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“And another pint for you.”, the bartender handed Enjolras the glass and he took it with a sigh. He should sit at home right now, in his own apartment with a glass of wine and a good book. Where he shouldn’t be is this dingy pub in Soho. Really he should have left London this morning, but the weather had foiled his plan. After hours of waiting at the airport, it had been clear that no plane would be allowed to take off for the next 30 hours.
And so he had had to turn around and get back into the city. Finding a hotel had been shitty and now he had a room in a hellhole of a “hotel” (he wouldn’t call it that) near the British Museum and he dreaded going back to it. Everything about it had made him want to leave immediately, be it the sleazy guy at the reception or his wife, who had tried to nick his wallet when she showed him his room. He should have stayed at the airport.
But it was too late for that now and he was forced to enjoy one more night in London. He sat down with his beer and a plate of fish and chips. He hoped at least the food was edible because after all the stress he had had today he felt like starving.
After he had tried a bite and deemed it okay, he took out his phone to check his messages. He had only told Combeferre and Courfeyrac about the problem and the two of them had basically just told him to calm down, get a room somewhere and enjoy one more night, where he didn’t have to stress himself over meetings.
Enjoy London.
Combeferre’s last text had read and Enjolras didn’t bother to respond. Enjoy, he wasn’t in the mood for it. He wanted to be at home with his friends where he could truly unwind. Just as he finished his food, his phone alerted him to a new message. It was Courfeyrac.
From: Courfeyrac:
You know, you could meet up with R.
And yeah, Enjolras had totally forgotten. Forgotten, suppressed, something like that.
Grantaire, formerly a misfit part of their group of friends, had left France behind two years ago. During their school years, all of them had been close, despite their differences.
Where Combeferre was logical, Jehan was poetic and still the two of them didn’t clash. No, they had been having hour-long discussions about aliens and ghosts. Their group had been simply perfect, complete and content with each other. It had made Enjolras feel safe and Grantaire had been a part of them. Where Enjolras was idealistic, Grantaire had always held him back. He had been a skeptic, the voice in the back of Enjolras’ head, that he apparently lacked otherwise. In the beginning, they had clashed, shouting at each other and only just not overstepping boundaries. But over time, Enjolras had learned to value Grantaire’s efforts. He had realized, that Grantaire made him rethink his actions and had saved him from his own stubbornness more than once.
When he had realized this, they had grown closer, spending time with each other, without starting discussions for the sake of discussion. And although he didn’t want to admit it, in some sense Grantaire had become closer to Enjolras than even Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Closer, because it had been different. Something about Grantaire had made Enjolras think of him all the time. Of course, Enjolras had noticed that he had been attracted to the other man, but there had been more.
There had been feelings. Feelings he had never told anybody about.
But after they had finished school Grantaire had studied performing arts and had been cast in a West End-show not long after his graduation. The goodbye had hurt all of them and Enjolras was pretty sure, that some of his friends were visiting London quite often.
He hadn’t.
He scrolled through his messages and found the one he had been looking for.
18 months old.
To Grantaire:
I can’t do this. I am sorry.
His finger hovered over the screen. If he had a voice at the back of his head, it would tell him to let it be, to not hurt himself all over again. But Enjolras didn’t have this voice anymore because this voice that packed his bags and left long ago.
So he started typing.
To Grantaire:
I’m in a terrible pub in London. Any suggestions where to go?
Maybe Grantaire wouldn’t even answer. Maybe he had changed his number. Maybe…
His phone informed him of a new message.
Grantaire.
It was nothing more than an address.
Without thinking twice Enjolras downed the rest of his beer and hurried out the door. He walked under all those blinking Christmas decorations through the streets, passing different theaters on his way to Leicester Square. Despite the shitty weather people were still hanging around the plaza. But he didn’t spare them a glance. Google maps informed him, that his destination wasn’t this far away so he decided to walk instead of taking the bus or subway.
When he reached this pub ten minutes later, it instantly looked much more welcoming. He walked through the door and let his gaze wander over the people. No Grantaire wasn’t here, this small flicker of hope died out within the split of a second.
Sighing, he walked over to the barkeeper ordering another pint and sitting down again. From his place, at the window, he didn’t see the door but had an actually good view of what was happening in front of the pub. A stag night was taking place in the pub on the other side of the street.
He watched them as they made asses of themselves, laughing brightly.
To Grantaire:
Thank you.
After he had sent the message, he put the phone back into his pocket. He didn’t feel like reading up something or keeping up with the news for once. Instead, he kept watching the people around him, letting a strange feeling of nostalgia wash over him.
The problem was, there had never been anything between him and Grantaire. At least nothing they had ever addressed. What should they have done? Back then they had been younger, bright-eyed students.
Both of them had had big dreams and Enjolras had never felt shy to admit he didn’t want feelings to get in his way.
But Grantaire.
Having feelings for him had never been a distraction, because, after all those years, Enjolras had been content. So content he hadn’t really noticed until it had been too late.
And when Grantaire had gone away, he had crashed, throwing himself into his work even more than before. But it had never felt the same. And then 18 months ago he had made the decision to end this because keeping in touch with Grantaire, when he was so far away, too far away for Enjolras to reach him, had hurt.
If he was true to himself, it still hurt anyway.
Time flew by and Enjolras wasn’t sure, how long he had been sitting in the pub, looking out the window, when he felt somebody coming closer. The person stopped a few steps away from him and Enjolras turned around, ready to be disappointed. Ready for it to be just in his imagination.
But it wasn’t. In front of him stood Grantaire.
The same smile, the same unruly curls under the same ratty beanie he had been wearing at university.
“I didn’t believe you would follow my advice.”, he said cautiously as if he wasn’t sure how Enjolras would react to him being here.
“I always did. And I guessed you would be rather well-versed when it came to the pubs.” He tried a smile, but it came out trembling. Before he could second-guess himself, Enjolras gestured for Grantaire to sit down.
“So, how has London been treating you?”
“Fine, I am quite glad to hear somebody talking French though.”, he said with a wink before he told Enjolras the stories of his various jobs, that he had had during the last months. Apparently, life had been treating him well.
And just like that, they fell into a conversation much like the ones they had had in the past. It wasn’t always friendly, no. After ten minutes they were already arguing about EU-laws and they even brought up their old and never-ending argument up, if presidential or parliamentary systems were better. But it never went too far, they had learned their boundaries long ago and never crossed them.
Last call interrupted their conversation and Grantaire shrugged with a sad smile. “I guess I’ll go. It was seeing you again.”
Enjolras wanted to tell him to not go, he wanted to hold him and never let him go again. But he didn’t and so he watched Grantaire go, watched him walk out of his life once more.
And he knew, tomorrow it would be over. Again. They would go back to no contact, to not mentioning each other’s names and still thinking about them whenever they felt alone.
Enjolras couldn’t go on like this. He saw Grantaire disappear behind the next street corner. And for once, he knew he did the right thing as he started running after him.
“Grantaire! Shit, I am sorry.”, he had bumped into an elderly lady, who gave him a disapproving look.
Enjolras really couldn’t be bothered right now.
“Grantaire”, he tried again. “Please wait.”
And he did. Slowly Grantaire turned around, his smile was now strained and Enjolras could look directly through it. He was unhappy.
“Grantaire.”, he panted and took a deep breath, coming to a halt in front of the other man.
“I… I am sorry. Sorry for everything, I shouldn’t have stopped talking to you. But the truth is, it had been a stupid act of self-defense, which in the end hurt me even more. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being away, so I shut you out on my own, which made no sense. But I am done with that shit, I once more noticed how much I love having you in my life. And what I am trying to say is… Will you go on a date with me?”
Over the course of his words, Grantaire’s expression had changed from confused, to hurt, to understanding.
In the end, he had a small smile on his lips. He stepped closer to Enjolras, taking his hand squeezing it lightly.
“I was afraid you would never ask. I have had feelings for you, for years, but you always insisted on not letting feelings get in your way.”
“You're not getting in the way. You make me better, you always have.”