little too casual with this guy. He was older, probably in his fifties, and he began touching me. Small gestures, like brushing my shoulder, but eventually he was groping my thigh and asking me to go home with him. I might have said yes some other night, I don’t know, but I was so tired and my head hurt so I declined. At least, I think I did, but he didn’t hear me. So he got his buddy to help him get me to his car, ‘cause I couldn’t really walk without tripping, and he took me back to his place. Except there was a cop parked nearby, and when I began to fuss he got scared and ditched me. I thought I was good, no worries, wouldn’t see him again. I even avoided going near the Corinth. But today, he saw me on the street I guess, and I guess he followed me because I noticed him before I was about to go into the Musain. I tried to ditch him, I took shortcuts, but then there was this alley and he blocked me and I… He came onto me, he had a knife, I didn’t really wanna fight back, but he didn’t do much. Like, he was trying to make out with me and he tried to shove his dick down my throat, but he didn’t touch me too much. When he left I came back here, showered, and then I think I had a panic attack. ‘m not sure, but I think that’s when I called you. I don’t know why I did,” Grantaire was suppressing tears, shoulders trembling as gentle coughing fits racked his body. “This is stupid.”
“No, no it’s not R. This is a big deal.”
Grantaire turned away. “Sure, whatever. I just… I don’t know. Are you going to tell the others?”
Enjolras grasped his shoulder affirmatively, shaking his head. “I’d never disclose private information you’re uncomfortable with others knowing, but I really think you should file a report. You need to prioritize your safety. What if he had followed you home?”
“Is that really necessary? I’m not hurt… badly.”
Enjolras was angry again. “He could have a disease, and you said he had a knife! Clearly this guy’s unstable, and a rapist! Grantaire, you need to take care of yourself!”
Grantaire was silent. Indignant. “Look, I said it doesn’t matter!”
“Well I think it does!” Enjolras retorted, kneeling down next to Grantaire.
“Why do you care so much?” Grantaire groaned, turning away from Enjolras.
“Because I…” Enjolras frowned, gazing at the other man. Most of the time, Enjolras was infuriated with him. The very thought of Grantaire repulsed him. Or at least, he thought it did. His usual snarky behavior was gone now, replaced with a cold outer shell of resentment and sadness. And a very potent lack of self-worth. That possessiveness reclaimed him, and Enjolras was befuddled. “You’re my friend, Grantaire.” Enjolras finally whispered, gripping his arm. “Of course I’m going to care about you. About your well-being.”
“Oh.” That was what Grantaire whispered, hoarse and disappointed. Disappointed, but why? Enjolras was his self-declared friend. He didn’t despise him! But then again, he hadn’t said he loved him. They were simply friends. A confusing mix of elation and despair filled Grantaire, and his head began to hurt. “Thanks.”
“When was the last time you ate?” Enjolras asked, removing his hand from Grantaire’s back. Grantaire hadn’t even processed the comforting warmth of Enjolras’ hand rubbing calming circles into his back until it was gone, and he immediately yearned for more.
“I had breakfast this morning, er, I guess yesterday morning.”
Enjolras grumbled, clearly unsatisfied with this news. “You should eat,” he announced, getting up and fixing his jacket. “Do you want me to make you something?” Grantaire got up slowly, trailing after Enjolras as he began to ransack his kitchen. “Geez, do you have anything remotely good for you R?” He asked, pushing past a box of Fruity Pebbles™ and checking the expiration dates on his canned foods. All expired.
Grantaire shrugged meekly, cleaning up after Enjolras. “I can manage,” he said, getting a glass of water and sitting back down. “You really don’t need to do anything, I’m fine if you leave.”
Enjolras shot him a stern glare. “I’m not going to leave you!” Enjolras said indignantly, settling on some whole grain crackers to force feed Grantaire. “Eat these.”
Grantaire accepted the food meekly, nibbling on a cracker as Enjolras sat down across from him. For several minutes, they didn’t speak. The two men watched each other, a vague sense of awkwardness settling down between them. Enjolras tried to calm himself, his rising temper. His anger had shocked him—yes, he was strongly against rape, but the personal anguish and jealousy brought on by this stranger was unexpected. He didn’t realize how much he cared for Grantaire, how much his safety mattered to him. The silence was broken when Grantaire stood up, throwing away the packaging from his crackers. “I’m sorry.” Grantaire voice was raspy, and Enjolras almost missed it. It was hardly a whisper. “Sorry,” he repeated, stronger this time, “it was selfish of me to call you.”
Enjolras bristled at that, shaking his head. “No, don’t say that. You didn’t do anything wrong. You had every right to call me! Everyone needs a friends to support them.”
Grantaire didn’t seem to be listening. “If you really want to help me, I feel like I should come clean. I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you, about how I feel… about you.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, now thoroughly confused. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d stay, because I’m actually pretty terrified of that dude, but I feel like you should know I’ve kind of been in love with you for the past four years.”
Enjolras’ jaw hit the floor. Figuratively, of course, but his jaw did go slack as he tried to formulate a response to that. He blinked once. Twice. Looking up and down at Grantaire, not fully comprehending. Four years? “What?” He finally squeaked, realizing he had jolted up out of his seat when he bumped into the table trying to approach Grantaire. “You what?”
Grantaire looked worried, and very red, but was able to answer him nonetheless. “I said I’ve been in love with you for the past four years. I thought you should know.” Still noticing Enjolras was confused, Grantaire tried to explain. “I admire you? Think you’re amazing? Plus really hot… but that’s beside the point. I’m trying to say I’m attracted to you and if that makes you uncomfortable you’re free to leave.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” Enjolras repeated, this time with no hesitation. A pause. “I know I care about you… more than I initially let myself believe. You mean a lot to me, as a person, as a friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re constantly occupying my thoughts, but I don’t know if it’s because you irk me or because you fascinate me. I wish I knew how to respond to you Grantaire, because I’m not repulsed, I’m just…” Enjolras looks back at Grantaire. His dejected body language, the slight pout of his lower lip and the strained eye contact. His hair is falling in his face, way too distracting, everything about Grantaire is distracting, and he can’t think. He can’t process what his heart is trying to tell him.
Is Grantaire a good friend? Something more? For so long, Enjolras had one focus: his country. The people. And now this—something new. He met Grantaire’s gaze, and the other man didn’t back down. He stood his ground, not surprised, not let down, but understanding. “It’s okay,” Grantaire spoke weakly. Even if Grantaire was expecting it, he couldn’t throw away the tiniest hint of hope until he knew for sure. And now he knew for sure. He wasn’t crushed however, not even disappointed. He just felt foolish. “It’s okay, I understand.”
“You should sleep,” Enjolras said, the blush on his cheeks still present even though they had abandoned their previous topic of conversation. Grantaire nodded, hobbling over to the couch and grabbing a blanket. “Don’t you have a bed?” Enjolras asked, puzzled and worried once more.
“Oh, um, I did, yeah. I do. I usually sleep on the couch though, I prefer it. Makes it easier to get up in the morning.”
“Don’t worry about getting up in the morning R, you’re sleeping in your bed. Do you want to sleep alone or…?” A simple question. Previously, it wouldn’t have been so odd, but after Grantaire’s confession Enjolras’ words were weighted.
“If it’s not too much of a bother, I’d appreciate some company. Not, like, pervy. Just a friend. Some reassurance.”
“Of course,” Enjolras said, gently taking Grantaire’s hand in his own. “I’m here for you, R. You’re still you, I don’t see you as a drastically different person. I’m not going to be weird based on society’s own predisposed opinions and stereotypical judgments.” Grantaire chuckled at that. Of course.
“I—thanks.” Grantaire squeezed his hand, giving him a shy smile. Drastically insecure. Enjolras felt something in his chest tighten when Grantaire smiled. His stomach churned, and he felt his blush returning. “Is it okay if I take off my pants? I can’t sleep with them on, but if it’s too weird I’ll keep ‘em on or I can sleep on the couch.”
“Do whatever you need,” Enjolras wheezed, looking away as Grantaire slipped off his jeans. He joined Grantaire in the bed, a good two and a half feet between them as the two of them stared up at the blank ceiling. He thought Grantaire was asleep until, after a solid ten minutes of dead silence, Grantaire spoke. He was crying. Not sobbing, just fat tears rolling silently down his cheeks.
“Thank you,” he whispered gently, taking deep breaths in and out. “When I told you… I loved you, I was being selfish. I wanted to push you away. To be able to hate you. But you didn’t retract, you didn’t leave me. You stayed. The only problem is now I can’t bring myself to be upset with you… I can’t— ”
Enjolras doesn’t know why he did it. Maybe he wanted Grantaire to stop spouting that self-indulgent ‘I’m worthless’ junk, or maybe he was tired and just wanted sleep, or maybe his heart was beating so fast and Grantaire was right there and it just seemed right, but for some reason, he leaned over and kissed him. Not a cute little peck, but a harsh, needy, ‘shut-up-I-love-you’ kiss. A kiss that told him he was enough, he was loved, he was worthy and he was valuable. Enjolras would stand up for him, because he mattered. Because he loved him. Or at least, that’s what Enjolras could decipher from the mixed, jumbled, frantic signals his heart was screaming at him.
Perhaps even more monumental than that kiss was the hug that followed. The strong embrace reassuring him that he was there, he cared. Grantaire leaned into the hug, shutting his eyes tight and reveling in the peace it brought him. They stayed like that, neither wanting to break up the embrace, and ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms. Pure and innocent and in love.
In what felt like a blink, light was filtering through Grantaire’s window and Enjolras was trying to figure out just how much time had passed. Just a minute ago he had kissed Grantaire. He had kissed Grantaire. Whoa. And there he was, snoring just inches away from his face, his long brown curls falling in his face. Enjolras brushed them out of his face, still insecure with this new development. With… love. Then it hit him. He hadn’t verbally told Grantaire how he felt. He hadn’t processed how he felt. “Grantaire?” He nudged the other man, choking back the butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach as Grantaire opened his eyes and instinctively smiled. “Grantaire, I think I love you. I forgot to tell you. I love you.”
Grantaire tried to think of a snide remark, something to respond with that didn’t make him look like a total doofus, but nothing came. A sudden burst of bravery flooded him as he looked at Enjolras, Apollo, beautiful and sincere. “I’m going to file a report on that old guy.” He said, trembling at the memory, but confident with his words.
Enjolras took his hand, nodding at him, encouraging him. “This is all up to you, I don’t want to pressure you.”
“And I don’t want that guy out on the streets,” Grantaire answered, for once not evoking an argument for Enjolras. For once, evoking a reassuring kiss.