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Grantaire looks at the different postings for roommates on the bulletin board in the back of the campus library. He has been couch surfing between Bahorel and Joly’s apartments for the last two weeks. None of the Amis know that he has been kicked out of his apartment; let alone that he couldn’t pay his rent. He knows that they will worry and try to help him. Grantaire thinks he doesn’t deserve their help out of a mess he made for himself.
A few of the pieces of brightly colored paper hold options, but all of them are out of the price range that Grantaire can afford. He makes a living by working in a coffee shop on campus and selling random paintings; so there isn’t much money to go around. Grantaire sighs and turns to leave when he walks into Combeferre – literally.
“Gah! I’m sorry,” Grantaire apologizes and keeps walking.
“Grantaire, it’s okay.” Combeferre grabs his arm and stops him. “Everything okay?”
Oh why do you have to notice everything, Combeferre? Grantaire thinks to himself.
“I’m good, just stressed with it nearing finals.” Grantaire lies.
“Finals are two months away, R. What’s really wrong?” Combeferre is now has a hand on both of Grantaire’s arms – an embrace that shockingly feels nice to Grantaire.
“Nothing, Combeferre. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Too late. You are my friend. It’s in the job description.”
Grantaire raises an eyebrow as if to say – Really?
“I bet Jehan has a rule book about friendship written up, or a poem for sure.” Combeferre smiles.
Grantaire looks down at their shoes – his well-worn converse next to Combeferre’s dress shoes that he wears during his shifts at the library.
Combeferre shakes Grantaire slightly, “R, talk to me.”
Grantaire looks at Combeferre trying to figure out just why he cares about this so much. I’m just the one that screws up meetings. I frustrate Enjolras, which makes you wrinkle your nose and fidget with your glasses. Your blue eyes get this look in them. It’s different than the cold frustration of Enjolras’ eyes. They get this rich crystalline blue color. Wait…what the hell am I thinking about?
Before Grantaire can open his mouth to actually talk, Combeferre is pulling him by the hand into one of the private research rooms. The smoothness of Combeferre’s hands against the rough texture of his own hands intrigues Grantaire. Combeferre’s grip is also stronger than Grantaire imagined it would be.
The room Combeferre pulls them into is dark. Grantaire can make out the table and chairs thanks to the light from the window. “R, what’s up?” Combeferre is standing closer to Grantaire than he ever has – as if he is protecting him from something – still holding his hand, which Grantaire is currently starring at.
“I got kicked out of my apartment. I couldn’t pay rent the past two months.” Grantaire refuses to look Combeferre in the eye after that admission spills out of his mouth.
“R.” Combeferre sighs.
“Don’t.” Grantaire clinches his eyes closed and leans back against the wall.
“Don’t what? Want to help you?”
“Don’t, ‘Ferre. I don’t deserve your help.”
“Friends help each other, R. I have a spare room since Courfeyrac just moved out.” Combeferre steps in a smidge closer and tries to get Grantaire to look up at him.
“Don’t.” Grantaire feels like he is going to crawl out of his own skin.
“I’m serious, Grantaire. I wouldn’t min –“
Grantaire shoves Combeferre back as hard as he can and retreats to the opposite corner of the room. He slides down, pulling his knees to his chest, and he buries his face in his hands. “Just stop, please. I’m not worth you or any of the group worrying over.” Grantaire says to his hands and knees.
Combeferre stands in place for a moment, a little shocked. He has heard from Jehan that sometimes things get to be too much for Grantaire. Combeferre immediately feels bad for making this all worse. Quickly, he thinks back to things Jehan had mentioned helped Grantaire in times like this. Combeferre walks over to Grantaire and sits down beside him, careful not touch him at first. “I’m sorry I upset you, Grantaire.”
“I’m just – embarrassed.” Grantaire whispers to his knees, scooting a little closer next to Combeferre.
“Don’t be.” Combeferre cautiously wraps his right arm around Grantaire, and when Grantaire doesn’t fight the embrace, Combeferre pulls him tightly to him.
“Sorry for shoving you.”
“I grew up with Enjolras and Courfeyrac – trust me – I’ve been shoved worse when trying to talk sense into someone.”
Grantaire chuckles a little. “I can see Enjolras not liking being told he was wrong.”
“Oh you don’t even know the half of it.” Combeferre laughs. It’s a happy, infectious laugh, which makes Grantaire smile.
“Were you serious about the offer, Combeferre?” Grantaire looks up finally.
“Yes, R. Of course I was.”
“I don’t know how much I could pay in rent. Work is sucking lately.”
“We’ll figure out something. Don’t worry about it. Deal?” Combeferre’s voice had this warm softness to it at this distance. He was always the most soft spoken of the trio that led their group, but when he talked, you couldn’t help but listen.
“Deal. I can cook, if that helps.”
“Sounds perfect.” Combeferre stands up and offers his hand to Grantaire, who takes it.
Combeferre says nothing as he wipes away tears that were still on Grantaire’s cheeks. His hands are warm against Grantaire’s skin, and the touch makes him smile. Combeferre gently laces his fingers back into Grantaire’s, and he pauses to look at Grantaire for a moment as if to ask if the touch was okay. When Grantaire smiles, he tightens the grip, and Combeferre guides them out of the room.