Chapter Text
Grantaire strummed his fingers as he waited for the rather lengthy song he had just put on to finish. Today was one of the few days when he didn’t feel like talking. It was unusual for him, because if there was one thing he knew it was good at, it was spurting out words like a geyser. Tonight though, he had too many thoughts whirling around his head, thoughts of something new and beautiful. Every other topic seemed mundane in comparison. But it was his job to talk about the daily happenings of their small town of Black Valley, so he supposed he’d better get on with it.
“Welcome back, listeners,” Grantaire said. “That was the weather. And, and now, I’d like to talk about the elephant in the room.”
He sighed loudly, swiveling in his chair. He didn’t want to talk about it, but it was hard to focus on much else until he addressed it.
“I am of course referring to the elephant statue that usually sits in the town square. It appeared mysteriously in our offices overnight. Its posterior is currently taking up more than half of my studio. No one knows who or what put it here, or for what purpose. I personally suspect Marius Pontmercy.”
Grantaire paused, imagining the indignant sound Marius would have made as he and Cosette listened to the show together. It had become a running joke with their friends- if something inexplicably went wrong, blame it on Pontmercy. Poor Marius had yet to figure out that it was a joke, and would vehemently protest his innocence every single time. Sure enough, the phone line was blinking red, and Grantaire’s personal phone was buzzing. He knew Marius had called the studio phone so he could proclaim his innocence to the entire town. Grantaire chanced a peek at his phone- it was a text from Cosette, probably chastising him. He’d get to it later.
“The only good thing to come from this inconvenient and frankly tacky landmark being here is there was a street urchin living in it. Young Gavroche has agreed to be our new studio intern, filling in for former intern, Eponine, who has been missing ever since she began investigating the Corinthe wine shop. Eponine, if you’re still out there, you are missed.”
Grantaire rubbed his face. He had told Eponine the stupid Corinthe story wasn’t important. The Corinthe was the only wine shop in Black Valley Grantaire hadn’t entered, because it was common knowledge that if you ate or drank anything in the Corinthe, you could never leave. It was a ghost café that appeared and disappeared at random times and in random places. If you went in, it might vanish, and you would either starve to death, or be forced to eat something, thus trapping yourself forever. Grantaire hoped the Corinthe would reappear soon enough for Eponine to get out.
“But welcome, Gavroche. It was a rare stroke of luck to find an intern who already has the necessary stealth and evasion skills mastered.”
Grantaire thumbed through his notes. More sightings of hill people on the mountains that surrounded Black Valley. Boring. Dr. Joly asking everyone to come to the hospital to get flu shots. Ridiculous. How would getting stabbed by a needle stop anyone from getting sick? He riffled through some more papers, wishing something more interesting happened, when he saw a police report. This was promising.
“Former mayor, and current fugitive Jean Valjean was spotted on High Street today. A pickup truck had fallen on Old Man Fauchelevent. Valjean appeared, apparently out of nowhere, lifted the truck off of him, then disappeared again. Head of Secret Police, Inspector Javert urges anyone with information on the fugitive’s whereabouts to come forward.”
Grantaire spun around in his chair, not minding how his headphones became all tangled as he did so. He glanced at the wall clock. He only had about five minutes left in his program, which was good. He had some news he wanted to save until the end- best for last, as it was.
“Listeners,” Grantaire paused dramatically. “Listeners, something unexpected happened yesterday. As I’m sure you are aware, our little town had three strangers arrive earlier this week. Of course, no one knew who they are, why they came, or even what they looked like. All we knew was they planned on staying ‘indefinitely’.
Naturally this raised a few eyebrows, as the only people that stay in Black Valley willingly are people who were born here, fugitives, workers from shadowy government organizations and the criminally insane.
You know who you are.”
Grantaire tried to run a nervous hand through his hair, almost knocking off his headphones as he did so. Thank God he wasn’t a television host, because he did a lot of embarrassing shit he was glad no one except Feuilly or the interns could see.
“Anyway, the three strangers. They were at the town hall meeting last night, and they did not disappoint. I’m sure most of you have already met Courfeyrac.”
Grantaire smiled as he remembered the gregarious man from the night before. He had bounded up to Grantaire with a huge grin plastered on his face, and enthusiastically shaken his hand.
“I’m sure he already has half of your phone numbers, since he has promised to throw a party for the entire town, so he could meet his new neighbors. (More details on that as the story develops).
There was also Combeferre, who is a scientist. I asked him what kind of scientist and it appears he dabbles in many different areas. I think he might be some kind of a genius. He seemed especially passionate about moths. When I told him I hoped his stay in Black Valley would be “mothome”, he laughed.
That was the moment I decided I liked Combeferre. I appreciate people who appreciate lame puns.
Last, but most certainly, not ever least was Enjolras.”
Grantaire practically sighed the name. He felt his hearts beat faster at the mere mention of the perfect man.
“Listeners, he was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life, even including the hallucinations we collectively experience during the annual summer solstice festivals. I would use a cliché and say he looked like an angel, but he looked nothing like the angels that hang out with Sister Simplice. Those guys are creepy. No offense. I’m sure they are very nice celestial beings, but they weird me out.
Enjolras was more elusive than the angels, or his friends. He showed up about half way through the meeting, and tried to slip in unnoticed. But listeners, when you are that radiant, it is impossible to enter a room unobserved. And I swear, the moment I laid eyes on him, time stood still.”
There was a frantic banging on the window. Grantaire looked up to see the station manager Feuilly pressed against the glass, shaking his head wildly.
“My apologies, listeners. I meant time stopped in the figurative sense. There is no need to panic. I’m sure last Tuesday’s incident will not be repeated. City Council has assured us that the problem has been resolved.”
Feuilly gave him a thumbs up. Grantaire rolled his eyes. What was the point in trying to soothe the nerves of an uneasy public? If time was actually fixed (doubtful- it had been on the fritz for years), there was a whole host of other fucked up things that could happen to anyone at any time. Grantaire didn’t see the point in sugarcoating that fact, but Feuilly disagreed. And he signed Grantaire’s paychecks, so Grantaire just went with it.
“Anyway, when I first saw Enjolras, time figuratively stood still. Then something even more amazing happened. As I was staring at Enjolras…”
Shit that sounded bad.
“As I was observing Enjolras, for reporting purposes, he looked back at me. And when our eyes met. It was like I stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back. And listeners…I liked it.”
He silently reveled in the memory. Enjolras had gorgeous blue eyes that Grantaire could wax lyrical about for days. They were filled with passion and fire and conviction. If eyes were actually windows to the soul (as a scientific study at the local university was close to proving absolutely), then Enjolras had the most beautiful soul in the world. Grantaire would give anything for another glance from Enjolras. One glance from Enjolras could make or break a man, and Grantaire frankly didn’t which it was, as long as he could see those eyes looking back at him.
And don’t get him started on those perfect, golden locks of hair.
There was a knocking on the glass. Gavroche and Feuilly both stood there, looking amused. Oh. Maybe Grantaire’s silent musing weren’t as silent as he thought. Feuilly pointed at the clock.
“Well, listeners, that’s about all we have time for. Uh, more on the newcomers as we gather more information. For reporting purposes. Because we here at Black Valley radio are professionals. So, until tomorrow, Black Valley. Try not to get killed.”