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Summary
It was the last person he expected to be banging on his door at two in the fucking morning.
“Enjolras, what are you—?” Grantaire began to say, but was cut off when Enjolras barged past him into his apartment. Enjolras paced back and forth in Grantaire’s living room until Grantaire grabbed him by both hands and led him over to the couch.
“Here—sit down. Tell me what’s going on,” Grantaire said, keeping hold of one of Enjolras’ hands. He was surprised when Enjolras didn’t try to shake him off. He took advantage of the opportunity and swept his thumb in smooth circles across Enjolras’ wrist, attempting to calm him and soften the agitated look in his blue eyes.
“I—don’t even really know how to go about this, but I had this weird dream. I don’t even really remember what it was about; but when I woke up, I just had all these emotions and this overwhelming feeling that I had to talk to you,” Enjolras said, furrowing his brow.