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“Good God, R, get this man back before I throw myself out a window.” Courfeyrac leading with that did nothing to help Grantaire’s currently raging anxiety. The situation Courf was referring to, naturally, was the fact that Grantaire had broken up with his boyfriend Enjolras almost two months earlier. It had been their worst fight yet, and Grantaire was devastated.
(That’s how it works, that’s how you lost the guy.)
“What?” Grantaire couldn’t think of a more logical question or a snarky reply, sadly.
“You heard me loud and clear, R, I know it. Get. Enjolras. Back.” An order from Courf was terrifying, given that Courf was typically the embodiment of sunshine.
“We fought, he left, he literally moved out, Courf. It’s been six weeks, I can’t do anything to help, all I’ll do is make it worse!”
“No you won’t, you imbecile! Grantaire, he’s perfectly miserable! He’s beating himself up, he doesn’t sleep at night, he’s losing his mind over this! You know he’s too proud to admit how much he misses you!” There was a crunch from the other end of Grantaire’s line as Courf chomped loudly on something crispy.
“Okay, so what do I do?”
“Shut up, listen to me, and stay calm, I’m going to walk you through my failproof and foolproof tutorial.” Courf’s confidence in most matters never failed to baffle Grantaire.
“You and ‘Ferre have never broken up, how the hell would you know how to get a guy back? Besides, aren’t you supposed to be on Enj’s side in this? He’ll kill you if he finds out you called me.”
“Firstly, I listen to a lot of Taylor Swift, and I dated near everybody in our high school, in case you’ve forgotten. Second, by the time he finds out, if he does, you two will be smooching like it’s a Disney movie. Poof, problem solved.”
“How are you talking about this without him hearing?” An edge of panic crept into the artist’s voice, but it was quickly soothed away by the metaphorical ‘sunglasses and tequila on a beach’ vibe that Courf’s words carried.
“I’m at the Cafe Musain right now. He’s so stricken right now he hasn’t left the house in three days, but he’s gotta have his coffee. And ‘Ferre needs tea and coffee, so here I am, the savior of our trio. Now, listen up, because we’re going to have to crash course this…”
That phone call had been this morning.
So now, here Grantaire was, sitting in his beat-up green car in Enjolras’ driveway that evening, outside the house Enjolras currently shared with his best friends, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. He replayed the ‘tutorial playlist’ Courf had sent him on the way here, which was basically just ‘How You Get the Girl’ by Taylor Swift and ‘Tell Her About It’ by Billy Joel, along with a ton of other Taylor Swift. (The only TS album he streamed regularly was Red, specifically for the vibe created by screaming the ten minute version of All Too Well in the car.)
(No big deal if this goes wrong or gets misconstrued, right? I mean, I’ll only lose three amazing friends…one of whom oh so casually happens to be the love of my life.)
He took a deep breath and ran through the mental checklist Courf had given him. Grantaire was grateful it hadn’t been FaceTime, or he might’ve watched his own eyes fall out of his head with how many times he rolled them over the course of the conversation. He tried to, because it was a serious situation, after all, but when it was Courf, he just couldn’t.
To emphasize his sadness and the wet-and-tortured-puppy feeling of the moment, Grantaire abandoned his umbrella in the car. (He had conveniently forgotten a raincoat and was wearing his favorite hoodie, but sacrifices would have to be made if he wanted to get Enjolras back.)
(Okay, first things first, I stand on the front stoop like a ghost, shaking from the rain.)
Grantaire walked forward and completed step one. He stood there under the dim porch light, actually trembling in the cold.
He rang the doorbell, his heart pounding as he felt his red beanie get soaked by the rain.
Enjolras opened the door, letting some warm air from the foyer spill out into the cooling night. He was wrapped in a red sweater the same shade as Grantaire’s beanie and scarf set; their friend Jehan had knitted the items for them as a joint Christmas gift.
“Are you insane?”
The direct quote from the song felt like an insult, even though Courf had warned Grantaire thoroughly. Enjolras’ voice was so cold, no hint of warmth. His eyes were cold, too, icy and cobalt against the golden silhouette presented in the doorway.
Grantaire felt like Enjolras had turned marble again, that the malleable, beautiful, imperfect, breathing human he’d come to love was gone, but he decided to persist.
“It’s been a long six weeks, Apollo. I was too afraid to tell you what I want.”
“And what is that?”
(Now you’ve got to remind him how it used to be.)
“I want you for worse or for better, and I want you to know that for you, I would wait forever and ever. I can’t believe I broke your heart the way I did, but I promise to put it back together. I haven’t changed my lock screen, it’s still the picture of you kissing me on the cheek. That picture’s still hanging in my art studio, too. It’s my favorite, and I’ve been losing my mind every time I look at it, because we left each other all alone, and never told each other why we did that, which is stupid and immature. So, I get it. I screwed up, and…now I’m here, feeling just about as anxious as I did when I asked you to prom in high school.”
(Now you hope to heaven that it works.)
A beat of silence ticked by as Grantaire’s watch glowed in the twilight.
Give him a minute, Grantaire reminded himself.
“I’m sorry too, R. I shouldn’t have lost my temper that way, I should’ve acted like an adult. I’m better than that, and I didn’t show it.” There was a quiet release of deep emotion in Enjolras's controlled words, despite their precision.
While fumbling for a reply, Grantaire was saved from that indignity by Enjolras, who lunged forward and wrapped Grantaire in a hug. To see that hug would’ve been like watching the day meet the night.
“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked.
“I just can’t believe you came back to me.” Enjolras whispered, clinging to Grantaire and pulling him in for a kiss as he stood there in his house slippers, on top of the steel toes of Grantaire’s combat boots.
“And that’s how it works, that’s how you get the guy.” Courfeyrac sighed in a dreamy, musical voice from the doorway, leaning against the frame.
“Courf, did you just help my boyfriend get me back using a Taylor Swift song?!” Tearing his lips away from Grantaire’s, Enjolras turned to yell at his best friend, almost making both the blonde and brunette lose their balance and topple over.
“Run!” Combeferre yelled from inside. Courf, giggling, slammed the door and left Enjolras and Grantaire embracing in the rain, making up for the slivers of time and affection they’d lost.