Chapter Text
Grantaire was at an ABC meeting, which meant he obviously wasn't paying attention. Well, he was paying attention, just not to the things he should have been. He didn't think anyone else was admiring Enjolras for any reason other than his leadership, and if they were, they could back off. Not that Grantaire had a chance anyway, but still.
The others saw Enjolras gesture with his hand, while Grantaire saw how his favorite red jacket matched his fire so well. They saw Enjolras turn his head to answer a question, and Grantaire saw the way the light caught the flecks of gold in his hair. The room, including Grantaire, was hanging on his every word, believing his unrealistic expectation for the future, but Grantaire's eyes lingered on the way his lips parted when he spoke.
Though Enjolras’ good looks pulled Grantaire in, in no time at all, Grantaire fell for his conviction and passion. He genuinely believed in something better for the world, and he made you want to join him. And Grantaire wanted and wished he could. But instead, he ended up picking fights because the world Enjolras spoke of could never be possible. Because the world was dirty and cruel and not worthy of the god standing before him. Because at least if he could bring him down for a reality check, no one could take him away.
Enjolras hated him, he was sure. Or he had been until Enjolras came to him for poster concepts for an upcoming fundraiser.
“I want a real artist to make these and I always see you sketching,” he had said. “You're quite talented.”
Grantaire couldn't say no to him.
So for two weeks, they worked through posters together. After classes, Enjolras would come over to Grantaire's apartment and they would run through concepts and try things out. Enjolras would sit on the floor with a piece of paper and a laptop despite there being a perfectly acceptable table and chair nearby. Enjolras would roughly describe ideas and attempt to draw shapes on paper to advise Grantaire, who thought Enjolras’ doodles were quite endearing.
After the design was picked out, Enjolras kept coming over. He would bring his school work sometimes or would draft up meeting notes while Grantaire put his all into his art, because Enjolras came to him. He would give him his best.
One of those days, Enjolras had practically broken his computer screen with how intensely he was glaring at it.
“What's up?” Grantaire had asked tentatively.
“Nothing just- ugh!” Enjolras ran his hand through his hair. “I can't get this sentence right!”
“Ah, writer's block at it again.”
Enjolras gave him a hard look. “I’m not going anywhere until I finish this.” His eyes sparkled with that steely fire that told Grantaire he was not giving up on this even if it killed him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Grantaire said, finding his words. “I've had my fair share of art block, which is basically the cousin of writer's block. Let's take a break. That's what helps me.”
“What? No.”
“C'mon, it'll be fun and productive. Trust me.” Grantaire got up and put his tablet and pen down.
“But I need to-”
Grantaire walked over to him and shut the laptop. “Problem solved, let's go.”
“R!” Enjolras exclaimed.
Grantaire offered his hand to help him off the floor, trying not to think about how Enjolras just used that nickname for the first time. Enjolras eyed him carefully with a slight glare. Then he sighed. “Fine.” He took Grantaire's hand, sending an electric shock into Grantaire's system. “But only because I need to get this done.”
They had walked around the block, and sure enough Enjolras found the right word and Grantaire felt more motivated than ever by his muse.
Long story short, it seemed they were friends now. They could have a conversation without tearing each other apart, and there was a slightly new understanding between them. The only thing that didn't make sense was that Enjolras was avoiding him now. Grantaire didn't get it. He thought things were going well and he was content to just be friends. They had hung out a few times after the poster episode and Enjolras seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. Enjolras going dark on him now was worse than when they fought.
Maybe that's what drove Grantaire to start something that night.
He started small. Dissenting against a proposed location. Sarcastically joking about the casualties it would bring. The strange thing was Enjolras wasn't taking the bait like he normally would. He just turned away and addressed the other side of the room. Naturally, Grantaire kept going. This time, he interrupted Enjolras while he was speaking to point out a logistical error. Surely, Enjolras couldn't ignore that. Wrong. Enjolras hardly paused before continuing to speak over Grantaire. Jehan gave Grantaire a sympathetic look.
Why was he pretending he didn't exist? He wouldn't even look at him. Grantaire swore they were getting along, what happened? Finally Grantaire snapped.
“-if we go through these streets, there is a decent chance we meet opposition, but I am confident we can-”
“Or, if you actually listened to anyone besides yourself, maybe you would realize risking a clash with the police, or counterprotesters, or anyone else isn’t worth the potential harm?”
Enjolras couldn't ignore it this time because the cafe back room went dead quiet. He fixed his icy eyes on Grantaire and Grantaire felt his heart flutter. This was the first side of Enjolras he fell in love with. The terrifying commander that could silence anyone with just his gaze. “If you have an issue, speak it plainly.”
Grantaire decided to follow directions for once. “You've been avoiding me.”
“This is not the time, we are in the middle of a strategy meet-”
“Do you even hear yourself? You're doing it right now! I thought we were friends, Enjolras! But you keep brushing me off like I'm nothing when all I want is for you to listen to me for once!”
Enjolras’ expression shifted for a split second before going hard. “I listen to you when you have something worthwhile to tell.”
“Enjolras,” someone in the room said distantly.
Grantaire felt like the floor dropped. He stood up, because what did he have to lose? “Wow. Ok. Well, maybe I shouldn't be wanting your attention anyway. You're cold and careless and clearly, you don't give a damn unless it serves your precious charity project!”
The ice in Enjolras’ face melted into something angrier. “How dare you! How can you tell me I don't care? If I didn't care I wouldn't be leading this whole thing!”
“Glad to know you care about strangers, Apollo. What about us? Your followers? We could worship the ground at your feet and you wouldn't give a-”
“Stop pretending I'm some god! I'm not! We're all people and what we are fighting for is-”
“If we're all equal, then why do you pretend I'm not here. Am I not worth your attention?”
Time started moving at a snail's pace for a moment. When Enjolras finally spoke, it was almost a whisper. “Of course you are. But we have to focus on the cause, and I know it isn't your priority. I don't know why you even come.”
Grantaire gave a bitter laugh. He was right. He was here for his friends. He was here for Enjolras. He supported them, but he didn’t truly believe it. Still, Grantaire couldn't help trying to prove Enjolras wrong. “Why else would I be here? That's why we are all here, isn't it? Vive la révolution, right?” He gestured to the rest of their friends who were probably wishing this would all end.
Enjolras shook his head. His voice was guarded again when he spoke. “No, I know you aren't. You come here to drink. You come here to distract us.”
“I did the posters for you!” Grantaire knew he sounded desperate or petty. Probably both. He didn't care. “It's not like I don't go to your events! Or like I'm trying to sabotage the group!”
“But I don't know why you do it! You have said yourself you don't think what we are doing is worthwhile!”
“I do it for you, Enjolras! I do it because you are able to make me think for just one fleeting moment that the world is worth saving, that I'm worth saving, even if I know none of it's true! I hate that I fell in love with you! So I just sit here orbiting you like you’re the freaking sun because what else am I supposed to do!”
For the first time tonight, Enjolras looked speechless. His cheeks were pink and his mouth was slightly ajar.
Grantaire wished the floor would swallow him. What kind of idiot was he? Why did he confess to someone who could never return his feelings, let alone in front of his entire friend group while they were actively fighting?
“You… what?” Enjolras stammered, completely uncharacteristically. He always knew what to say.
Grantaire closed his eyes and took a breath. “I love you. Since before we even met.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry.”
When Grantaire opened his eyes again, Enjolras was moving again. “Meeting's over,” he said quietly, grabbing his things.
“What?”
Enjolras was walking to the door, face guarded. He couldn't even answer him back.
The others in the room were watching, unsure what to do. Some started grabbing their stuff, others looked at Grantaire sympathetically. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were whispering in the corner. Grantaire fell back into his chair and folded his arms on the table, hiding his face. “I'm such an idiot.”