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The sun glinted off the melting snow and ice in the parking lot, but despite the hint of spring in the air, Enjolras felt more like the half-melted pile of dirty gray slush. His throat felt unexpectedly tight as Grantaire stepped out of his car. “Hey,” he said, his voice strange to his ears.
“Hey,” Grantaire echoed as he popped the trunk of his car and pulled out a cardboard box that matched the one Enjolras was holding.
For a moment, they both just stood there, holding their cardboard boxes and avoiding each other’s eyes. Then, gruffly, Grantaire said, “Here,” at the same time Enjolras started, “Let me—”
Both broke off, and Grantaire let out a dry, humorless laugh. “How about you put yours in my trunk and then take this one?” he suggested.
“Good call,” Enjolras said.
He did just that, swapping the boxes and trying not to let his fingers linger on the soft green of Grantaire’s hoodie, folded at the top of the box he put in Grantaire’s trunk.
But all too soon he had no other choice but to straighten, and take the box of his things that Grantaire held, his heart clenching painfully at the sight of the french press he’d bought perched precariously on top. “You could’ve kept that, you know,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Grantaire’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion before realization dawned and he looked away. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “I think going back to shitty drip coffee is probably better to limit my caffeine intake anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I did keep the coffee, though.”
“Oh, no,” Enjolras deadpanned. “What ever will I do without half a bag of clearance coffee from Costco?”
For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might laugh, but then something tightened around his eyes. “I guess we’re both going to have to figure out how to get by without a lot of things,” he said quietly.
Which was true, but that didn’t mean Enjolras needed to hear it. Again.
He had no clue what to say to that, so settled for setting his box down on the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets. “So this is it, huh,” he said.
Grantaire nodded. “This is it.”
And yet, despite the finality of that statement, neither man seemed willing to leave, Enjolras to go back inside, Grantaire to drive away.
It would be cleaner, Enjolras thought, if they didn’t still love each other.
But that had never really been their problem, as this current awkward silence had only thrown into sharp relief.
Grantaire huffed a sigh and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I wish there was something more to say,” he admitted, and Enjolras barked a laugh.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he admitted.
“But I guess we both always knew it would come to this,” Grantaire said, something wistful in his voice.
But Enjolras paused, searching Grantaire’s expression before asking, with just a little bit of last minute-desperation, “Do you think it would have made a difference?”
Grantaire frowned. “What?”
“If we had decided to actually do this thing for real.”
Grantaire flinched. “What part of this wasn’t real for you?” he asked, his voice low.
“That’s not—” Enjolras broke off, swallowing against the emotion he could feel welling in his chest. “It was real for me,” he said softly. “But what I meant was, if we had decided to go public. To tell our friends.” His voice hardened. “To not treat this thing like some kind of an affair even though neither one of us is married.”
Grantaire’s eyes darkened. “You know why we did.”
Enjolras did. He could replay every moment that had landed them here in his mind as if they had happened yesterday, all the way from the very first night Grantaire had walked him home from the Musain—
Even though the walk to his place was close to forty-five minutes, Enjolras felt like barely any time had passed since he and Grantaire had left the Musain, the conversation flowing as easily as Grantaire’s wine usually did.
But no amount of easy conversation would make Enjolras’s apartment any farther away, and he had no choice but to reluctantly stop, turning to face Grantaire. “Well. This is me.”
Grantaire nodded, glancing up at the building. “Nice place,” he remarked, in a way where Enjolras couldn’t really tell if he meant it, or meant it ironically.
It was a good thing he’d long ago stopped trying to interpret Grantaire’s tone. “Thanks,” he said, hesitating before asking, “You, uh, you want to come up? Have a nightcap?”
Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Do you even have any alcohol in there?”
Enjolras scowled. “Of course.”
“Any alcohol that someone didn’t give you as a gift?”
The corners of Enjolras’s mouth twitched toward a smile. “I plead the Fifth.”
Grantaire laughed, but it quickly faded, something almost like regret flashing across his face before he shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”
Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Coming up for a drink?”
Grantaire shook his head again. “Coming up at all.”
“Oh.” Enjolras had been assured by anyone who had ever interacted with him and Grantaire that Grantaire had feelings for him, but maybe everyone in the world had collectively lost their minds. “I thought—”
“I do,” Grantaire said, a little too quickly, and Enjolras was gratified he didn’t have to try to explain. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
Enjolras’s frown deepened. “Why not?”
Grantaire hesitated, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before sighing. “Because you’ll regret it,” he said, an air of finality in his tone.
“I don’t think—”
“Maybe not today,” Grantaire interrupted, “maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.”
It took Enjolras a moment to place the quote, and he scowled at Grantaire. “Are you quoting Casablanca at me?”
Grantaire just smiled, that crooked little half-smile he only ever seemed to save for Enjolras, and he leaned in and kissed Enjolras’s cheek. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
But Grantaire’s will, it seemed, was slightly less than Rick Blaine’s, maybe because the stakes weren’t quite as high, or maybe just because he wanted it more. But while it had taken only a few more times walking Enjolras home to cave and join him upstairs, and even less time than that to spend the night, he had always stubbornly insisted that this had to be secret, a thing kept just between the two of them.
There were no dates, except for what late nights they spent together just as they always had at the Musain, or when they ordered delivery to one of their two places, or early mornings when neither of them seemed to want to get out of bed. They celebrated no anniversaries, and made no promises to each other, and what little they had built together could be easily packed into two cardboard boxes.
But Grantaire had a point – none of that made this any less real.
And the worst of it was that Enjolras knew exactly why Grantaire had insisted, knew that he had planned for this exact moment because he always prepared for the worst. While Enjolras was busy falling in love, Grantaire was busy preparing for the inevitable fallout.
Which had been Enjolras’s point. Had they ever really given it a chance when one side was preparing from the beginning for it to end?
As if sensing Enjolras’s train of thought, Grantaire cleared his throat before asking quietly, “Would it be easier? Having to tell everyone, having our friends take sides?”
Of course it wouldn’t be, but Enjolras wasn’t convinced it would be any more difficult.
And now it was too late to find out.
“Well,” he said instead, bending down to pick up his box once more, “I’ve monopolized enough of your time today.” And for the last year. “I, uh, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “See you around.”
Enjolras hesitated, wanting to say something more, but settled for jerking a nod, and turning to head back inside.
Without warning, Grantaire’s hand flashed out, grabbing his arm and holding him in place, and for a moment, they both just looked at each other. Then Grantaire stepped forward, closing the space between them to kiss Enjolras one last time. For a brief moment, he rested his forehead against Enjolras’s before taking a step back, that small, crooked smile back on his face. “Here’s looking at you, kid,” he managed.
Enjolras blinked back tears. “We’ll always have the Musain,” he said, his voice shaking, just a little.
Grantaire nodded. “And hey, who knows,” he said, something forced in his voice. “Maybe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Yeah,” Enjolras said softly. “Maybe.”
Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s arm and finally went back to his car. Enjolras watched him go, his throat tight.
He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t the start of anything.
But it was certainly the end of something beautiful.