Chapter Text
In a room full of frozen faces
In a moment of fractured time
We eclipse in conversation
As the words pass us by
With you we could be the only ones here
Grantaire hummed softly, a song he’d listened to earlier stuck in his head. People passed him by as he ate his lunch, sketchbook in hand. New ideas kept running through his head, just waiting to be put on paper as tangible things. Grantaire couldn’t wait to get these ideas down. The actual application process would come later, after he’d found all his spray paints.
See, this artist had a passion for well, graffiti. Although he tended to just call it art. “Art comes in all different shapes and forms,” he’d said to his friend and dorm-mate Feuilly. “Can I help it if I happen to toe the line between creative and illegal?” Feuilly would usually just shake his head with a small laugh. It wasn’t like his art was slanderous or anarchic. It was just...whatever he happened to be feeling. Sketches of people, words in different shapes and prints, or even just random doodles. With a small glimmer of pride, he realised that people liked his art. They took pictures of what he did, in the subways at least. And no one had caught him. Juliano Grantaire was a college student by day, sneaky tagger by night.
Yes, Grantaire mused as he took a bite of his sandwich, his life had a bit of a dramatic flair to it. Especially when it came to a certain classmate of his.
How to describe Enjolras? In one word, one rather polite word: different. Not just in appearance, with his likeness being totally opposite to Grantaire, blond compared to brunet, slight compared to stocky, and with a three inch height difference between the two (Enjolras was the taller one). This was nothing. Personality-wise, it was like comparing a grape to a rhino: it wasn’t possible. Needless to say, they weren’t exactly the best of friends. Most conversations ended in a quarrel.
Enjolras was the leader of a small group that focused on trying to fix society’s problems, some political, some social. They met regularly, and a few of Grantaire’s friends had joined. Grantaire himself had written it off as a utopian cult trying to do the impossible, but he’d gone on a whim. Feuilly and another friend, Bahorel, had dared him to come to one meeting. So he did.
That was when he’d met Enjolras. There was something about him, maybe it was his devotion, or his intelligence. His looks were definitely a factor, but there was so much more to the revolutionary. His words were like magic, causing most to drop everything and follow him, and he spoke truthfully. It was like listening to good rock music after a hard day. Soothing, but also getting you pumped up to feel like taking over the world.
Grantaire went to more meetings after that, but he and Enjolras clashed the moment either opened their mouth. Grantaire considered himself a realist, unafraid to challenge the leader’s views or ideas. It vexed Enjolras, who was clearly an optimist, and that was something of an incentive. Enjolras would fire up, arguments scathing and meant to scare off the strongest opponent. Grantaire liked to think himself stronger. He liked the passion behind the blond’s eyes, his logic unwavering. If it was directed at him, usually with anger, it was an unfortunate side-effect, but appealing nonetheless. Enjolras had kicked him out on various occasions; he bounced back like a boomerang, and finally Enjolras had grudgingly accepted his presence. He obviously didn’t trust him, with their cause or anything else. Cold looks towards the artist kept him from talking out of line too much, and they’d reached a tense equilibrium. It didn't stop Grantaire from having a huge crush on Enjolras, no matter how unrequited: Enjolras probably wanted nothing to do with him.
So it was surprising when the blond went over to talk to Grantaire later that day.
Grantaire was in his math class absentmindedly drawing his professor, a comical-looking man with a stout body and a large nose. He didn’t realise Enjolras sitting next to him until he was poked with a pencil.
“Enjolras? What is it?” He asked, turning his gaze back to his drawing. Conversations between the two were awkward at the best of times. “I thought you usually sat in front.”
“Don’t you pay attention in class?” Exasperation was audible in Enjolras’ voice.
Grantaire shrugged. “Hey, I’m passing, so relax. What do you want?”
“Can you do me a favour?”
“Anything. Polish your boots.” The brunet decided to humour his classmate, eyeing his classmate’s scuffed up Doc Martens. He didn’t let anyone touch those boots.
“Be serious.” A huff of annoyance, followed by a low murmur. “I know you’re the one putting up some of the graffiti in the subway.”
If Grantaire had been drinking he would’ve choked. He tried to keep a straight face. “Oh yeah?”
“You always add an ‘R’ as your signature. I thought it was obvious.”
A low groan started in Grantaire’s throat. Damn. He’d hoped it wasn’t all that obvious. “Are you going to turn me in?” He offered his hands to Enjolras as if ready for arrest. The other man snorted.
“Hardly. I want you to teach me how to do that.”
“Your rallies not getting enough support, Apollo?”
A frown. “Don’t call me that. And we’re doing fine. You should know, you’re always at the meetings.” That was true, but he wasn’t there for the politics of it. “I just thought we could spread the word faster with your...art.”
Grantaire waved his hand airily. “Don’t bring me into your political tirades. You’ve seen how I feel about them.”
Enjolras brushed that comment off. “I’ll pay you,” he said without hesitation.
“Excuse me?!”
“Is there a problem back there?” Both boys turned to look at the professor.
“Of course not, sir,” Enjolras said smoothly. “Grantaire was just having trouble with the lesson.” Grantaire’s ears reddened, and he looked down, hearing a couple snickers.
The teacher relented. “Well, you can tutor him later. I won’t be repeating anything for your benefit.” He turned back to the board.
“Thanks a lot,” Grantaire grumbled. He went back to drawing, trying to ignore Enjolras. But the blond was persistent.
“Five-hundred dollars if you take me tonight.” To his credit, Enjolras was now focusing on his work.
“Did you rob a bank? Who just shells out that kind of money?”
“Does it matter?”
No. “I--” Grantaire sighed. “Fine. I’ll take you, but no promises on saving you if you get arrested.”
Enjolras smiled smugly, and the brunette hoped he wouldn’t regret this.
*
“Oh, no.” Grantaire shook his head as Enjolras neared him. “What are you wearing?” The answer was a red hoodie that could be seen a mile away in the dark night.
“What? I like this hoodie, and it’s the most casual thing I could find.” Enjolras said defensively.
“Take it off,” Grantaire ordered.
“I only have a t-shirt underneath.”
“What colour?”
“White.” Amazing, there wasn’t a flicker of shame in Enjolras’ eyes. Grantaire rolled his.
“Give me your hoodie.” He unzipped his dark green one and tossed it to the blond. He’d had enough sense to be wearing all dark colours. He raised an eyebrow when Enjolras made no move to take his off, staring at the hoodie he now held.
“I like this one.” Wait, was he complaining? He sounded like a kid about to get his toy taken away. Grantaire tried to keep a straight face. Enjolras must have noticed the effort, because he quickly took off his sweatshirt and gave it to Grantaire, sliding on the green one. He had to admit, Enjolras didn’t look too bad in green. Red still suited him better though.
“So what are we doing in a run-down park? No one’ll see it here,” Enjolras seemed confused.
“Hold on, E. You’ve never done this before, have you? No. I need to see your skills.”
Enjolras frowned slightly. “I assumed you’d be doing the work.”
“Most of it, but I’m only letting you off the hook if you’re completely lacking in artistic ability.” Grantaire gave a shrug.
“Fine, give me a can then.”
xxx
Enjolras took the can of red paint Grantaire handed him. He’d actually never held one, staring at it uncertainly. He held the can up to the wall, pressing down hard on the nozzle.
“Dude!” The spray of paint had gone to the side, the opening in the wrong direction. Enjolras winced when he saw the the red on Grantaire’s shirt and face. The brunet sighed, and Enjolras hastily corrected the nozzle. He faced the wall again, making a shaky E. The paint dripped down the wall, and he wrinkled his nose in disappointment. Though not necessarily surprise, he never had been that good at art. But a letter on a wall?
“Stop. Let me show you how to actually use it.” Enjolras felt Grantaire cover the hand he was holding the can in with his own. He was aware of the close proximity, but didn’t comment, hoping he couldn’t see the blush covering his cheeks. He shivered, Grantaire’s breathing tickled his ear. He felt his hand being guided along, making the faint lines on the wall thicker and the ‘E’ he’d drawn smoother.
“Why don’t you do it?” Enjolras asked. “I’m terrible at art.”
Grantaire shook his head. “We’re here to teach you, remember? You hired me for that.”
Enjolras pursed his lips in annoyance. Grantaire stepped back, reaching into his bag to pull out a black can.
“I want you to keep practising. I’m gonna paint a little too.”
“Alright…” Enjolras continued to paint, starting with a small star that was still a little shaky. At one point he looked over at what Grantaire was drawing, and he gasped.
Grantaire had made a tree, and it was amazing. The leaves had been painted in green, the roots all had details, and there might have even been a couple birds added in. Smooth lines had made it look beautiful.
“How did you do that in ten minutes?”
Grantaire stopped, hand lowering. His expression was guarded. “Practice?”
Enjolras shook his head. “You’re talented. I’ve seen what you draw in your art class. It’s fantastic.” He sat down, resting against the wall.
“You saw my art?” Grantaire joined him, resting his hands on his knees, tapping out an impatient little rhythm.
“Hard not to.” Enjolras smiled at him, even though it was too dark for either boy to see much.
“Thanks…” They sat in silence, listening to the wind whistling around the buildings. Enjolras closed his eyes and leant his head back, letting the calm take over. It was nights like these that he absolutely loved, looking up at the stars in the clear night.
He rested until he felt Grantaire moved next to him, standing up in a rush. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Enjolras cocked his head, listening. It was just audible, a car. Maybe cops? Flashing lights a few seconds later confirmed it.
“We gotta go.” Grantaire pulled Enjolras up. He hesitated only to put his trademark ‘R’ on the art before packing everything up. Then he ran, Enjolras right behind him. If the sirens were anything to judge by, they were being followed.
He and Grantaire weaved down more streets and alleys, hoping to evade the cops long enough for them to give up. If he hadn’t been so out of breath, he would have laughed giddily, almost not believing what was happening. His first actual police chase.
A sudden yank on his arm and Enjolras felt himself being dragged through a small opening and into a room. Grantaire was collapsed on the ground, his bag tossed away in a small corner. Enjolras was bent over, hands on knees and gasping for air.
After they’d both regained steady breathing, Enjolras heard Grantaire giggle.
“I’ll bet that was Javert. He’s always after people for the smallest things.”
“You sound like this has happened before.” Enjolras raised his eyebrows. He could hear rustling, a click, and the room lit up slightly, a lantern in Grantaire’s hand.
“I’ve had my run-ins. Not for tagging, but let’s just say I’ve been around. Javert’s usually at the station.”
Enjolras shook his head, wondering if he’d made a mistake in coming out with Grantaire. “You sound like a criminal.”
“You don’t see many innocents committing vandalism, Apollo.” Enjolras felt a twinge of annoyance at the name, pursing his lips. Grantaire laughed again. “Don’t worry. I’ve never killed anyone, and robbery isn’t my thing.”
“Hmm.” Enjolras straightened, looking around the dimly-lit room. “Do you come here often?”
“Only to avoid getting caught. I don’t think anyone knows it’s here.” Grantaire reached into a box next to him, pulling out a bottle of wine. “Thirsty?”
Enjolras declined. “No, thanks. I’d rather have a clear head right now.”
“Okay.” Grantaire took a drink from it. “We’ll stay here for a bit longer, just in case they’re still looking, then I’ll take you home.”
The mention of the police caused Enjolras to frown. “Just my luck, a cop chase on my first day out.”
“It happens. At least you weren’t wearing bright colours. It would’ve been hard to get away. Speaking of which..” Grantaire pulled Enjolras’ red hoodie from his bag. “Charming though you may be in my sweatshirt, I’d like it back.”
“I dunno...” Enjolras decided to tease Grantaire, pulling lightly at the string on the hoodie. “It’s soft, I might keep it.”
“Oof. Vandalism and theft? Who’s the criminal now?”
Enjolras resented that comment, feeling surprised and indignant at the retort. He took off the hoodie and threw it. It hit Grantaire in the face, landing in his lap with a poof.
“Thank you Apollo. You’re so kind. Oh, and you got paint on it. So that adds on to destruction of property...” Enjolras watched Grantaire count all of his ‘crimes’ on his fingers. “I thought your group was about justice?” He smirked.
“Shut up,” Enjolras neared Grantaire.
“Make me. You always do at the Musain.” If Grantaire had meant to say that jokingly, he failed miserably. It came out bitter, and Enjolras stepped back.
“Grantaire…”
“C’mon.” the brunet brushed Enjolras aside. “Let’s get you home.” He exited the small room, and Enjolras had no choice but to follow.
Xxx
The trip to Enjolras’ house was silent the whole way, save when Enjolras pointed out directions to his house. When they neared Enjolras’ apartment Grantaire slowed.
“Alright well, I should head home.”
“Grantaire, it’s already past midnight. We have school tomorrow. Just stay here tonight.”
“Stay...at your place,” Grantaire said slowly. Enjolras nodded. “Are you okay? This is Grantaire you’re talking to. I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
“If I couldn’t stand you I wouldn’t have gone with you tonight.” Enjolras smiled wryly. “C’mon. You must be tired from all that running.” He pushed open the door, holding it for Grantaire to step through.
The apartment was pretty much what Grantaire had expected. Tidy, save a few papers strewn about haphazardly. The walls were white with, surprise surprise, red couches in the centre of the room. While he looked around, Enjolras came back wearing pyjamas.
“Here.” He gave a shirt and pj bottoms. “You can use the bathroom.” He smelt like mint, so he’d probably already brushed his teeth.
“Where should I sleep?”
Enjolras shrugged. “You can use the bed. I’ve slept on couches before, I’ll be fine.”
Grantaire shook his head. “It’s your bed, you should use it.”
“No, really, you can--”
“Enjolras, come on.” Grantaire raked a hand through his hair.
“If you’re bent on arguing with me then fine. We’ll compromise and share the bed.”
Oh. Grantaire blinked. Enjolras tilted his head, eyeing the brunet.
“What?”
“Nothing. Fine, we’ll share. No cuddling though, got it?” Grantaire’s voice hitched at the end of his sentence nervously. Enjolras didn’t seem to notice, he’d turned red.
“Like I would. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He looked away quickly, and Grantaire took that as his cue to head into the bathroom.
Enjolras was already in bed when he came out, but he was still awake.
“Hey,” he said softly, settling himself down on the bed.
“Hey.” Enjolras yawned. “I forgot to give you the money.”
“Don’t think about it. Just get me a coffee in the morning and we’ll be even.” Grantaire lay on his back, but he looked over. Enjolras was still watching him. “What?”
“Would you take me tagging again? Our practice session got cut off, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah. I guess I could take you again. Not for a while though. We should probably lay low.”
“Aye, captain.” Enjolras grinned before yawning again. He seemed more...relaxed when he wasn’t with anyone else. More like how a normal twenty-two year old would act, Grantaire mused.
“Well. Night, Enjolras.”
“Night, R.” Enjolras shuffled until he was facing the other way. Grantaire smiled briefly before closing his eyes. He had to admit, Enjolras was really different from how he’d perceived him to be.