Work Text:
I don’t think
anything really lasts
coffee cools
cigarettes end
music stops
and life simply goes,
on
I don’t think
anything really lasts
~*~
I don’t think anything really lasts, not even love. Maybe worshipping – for that is how I feel for him – but certainly not love.
That is why I am sure that the inevitable end is soon to come.
He claims to love me, tells me every time we fall to bed,
but love is sure to end.
Nothing really lasts.
~*~
4 months had passed since Enjolras had finally admitted to his feelings. 4 glorious months, in which everyone was happy.
Marius and Cosette were still together as always, Eponine had stopped pining after the young monsieur Pontmercy and had apparently found someone else who returned her feelings, though nobody had met this young boy, everyone believed her. Courfeyrac and Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel, as well as Bossuet and the mysterious Musichetta, had all started going out. Even Joly and Combeferre seemed to be sharing more often than not glances that seemed more than innocent.
Grantaire had been happy, focusing solely on the pros of everyone’s situation. But finals were getting nearer now, and everyone seemed to be getting more and more on edge and absent.
Especially Enjolras.
~*~
“No, Grantaire. I’m sorry, not tonight. I have too much studying to do.”
That’s what you’ve been saying for the past week.
“Oh ok, I guess I’ll just see you at the meeting tomorrow then.”
“I’ll try my hardest to be there, though I can’t promise anything.”
“…”
“Grantaire?”
“… I’m here”
“I love you.”
Love is sure to end.
“Love you too.”
Nothing really lasts.
~*~
That’s how most of their conversations had been lately. Always over the phone. Always with Enjolras sounding oh so tired whilst apologising again.
Grantaire wishes that he could stay optimistic about it all – he just needs time to study for his finals, you know how he is – but this is the first time since they’ve been together where he’s not slept by his Apollo’s side for more than 3-4 days.
Once a cynic, always a cynic.
That night, 6 nights since he’s last seen Enjolras, is when the small voices of the thoughts he thought he had locked away forever start to emerge again.
Biting comments and depressing sneers that he doesn’t want to listen to.
But he can’t help it.
“He doesn’t love you, he never will – never has! It was all just an act to fool you, you ignorant lovesick idiot. How could Apollo ever love such a broken man?!”
He tried to block it out, he really does, but each time he tries they come back. And each time they return, the words seem harsher than before. Biting and cutting deeper than ever.
It only takes an hour before his will finally breaks, and more terrible comments come flying at him. He can’t stand it anymore.
There’s only one way to make the voices stop – something he hasn’t needed in all those 4 glorious months.
Alcohol.
On his way to the liquor store he tries to call Enjolras with shaking hands, hoping- praying that maybe he can talk him out of this stupid idea…
But it goes straight to voicemail.
~*~
When Grantaire awakens he can’t remember anything of what happened after he had heard the cheeriness in his partner’s voice coming from the pre-recorded message.
He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel ten times heavier than usual. Still, he manages to open them just slightly, but immediately shuts them again when he’s met with a painfully blinding white light.
He tries to groan with frustration, but his throat is as dry as a desert and no sound comes out.
Again he tries to open his eyes, this time prepared for the light. It still hurts at first, but he blinks a couple of times and eventually his vision is clear, and he glances around him taking in his surroundings as he tries to figure out where he is.
Of course. If the blinding white light wasn’t enough of a giveaway: he’s in a hospital.
He just can’t remember how he got here.
He turns his head again and sees various machines next to his bed. Taking in the IV drip that’s steadily dripping a clear fluid into the needle that’s lodged in his skin, he realises he must have been there for a while.
“Grantaire—“
The sound of his name, though barely whispered in more than a breath, causes Grantaire to turn his head back rapidly, eyes focusing on the source.
What he sees shocks him slightly.
In the doorway to the small hospital room is stood Enjolras – but it doesn’t really look like him. This version doesn’t look marble skinned at all, instead he has deep dark rings under his eyes, his hair is tied back messily as though it were an afterthought and his clothes are all rumpled up, looking like he’s worn them for several days.
No… like this Enjolras doesn’t look like a marble god.
Like this, he almost looks human.
It’s almost in slow motion that Enjolras drops the paper cup he was holding, of what Grantaire can only assume to be coffee, and surges forward- towards Grantaire.
He lands on his knees by the bedside, clutching onto the cynics hand as though his life depended on it with tears in his eyes as he murmurs Grantaire’s name over again, apologies spilling over his lips.
“Grantaire – sweet, sweet Grantaire. I am sorry. Please, Grantaire. Please will you forgive me?”
Grantaire is pretty sure that if his body wasn’t so badly dehydrated he would be crying as well just from seeing his Apollo like this. Instead he just smiles sadly, clutching Enjolras’ hand with as much strength as he can muster – which isn’t really that much – and nods his head slightly in response, but he’s not sure that Enjolras sees.
The spilt coffee in the open doorway seems to have attracted the attention of a nurse, because before they know what’s happening nurses are rushing in to the room, asking Enjolras to leave the room as nicely as they can as they start to fuss over Grantaire.
Enjolras seems reluctant to leave at first, gripping almost painfully onto Grantaire’s hand, but leaves eventually after Grantaire smiles at him, reassuring him with his eyes that he’ll be fine. He frowns slightly but does as he’s asked and goes to fetch himself another cup of coffee to replace the one he had just spilt.
~*~
Its 20 minutes before Enjolras is allowed back into the room again, and he immediately goes to sit by Grantaire’s side, taking the others hand in his, though not gripping as tightly as he had before. By then Grantaire’s been fed some ice flakes and his throat isn’t as dry as it was, yet he can still only manage to speak with a low hoarse voice.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You look like crap.”
“So do you…”
“... How long was I gone? The nurse explained what had happened, but didn’t say how long I’d been in the coma”
“3 days”
“And you’ve been here—“
“Ever since Joly called explaining how you’d turned up on his doorstep at 4 am, seemingly one drink away from killing yourself”
“…”
“Sorry...”
“I don’t blame you, y’know. This isn’t your fault”
“…”
“I don’t blame you Apollo, never will.”
“But I was the one who didn’t—“
“And I’m the one who thought the worst and let it get to me. This is in no way your fault.”
“… What did you think?”
“…”
“Grantaire, please… I need to understand why—“
“I thought that you had never loved me. That you had finally grown tired of just putting up with me and didn’t want to see me anymore…”
“… You know that’s not true though, right?”
“…”
“Grantaire, you do know that I love you with all my heart, and will forever- You know that I’d do anything for you, that I’d die for you… right?”
The sincerity in the tone of Enjolras’ voice surprised Grantaire slightly, but all doubts he had been having previously simply washed away at the words.
The look in Enjolras’ eyes was similar to that which he had when talking about his protests, the same passion and the same ferocity that showed he meant the words. This time it was just so much more.
This was his Apollo. Sitting right next to him and looking upon Grantaire as though he was an equal, telling him that, yes, love could last forever.
And in that moment, the cynic believed it was true.
Maybe love could last forever.
“I know.”