Chapter Text
“People are not entitled to sex!” Enjolras yells, to roars of approval from the crowd. “Sex is not a right, it’s not even a privilege! You do not need sex to be happy! You don’t need it to be a better person and you don’t need it to be a better boyfriend!” The crowd cheers again, and Enjolras feels the rush of success that comes from a successful rally.
“You don’t need to put out to keep your partner happy!” he continues. “They should be trying to keep you happy!”
The crowd is awash in purple and grey, paper signs cluttering his view and large banners cutting wide swatches across the crowd. It’s the largest asexual rally in France, according to Combeferre. It’s a bigger turn out than even Enjolras had expected, and he can see media camera mixed in with the canons and the smart phones.
He’s building up to the end of his speech, bolstered by the energy of the crowd. “We cannot continue to be silent! Make some noise, make a scene! Let them know we’re here! Don’t let another generation go by thinking that sex is what they deserve! Don’t let anyone think that they need sex to be normal, to be happy! We are here, and we’re not going away!” In a fit of inspiration, he grabs the purple flag next to the podium and hefts it in his hand. He can see the flashes of hundreds of camera as the flag catches the wind, billowing out in his hand. The crowd screams.
Off to the side, Enjolras can see Combeferre rolling his eyes indulgently, and Enjolras grins at him, unperturbed.
He takes the flag with him when he strides away from the podium, heading towards where the others are waiting. Courfeyrac is wearing his usual expression of amused incredulity that he wears whenever he’s faced with asexuality en masse. Enjolras would be more upset about it if he didn’t know firsthand how accepting about it Courfeyrac really was.
Combeferre, ever organized, is already ushering the next speaker onstage.
“I’d ask if that was your great phallic symbol,” Courfeyrac says, “but I already know the answer.”
Enjolras ignores him, searching around for somewhere to put the flag down.
“In hindsight, that may have not been the best idea,” Combeferre says, appearing at his side and taking the flag from his hands. “Inspiring, but not very wise.”
“Ah, yes, but our dear Apollo lives on inspiration alone. What place has wisdom in the face of such sustenance?”
Enjolras takes a steadying breath. “Grantaire,” he says, turning to face the man who’d spoken. “I thought you weren’t planning to come today.”
Grantaire shrugs, easy and loose in a way that suggests he’s already had a drink or two. “And miss your soaring rhetoric? I wouldn’t dare. Besides, the people here are just grand. I already got this fantastic shirt!” He gestures expansively at his chest, where the word ASEXY is written in puffpaint on purple fabric.
Enjolras grits his teeth. “You cannot wear a shirt that implies asexuality when you do not actually identify as asexual.”
Grantaire grins at him. “I could be. Don’t try and put your labels on me, Enjolras. I am a free spirit.”
“I’m not dealing with you today,” Enjolras snaps. “And take that shirt off.”
“I’m not sure if going bare chested really gets your message across,” Grantaire replies with exaggerated doubt.
“What happened to the shirt you came in?” Enjolras demands.
“Someone spilled beer on it earlier. And it wasn’t even a come-on! She even gave me this to show their sincere apologies. A true lady.”
“Get a different shirt,” Enjolras commands, and strides off.
Combeferre catches up with him after a moment. “I don’t think he meant anything by it.”
“It’s wrong to claim or imply identification with a group to which you don’t belong. It only furthers the belief that we’re “just making it up” or that we “just can’t get any.” It’s counterproductive and harmful to the cause.”
“The cause, of course,” Combeferre replies. There’s a hint of reproof in his voice but he doesn't pursue it. “Anyway, there’s a news crew here, and they want to interview you.”
“Local?” Enjolras asks.
“National.”
Enjolras’ eyebrows raise. “That’s new.”
Combeferre gestures around them, at the little booths that have sprung up, at the happily milling crowd. “This whole thing is new. There’s almost 1,000 people here, and it’s a group that no one even knew existed.”
“I’m not a unicorn, Combeferre,” Enjolras snaps.
“You are a virgin though.” Courfeyrac has caught up to them, slowing to a walk at Enjolras’ other side.
“Yes, thank you, Courfeyrac. Have you given up on the ladies here?”
Courfeyrac grins. “Never. Just because they don’t want to have sex with me, it doesn't make them less charming. Less comprehensible, and less susceptible to my charms, but no less lovely.”
Enjolras grins at him, reminded again why he cares for his friends as he does.
Combeferre clears his throat from the other side. “So, should I tell the news crew you’re up for an interview?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“They’re going to ask you about masturbation,” Courfeyrac points out.
Enjolras makes a face. “I know.”
“And you’re sure?” Combeferre prompts.
“I’m sure. We came here for visibility. I’m not going to flinch at talking about myself.”
Combeferre rolls his eyes. “My mistake. I’ll tell them you’re for it. And the more personal the better.”
--
They ask about masturbation. Enjolras wishes that he were more surprised, but he’s not. Even at a rally for asexuality, all people can talk about is sex.
He answers as tactfully as he can, and deflects when they press him for more details.
Enjolras spends the rest of the day answering questions- from reporters, from people questioning, from allies and parents and partners, all curious.
He shakes hands with people who call him an inspiration, who say that his youtube videos helped them find themselves, who are so very grateful to have found a place that accepts them at last.
It makes Enjolras feel a bit like a fake. Everyone he meets in the asexual community talks about that sense of relief, the feeling of alienation Most of them speak of how much they wish they weren’t asexual.
But the thing is, Enjolras had never felt odd or different or wrong. He supposes that’s odd and different in and of itself.
He’d thought that everyone else was weird, and wrong, when suddenly all they’d wanted to talk about was girls. He had always had better things to worry about. He had thought that it was because he was better, more dedicated to his causes than everyone else. He had looked down on his friends for being distracted by something so trivial.
When he’d come across the term asexual, it had just made sense. He had started using it to describe himself, and had gotten more and more indignant at the lack of press and media it was getting. He’d wandered into a few forums, but there wasn’t much of a presence in France.
Looking around now, it’s hard to believe that was the case.
--
“That was a pretty good rally,” Enjolras begins. “But I think that we can do better next time.”
Courfeyrac groans. “Enjolras, we had over 1,000 people there!”
“And half of them came to see the crazies who don’t want sex,” Grantaire calls from the back.
Enjolras turns to scowl at him. “It is not a matter of not wanting sex-”
“It’s a matter of being attracted to people, blah, blah blah!” Grantaire interuppts. “I’ve heard it all before, Apollo. I’m just telling you what people will be saying.”
“People?” Enjolras sneers. “People like you? People who sleep with anyone who looks at them twice and not care if they can remember their name in their morning?”
Grantaire meets his eyes steadily, mouth quirked in a crooked grin. “Careful, deal leader. You don’t want to sound like a slut-shamer.”
Enjolras grits his teeth and turns away, back towards the rest of the group.
“I think that we need to make some more pamphlets, pass them out on campus. The rally was great, but it was more about visibility, and not enough about information.”
“I had three different people ask if asexual meant that we made babies by budding,” Joly says, incredulity heavy in his tone.
“Exactly,” Enjolras replies. “We need to hold more informational settings. Combeferre, see if we can get a copy of the news packet- it wouldn’t hurt if we could show that.”
“Do you think people will be willing to sit and watch it?” Marius asks.
“I think people would be willing to hear Enjolras speak of how the grass grows if he said it with such passion,” Grantaire replies. Enjolras shoots him a dirty look, and is arrested by the look in Grantaure’s dark eyes. He swallows and does not reply.
“How were your experiences at the rally?” He asks instead, pointedly looking away from Grantaire and addressing the group at large.
“I think we did a pretty good job,” Bahorel says. “Having a medical area was a good idea. We handed out water, and people came up and asked us questions they wouldn’t ask their doctor.”
“We should make sure tp have informational packets for you next time,” Enjolras replies. “Who else?”
“I met the most amazing girl,” Marius says, and Enjolras has to fight the urge to put his head in his hands.
“That’s not the sort of thing I meant, Marius.”
“She had the most amazing golden hair, like a princess from a story,” Marius continues, undeterred.
“And she was at an asexual rally,” Courfeyrac replies. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Enjolras frowns. “Asexuality does not necessarily denote a lack of romantic interest.”
“She said she was an ally, anyway. She was there with her father and his partner. Apparently the partner is asexuual and they wanted to learn more about it.”
Enjolras frowns. “It’s always good to have people there in support of our cause, but I feel like having sexual people at a rally like this can be damaging to our message-”
“Hey!” Courfeyrac calls. “The rest of us did just fine, thank you.”
“That is not what I meant. These rallies are supposed to be a place of solidarity, without the normal pressures of a sexualized society. If we have sexual people there, it could send the wrong message.”
Grantaire snorts derisively, and Enjolras turns on him. “Something to add, Grantaire?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth- of course Grantaire has something to add. He always does.
“I think that what you’re saying is bullshit,” Grantaire relies. “You can’t create an entirely isolated society based entirely on sexuality- or lack thereof. I’m all for visibility, I’m all for your cause, but I think the more sexual people you have coming to these rallies, the better. You want people to hear about asexuality? Then you can’t keep people out of asexual events. Let them come, and listen, and talk to people. Let them see it’s not all virgins living in their parents basement-”
“Excuse you!” Enjolras interrupts angrily, but Grantaire steamrolls right over him.
“Most people who are asexual are doing the research- they’re the last people you need at your rallies. What they need to see is that there are people who support them, people who believe them. People who are willing to listen to them! And keeping out anyone who doesn’t fit into your idea of an appropriate audience isn’t going to help anyone.”
Silence falls. Grantaire is in rare form, and even Enjolras has to admit he has a point. He scoffs, and tosses his head, unwilling to concede. “You may have a point,” he says reluctantly, ignoring the way Grantaire beams at him in response. “But I still think that it’s a bad idea to have sexual going around flirting and trying to pull. Which is why, Courfeyrac, I have to remind you, again, please do not hit on people at these rallies!”
“I got three phone numbers from three very lovely ladies,” Courfeyrac protests. “The fact that they don’t want to sleep with me doesn’t make them any less lovely.”
Enjolras rolls his eyes. “My point is that you may be putting unnecessary pressures on these women. I’ve spoken many times about my belief that asexuals should not be expected, or even asked, to have sex. Even if they are involved in a relationship with a sexual person, why should they have to make all the concessions- shouldn’t their partner be making concessions for them?”
“Not everyone views sex as an imposition, Enjolras,” Jehan says quietly, flushing slightly. “Not even all asexuals.”
Enjolras sniffs, but doesn’t reply.
Their meeting tapers out sometime after that, everyone shuffling out of the apartment Enjolras shares with Combeferre.
“That went well, I think,” Combeferre says cheerily. Enjolras makes a face at him, and Combeferre laughs.
“If by that you mean that it could have gone worse, I suppose I agree with you.”
“They had some good points,” Combeferre points out, logical as always.
Enjolras sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I suppose they did. I’ll consider them for the next meeting.”
“See that you do.” Combeferre moves towards his bedroom and hesitates, turning back. “Enjolras. Just because you’re asexual doesn’t mean you can’t have anyone in your life.”
Enjolras sighs, dropping down onto the couch. “I’ve been saying otherwise for so long, it may be too late for me.”
Combeferre snorts. “That’s stupid.” He heads into his room. “Goodnight, Enjolras.”
“Goodnight,” Enjolras replies, pulling his laptop towards him and beginning to sketch out his plans for the next rally.
Combeferre’s door closes and Enjolras stares at his laptop with a fixed determination.
He does not think about the heavy, warm weight of dark eyes upon his face.