Chapter Text
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived in Paris. Please stay in your seat until the plane has come to a complete stop, and we hope you enjoyed flying with American Airlines. Thank you.”
Though usually obedient, Enjolras couldn’t help but squirm with happiness upon glancing out the plane window. As much as he had loved every second of his ten-year stay in America, France was his true home, and he knew it. Carefully, so as not to be scolded by the flight attendant, he undid his seatbelt and arched his back to get a better look at the familiar surroundings. He smiled, satisfied. Everything looked just as it had when he left it.
Gripping his carryon tightly, Enjolras stood up in an effort to get off the plane. The entire aircraft seemed to be filled with American tourists, and Enjolras knew better than to get caught in their traffic. Skillfully, he maneuvered himself off the plane before someone cut him off. He had ten years worth of suitcases waiting for him at the baggage claim-not to mention all of his friends.
As he made his way through the airport, Enjolras grinned as everything became more familiar. The restaurants, the photos, the layout-it was all coming back to him now. This was where he belonged.
“Enjolras!” He turned his head, and saw a group of his friends waiting for him, complete with signs and balloons. Widening his smile even more than he thought possible, he sprinted over, and was enveloped in a bear hug before he could even reply.
“Guys, it’s so good to see you,” he said, his voice muffled by Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “Courf, Courf let me go, I want to see everyone.” He laughed. “How are you guys?”
“Glad to see you” Feuilly responded with a smile. “How was America?”
“It was amazing.” Enjolras was breathless. “It was incredible, and I learned so much, but I am so glad to be back with you guys, and for my new job as congressman, and…”
Bossuet laughed. “He’s punch-drunk. Come on, guys, let’s help him get his bags.” He nodded to the baggage carousel, and the group of boys started to walk.
Something struck Enjolras, and he looked at his friends. “So, where’s Grantaire? He drink himself into a coma again?”
Enjolras had meant it as a joke, but cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. He knew as well as anyone that Grantaire’s alcoholism was nothing to joke about, not to mention that he had resolved to be nicer to his friend. The night before Enjolras left for America, Grantaire had drunkenly confessed to being passionately in love with Enjolras, completely shocking him. Sputtering, all Enjolras could say was to gently tell Grantaire that he didn’t return his feelings. Grantaire hadn’t found any way to speak to him since, not even joining his friends during the two visits they took to see Enjolras, and though their friends would include updates on him whenever they called or texted, eventually, Enjolras had just asked them to stop. He hated the knowledge that he was the reason Grantaire drank so much.
Combeferre and Jehan exchanged a look, and Combeferre looked back at Enjolras. “No, I, uh, actually think he’s at work.”
“Work?!” Enjolras was dumbfounded. Grantaire hated being told what to do. “Where could he possibly be working?”
“He’s at the Starbucks closest to his loft.” Joly piped up, smiling weakly at Enjolras. “He’s a barista.”
“Yeah, but not today,” Bahorel said, shaking his head. “He couldn’t come today because he’s got a column due tomorrow for the paper.”
The other boys nodded in recognition, and Enjolras’ eyes widened. If he thought he was shocked before, that was nothing compared to this. “You mean to tell me that Grantaire-our Grantaire-is now working not one but two jobs?! How does he have time to drink?”
Nervously, his friends glanced around at one another. “He…doesn’t, exactly.” Courfeyrac said, avoiding eye contact. “He…gave up alcohol when Maddie was born.”
“Maddie? Who’s Maddie?” None of his friends answered, causing Enjolras much alarm. “Guys, who’s Maddie?”
“His daughter.” Combeferre said flatly. “She’s six.”
“His daughter?!” Enjolras yelped. “While I was away, Grantaire got himself a daughter?!”
“She’s sweet, Enj, don’t worry.” Feuilly hastened to say. “Sassy, too. It’s obvious that ‘Taire raised her.”
Tightly, Enjolras pressed his lips together. “And who, may I ask, is Maddie’s mother?”
Bahorel sighed and put his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “Grantaire doesn’t know her.”
“He doesn’t what?!” Enjolras was now seething. “He took the step of having a child with someone, and he doesn’t even know her name?!”
Bossuet looked directly at Enjolras and spoke slowly, giving each word a special meaning. “He was really lonely once you left. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and he went out every night.”
“Oh.” Suddenly Enjolras felt ashamed. Did his friends know about Grantaire’s feelings for him? “And he got one of them…?”
“About a year after you left, yes.” Jehan nodded. “And he couldn’t bear to know that a child that was rightfully his was in danger of being silenced, and begged her to let him take care of her as his own.”
“Grantaire.” Bahorel said thoughtfully. “Who would have thought he’d had it in him?”
“I…didn’t know.” Enjolras said.
Combeferre put his arm around Enjolras. “We know.”