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”Why do you even care, Enjolras? Why do you take time off your little game of revolution to care about whether or not I drink myself mindless every night?!”
“Why shouldn’t I, Grantaire? You’re the one who comes to all the meetings! Of course I’m going to care when you come here solely to disrupt and get even more drunk!”
“But even when I sit quietly in the corner you try to take the bottles from me! I repeat; why. do you. even. care?!”
“Because I—” Enjolras suddenly stopped short, biting his tongue to stop himself from shouting back his reply. His eyes were slightly wider than normal, but not wide with enthuasiasm, like they usuallly were when he was holding speeches or doing anything related to his revolution. No, this time his eyes were wide with what looked like… fear? As though he was scared of what he was about to say - scared that he had come so close to shouting it in Grantaire’s face.
Grantaire stared at him for a moment, surprised that Enjolras could even experience such an emotion, but he was still riled up, and now his interest was spiked.
“Because what, Enjolras?!” He shouted, his harsh breathing in the silence becoming too much for him. Enjolras stared at him for a couple of moments, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. And Grantaire realised, that for the first time since he had first laid eyes on the leader, Enjolras was at loss for words.
“Because what?” Grantaire tried again, the edge of his voice gone slightly, replaced with a soft tone - a mixture of concern and pleading.
Enjolras closed his mouth, narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly in dismissal, seemingly coming to his senses again.
“No, forget it. Whatever, Grantaire. Go drink yourself into oblivion then or something. See if I care now” Enjolras turned to leave, but Grantare’s hand shot out, at an alarming speed for someone in the slightly intoxicated state that he was in, and gripped hard onto the muscles of the golden haired man’s biceps, stopping him from walking away.
This time Grantaire didn’t even look at Enjolras when he addressed him, instead casting his eyes to the ground, closing them for a short moment as he searched for words.
“Please, Enjolras… tell me why you, my Apollo, the god of my sun and the music of my heart— tell me why I should quit this habit. Maybe then, I will understand. Maybe then, I will stop…”
Enjolras stayed where he was, with Grantaire’s fingers almost painfully digging into his arm, not moving or pulling away, just standing there. Of course, Grantaire couldn’t see his face from where he was, so he didn’t manage to see the flash of emotions that were flitting across Enjolras’ features, as though he was having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he should confess. A long minute passed… then another, and then another again. Still with neither of them moving.
It was Enjolras who broke the silence, though still without turning to look at the cynic.
“I see you’ve been going through Jehan’s poetry then?” he joked with a small laugh, his voice level and calm, as though the shouting match that both of them had participated in had never occured.
“I— what?” Grantaire then asked, looking back up at the other and sounding slightly exasperated, before he realised what it was Enjolras meant.
“That’s not what this is about!” he then answered through gritted teeth. His patience for Enjolras, which usually never wavered one bit, was starting to wear thin. All he wanted was an answer— that, or for Enjolras to pull away and leave. Anything but what was happening between them now, because this was just pure torture.
“Please, Enjolras?” Grantaire begged, having sunken so far that it resulted in pleading. His sarcastic wit and banter now totally gone, as if the argument had completely dishevelled him.
Enjolras grit his teeth and finally pulled out of the hold the drunkard had him in, but he didn’t walk out as Grantaire had thought he would. Instead, he turned on the spot, and gripped both of Grantaire’s shoulder with equally as much pressure. Catching the deep blue eyes of the other they stood like that for a moment, Enjolras’ searching Grantaire’s as though his life was depending on finding just one little thing.
Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it, because, with a sigh, Enjolras slumped his shoulders and loosened his grip, though his hands still stayed where they rested.
“Do you really want to know why I care so much, Grantaire? Why every night I try to stop you from drinking yourself into a way too early grave?” Grantaire didn’t answer immediately, instead giving a small nod after a few seconds. Enjolras sounded tired now, and his eyes said the same, though not in a physically tired way - more like he was tired of keeping something secret.
“The reason is…. damnit Grantaire, how could you not already have known? Do I really have to spell it out for you in great big letters for you?” Grantaire looked slightly puzzled, the frown on his lips showing it clearly. Enjolras sighed again, but in a happy way this time, and the corners of his lips pointed upwards slightly.
“Are you really so far gone in your drink every night that you don’t see it? Jesus, Grantaire… The reason is; I love you!”