Chapter Text
“Citizens,” Enjolras addressed the amis who were gathered at the Café Musain for an early morning meeting before their classes started. “As you know, in three days the protest at Lyon is taking place, and I expect you all to be there.”
Enjolras’s speech was interrupted by a snore coming from the back table, where Grantaire had apparently fallen asleep. Bossuet nudged him inconspicuously, causing him to fly awake, looking around like he was under attack. Enjolras scoffed.
“I can’t go,” Courfeyrac said, resentful and half-asleep. “My car is broken.”
“Your car is broken?” Enjolras asked in disbelief. He was apparently the only one fully awake, seeming more manic than usual. “We’ve been planning to attend this protest for months and your car just happens to be broken?”
“Just to spite you, Apollo,” Grantaire called from the back, his head still resting on the table.
“I let Marius borrow my car,” Courfeyrac said.
“Oh,” Enjolras said, without needing further explanation. Marius was well known in the group for being a walking accident. “I see Marius didn’t bother to attend this meeting.”
“He’s in a park looking for Cosette,” Courfeyrac explained.
“Of course,” Enjolras said, in a dismissive tone. “Well, then, I’ll give you a ride, Courfeyrac.”
“I need a ride, too,” Grantaire murmured.
Enjolras raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Just take the train.”
“What?” Grantaire raised his head from the table, looking offended. “Courfeyrac gets a ride and I have to take the train? Apollo, people are going to think you’re not treating all of your followers equally.”
“You’re not my followers,” Enjolras said, exasperated. “And stop calling me Apollo.”
“Hey,” Courfeyrac said, as though he had a brilliant plan. Enjolras was immediately nervous. “I have a great idea.”
“Go on,” Combeferre encouraged, since Enjolras didn’t seem to be in the mood.
“We can make it a road trip. We’ll all pile into Enjolras’s car and drive across country. It’ll be fun. A bonding experience.”
“I’m game,” Grantaire said, looking around the room for wine.
“No.” Enjolras crumbled the pamphlet that he was holding in his hand and looked horrified upon noticing what he’d done. “No. I’m sorry, but no.”
“Why on earth not?” Courfeyrac asked, looking ready to pack his bags and get into Enjolras’s car right that second. “That way we’ll make sure no one gets lost.”
“Who’s going to get lost? It’s only an hour away!” Enjolras was even more exasperated, his face flushed.
“Lyon is at least four hours away,” Courfeyrac reasoned, amused. “And as for who’s going to get lost…Marius. Probably Grantaire. Joly and Bossuet, if left to their own devices. In fact, we’re the only ones who won’t get lost because you’ll be navigating.”
“I don’t navigate,” Enjolras countered, hopelessly.
“I have a GPS on my phone.” Combeferre was holding his newly purchased iPhone in his hands.
Enjolras looked betrayed by both Combeferre and his phone.
“Then it’s settled,” Courfeyrac said, pleased with himself. He gathered his bag and left the café in a hurry, obviously late for class. Enjolras sat at one of the tables and did his best to smooth out the pamphlet that he’d crumbled in a moment of frustration. He thought about taking a road trip with the group. It would certainly end in disaster. For one, Enjolras didn’t actually have his license, but couldn’t admit it to the group for two reasons. One, he was the leader and needed to appear strong and put together. And two, because he knew that if he admitted it, someone else would have to drive and Enjolras had far too many control issues to allow that to happen.
After organizing the pamphlets and gathering his things together, Enjolras realized that, besides himself, Grantaire was the only one left in the café. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at some fixed spot on the table. Enjolras marched up to him and coughed, hoping to get his attention.
“Not going to class?” he asked, putting on his snobbiest voice. He knew that Grantaire despised him and his ideas and only came to the meetings to put him down, so he always did his best to pretend that didn’t bother him and that he couldn’t care less about Grantaire or his opinions. In reality, however, he thought that Grantaire was really cool and artsy and witty and funny and so intelligent and the fact that his nickname was a pun made Enjolras want to melt into a puddle in the corner of the Musain. Enjolras fucking loved puns.
“I don’t have class today, Apollo,” Grantaire muttered, without looking up. He actually looked incredibly depressed, like he was going to start crying. Enjolras really, really hoped he wouldn’t.
He also knew that Grantaire was lying, because he had a history class every Wednesday at exactly 9 AM. Obviously Enjolras didn’t have Grantaire’s schedule memorized or anything, he’d just overheard him talking once.
“No history today?” Enjolras asked, trying to sound casual. But his voice was way too loud and eager. It made him cringe.
Grantaire looked up, surprised. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“You memorized my schedule?”
Enjolras was blushing and fought the urge to run.
“No,” Enjolras said, once again too loudly and with too much conviction.
“Excited to drive all of us four hours?” Grantaire asked, with a small smirk. Enjolras found it both adorable and incredibly annoying.
“Of course I’m not,” Enjolras said, “but I’ll do what I need to for the sake of attending the rally.”
“Sure,” Grantaire muttered, looking back down at the table. “I’m sure this rally will be just as successful as the last ones we’ve attended.”
“Excuse me?” Enjolras fought the urge to slam his hands down on the table if only to get Grantaire to look back up at him.
“You heard me. We’ll say a few words, pass out a few pamphlets, the police will come, break it up, and we’ll have accomplished nothing except putting everyone in danger.”
Enjolras couldn’t stand Grantaire sometimes. What would it take to make him believe that change was possible? He thought about a four hour car ride listening to Grantaire talking about all of the reasons the rally was pointless and wondered how one earth he was going to stop himself from driving them off of a cliff.
“If you think it’s so pointless, no one is making you come,” Enjolras said in his harshest tone.
“Maybe I won’t.” Grantaire sounded so small and pathetically sad and so unlike himself that Enjolras couldn’t even feel angry.
“Is something wrong?” Enjolras asked. He wanted to sound gentle and caring but only succeeded in sounding annoyed and impatient. No wonder Grantaire hated him.
“No, nothing,” Grantaire said, in a louder voice, looking up at Enjolras and offering him the fakest smile Enjolras had ever seen in his life. “I should go.”
He gathered his bag and left the café before Enjolras could say another word.