Chapter Text
Welcome back to the social experiment that's set out to prove, once and for all, that Love is Blind.
This season will be a little different. Our contestants are all LGBTQ+ men, and so unlike in seasons past, they won't be able to compare notes – or see who anyone else is forming a connection with.
But they're all here for the same reason – because they think the dating world nowadays has become superficial, and they want to be loved for who they truly are.
Over the next ten days, these guys are going to finally have the chance to fall in love based solely on who they are on the inside, not because of their looks, their race, their backgrounds, or their incomes.
There will be no devices and zero distractions. The only time they will be able to interact are in the private pods. They'll be separated by one thin wall, and won't ever get to see each other.
All decisions are theirs. Each guy will get to choose who he wants to spend time with, and when he picks the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he'll propose. And if the other gentleman accepts, they will each see their fiancé for the very first time.
After the pods, the engaged couples will head to Mexico to spend a week getting to know each other outside the pods. Then they’ll move into an apartment together back in the real world for the final step of their relationship.
And four weeks later, they will be at their wedding, where they'll have to make the most important decision of their lives: will they say 'I do' to the person they fell in love with right here, sight unseen? Or will the real world sabotage that love and will they walk away from that person, forever?
Is love truly blind? We're about to find out.
Enjolras sat down in front of the camera, and the producer just off-screen gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing to it,” the producer promised. “Just introduce yourself and tell everyone why you’re here.”
Enjolras jerked a nod before looking into the camera. “My name is Enjolras,” he said. “I’m 31 years old, and I’m here because this is the first season that this show has been open to queer contestants.”
The producer looked momentarily exasperated, though he hid it well. “But why specifically this show?” he pressed.
“Honestly?” Enjolras asked, running a hand though his blond curls. “Mostly because I wanted to try to push back against a lot of superficiality found in the queer community. You see it a lot, especially from white cis gay men: no fats, no femmes, no Asians, what have you. And I want to prove that there is and should be more than that in queer relationships.”
The producer cleared his throat. “So do you believe Love is Blind?” he prompted.
Enjolras gave the camera a smile. “Well,” he said. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
Grantaire needed no prompting in his first turn in front of the camera. “Grantaire,” he said, flashing a grin at the camera. “34, queer, mostly here for the beer.”
He raised the beer he was holding in a toast. The producer smiled at him. “What do you normally look for in a partner?”
“Given everything, I’m not supposed to say looks, right?” Grantaire asked with a wink. “Honestly, I think it’s not just one thing. I think it’s something where you know it when you see it.” He paused. “Metaphorically speaking.”
The producer laughed. “So, Grantaire, do you believe Love is Blind?”
Grantaire’s smile turned a little rueful. “In my case?” he said, gesturing at his face. “I’d better hope it is.”
It really was quite surreal, Enjolras thought, the first time he entered the pod. The hexagonal room was a muted gray color, with soundproofing material hanging on the walls.
The only indication of the room’s purpose was the opaque glass hanging in front of the couch, the sole connection to the pod connected to it and the person who would be on the other side.
Enjolras sat down on the couch and flipped his notebook open, poised to take notes. Then he hesitated before calling, “Hello?”
For a moment, there was no reply, and Enjolras felt stupid. But then, through a small speaker, he heard someone clear his throat. “Um, hi.” Then the voice groaned. “That was stupid. Can I try again?”
Despite himself, Enjolras smiled. “What, you want to try a line on me?” he asked.
The voice laughed. “Something like that, anyway,” he said. “I’m Grantaire, by the way.”
“Enjolras,” Enjolras replied, writing Grantaire’s name in his notebook. “Very nice to meet you – so to speak.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” Grantaire said, before asking, almost deliberately casual, “So are you a top, a bottom, or vers?”
Enjolras arched an eyebrow, even though he knew Grantaire couldn’t see him. “Excuse me?” he asked, a little coldly.
“Did you need me to repeat the question?”
Enjolras scowled, scribbling the word ‘asshole’ in his notebook and underlining it twice. “No, I’m just a little baffled that you have one chance to make a first impression and that’s what you chose.”
Grantaire didn’t seem at all put off by Enjolras’s tone. “Technically, my first impression was saying ‘um, hi’, like an idiot, so I really figure I can only go up from there. Besides, I figured I’d get the important question out of the way first.”
“And preferred sexual position is the important question to you?”
He could almost hear Grantaire shrug. “To make sure we’re sexually compatible, sure. Why, what’s your important question?”
Enjolras shook his head as he jotted down ‘very sex-focused’. “Well, I was going to start with something like, where are you from, but—”
“I didn’t ask what your first question was going to be,” Grantaire interrupted. “I asked what your important question was.”
Enjolras added a third underline to the word ‘asshole’. “Fine,” he said sourly. “Who did you vote for in the 2018 election?”
Grantaire paused. “2018?”
“Yes.”
“Not 2016 or 2020?”
Grantaire sounded more intrigued than confused, and Enjolras nodded. “Correct.”
There was another pause. “Are you trying to gauge my level of civic engagement?”
“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked.
“I mean, 2016 and 2020 were presidential elections,” Grantaire reasoned. “And pretty fucking important ones at that. But voter turnout drops dramatically for midterm elections. Since you’re asking about the midterms, my assumption is that you want to see how much I care about politics.”
A slow smile spread across Enjolras’s face, and he grudgingly added ‘Not stupid’ to his notebook. “Very perceptive of you.”
“Well, joke’s on you because my state holds its gubernatorial election in the midterms, which adds some reasoning to vote, whether I care about politics or not,” Grantaire said. “And to answer the question you were going to ask, I’m from Chicago.”
Enjolras nodded. “So I’ll assume you voted for Pritzker?”
“You can assume whatever you’d like,” Grantaire said. “Last time I checked, we had a secret ballot in this country for a reason.”
Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “You really aren’t going to tell me?”
“Not so much, no.”
“Why?”
There was something almost casually smug in Grantaire’s voice as he replied, “Probably for the same reason you didn’t answer my question about sexual position preference.”
Almost as if he knew how infuriating of a non-answer that was. Enjolras scowled before returning, “And what reason do you think that is?”
“To leave us something to talk about next time.”
This time there was no mistaking the smugness in Grantaire’s voice, and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”
Grantaire laughed. “My charming conversational skills, of course.”
“You have a healthy opinion of yourself,” Enjolras said sourly.
“Maybe,” Grantaire said easily. “Or maybe I think you enjoy being challenged. And God knows I am nothing if not a challenge.”
Enjolras was beginning to think the same thing, and he wrote ‘challenge’ down in his notebook and put a star next to it before remarking, “That almost sounds like a threat.”
Again Grantaire laughed. “It’s not. It’s a guarantee.”
That was as good a spot as any to leave the conversation, but despite his best efforts to the contrary, Enjolras found his curiosity piqued, and his pen paused on the page where he was scribbling his final thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
“That is somewhat the point of this,” Grantaire said, sounding amused.
“Why’d you come on this show?”
The pause the followed the question was just a moment too long, and Grantaire’s breezy attempt at an answer came off as anything but. “Isn’t it obvious? To find the man of my dreams.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Be serious.”
“As you have yet to learn about me, I am wild,” Grantaire said, more convincingly that time. “But also, that’s leveled up backstory, and we’re not there yet.”
Enjolras couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “All the more reason for us to do this again, I guess.”
“See,” Grantaire said, the smugness back in his voice, “now you’re getting it.”
Of course, there were 22 other guys for Enjolras to meet, and as he bid Grantaire goodbye, he stubbornly told himself that it was very likely that this would be the only conversation he and Grantaire would ever have. No matter what Grantaire might say to the contrary.
He didn’t even make it 24 hours.
“Fancy hearing you here again,” Grantaire said from across the wall, unbearably smug, and Enjolras hated how he immediately smiled at the sound of Grantaire’s voice.
“I’m as surprised as you that I came back,” he said dryly.
Grantaire chuckled. “Do I sound surprised to you?” he asked.
Enjolras debated writing ‘arrogant bastard’ in his notebook, but decided against it. “You were that sure of yourself?” he asked instead, curious if Grantaire would brag or brush it off.
“No,” Grantaire said, evidently aiming more towards the latter. “But I figured no one else would piss you off as much as I did.”
Well, that certainly was the truth. “And you thought that would make me come back?” Enjolras asked.
“I had a feeling it would,” Grantaire said, smug again. “And besides, was I wrong?”
Enjolras scowled. “How about we change the subject?”
Grantaire chuckled lightly. “Whatever you say.”
As much as Enjolras hated to admit it, Grantaire had a point. No one else that he had spoken to had gotten under his skin quite like Grantaire had, and he hated to admit even more that it did make him want to talk to Grantaire again.
Of course, maybe that was what he had been missing in any previous attempts at relationships, he reasoned as he sat down again in the pod, waiting for Grantaire. Sure, he argued with his two best friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, all the time, but it was never like this. With Combeferre it was always academic; with Courfeyrac, always about some pop culture related nonsense.
With Grantaire, it ran the gamut; Grantaire, it seemed, had opinions about anything and everything, some of which aligned with Enjolras – especially, thankfully, on the important topics, like systemic racism, abortion access, public education, and which Star Wars movie was best – some of which brought up points that Enjolras had frankly not considered, and a great many of which Enjolras had a feeling were contrary for the sake of being contrary.
He couldn’t decide which he enjoyed more.
But it was also why he stopped mid-sentence during their fourth or fifth time talking, as he realized with no small amount of annoyance that Grantaire had stopped contradicting him, and had in fact reverted to nothing more than the occasional, vague “Uh-huh” or “Sure”.
“Are you even listening to me?” Enjolras asked finally, his brow furrowed.
“No,” Grantaire answered honestly.
Enjolras scowled. “Dare I ask what you’re doing over there that’s more important than the one thing we’re supposed to be here to do?”
“Well, I was listening to you,” Grantaire said. “But I’ll admit I wasn’t paying full attention.”
“So what else has your attention over there?” Enjolras asked, exasperated.
“I’m sketching you.”
Enjolras blinked. “You’re – what?”
“Sketching you,” Grantaire repeated, in what he clearly thought was a helpful way.
Enjolras stared blankly at the wall separating them. “But you can’t see me,” he said stupidly.
Grantaire didn’t seem remotely concerned by that. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I can tell just by the way you talk how you would wear your indignation. And besides, I have a decent imagination.”
Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Have you been sketching everyone you’ve talked to?” he asked. “Or am I the only one?”
“Hell of a way to ask if we’re exclusive,” Grantaire said with a chuckle. “But no, not everyone. Only ones who’ve given me a good sense of who they are through our conversation.”
Though Enjolras nodded like he understood, he didn’t, not fully. But what he did know was this: “I want you to show me what you’re drawing,” he told Grantaire.
“Really?” Grantaire said, sounding almost startled. “Why?”
Enjolras shrugged. “Because I want to see what listening to me talk made you picture,” he said. “Especially to see how it compares to the reality.”
Grantaire made a noncommittal noise. “I mean, you already told me the basics,” he muttered dismissively. “Blond hair, blue eyes…”
He trailed off and Enjolras shrugged again. “Still.”
Grantaire cleared his throat. “Well unfortunately for both of us, there’s only one way you’ll ever get to see it, and that’s if one of us proposes and the other accepts.”
Enjolras nodded. “That is true,” he said, before hesitating. They had already talked about so much in their short time getting to know each other, but the thing about this tv show was that it was on a rapidly accelerated timeline, and there was one topic they’d talked around without ever actually broaching it. And while Enjolras wasn’t ready to say that he wanted to marry Grantaire – hell, he wasn’t even convinced he wanted to be friends with Grantaire – if they were ever going to get to that point, they had to have this conversation. “So let’s talk about it.”
“Talk about what?” Grantaire asked, sounding confused.
Enjolras felt himself blush, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts, as if he had misjudged whether they were ready to broach this topic. “Proposing,” he said, stubbornly charging forward. “Or marriage. Or both.” Silence met this statement and Enjolras winced, biting his lip before blurting, “Are you still there?”
“I’m here, I just…” Grantaire trailed off, his voice faint. “I seem to have temporarily lost the ability to speak.”
“Hilarious,” Enjolras said dryly.
Grantaire snorted. “I mean, I like to think I am. But it seems like I’ve got nothing on you.”
Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Is the idea so ridiculous?” he asked.
“Us getting married?”
“I mean, isn’t that why we’re both here?” Enjolras asked pointedly. “On this show? To find the man of our dreams, to quote your asinine statement?”
Grantaire paused. “Sure, yes, of course, but…”
He trailed off, and Enjolras frowned. “But what?”
“But we’ve known each other for, like, three days, and don’t get me wrong, I’ve been at my most charming on all three of those days, but—”
Enjolras was getting pretty tired of hearing that word. “But what?” he repeated, his voice tight. “But you don’t think we should even talk about it?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“Because if you don’t think that’s even an option or a possibility, then tell me now and I can stop wasting my time.”
“I didn’t say that either,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “But as much as I want that to be a potential option or possibility, I can’t help but think that it would be better for both of us if it wasn’t.”
Enjolras felt stunned. “Why would you even say that?” he asked.
“Because you don’t know me!” Grantaire snapped. “And because once you did…”
He trailed off, and Enjolras finally understood what he was saying. “Once I did, I wouldn’t want to marry you?” he said softly.
Grantaire barked a dry laugh. “Well, at the very least, everyone who does know me doesn’t want to marry me, so…not exactly a stellar track record to run on here.”
Enjolras nodded slowly. “What do you think I don’t know about you that would make me not want to marry you?”
“How much time do you have?” Grantaire asked dryly.
Enjolras half-smiled. “Technically six days, I think.”
For a moment, Grantaire was silent. Then he laughed again, this time a real laugh. “I was about to say, be serious,” he confessed.
Enjolras managed a light laugh as well. “Which I’m pretty sure is my line,” he said, before adding, “Besides which, I was being serious.”
“I know,” Grantaire said heavily. “And that’s what makes this so fucking hard. Because you are being serious and you really want to know and I…”
He trailed off. “Did you kill someone?” Enjolras asked.
“What?”
Enjolras shrugged. “I just figured I’d start with the worst and work my way backwards.”
Grantaire sounded exasperated as he replied, “No, I didn’t kill anyone, but—”
“Manslaughter, then?” Enjolras suggested. “Or attempted homicide?”
“How about attempted suicide?” Grantaire’s voice was unusually harsh, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, not quite finding anything to say in response to that. “I’ll take it from your silence that this was not how you expected the conversation to go.”
It wasn’t, but Enjolras could certainly see why Grantaire had been reluctant when it came to this conversation. “Truthfully, I didn’t really have any expectations,” he said, hesitating before asking, “Can I ask you about it?”
“What do you want to know?” Grantaire asked.
“Mostly, how are you doing now?”
It was really the only question that mattered. Not that Enjolras didn’t want to know more, if not the gruesome details then at least the circumstances surrounding it, but what mattered to him most in that moment was knowing that Grantaire was ok, or as ok as he could be.
He wanted to know that Grantaire was safe.
He needed to know that Grantaire was safe.
“I’m better,” Grantaire told him. “It’s always so strange thinking back on it – like obviously we’re both a little too old to have lived with the ‘it gets better’ message prevalence when we were growing up, but it’s still something you heard. And better is one of those things that I don’t think you realize you’re in until someone asks. Because what does better really look like, y’know? Better relative to what?”
He paused to take a breath and Enjolras cleared his throat. “As much as you know I’d love to listen to you wax philosophical about this all day—”
Grantaire laughed lightly. “You would also like some concrete answers?”
“Well, as concrete as you can give me, at least.”
Grantaire was silent for a moment before sighing. “It’s really not that interesting of a story,” he said. “I was depressed, I was treating my depression with illegal drugs and alcohol, which didn’t help as much as I pretended they did, and eventually it got to a point where I didn’t see a way out.” He let out a dry noise that may have been an attempt at a laugh. “One hospital stay under 72 hour psychiatric hold later and suddenly things didn’t seem so bleak.”
Enjolras made a face. “Just like that?” he asked skeptically.
Grantaire laughed, though there was no real humor in the sound. “I wish. But no, there was a lot of therapy involved and some legally prescribed drugs, both of which continue to this day. And I haven’t tried since.”
Enjolras nodded slowly, though he knew Grantaire couldn’t see him. “You don’t have to answer this, but have you felt like you wanted to try since?”
Grantaire hesitated. “I know you want me to say no—”
“I don’t want you to say anything but the truth,” Enjolras said honestly.
“Then truthfully, yeah, there’ve been times,” Grantaire said quietly. “But I know how to identify when I’m slipping into one of those dark periods, and I know to make an appointment with my therapist and my psychiatrist. I can’t always stop myself from going there, but I’ve at least learned how to get myself out.”
Enjolras’s chest felt tight, and it took a moment for him to speak. “Well,” he said finally, “I’m really, really glad that you have.”
“So am I,” Grantaire said softly.
“I fucking hate this wall, by the way,” Enjolras said, his voice low.
“Why?”
“Because I would really like to give you a hug right now.”
Grantaire laughed, an abrupt, bright sound that seemed to break the pall of the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like that as well.”
“Is this why you came on the show?” Enjolras asked.
Grantaire paused. “What do you mean?”
Enjolras flipped his notebook open, verifying he’d written it down correctly. “During our first meeting, I asked why you came on the show and you said that was leveled-up backstory.”
“Oh, that.” Grantaire laughed. “Good memory.”
“I took notes.”
“You took notes?” Grantaire repeated. “Fucking nerd. Anyway, yes, I did say that, but I still don’t think we’re there yet.”
Enjolras scowled at the wall. “Really? The reason behind why you came on this show is more closely-guarded secret than your suicide attempt?”
“Yep,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Because—”
“We need something to talk about next time?” Enjolras finished with a sigh.
Grantaire’s smugness was back as he told Enjolras, “Exactly.”
“Fine,” Enjolras said, before adding, deliberately casual, “Don’t think I didn’t notice, by the way.”
“Didn’t notice what?”
“That we never actually talked about it.” Grantaire was silent, and Enjolras added, “Proposing, or marriage.” He allowed himself a moment of brief victory before telling Grantaire, “Well, something more to talk about next time.”
Grantaire laughed lightly. “Well,” he said, “I guess that’s something else to look forward to.”
“Hey boo,” Grantaire said as Enjolras settled in on the couch.
“Boo?” Enjolras repeated with a laugh. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“I’m just trying out nicknames,” Grantaire told him. “I’m not big on, like, babe or baby, and I didn’t think you would be either, so I want to find something else.”
Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “And my name isn’t good enough?”
“Your name is a bit of a mouthful,” Grantaire said. “The point of a nickname is to be something short and sweet.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “My name is three syllables. I’m pretty sure you can handle that.”
Even though he couldn’t see him, he was eighty-five percent sure Grantaire stuck his tongue out at the wall before telling him, “Fine, I’ll stick with calling you asshole, how about that?”
“See, now, that’s going to be confusing because what am I going to call you then?” Enjolras asked innocently.
Grantaire laughed. “Do you think this is the kind of romantic talk the producers had in mind for the show?”
“Honestly, if any of this makes it to air, I’ll be extremely impressed,” Enjolras informed him before clearing his throat. “Not to completely change subjects, but can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Enjolras opened his notebook, even though he wasn’t necessarily expecting to add anything. “When we first met,you said that the most important question to you was about sexual compatability. And yet this entire time we haven’t really talked about sex at all.”
Grantaire was silent for a moment before saying, “I’m not hearing a question in there.”
“Why’d you ask that question, when obviously sex isn’t actually the most important thing to you?” Enjolras asked.
“Who said it’s not?”
“The fact that it hasn’t come up since, mostly.”
Again, Grantaire was silent for a long moment. “I mean, sex is important to me,” he said finally, which wasn’t even remotely an answer to Enjolras’s question.
“Sure,” Enjolras said noncommittally.
“But I guess mostly it’s just what I’m used to talking about,” Grantaire said finally, which was at least hinting more towards an actual answer.
“What do you mean?”
Grantaire cleared his throat. “Like, y’know, when I meet guys or when I’ve dated in the past. It’s pretty much only ever been about sex,” he muttered.
Enjolras nodded slowly. “And that’s not what you’re looking for anymore?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it was,” Grantaire said.
Enjolras made a face. “Well, yeah, I get that the point of the show—”
“No, I don’t just mean I wouldn’t be on this show,” Grantaire interrupted, his voice low. “I mean, I wouldn’t still be here, talking to you. I knew from our first conversation that you’re not a one-and-done, hit-it-and-quit-it kind of guy. So if all I was looking for was a good time, you wouldn’t be the person I’d be spending my time with.”
His answer may have been blunt, but it was also one of the nicest things Grantaire had said to him thus far. “So then why are you spending your time with me?”
“I think you know why,” Grantaire told him.
Enjolras shrugged. “Maybe I do, but I’d like to hear you say it.”
Grantaire snorted. “You just don’t want to be the first one to say it,” he said, a note of accusation in his voice.
Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his smile. “Oh, you think I’m here talking to you for the same reason?”
“Why else would you still be putting up with me?” Grantaire pointed out.
“Fair enough.”
Grantaire paused before suggesting, a little slyly, “What if we say it at the same time?”
It was a cliché if ever Enjolras had heard one, but he figured at this point, he owed it to Grantaire to go out on this limb with him. “Sure.”
“Count of three?”
“On three, or after three?” Enjolras asked, mostly teasing.
He deserved the eye roll he could hear in Grantaire’s answer. “After three.”
“Ok.”
Grantaire counted slowly, “1…2…3…”
Enjolras confessed, “I think I’m falling for you,” at the exact same moment Grantaire blurted, “I think I might be in love with you.”
They were both silent for a moment before laughing, and Enjolras found he couldn’t control his smile. “Wow,” Grantaire said finally, and from the sound of his voice, he was grinning as well.
“Yeah,” Enjolras said, like an idiot.
“I thought that only worked in the movies.”
Enjolras laughed lightly. “Evidently not.”
Again they fell silent, and again they both dissolved into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. “So, uh, I hate to ask because it seems so fucking juvenile after everything we’ve talked about,” Grantaire said, “but, um, are you, uh, hanging out with anyone else? In the pods, I mean?”
Enjolras shook his head. “No. Not really.” He hesitated before asking, “Are you?”
“Not really,” Grantaire said, echoing Enjolras’s words back to him. “It’s kind of always been you.”
“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “I know what you mean.” He cleared his throat. “So does that mean we should finally talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Proposing,” Enjolras said patiently. “And whether we want to be standing in front of a justice of the peace in four weeks ready to marry each other.”
“Ah,” Grantaire said, a little weakly. “That.”
Enjolras waited for Grantaire to elaborate, and when he didn’t, he prodded, “What are you thinking?”
“Honestly?” Grantaire asked. “I’m thinking that if it was going to be anyone that I’ve talked to here, it would be you.”
Enjolras’s grin returned in full force. “I feel the same way.”
“But,” Grantaire started, and Enjolras’s smile faded, just a little, “even if you’re the only person I would pick, there is still the other option, which is not picking anyone.”
Enjolras’s smile disappeared completely. “And you’d rather not pick anyone?” he asked carefully.
Grantaire sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Truthfully, the idea of picking you, of meeting you face to face as not just a guy that I’ve grown to care for but as my fiancé – it scares me.”
Enjolras could certainly understand that, even if it made his heart sink in his chest. “What are you scared of most?” he asked.
“That you won’t be attracted to me when you see me,” Grantaire said honestly. “I know the entire point of this is to not focus on appearances, but…”
He trailed off, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, wondering for the not the first time who had hurt Grantaire in the past to make him doubt himself. If he ever met that person, he couldn’t guarantee what he would do, but he could guarantee it wouldn’t be pretty. “I promise you, that won’t happen,” he said, his voice low.
“You can’t make that promise,” Grantaire told him. “Attraction isn’t something you control.”
“Maybe not, but I—” Enjolras broke off, not wanting to over-promise, or say something stupid. But then again, in this realm specifically, he owed Grantaire some honesty. “I want you already,” he said, feeling himself blush, “and I don’t think there’s any way you can look that will change that.”
Grantaire was silent for a moment before managing a weak laugh. “Well, you are the optimist among us.”
Enjolras half-smiled. “That is true.”
“Is there anything you’re afraid of?” Grantaire asked.
Enjolras shook his head. “I’m not afraid of anything in meeting you.”
“But you are afraid of something.”
Grantaire said it without any question in his tone, and for not the first time, Enjolras wondered how Grantaire knew him so well after so little time. As nice as it was, it also meant there wasn’t any room for him to deny it. “I’m afraid I won’t be everything you deserve,” he said instead, with total honesty.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Grantaire said, as if the very notion was ridiculous.
Enjolras scowled. “That’s because you have a somewhat low opinion of what you deserve.”
“Harsh, but fair.”
Enjolras wet his lips before continuing, “You have only ever known the version of me here, and truthfully, there’s a reason why I’m here. The blind aspect was only one reason why I wanted to do this show.” He paused, trying to figure out how best to word what he needed to say. “I have not always been really good about prioritizing romantic partners, and this seemed like the best way to force myself to take the time to connect with someone on this level without any kind of distraction.”
Grantaire was quiet for a moment before asking, “And you’re afraid that once we’re back in the real world, you’ll go right back to being distracted and prioritizing other things?”
Enjolras jerked a shrug. “Pretty much, yeah. And you deserve someone who will put you first.”
He had no doubt in his mind that Grantaire did deserve all that and so much more, much more than he thought he could give him, which was why he was taken aback when Grantaire laughed lightly. “Maybe. But I think you are missing one important piece.”
“And what’s that?”
“I can be super fucking annoying when I want to be,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “And if I want your attention, I’m gonna find a way to get it.”
Even though Enjolras knew Grantaire well enough to know he meant it, he still hesitated. “I mean, yeah, you can be, but you shouldn’t have to work for it.”
“Why not?” Grantaire asked, a challenge in his voice. “And if you even think about saying it’s because I deserve to not have to, I will come over there and I will smack you.”
The corners of Enjolras’s mouth twitched towards a smile. “Then I won’t say anything.”
Grantaire laughed again, but a gentler laugh this time. “Look, whether or not love is blind, love is work,” he said, honesty clear in his voice. “And if that means that I have to put in some work to make sure I’m getting everything I need out of this, then so be it. Because I know that you’re also going to put in work because misguided or otherwise, you believe that I deserve that much.”
“Yeah, you do,” Enjolras agreed quietly.
“So then the only question that I have is whether you’re afraid of putting in a little work.”
There were a number of things that Enjolras wanted to say to that, but he figured they could table this conversation for later. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that.”
“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
For the first time since arriving at the pods, Enjolras felt nervous, though he wasn’t sure why. He and Grantaire had worked through some really good and important conversations and had come out the other side with a better understanding of each other. For the first time, Enjolras felt like he really knew where they both stood.
Of course, maybe that was why he was nervous: he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And as if he had read Enjolras’s mind and was trying to put him at ease, Grantaire opened the conversation with a casual, “How’s it hanging, Apollo?”
Enjolras rolled his eyes, already smiling. “I can’t decide which part of that sentence I hate more,” he informed Grantaire dryly.
“What’s wrong with Apollo?” Grantaire asked innocently, though Enjolras could tell that he was smirking. “It seemed like a good nickname to me.”
“I’m not even dignifying that with an actual answer.”
Grantaire laughed before suddenly turning serious. “Speaking of actual answers—”
“Hell of a segue,” Enjolras said, still grinning.
“—I think it’s about time we circled back to the one outstanding question you have.”
“What do you—” Enjolras broke off, realizing what he meant, and he rolled his again with obvious affection. “Oh, have I finally leveled up enough to unlock that backstory?”
“Yeah, I think you have.”
Something in Grantaire’s voice caused Enjolras to pause, his heart beating faster in his chest. “Grantaire—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Why did you come on this show?”
When Grantaire spoke again, his tone was entirely serious, and just a little nervous, enough to get butterflies fluttering in Enjolras’s stomach. “If you had forced me to give you a real answer before, I would have told you, honestly, that I came on this show for the free alcohol and a potential free trip to Mexico. Because truthfully, I wasn’t expecting anything, and I’m not a person who’s used to hoping. It’s just not in my nature.”
Enjolras normally would’ve interrupted here, urging Grantaire to get to the point, but that day, he couldn’t bring himself to. Some part of him knew that Grantaire needed to get there in his own time, and while no one would have described Enjolras as patient, for once, he was willing to wait.
“But what I wouldn’t have told you is that despite my best efforts, there was a tiny part of me who came on this show because I have never had that fairytale romance, head-over-heels feeling for someone, and because I assumed that it’s because I’m not conventionally attractive, and a bit of a mess. I’m just not leading man material, you know?” Enjolras’s heart twisted at that statement, and he wished again that there was no wall between them. “I always felt like I was made to play the sidekick to someone else’s love story, and I was fine with that. So I came on this show because I figured this was kind of my last chance to find what I was pretty sure didn’t really exist, at least not for me. And as luck would fucking have it, I did.”
Even if Enjolras had wanted to say something at this point, he couldn’t, his throat too tight to let words through. Not that it mattered, since Grantaire didn’t wait for him before continuing, “I know we have a lot to still work through and figure out but I also know without a doubt that there is only one person I want by my side as we do, and that’s you. So Enjolras, will you marry me?”
He had never been so sure of an answer in his life, and it was without any hesitation that he answered, “Yes.”
“Wait, seriously?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras barked a laugh.
“You thought I was going to say no?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at the wall.
Grantaire sounded a little shell shocked as he replied, “No, but I figured I may have to do some cajoling or something.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “Well, you don’t,” he said firmly. “Because yes, Grantaire, I will marry you.”
“Oh my God,” Grantaire said slowly, and Enjolras grinned when he heard the smile in Grantaire’s voice. “We’re actually engaged?”
“We’re actually engaged.”
“Holy shit,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras laughed again. “Oh my God, my face hurts from how much I’m smiling right now.”
Enjolras laughed once more before asking, “You know what this means, right?”
“I finally get to see you,” Grantaire said, clearly relishing the idea.
Enjolras nodded. “And I finally get to see if your drawing of me was even remotely accurate.”
Grantaire laughed. “Because that’s the most important thing right now.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got the rest of our lives for the other stuff.”
“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “Yeah, we do.”
This time, Enjolras knew exactly why he was nervous, but it was a good kind of nervous, more like anticipation than anything. In just a few seconds, the doors would open and he would see Grantaire for the first time.
He had tried multiple times to write a little speech for the moment, because he felt like it deserved a speech, but words had failed him. He could only hope that when he saw Grantaire, he would know exactly what to say.
He smoothed a hand down the front of the navy blue fitted suit the show’s production team had given him to wear, wondering for just a moment if he would be everything Grantaire had pictured, right down to the red pocket square.
But then the doors opened, and he had no time left to wonder.
He spotted Grantaire instantly, which was perhaps a dumb realization, since there was only one other person standing across the way, but Enjolras felt like he would have known it was Grantaire even in a crowd. Even if he had never seen the man before, he felt like he recognized the dark, tousled curls, the stubble across his cheeks, the crooked nose, and the nervous half-smile the other man wore.
As much as he could have spent several minutes just drinking him in, he had far more important things to do, so he crossed the room in long strides, meeting Grantaire in the middle. For one long moment, they both just looked at each other. Then Enjolras grinned, and said, “Um, hi.”
Grantaire laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did, and seeing him laugh in person took Enjolras’s breath away. “Shut up,” he said, and Enjolras did, reaching out to pull him into a wordless embrace.
They stayed like that for a long moment, Enjolras holding onto Grantaire with everything he had. Then he released the back of Grantaire’s jacket so that he could cup his cheek, smoothing his thumb across his cheekbone. Grantaire’s eyes were the color of a summer thunderstorm, and Enjolras didn’t think he would ever get tired of looking into them.
“Can I kiss you?” Grantaire whispered, his lips already so close to Enjolras’s that he could feel his breath ghosting over his lips.
Enjolras responded the only way he could think of: closing the space between them and pressing his lips against Grantaire’s.
Grantaire’s mouth opened against his with a sigh, and Enjolras was pretty certain that this must be what Heaven tasted like. It had never felt like this before. So immediately familiar, so immediately perfect. Like they’d been doing this for their entire lives, and still would for a lifetime still to come.
Kissing Grantaire felt like coming home.
When they finally broke apart, both men were grinning, and Grantaire reached down to tangle his fingers with Enjolras’s, raising his hand to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m so glad it’s you,” he said.
“I know what you mean,” Enjolras said, taking a deep breath before using his free hand to dig the small, gray box he’d brought with him out of his pocket. “And now I have one more question to ask.”
Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we already do this part?” he asked, his tone teasing.
“Yes,” Enjolras said. “But you got to ask it before, and I wanted to be the one to ask now.” He squeezed Grantaire’s hand before getting down onto one knee, looking up at him. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Grantaire, will you marry me?”
Grantaire didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course.”
Enjolras grinned as he took the ring from the ring box and slid it onto Grantaire’s finger. Then Grantaire tugged him to his feet, kissing him so fiercely that Enjolras dropped the ring box and didn’t even notice it.
This time, when they broke apart, neither moved very far, neither seeming to want to break the moment. But then Enjolras leaned in, kissing Grantaire’s cheek before asking, “Where’s my picture?”
Grantaire laughed breathily, turning his head to capture Enjolras’s lips with his own for a moment before fumbling in the inside pocket of his suit coat. “Here, you nerd.”
“Your nerd,” Enjolras corrected as he unfolded the piece of paper clearly torn out of Grantaire’s notebook. He looked at it critically. On the one hand, it didn’t look much like him, a little too round where Enjolras was more angular, but on the other hand, he felt like Grantaire did smooth his sharp edges, and that was captured. “I like it,” he said finally. “Very abstract.”
“Do you think it looks like you?” Grantaire asked, his lips twitching like he already knew the answer.
“I think it captures my essence,” Enjolras said loyally.
Grantaire laughed in a way that told Enjolras he knew he was full of shit. “Well, the good news is, we have plenty of time for me to draw a much more accurate picture of you.”
“Very true,” Enjolras said, leaning in to kiss him once more. “You can draw me like one of your French girls.”
Grantaire’s eyes darkened. “That is true,” he murmured. “You know what I’m most looking forward to in Mexico?”
“Free drinks?”
Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Besides that.”
“What?”
“Getting an answer to my first question.” Enjolras’s brow furrowed and Grantaire grinned. “Top, bottom, or vers.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he huffed.
“Yeah, I hope you’ll be calling out his name a lot,” Grantaire said, smirking.
“Just shut up and kiss me,” Enjolras ordered.
And for once, with no wall between them, Grantaire seemed only too happy to oblige.
Enjolras and Grantaire have taken their first step in their Love is Blind journey, and have finally met face to face. But as they head to Mexico to learn more about each other and how they fit as a couple, will their relationship be able to handle the world outside of the pods? Or will finally seeing each other change how they feel?
Is love truly blind? Find out on the next episode of Love is Blind.