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You turn away and bite your lip to try to tame the winning smile you're no doubt sporting. Despite your best efforts and with your hand quite gracefully trying to cover your face, it is absolutely not working. You don't care. ”You should see the way he looks at you”, the old lady had said with a wink before going back to speaking French with Enjolras. How does he look at you? Like he really desperately wants to suck your dick, probably. You can't wait to see it.
But before you turn back around, you can feel his hand on top of your own. It's soft and careful, as is his voice when he asks.
”Grantaire... Are you in love with me?”
You can feel your face go slack and there's a sinking feeling in your chest and stomach. You turn around to stare at him with wide eyes. You don't even know what just happened. Everything was great just a second ago, and now it's... this. Whatever the hell this is.
At least you don't have to worry about hiding your smile anymore.
”What?” It's all you can get out at the moment. ”Why?” Okay, so that's all you can get out. Surely you're done with talking for now.
But his eyes are wide, just as wide as yours, and they're really pleading for an answer, and there's nothing you can do but keep talking. You can't just let him keep looking like that, you're sure that would be a criminal offense. If nothing else, the look in his eyes is probably causing you even more pain than anything else right now. You kind of need him to not be anything close to sad in your general vicinity ever again.
”I, uh...” You swallow and you try again, and your gaze drops away from his. ”Yeah. Um. Yeah, I am.”
”For how long?” It almost makes you laugh.
”For basically forever, at this point”, and this actually does make you laugh, because your voice sounds so weak and out of breath, like barely restrained panic, and you really wish you knew how to make yourself sound less pathetic.
”I didn't know... She told me... She said, 'he's heads over heels for you'. I had no idea. Um. Do you... want to talk?”
”As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to really talk about. Don't worry about it.”
”Please. I want to... Can you come home with me after this?”
Home with him means home to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Even if they're fully capable of respecting other people's privacy, they'd still know that you're there and that is frankly more than you'd be okay with. After you're done staring at him in a mix of bemusement and horror, you shake your head and look away again. Talking is hard.
”Then... How about a hotel room for the night? We could find something close to here, and it'd be, you know, a neutral place, and we can just... Talk about this?” Your face feels like it's made of stone, which is good, because you imagine any emotion you might show would be a lot less dignified. Your heart might be turning to stone too, because the hopefulness in his voice only feels like five stabs to the chest, not fifty.
”What is there to talk about?” The rest of your body, however, is made of jelly. Your voice reflects this.
”I don't know exactly, but... A lot, apparently.”
He sounds pained, then he resolutely grabs your hand, though he still looks to you to see if you protest. Of course you don't. You just squeeze his hand softly and he immediately looks less like a scared puppy. You rub your thumb over the back of his hand and he looks even more like a happy, excited puppy, with warmth in his eyes. His hand in yours is comforting and his relieved facial expression is downright adorable. You wish you could keep your heart from beating, this is embarrassing.
He finally breaks eye contact and starts walking somewhere, and you feel yourself dragged along. Everything is kind of soft and far away, like you're dreaming, but the pressure of his hand around yours is comforting and he simply pulls you in whichever direction he wants you to go. You're still conscious enough to smile politely at the strangers he starts talking to, but luckily it's all in French, so you're not expected to actually participate in the conversation.
You can't really fathom what just happened, but you guess you're just gonna have to wait and see. That actually feels pretty okay.
---
You can tell he's dazed and probably dissociating, so you decide not to push the issue further right now. You still need to stay at the party for at least twenty more minutes before you can leave without seeming rude. Not that seeming rude is usually that big of a deal to you, but Grantaire actually put effort into looking presentable for this, and it would be a shame to ruin the beautiful picture his appearance here helped paint. (Specifically, his beautiful appearance.)
You decide to seek out the ones you know only speak French, and you tell yourself it's because you don't want to burden him with the expectation of holding civil conversations with strangers right now. The other part is just a bonus: he won't pick up on the fact that you introduce him as your boyfriend as long as you do it in French.