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This was it. He was going to do it; there was no way he couldn’t do it. It was no big deal, people did it all the time, right? Right, of course they did, so there was no reason for him to be panicking and nearly hyperventilating in front of his laptop. Yet here he was, with the cursor poised over the ‘poke’ button, face flushed with pre-embarrassment and fierce determination.
It was only a poke, and it was only facebook, he fruitlessly tried to explain to himself, hands tugging at his hair and lip pulled between his teeth.
On Combeferre’s count, this was Enjolras’ third week of acting like this. ‘This’ being stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of staring at facebook, attempting to distract himself with other internet things, failing to distract himself, staring at facebook, staring at the poke button, declaring that ‘he’s definitely going to do it this time!’, closing his laptop, moaning into his pillow or Combeferre’s shoulder, opening his laptop, staring at facebook…
“Enjolras, just fucking do it!” Courfeyrac finally burst on the twenty-first day of Enjolras’ internal (read: external) debate.
The man he had shouted at snapped his head up so fast Combeferre was nearly sure it would keep snapping back and fall off. He looked somewhat like a shocked and hurt puppy, much to the chagrin of his friends. Hands seemed to tug even harder at blond locks of curly hair, and his expression was frantic. "I can’t just do it, Courf, what if he--"
The battle-cry Courfeyrac let out was legendary, and would not be forgotten in Combeferre’s nightmares for months to come. He leaped across the room and over the coffee table, immediately wrestling the laptop out Enjolras’ hands. The movements he made as he went back to his corner of the room could only be described as an angry dance—that too, would haunt Combeferre’s nightmares.
“No, Couf, what are you doin--"
“Shh, Enjy, I’m just--"
“COURF DON’T--"
“Stop pulling my hair, En--"
“DON’T DO THIS TO ME--"
“IT’S DONE. IT. IS. DONE. YOU HAVE POKED GRANTAIRE.”
No one could really blame Enjolras for crumpling into a wailing heap of despair on the floor after that.
‘Alec Enjolrjas has poked you.’
Grantaire raised an eyebrow at the notification, confused and highly amused. Enjolras hadn’t communicated with him through facebook at all after accepting his friend request months ago, so the sudden poke was definitely unexpected. Not that he minded unexpected when it came to Enjolras giving him any sort of attention. So with a truly gleeful smile, he poked Enjolras back.
The loud screech from the other side of the apartment building that sounded a minute later was probably his imagination.