Archive of Our Own ^beta

The funny thing about Cosette is that it feels like they all know her despite never having met her. So much so, that when Marius finally brings her to a meeting for the first time, Grantaire has to make an effort to actually extend his hand and introduce himself. She’s very pretty, and when he introduces himself, her face lights up, and she tells him it’s nice to finally meet him, as Marius has mentioned his artwork.

“You’ve got to show me sometimes, I’ve heard so much about it.” She winks at him and he laughs; he can definitely see why Marius likes her. Their conversation is cut short when Enjolras comes in to start the meeting, and Grantaire sneaks away to his usual seat in the corner while Enjorlas introduces himself to Cosette. Enjolras smiles when he shakes Cosette’s hand. Grantaire slides down next to Eponine who’s furiously texting with someone.

“You’re not going to say ‘hi’ to Cosette?” He asks as she looks up from her phone.

“Yeah uh,” she looks down again, “I’ll say ‘hi’ after the meeting.”

He nods, doesn’t press, and watches Courfeyrac drag Cosette down between him and Jehan while Marius fumbles in the air. Combeferre looks amused and let’s go of Courfeyrac’s hand to greet Cosette. She really is pretty, Cosette. Her hair falls down her shoulders in soft waves and frames her face nicely together with her fringe. Her eyes have a soft almond shape. They had a playful gleam to them when they said hello. She seems nice and from what Marius has told them, she’s very smart. Grantaire glances at Eponine. It can’t be easy for her, he gets that. Marius is many things, good and bad. Being naive and oblivious might be amongst his greater flaws. Grantaire is pretty sure Marius is the only one who doesn’t know Eponine is in love with him. And then he drags the human embodiment of perfection through the door and introduces her as his girlfriend. No wonder Eponine is feeling like shit.

Enjolras starts handing out papers with today’s agenda and some background material on what they’re going to discuss. Grantaire picks a sketchbook out of his bag. Flipping through it, he opens a blank page and stares. Eponine, still texting next to him, sneaks a glance at the agenda Enjolras handed out, then returns to her phone. Grantaire takes a look at it too, fiddling with his pen, and tries to scrub some dry paint off of it. He underlines some sentences on the agenda; Enjolras is almost too predictable when it comes to weak spots in his research and arguments.

There’s going to be a protest match against the Macron-lead government's inaction on climate change, Enjolras explains. They’re going to participate, but he wants to make sure they highlight the humanitarian issues that come as a result of global warming. Grantaire doodles randomly while he listens, cutting in here and there, especially when Enjolras starts bringing up arguments from a source Grantaire knows is heavily biased.

Enjolras is always on fire when he speaks, but the first time he presents a new issue to them, he takes it to a whole other level. There’s an energy and a passion in his voice and movements, that are only rivalled when they’re actually at a protest. In these moments, Enjolras truly becomes Apollo. Not just because of his looks, although Grantaire does think Enjolras’ looks amazing when he speaks. His passion does enhance his beauty. But something about these speeches does make Enjolras radiate light like a god or an angel. Grantaire seriously wouldn’t be surprised if Enjolras grew wings one day during one of these speeches. There’s simply no way for Grantaire to take his eyes off of Enjolras in moments like these.

The fire in Enjolras is still present when Grantaire interrupts him, just converted to a burning glare. Combined with the irritated response, it probably should make Grantaire back off, but he doesn’t. It’s fun, it’s exciting, and it’s a response from Enjolras. Throwing facts and insults back and forth, it’s almost like a game of ping-pong. If ping-pong was exciting and borderline dangerous.

Eventually, the discussion begins to die down, fading to small talk. Eponine is still quiet next to him. As soon as Enjolras seems to have settled down to small talk as well, she stands, nodding to Grantaire. As she heads for the door, Cosette blocks her path. Eponine stops dead in her tracks.

“Hey,” Cosette says, extending her hand, “you must be Eponine right? It’s nice to not be the only girl here.”

Eponine stares at Cosette’s extended hand. “Yeah uh, hi. Sorry, I’m in a hurry so…” She quickly slides past Cosette, down the stairs leading down to the general area of the Musain. Cosette stands, blinking, with her hand still extended. The room around her starts to quiet down, before Courfeyrac, smiling, drags Cosette down into her seat, saying something Grantaire doesn’t quite catch but makes her laugh. He sends Eponine a quick text.

Grantaire (4:03 pm):

everything ok?

Grantaire stares down at his sketchbook, and a slightly creepier-than-intended starfish smiles up at him. He should really work on his project; his professor emailed asking if he had decided on a topic yet yesterday. He hasn’t. So he turns to Jehan and asks about the poetry they're writing.

It turns out they’re writing a poem about how adorable Marius is around Cosette and it’s really sweet. Joly and Bossuet join in, taking turns reciting lines from Jehan’s poem in increasingly dramatic voices. Eventually, Marius stands up and loudly announces they’ll be late for dinner with Cosette’s father, and begins to drag her out the door. Cosette waves and insists they really don’t need to leave yet, to no avail. Bossuet orders a round of beers. When Grantaire checks his phone, he realizes he’s been talking with them for over an hour, and Eponine has answered.

Eponine (4:57 pm):

gav got in some trouble. got it handled tho, dw

He replies with a quick heart and thumbs up. Perhaps it’s an excuse to escape the meeting, perhaps not. He’s not sure what he’s hoping for. Joly tells them Musichetta’s cooking dinner so they should head home. Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet wave goodbye to the remaining group and decide to split a cab. None of them want to miss Musichetta's cooking.

The four of them eat Musichetta’s dinner in front of the tv watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. When Joly and Musichetta start making out, Grantaire takes this as his cue to leave. He loves living with them, he reminds himself as he tries to fall asleep. He gets to live with some of his best friends, plus Musichetta who is literally godsent in so many ways. He just really wishes the walls weren’t so thin. Putting on his headphones, he sends Eponine a text asking if she wants to get breakfast before class tomorrow. The notification with her thumbs up pops up just before he falls asleep.

Grantaire gets to the cafe right as Eponine texts him that she overslept. He tells her he’ll get her usual and they can meet up outside campus. The barista smiles at him when he comes in, lifting the largest takeaway mug they have and raises her eyebrows in question. He laughs and tells her to add Eponine’s order to that. He checks Instagram while he waits. Jehan’s sent him a video of a dog jumping on a trampoline and Bahorel’s sent him a video of Jack Black dancing shirtless in a cowboy hat. He snorts and likes both videos, putting his phone away when the barista calls his name. Eponine meets him halfway to campus and tosses down almost all her coffee in one go. By the time she gets to her sandwich she looks slightly more alive. They walk in silence, then Eponine sighs.

“You know those guys Gav’s been hanging with? They went shoplifting at that thrift store again yesterday.” She pushes some of her hair out of her face. “Gav got caught.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So I had to go get him at the station.”

Grantaire throws his empty mug in a trashcan and Eponine hands him her trash to toss as well. She takes another bite of her sandwich.

“Thankfully, they went easy on him since he’s a minor but...” She sighs. “Those guys are only going to land him in more trouble.” She crumbles the sandwich wrapper into a ball and tosses it in the air. “So I let him stay with me yesterday and I tried to talk to him. I don’t know if he listened but…” She shrugs. “I don’t know what more I can do.”

They walk in silence while Grantaire weighs his words. He glances at her. “You know,” he hesitates, “I could talk to him, if you want me to.”

She doesn’t answer but stops messing with her trash. She throws the wrapper away as they pass a can. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she slowly looks up at him. “Thank you, R. I think now is a bad time since I’ve already scolded him. He might not listen right now. But he might need to hear it from someone else and he really respects you.”

“Of course,” he says because he would do anything for Gavroche and Eponine.

***

Courfeyrac texts him mid-class and asks if he wants to get lunch at the cafeteria. Grantaire replies that lunch sounds great. He spends the rest of the class playing Candy Crush because the class is boring and he can teach himself later. Also he really, really wants to beat this level and finally be officially better than Feuilly.

When class ends he heads out the door as quick as he can so his professor can’t ask about his project. Thankfully, the professor drags someone else into a conversation and Grantaire slips out unnoticed. Courfeyrac and Joly have already grabbed a table next to the window when he arrives and Joly is complaining about Courfeyrac’s unhealthy diet when he sits down.

“He’s going to die from diabetes!”

Grantaire nearly spills his soda when Joly grabs him, trying to get Grantaire to take his side.

“Dude, don’t worry.” He sets down his food and untangles Joly from his arm. “If anyone can handle that much of sugar without dying, it’s Courf.” Courfeyrac nods while biting on whatever sugar-infused thing he’s eating. Not even Combeferre has managed to get Courfeyrac to eat less sugar, which really says something.

The bag that hits the table next makes a loud thump and Joly jumps, actually causing Grantaire’s drink to fall over this time. It almost spills all over the bag, but Grantaire catches it and only a few drops spill out. 

“Sorry,” Enjolras says when he sits down and steals a fry from Courfeyrac. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a murderous look in them. For once, it doesn’t seem to be directed at Grantaire. He would see it as a win if Enjolras didn’t look so exhausted.

“You okay?” Joly asks carefully and Enjolras just groans, dropping his head on his bag. Grantaire has to resist reaching over to pat him on the head.

“My professor didn’t accept my thesis. Which I spent all night working on. Which I now have to re-do. Before the end of the week.” His voice is muffled by the bag and probably tiredness and Grantaire really, really, really wants to pat him on the head. The possibility of Enjolras either hitting him or being really freaked out stops him from doing it. Enjolras sits up and drags his hands over his face. He pulls a sandwich and water bottle out of his bag, then steals another fry from Courfeyrac.

“I’ll figure it out,” he says. “I just wish my professor wasn’t such a conservative capitalist pig. I mean really!” He throws his hands out and smacks Courfeyrac with his bottle. “Oops, sorry. You okay?” Courfeyrac nods and Enjolras continues. “I went to present my thesis and he looked at me and told me, to my face, that he couldn’t accept it because it went against his political views. It is unacceptable!” He slams the bottle down and Grantaire’s feels sorry for the bottle.

“Damn,” Courfeyrac says, rubbing his shoulder slightly where Enjorlas hit him. “I mean, that’s just against every rule, isn’t it?” Joly and Grantaire both nod. “You should bring it up with the board, get them to arrange you a new supervisor.”

“Already did. Sort of asked them to also remove him from teaching but I guess we’ll see about that. Either way, I have a new thesis to come up with before Friday.”

“Oh, speaking of stuff like that,” Courfeyrac turns to Grantaire, “R, don’t you have your final project coming up soon?”

Everyone’s suddenly staring expectantly at him and Grantaire avoids looking at Enjolras. “Yeah, and before you ask-” Courfeyrac closes his mouth “-I haven’t come up with a theme yet.”

“When do you have to decide?” Joly asks.

“Yesterday.” He says and Courfeyrac snorts but Joly looks pale. “I’m kidding Joly, I’m kidding. Friday, like Enjolras.” Now he makes a point of looking at Enjolras instead. He seems more focused on his sandwich than the conversation.

“Hm.” Joly steals his attention back. “Do you have any idea?”

“Nope.”

“Spoken like a true artist,” laughs Courfeyrac, and Grantaire raises his coke bottle in a mock cheers.

“You know,” Joly says, “not to force a theme on you, but I remember last semester when you wrote an essay on colour theory. It was great. And I remember you really liked it.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. Thanks, Joly. I’ll think about it.” He says, mostly to please Joly, and the smile he gets is honestly worth it.

Enjolras stands up, stealing two more fries from Courfeyrac, who actually protests this time. “Gotta go, I have class. But I’ll see you all Thursday?” His eyes glance over all of them, even Grantaire.

“Of course, Apollo,” he grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Enjolras just rolls his eyes.

***

He said he’d consider the colour theory thing to please Joly, but he does dig out his old essay. It’s not the masterpiece Joly made it out to be, but Grantaire remembers having a lot of fun writing it. When writing it, he once woke Joly up at two am and kept him up until four am because he really wanted to talk about it.

When Wednesday evening rolls around and he still hasn’t thought of another topic, he pulls out the essay again. He stares at it and sighs. Colour theory is a theory, it was easy to write about, but what the hell is he going to draw with it? He leaves it sitting on his bedside table, hoping to channel some sort of inspiration from it. For a moment he considered pulling out candles and making a sacrifice to all art students past, but he figures that'd be a major fire hazard.

He still hasn’t come up with a theme when he enters the meeting room on Thursday with Joly and Bossuet. No one is there yet so they grab the corner table and play poker. Bahorel joins them when he arrives, making them play with actual money instead of just rounds of drinks. When Marius and Cosette enter the room, Cosette exclaims happily and runs over to them.

“Oh, I love poker! Can I join you?”

Bahorel tosses a bunch of chips to her. “Of course. You in too, Marius?”

“Ehm no, I’ll sit this one out,” Marius says, sitting at the table next to them.

Bahorel shrugs. “Your loss.”

Turns out though, it’s actually Bahorel’s loss. And Grantaire’s. And Joly’s and Bossuet’s. Cosette smiles sweetly as she collects their chips. “Another round?”

“Fuck yeah,” Bahorel says, and Bossuet joins him despite definitely knowing better. Joly simply leaves to sit with Marius instead. Cosette looks at Grantaire.

“Why not,” he laughs. “This is the most exciting game I’ve had in awhile.”

Grantaire realises early on that he’s pretty fucked (and so are the others, especially Bossuet), but he figures whatever; he’s having fun. “You should play with Eponine and Combeferre,” he tells Cosette. “They rarely play, but when they do…” He folds.

Something changes in Cosette’s eyes when he says that, but he can’t tell what. She smiles at him though and throws another chip in. “I would love to.”

Eponine walks in only moments later. Grantaire, who’s already lost way too much too quickly, waves her over. “Ponine! You gotta come join us! Please take my place, I’m about to go bankrupt!”

“How’s that different from usual?” Eponine asks, sitting down.

“Rude.”

“But true.”

Grantaire hits her lightly on the shoulder when she sits down next to him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere he can’t quite place. Bossuet looks nervously between the rest of them. Cosette sweeps the floor with them again; no is really surprised and Bossuet just laughs. Eponine shifts uncomfortably in her seat, when Cosette suddenly stands up.

“Oh, the meeting is starting.”

Grantaire follows her gaze, and indeed, Enjolras and Combeferre are stepping into the room. Cosette smiles at them and hurries off to sit with Marius. Bossuet looks between her and Eponine, who’s glaring at the table, before leaving to sit with Joly. Bahorel shrugs, turning his chair to face Enjolras and Combeferre. Eponine moves to the other side of Grantaire.

“Did you just see that?” She hisses and Grantaire doesn’t need to look to know she’s glaring at Cosette. He sighs.

“Look, ‘Ponine, maybe it wasn’t intentional.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

Grantaire leans against the table, looking away from Enjolras, who’s begun his speech, to face her. “You two got off on the wrong foot. I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.”

Eponine shrugs but drops the subject and leans back, listening to Enjolras.

“-so with the environmental march coming up, we need to prepare for it. Today,” he nods towards Combeferre, “we want to focus on polluted seawater. It’s a largely ignored environmental problem, despite being a pressing issue and affecting both animal ecosystems and humans, especially in poor regions.”

“Exactly.” Combeferre continues while Enjolras sits down. “I’m assuming you’ve all read through the material I sent out, but I want to highlight some major points. So I’m going to focus on ocean acidification and plastic pollution…”

Combeferre goes on and Grantaire listens with half an ear, lazily scrolling through the email received before the meeting. He read it before, and it’s mostly new information to him; he can see why Enjolras and Combeferre would pick it as a subject. Eponine is taking notes. He remembers her telling him she took a marine biology class in high school. Combeferre’s about to be grilled on some points, he thinks and smiles to himself.

When Combeferre is done, Enjolras takes over again and talks for a while about what they’re gonna do at the protest. Grantaire only interrupts him once (“And how are you going to fit all that on one sign, Apollo?”), before Enjolras looks at his watch and cuts himself short.

“I have to run, I have a meeting with Professor Lamarque. Combeferre, you take over?”

Combeferre nods and Enjolras quickly runs out the door. “Well,” Combeferre says. “What do you guys have in mind? Anything goes.”

So they start tossing ideas back and forth, what to bring up, what to not bring up. When the discussion begins to die out, Cosette suddenly speaks up.

“Something I found lacking in all of this is a lack of measures to take to slow or stop it.” She plays with her pen while she speaks. “I know it’s a protest, but isn’t that something that-”

“Thing is,” Eponine says, and Grantaire feels all eyes turning to their table. Eponine leans in, looking back at them. “There aren’t any. Too little research is done on this subject.”

Cosette frowns. “Really? But surely there are organisations researching this? There’s gotta be something.”

“Nope,” Eponine says, making the word pop for emphasis. “Sure, they do conduct research now, but there aren’t really any concrete solutions.”

“Hm,” Cosette says, tapping her pen against her mouth. Grantaire can feel Eponine’s annoyance. “What about that thing they do with acidified lakes?” Cosette asks. “Using basic substances to reverse it?”

“It wouldn't work,” Eponine says. She’s making circles on the paper, pressing hard down with her pen. “And it might even cause more harm than good.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Cosette asks. “If no one has tried it…”

“The ecosystems are already messed up, but you think it’s a good idea to drop more chemicals in the water to ‘see if it works’?” Eponine snaps and Cosette flinches back, frowning. She leans forward again, waving her pen in the air. Combeferre clears his throat at the front, and everyone turns back to him.

“If anyone asks us anything,” he says, voice calm but firm. “We say that more research is needed and that it’s needed now.”

Eponine and Cosette both lean back in their seats, nodding. Combeferre asks for additional comments, and when he gets no response, ends the meeting. Cosette quickly drags Marius out of the cafe, and Eponine vanishes as soon as they’re gone. Grantaire sighs and thinks about texting Eponine, but he knows that sometimes, it’s better to let her be angry. He’ll check up on her later. So when Feuilly asks if he wants to play cards, he grins and tells them he’ll kick their asses.

***

For what feels like the hundredth time this week, Grantaire wishes the walls in their apartment weren’t so thin. This time it’s not even the sex noises that are bugging him, it’s just Bossuet and Musichetta watching hockey. There’s a lot of yelling involved when they watch hockey. Grantaire bought noise-cancelling headphones the first month they moved in, but even those can’t drown out all of the sounds. He stares down at his sketchbook. He knows he needs to get started, and his professor made it very clear he has to submit his progress reports at each deadline this time or they won’t accept it. Another shout echoes through the walls and Grantaire wonders how none of the neighbours have complained yet.

He rubs his hands over his face, takes a few deep breaths, and stands up. He can’t work, not in this environment. If he doesn’t find somewhere peaceful to work, there’s no way he’ll be able to finish this project. He roughly shoves his supplies into his bag and grabs his beanie on the way out. He tells Joly he’s heading out and leaves the hockey game behind with Musichetta and Bossuet.

The streets are loud but still seem peaceful compared to their apartment. Strolling through the park, he considers where to go. The Musain is out of question, as it’s loud and people might recognise or bother him. The park itself is not an option; he needs quiet and coffee. And if Enjolras finds him within ten feet of a Starbucks again he might actually get murdered. There’s a quieter part of town that has a lot of new, hipster cafes. Sure, someone he knows might go there, but what are the odds of that, he reasons as he turns up a corner. Two coffee shops are closed, but the third is open and it looks nice. Belle Vie it says on a small sign on the door, which is pretty much exactly the level of cheesy Grantaire was going for. It’s pretty small, and it looks calm and quiet. He steps in and it smells very strongly of fresh cinnamon and coffee.

The barista is cute and very friendly. Her name tag says “Irma” and she jokes with him sweetly as she prepares his coffee. She’s probably flirting with him, but he doesn’t really mind; she seems sweet and she’s pretty funny. She hands him his coffee with a wink and he smiles before heading to a table. He sits down by a window and watches the people walking by. His sketchbook is still in his bag and he really should get to work, but he decides he can give himself five minutes to drink coffee and look out on the street. Or fifteen. He really needs to get to work.

He feels his sketchbook burning away at his existence and sighs, taking it out of his bag. He flips to an empty page and now regrets picking complementary colours as his theme. It seemed like a good idea at the time, with lots of options and room for creativity, but now it just seems stupid, too vague and indecisive. But he's already gotten it approved by his professor, so there's no going back now.

He spins the pen around. Complementary colours. He’s so stupid. The professor had suggested three pieces too, one for each set of complementary colours. Resting his forehead on his hands, Grantaire groans. Who allowed him to be this stupid? He needs to come up with three ideas now.

Sometimes Grantaire wonders if his dad was right when he said there’s no future in art. When he gets stuck like this, it definitely feels like that. How’s he supposed to make a life on this when he can’t even get started on a project?

Suddenly, Irma is standing next to him, holding a steaming coffee pot. “You look like you could use more coffee,”  she says, pouring him another cup before he can protest. “Don’t worry,” she winks, “refills are on the house.”

“Thank you,” he responds, and smiles at her again. She’s actually really cute. Not really his type, but cute.

“You’re an artist?” She nods to his sketchbook.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m working on a project, but I’ve really hit a brick wall.” He raises his coffee cup. “So, thanks for this. I really need it.”

“No problem, and good luck with your project.” She disappears behind the counter to serve another customer.

Grantaire watches her go, and he realizes she reminds him a little bit of Cosette. He can’t really pinpoint why, but she does. Oh. Grantaire is not against using his friends as inspiration; the many drawings of Enjolras in his room is a pretty solid indicator of the opposite. Of course, Enjolras is probably a bad example. And if he knew about the paintings, Grantaire’s crush would probably seem more like an obsession. But the point still stands: Grantaire does draw inspiration from his friends. For some reason, Grantaire has always associated Eponine with the colour purple. She does wear purple a lot, and it looks good on her, but it’s something about her warm-but-not-really personality that reminds him of purple. The complementary colour of purple is yellow, and Grantaire can definitely see Cosette as yellow; happy, energetic, warm. Slowly, he picks up his pen and starts sketching. A few hours later, he waves Irma goodbye. He's gotten more constructive work done today than he has in the past month.

***

Eponine skips meetings every now and then, so this is nothing new. Sometimes she has too much with school, too much with work, or too much with her siblings. Still, when she doesn’t show after her fight with Cosette, it’s noticeable. No one mentions it and things proceed as normal, but it does still hang over the meeting. Cosette seems upset, and Grantaire wants to say something, but he feels like it’s not in his place. He needs to talk to Eponine. Enjolras calls the meeting off early again. Marius and Cosette leave soon, as do Combeferre and Enjolras, but the rest stay for a while. They play poker again, just for fun, despite Bahorel’s protests. Grantaire’s phone buzzes.

Eponine (4:56 pm):

can you pick up ben and jerrys for later?

Grantaire (4:57 pm):

sure. cinnamon buns?

“I should get going,” Grantaire says as he stands up. “I’ll see you guys later.” They say goodbye, and Grantaire hears Bossuet shouting ‘no way’ as the door closes.

Eponine and Grantaire have this thing where one night every month they watch a classic movie. They’ve been going off Grantaire’s book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die , which he got for the first Secret Santa the group had. That year they kept who had who a secret, so he still doesn’t know who gave it to him. So far they’ve watched almost 20 movies. Grantaire’s favourites are Top Gun and The Godfather (a tie) , and Eponine’s favourite is Pulp Fiction .

“So,” he says when he arrives at Eponine’s place, “what are we watching today?” He sets the ice cream on the table and lies down on the couch. She pushes his legs away and sits. He throws them right back up on top of hers. She rolls her eyes but lets it go.

“I dunno,” she says, opening his book. “Did we ever watch The Shawshank Redemption ?”

“I don’t think so. Is it on Netflix?”

It is, and they watch it, with Grantaire half-laying on Eponine, somehow not choking on his ice cream. The end credits roll, and the blank tv screen lights up the room. It’s gotten late. They manage to lie down on her couch despite it being so small and talk. Eponine’s not heard any more from Gavroche about the guys he was hanging out with. They hope that’s a good sign. Grantaire reminds her that he’s still up for talking to Gavroche anyway. She tells him Azelma got into the high school she wanted, and he can tell how proud Eponine is.

“I’ll get her something,” he promises. He promises he’ll take her to his new coffee shop, says the waitress is really cute and that she’s probably more her type than his type. Eponine kicks him. When he mentions the meeting, she tenses up. He sighs.

“Dude, we need to talk about you and Cosette.”

Eponine tenses even more. She leans away from him, arms crossed. “We really don’t.”

“Come on, ‘Ponine. It’s good to talk things through.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like you always want to talk it through when you’ve fought with Enjolras?”

He waves her off, and she huffs, both knowing she’s right. “That’s beside the point,” he says and Eponine gives him a look that says ‘ really’. She looks like she’s about to say something.

“What the point is,” he adds quickly, “is that this is not about me and Enjolras having another argument. Which we haven’t by the way. Come on Ponine.” He leans forward so he can rest his arms on his knees. “Talk to me.”

She pulls her knees up and rests on them. “You know why I don’t like her,” she mumbles. “That’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

Grantaire nods and stays silent. He fumbles for the right thing to say. Maybe he was wrong to bring it up. Eponine is studying the torn nailpolish she’s wearing.

“It would be so much easier if she wasn’t so fucking perfect,” Eponine says after a while. “She’s beautiful. She’s clever. She dresses like a goddess. Hell, she’d probably look good wearing a garbage bag!” She tears off more of her nailpolish. “Of course Marius would rather date her.”

“Ponine…” He begins, but Eponine cuts him off.

“Don’t give some bullshit on how I’m also pretty and smart and blah blah. Point still stands. It makes sense Marius would pick someone like her over someone like me.”

“It’s not bullshit if it’s true, Ponine,” he says with a small smile. “But I get it,” he continues. “How you feel I mean. Marius, however, is a blind fool for not realising what an awesome person you are. Come on, Ponine.” He nudges her with his foot. “You gotta admit Marius is an idiot. Not just about this.”

“He’s a bit of a dumbass yeah,” she says, and there’s a hint of a smile in her voice. “You know,” she continues, the smile replaced by sadness. “It would be so much easier if I could just hate her. Why can’t I just fucking hate her?” Her voice breaks a little at the end and she clears her throat.

“Do you want a hug?”

“No.”

“Do you want to play Mario Kart and kick my ass?”

Eponine clears her throat again. She falls silent while she plays with her sleeve again. “You know what, yeah.” She lets her hands fall back into her lap. “That sounds pretty nice.”

Grantaire digs out the controls. Eponine does kick his ass on every course. He doesn’t even have to try to lose. Eventually Eponine’s control runs out of battery and they call it a night.

“I’ll try to go to the next meeting,” Eponine suddenly says while digging for a blanket. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try. I do want to go,” she adds, throwing a blanket at him. “But you know how it is.”

“I get it,” he says and gives her shoulder a quick squeeze before settling back onto the couch. Draping the blanket over himself, he falls asleep quickly.

***

The next time Grantaire finds himself in the Belle Vie, there’s not really a reason for it. Joly’s at school, Bossuet’s at work, and Musichetta is watching Bones at a reasonable volume. Technically, he’s got the perfect conditions to work at home, but for some reason, he just really feels like going there. It’s probably a combination of hoping to get a creative boost like last time and craving some good coffee (Bossuet can't brew a pot to save his life). It’s more crowded this time, probably because he’s actually there at a reasonable time to drink coffee.

“Ah, artist guy!” Irma says when he walks up to the counter. He smiles, tells her his order, and she sets out the carrot cupcake on a plate. “I’ll bring out your coffee, so take a seat. I’ve got a lot of espressos to make.”

The seat by the window is taken, so he settles for one in the corner. It’s nicer, he thinks when he sits, and a lot quieter. Taking a bite of his cupcake, he opens his sketchbook, about to continue his work, when he hears a familiar voice.

“Grantaire?”

When he looks up, Grantaire blinks several times before accepting that yes, this is real. He is not dreaming, and Enjolras is standing in front of him, wearing an apron roughly the colour of wet sand.

“Uhh…” He says, like the intelligent person that he is.

Enjolras sets the coffee on the table while Grantaire’s brain works hard on finding something to say other than unintelligible caveman noises.

“I didn’t know you work here,” he finally blurts out. The look on Enjolras’ face is almost embarrassed. If Grantaire is reading him right, he looks a little panicked, and, honestly, Grantaire hopes he’s reading him wrong.

“No. I... I just started.” Enjolras fiddles with the sash of his apron. “Hey, listen, I gotta get to work but, um, could you just, not tell anyone I’m working here?”

Grantaire blinks once, twice. “Um, yeah. I mean, of course.”

“Thank you, Grantaire.” And Enjolras sort of smiles at him before running back to the counter, and Grantaire is convinced this is not real life. He looks back at the sketch and knows he’s not going to get anything done today. Instead he looks at Enjolras, making and carrying coffee. Why would Enjolras need to work here? His family is rich and to Grantaire’s knowledge, pays for his tuition and rent. He has a really bad feeling about this.

***

If Grantaire was convinced yesterday wasn’t real, he concludes he has concrete evidence of the existence of the Matrix when Enjolras texts him the following day.

Enjolras (2:30 pm):

Hey, want to get coffee today?

He responds as quickly as he can and hopes he doesn’t seem too eager.

Grantaire (2:33 pm):

sure. where?

Enjolras (2:34pm):

There’s a nice place two blocks from campus. I can meet you outside your department?

Grantaire (2:34 pm):

sounds good!

Grantaire swears he paid attention to the rest of the class, but when he leaves the classroom he has no idea what the lecture covered. Enjolras is waiting outside the building, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and Grantaire knows he does this when he’s stressed. That doesn’t calm Grantaire’s own nerves. Still, Enjolras smiles when he sees him.

“Hi,” Enjolras says, running his fingers through his hair.

“Hi,” Grantaire replies, hoping he seems cool and calm.

They walk towards the coffee shop and Enjolras asks him about classes and his project. Grantaire tells him what the theme is and about the progress he’s made, but doesn’t go into too much detail. Enjolras nods along and seems both interested and distracted.

“What about your thesis?” He asks Enjolras instead, and that seems to get his attention. Enjolras' face lights up when he says the board has agreed to change his supervisor to Professor Lamarque, who thought his original thesis was great.

“I didn’t get my previous supervisor removed from teaching, but at least the board agreed to talk to him.” Enjolras shrugs. “It’s a start. Here we are.”

Grantaire has passed this coffee shop a couple of times, but always in a hurry. It seems nice though, calm and cosy. La Republique, says the sign above the door. Grantaire almost laughs; of course Enjolras would love this coffee shop. Enjolras leads them to the counter.

“One black coffee and…” He turns expectantly to Grantaire.

“What? No, no, I can pay for my own coffee!”

“I’m sure you can,” Enjolras snorts, “but I dragged you out here. What do you want?”

“But-”

“Grantaire.”

“Fine. Black coffee for me too.”

They take their cups and head to the quiet, back corner of the cafe. They sit down, and suddenly Enjolras seems nervous again. He’s tapping the handle of his cup, looking everywhere but at Grantaire, who downs most of his coffee, trying not to seem stressed himself.

“So um,” Enjolras clears his throat, “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. You know, explain.”

“Yeah, it was pretty unexpected to see you there. Is everything okay?”

Enjolras goes back to tapping the handle of his cup. “Yeah, I mean, no.” He pauses, and moves hair from his face. “Look, you know my parents?”

Grantaire nods. He doesn’t know them, per se, but he knows about them and knows what Enjolras is getting at. Very typical white rich conservatives.

“They cut me off.”

He chokes on his coffee and only manages a weak, “What?”

“Yeah.” When Grantaire looks up, Enjolras is staring into his coffee. “They were already mad about my involvement with you guys and my involvement in the socialist party. Apparently I’ve become the talk of the town back home. Their friends have begun talking about me as ‘the failure’. Guess it became the final nail in the coffin.” Enjolras laughs bitterly. It’s a horrible sound.

“Holy shit.”

“Basically, yeah. That’s why I started working at the coffee shop. I can’t afford tuition and rent unless I work so…” Enjolras shrugs. “But I haven’t told anyone about it.”

“Not even Combeferre and Courfeyrac?”

“No.” Enjolras shakes his head, then holds up his hand when Grantaire opens his mouth to speak. “I’m going to, don’t worry. I just… I guess I needed to settle with it myself before I tell them.”

“I get it,” Grantaire says, and means it. He hopes he sounds sincere. “Will you be okay financially with what you get from the coffee shop? And fuck you paid for my drink now-”

“Grantaire. Calm down.” Enjolras gently places his hand over Grantaire’s. “For now, I’ll be fine. If they raise the tuition or my rent I’ll have to look for other options, but for now, I’ll be fine.” He withdraws his hand.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet though,” Enjolras continues. “I’m going to tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac soon, and then everyone else but until then…”

“Don’t worry. Haven’t told anyone, won’t tell anyone.” It’s strange to talk to him like this, Grantaire thinks. “Are you like, okay though? And I don’t mean financially.”

Enjolras blinks at him, taken aback. He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything for a while, just taps the cup again. “I honestly don’t know,” he finally admits. “We’ve never had a great relationship but I never thought they’d actually cut me off, you know?” He takes a deep breath and straightens up. “I’m sorry, for pushing all this on you.”

“Don’t apologise. Seriously. I’m here to listen if you need me. Plus,” he jokingly waves his empty cup in the air, “this is a pretty cheap therapy session for you. I'm saving you money.” Enjolras snorts and Grantaire sets the cup down. “In all seriousness though,” Grantaire continues, locking eyes with Enjolras, “if you need anything, and I mean anything, tell me, okay?”

It’s the third time in two days Enjolras smiles at him genuinely, and this time, he's glad he got to see that smile. “Thank you, Grantaire.” He says. “I really appreciate it.”

“Always,” Grantaire says, and he means it.

***

Eponine began going to meetings again. So far, she and Cosette haven't gotten into any fights. Still, the tension between them could be cut with a knife. Joly almost jumps out of his skin whenever Eponine raises her voice (whether that’s directed at Cosette or just in general). Grantaire knows no one would admit it, but everyone seems a lot more relaxed on those occasions where either Cosette or Eponine skip a meeting. Combeferre, who’s by far the most chill person Grantaire knows, actually tensed up at once when Eponine came into the Musain late, when everyone had started assuming she’d skipped.

Still, he can tell Eponine’s actually making an effort, Grantaire thinks when he steps out of the art building and lights a cigarette. He’s really proud of her for doing that. Checking his watch, he tries to decide whether to go home and drop off his stuff between the meeting and going to get coffee and work.

“Hi, Grantaire!”

He looks up and Cosette is walking towards him, waving. The dress she’s wearing is very pretty; it suits her. It looks a bit cold for the weather, but she doesn’t seem bothered. He smiles at her, holding out his pack of cigarettes, despite guessing she doesn’t smoke. She shakes her head and he puts it back.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” he says, making her laugh.

“Well, I could lie and say I was just passing by and spotted you, but I was looking for you,” she says. “I wanted to talk to you. Walk with me?”

“Of course,” he says, and holds out his arm with a slight bow. “May I escort you, my lady?”

She laughs and takes his arm. He hadn’t realised she was so much shorter than him, and that’s saying something because Grantaire is well aware he’s not tall. She reaches his shoulders, but he could have sworn she reached above that.

“I usually wear heels,” she says as if she read his mind. “You have the same look most people get when they see me without heels for the first time,” she explains.

“Makes sense.” They leave the campus grounds and Cosette pulls them towards the Seine. They discuss their respective majors. Cosette studies psychology (which Grantaire already knew because Marius won’t shut up about it.) Grantaire jokes about how Freud was a visionary and Cosette gags.

“Seriously, fuck Freud,” she says. “But don’t fuck Freud.”

He laughs, telling her that’s fair. She and Combeferre would get along pretty well. “He also hates Freud,” he says. “Which again, fair. He took a course in basic psychology last year. Aren’t you the same age as him and Ep, by the way?”

“Probably? I took a gap year,” she explains. “I really needed a break after high school, to focus on myself. Got a job at a Sephora.” She smiles, gestures to her perfect make-up. “Learned how to do make-up, so that’s good.”

They reach the Seine and Cosette lets go of his arm to put on the jacket she’s tied around her bag. Grantaire considers leading them somewhere else, but once Cosette’s got her jacked on she doesn’t seem to mind. She has a good sense of fashion; her jacket is covered in dark pink flowers, matching her dress. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

 “So,” Grantaire says, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Cosette sighs, looking at her shoes.”You’re good friends with Eponine, right?”

Well shit. “I do consider myself her friend, yes.” A seagull screams something (probably profanities, it’s a seagull) over them.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, maybe I’ve offended her in some way. She doesn’t seem to like me very much. But I really want to change that.” She looks up at Grantaire. “What can I do?”

Sighing, he rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t know how much Eponine will be okay with him revealing. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “I think she compares herself to you a lot. Like, you’re very pretty and smart. Not that she isn’t, but she can’t see it herself.” He knows he’s being vague, but he doesn’t want to go into detail about Marius and Eponine’s family.

“I see…”

“Not to say that you should start dressing down or anything,” he says with a smile. “But maybe you have something in common that you can bring up and talk about? Unrelated to the meetings, I mean.”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind and try to think of something. Thank you, Grantaire.” She takes his arm again and smiles up at him.

“No problem. And you can call me R if you want to.” He checks his watch. “Are you coming to the meeting today? If so, we should get going.”

“Of course,” she says. “I love coming to your meetings.”

They continue along the Seine. Cosette points towards Notre-Dame and tells Grantaire about one time her dad brought her there when she was little. “I remember I loved the rose windows. All of the cathedral, really. Such a shame to see it burn.”

Grantaire nods in agreement. “Hope they manage to restore it. Your dad’s a fan of architecture? Or he just brought a small child there for fun?”

Cosette laughs. “He is. He’s a pretty devout catholic too, so Notre-Dame has always been special to him.”

“Oh,” Grantaire says, trying his best to not seem too uneasy. Cosette notices anyway.

“I say he’s a devout catholic, because he is, but he’s...how should I put this?” She taps her finger against her mouth. “He doesn’t agree with everything the church says. He’s devout in serving God and being the best person he can be, and I think that’s partly why he disagrees with the church’s opinion on well, gay marrige and alike. He always says he doesn’t understand how they can preach mercy and kindness, and then close their doors on certain people.”

“Oh,” Grantaire says again. “I think I would like your dad,” he adds with a smile and she beams up at him.

“He’s amazing,” she agrees. “Did I tell you I’m adopted?” She asks, slightly hesitant. He shakes his head, and she continues before he can say anything. “Dad adopted me when I was four. Pretty much dropped everything to raise me. I’m very grateful for that. He’s pretty much a saint,” she says with a laugh. “And I’m not saying that just because he raised me. He’s always working to make the world a better place. Teaches PE and music at a school for troubled kids and everything. I love him.”

Grantaire whistles. “Damn.” He can see where Cosette gets her kindness from.

“What about your parents?” Cosette asks, and Grantaire winces. She’s new, she couldn’t know about his relationship with his parents. Of course, she notices how his face turns down. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know that was a sensitive subject.”

Now it’s his turn to wave her off. “It’s fine. We just don’t have a great relationship, and I haven’t spoken to them in quite a while.” He smiles at her. “You had no way of knowing, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” she says, and doesn’t press for more information, which he appreciates. She changes the subject and asks him his opinion of cheese on garlic bread. Apparently she and Marius had a long, unsettled debate about it over lunch. Somehow, the topic lasts all the way to the Musain.

***

The meeting is unusually pleasant. Cosette and Eponine don’t interact that much, as they sit at opposite ends of the room, conversing with the people closest to them. Enjolras looks more alive today than the last meeting, and, for once, Grantaire decides not to jeopardise it. He does let out one snarky comment, but Enjolras just rolls his eyes and gives him an equally snarky response. That makes Grantaire smile a little. He can feel Combeferre looking at them, but ignores it.

When Enjolras closes the meeting, there had been no fighting between Cosette and Eponine. Grantaire can feel the room let out a breath it was holding. Bahorel, who’s sitting next to Grantaire, calls to Cosette, demanding a rematch in poker. She laughs and drags Marius along towards their table. Grantaire feels the cushions shift when Eponine stands up and all he can think is fuck .

Cosette stops her on the way out. “You’re not going to join us, Eponine?” She asks. Grantaire winces, knowing she means it as an invitation, but he also knows Eponine might see Cosette as fake and assume she wants Eponine to fuck off.

“Um…” She says, her eyes darting over to Grantaire, who prays she can read his mind. “I have something to do,” she says. Grantaire curses quietly. Cosette looks disappointed, and a little sad. When she turns to the table, she’s erased most of it from her face, and Grantaire curses a little again.

“Okay,” she says, sitting down. “Who’s in? No, babe-” she drags down Marius who almost escapes, “-you’re playing. We can play for shots instead of money,” she looks at them all with a face that dares them (Bahorel) to object. Marius looks panicked anyway. Grantaire lightly hits him on the shoulder and tells him he won’t be the only one who loses.

When the evening ends, Marius, Bossuet and Courfeyrac are all pretty pissed. Grantaire and Cosette are by far the most sober ones, which really isn’t saying much. When they part ways, Combeferre, who didn’t play in favour of discussing something with Enjolras, mutters mild curses which are mostly drowned out by Courfeyrac singing. Cosette orders a cab for her and Marius and offers to give Bossuet a ride home too. Grantaire and Joly both decline, saying they practically live too close to take a cab anyway. Grantaire follows Cosette and Marius out to smoke while they wait for their cab.

“Hey, R,” Cosette suddenly says. He looks at her, she looks straight ahead. “Does Eponine hate me?”

She wobbles a bit and Grantaire steadies her. She's drunker than he thought. She must be a lightweight, he thinks, since she didn't drink as much as the rest. He ruffles her hair, which he would not have done sober, but they’re drunk, so it feels fine. “Nah,” he says. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just…” He trails off, unsure of how to continue. “Like I said before, you’re very pretty, Cosette,” he settles for. “You dress well, your make-up is always perfect. Your dad is well-off and you have a boyfriend who loves you.” It’s probably for the best to continue to avoid talking about Marius or Eponine’s family. “She looks at you and sees everything she wishes she had.”

“Oh…” She doesn’t say anything else, and Grantaire hopes she understood despite her level of intoxication.

Cosette leans into him, which is a bad decision, because Marius was leaning on her. She catches Marius and straightens up again. “Thank you, R,” she says quickly and he ruffles her hair again. Their taxi arrives, and he helps them in, then back up to the Musain again to help Joly get Bossuet home.

***

Something fundamental has changed in the dynamic between himself and Enjolras, Grantaire finds. They’ve been fighting a lot less during the meetings. Even though they still get into arguments, they’re not as heated as they used to be. About once a week or so, Grantaire will pop by Belle Vie to work on his project. Sometimes, Enjolras takes his break and sits with Grantaire. They talk and, somehow, never yell at each other. They do, however, carefully avoid anything related to the meetings; it’s almost an unspoken rule between them. Grantaire talks about his art, and his professor, who is way too ecstatic about Grantaire’s theme and the fact that Grantaire’s handing in his assignments on time. Enjolras talks about his thesis. He’s mostly glad he is working with Lamarque, and glad about how much he’s learnt from it. Most of the time Grantaire does the talking while Enjolras sits and listens. It’s weird, Grantaire thinks, but not in a bad way.

“Don’t you have a sister?” Enjolras asks, the fourth week Grantaire visits the Belle Vie. Grantaire is taken aback. So far, they’ve always avoided the topic of their families.

“I do,” he says, hoping he didn’t seem too surprised. “She’s a couple of years older than Gavroche, about to graduate high school.”

“Damn. This year?”

“Yeah.” His coffee’s gone cold but he drinks it anyway. “Dunno if I’ll be able to go to her graduation, though.” He shrugs. “Guess we’ll see about it.”

“I see…”

It’s not a secret that Grantaire doesn’t have a great relationship with his parents. The only time any of the Amis has been able to contact a family member (when he was hospitalised once after a rally went wrong) was Joly reaching out to his sister. She hadn’t been able to visit. She was too young for a driver's license and her parents refused to drive her.

“Last time I talked to her she said she might apply for college here,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “So, who knows, maybe you’ll have another Grantaire on your hands next year.”

Enjolras laughs. “Oh man, my speeches will never see the light of day, then.”

Grantaire laughs too, before assuring Enjolras his sister isn’t nearly as harsh as he is. Enjolras smiles and Grantaire thinks that this is nice. Like, really nice. Almost too nice. Suddenly he has a sinking feeling something will go wrong. He pushes that feeling away. Even if something goes wrong, he’s sitting here, actually having a good time with Enjolras, and that’s enough for now.

“When I was a kid I wanted to have a sibling,” Enjolras says. He looks out the window. “Then, I got older, and decided it was better that I was an only child.”

“Why?”

“One less kid for my parents to fuck up. I don’t know.” Enjolras shrugs. “I mean it’s not like they outright mistreated me, but the only time they really seemed to show me affection was when they could show me off to their guests or whatever. Tell people how well I was doing in school and how I’d definitely become big when I grew up.”

“I get what you mean. My parents seemed to care more about my grades and my career than me as a person. Stopped talking to me when I decided to go to art school. I hope my sister comes to study here, honestly. Or at least you know, moves away,” he pauses, looks at Enjolras. “You’re not fucked up though.”

“Neither are you,” Enjolras says and his eyes leave the window to meet Grantaire’s. He has to look away.

“Families,” Grantaire concludes with an awkward cough. Enjolras nods. Grantaire looks at him and hesitates. “Can I ask…” He begins, pausing a little, “how are you holding up with the situation with your parents?”

“Better than I thought,” Enjolras says, glancing out the window again. “I mean, I’m not happy about it. It hurts that they could just cut me off but…” He shrugs. “Somehow, it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s liberating, somehow. I don’t have them hanging over my shoulder anymore. It was weighing me down more than I realised. Thank you for asking,” he says with a soft smile.

Enjolras checks his watch and stands so quickly he knocks his chair over. “Shit, I gotta get back to work, sorry Grantaire.” He starts rushing back to the counter then freezes, looking back to Grantaire. “Hey, we close in an hour, so if you’re still here then we can walk home together,” he says, then bolts toward the counter, and says something that’s probably an apology to Irma. Grantaire knew then he was not leaving his seat.

Grantaire smokes while he waits for Enjolras to finish his shift. Blowing out smoke, he watches it as it dissolves into the air, wondering if this is real, that Enjolras isn’t fucking with him. A few minutes later, Enjolras comes out of the shop wearing everyday clothes instead of his uniform. Enjolras’ red jacket makes a stark contrast to Grantaire's green hoodie.

They start heading back home. They pass an old second hand store. There’s an old Chinese vase in the window and Grantaire’s nerves make him launch into a rant about how vases were painted in ancient China. Enjolras doesn’t seem to mind, he even seems to be listening. He asks Grantaire about the things he talks about, smiles when Grantaire tries to tell him something funny. When Grantaire finally runs out of things to talk about, Enjolras runs his hands through his hair and gives him a look that makes Grantaire worry.

“Look Grantaire I-” he fumbles a little, “-I’m sorry about the way I’ve been treating you.”

“What?” Enjolras frowns.Grantaire thinks he’s looking at Enjolras like he just grew two more heads and honestly, he could just as well have done that.

“I’ve treated you unfairly,” Enjolras continues. “I’ve been rude and cold and it’s gotten out of hand. I’m sorry.”

“I…” Grantaire has no idea how to respond. “I haven’t always been kind to you either,” he settles for. “I’m sorry but-” he stops, facing Enjolras “-why are you apologising now?”

Enjolras lets out a nervous laugh. “Combeferre might have pointed out that I was really rude to you,” he says. “And also, something about Cosette and Eponine fighting for no reason reminded me of how you and I often act.”

They start toward home again, quiet for a bit. “I want us to be friends, Grantaire,” Enjolras speaks up and on one hand his words make Grantaire’s heart beat a little faster. On the other hand, the word friends sting more than he wants to admit. “I really enjoy how things are now, and I want it to continue this way.”

Enjolras’ eyes fix on Grantaire, and he understands it’s more of a question rather than a statement. “So do I,” Grantaire responds, and he means it even if it stings a little. Enjolras relaxs, his shoulders drop; Grantaire just noticed how tense he’d been.

The air around them feels lighter, and they continue walking. They talk about school and Bossuet’s latest incident with the coffeemaker (which resulted in Musichetta banning Bossuet from using it). Grantaire mentions an old movie night, and they slip into the topic of movies.

“Wait wait wait,” Grantaire gapes at Enjolras. “You’re telling me, seriously, you’ve never seen The Lion King ? And-” he holds his finger a few centimetres from Enjolras lips to shush him “-don’t give me any crap about Disney being an evil company with a monopoly on the movie industry because the movies are fucking amazing.”

“Walt Disney was a-”

“Nope.” Grantaire interrupts him. “Don’t care. Dude was still a cinematic genius and you have got to give him some credit for that. My point still stands, The Lion King is a classic and you have to watch it.”

Enjolras sighs, but looks amused anyway, which Grantaire takes as a good sign. “Fine.” He says. “I’ll watch it.”

“Good!” Grantaire grins. “I demand a full report when you’re finished,” he jokes. Enjolras snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Of course,” he says.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Grantaire says. Enjolras rolls his eyes again, smiling this time.

“Well, I gotta go this way,” Enjolras points to the street. He pauses, like he wants to say something more. “I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

“Yeah, see you,” The second Enjolras is out of range, Grantaire fumbles his phone out of his pocket and calls Eponine to yell at her about everything.

***

Wednesdays are Grantaire's worst days. He starts classes early, only has one break, which is lunch, then more classes until two. Wednesday's lunch break doesn't match up with any of his friends’ either, so he has to eat alone. He usually brings a sandwich so he doesn't have to be 'that guy' sitting alone in the cafeteria, but he didn't bring anything today. So he throws on his headphones and heads towards the cafeteria.

He has to turn up the volume four clicks when he enters the loud cafeteria. The chattering and clinking of cutlery is really getting on his nerves today. Briefly, he considers changing his music to something louder and more aggressive but he doesn’t actually want to murder someone; unless the album changes to Reputation , he should be fine with Taylor Swift.

When someone taps on his shoulder, he jumps and he nearly drops his food. Spinning around, he sees Cosette there, grinning at him.

“Hey R, “ she says when his headphones are off. “Did I scare you?”

“Not at all,” he says, and she laughs. “Don’t you have class?”

“Nope,” she says, grabbing a sandwich too. “I have the worst schedule today. I start at eight and have classes non stop until now, my lunch. It sucks.” She grabs an orange juice.

“Mine’s the same,” he nods. He pays and waits for her. “What do you say we go sit outside instead of in here?”

“I was just about to suggest that.”

They sit on a bench a bit away from the main entrance and watch the students pass by while they eat. It’s a bit windy, but not at all like the last time they met.

“Thank god it’s sunny,” Cosette says, leaning back and taking in the sun. She looks like a cat lying in the sun by a window.

“How’s Marius?” Grantaire asks, and Cosette laughs, sitting up.

“He’s doing okay,” she says. She seems to have the same habit as Eponine of making a ball out of her sandwich paper to toss around. “He’s got a lot with classes. Some big exam on some topic I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, Bahorel mentioned that to me yesterday,” he shakes his head. “I’m really glad I’m not a law student.”

They sit and discuss their classes. Most of Cosette's classmates in the psychology program seem pretty chill, but there are a few who could be diagnosed as crazy. Grantaire laughs at that; it's completely opposite in the art department.

When Cosette checks the time, she has to rush to make it back to class. She waves at him, struggling to keep her books in her arms. He yells after her to be careful, but she's already gone around the corner. His department is closer, so he doesn't have to rush.

Wednesday lunch with Cosette becomes a part of Grantaire’s weekly routine. That bench where they first had lunch became "their bench" and they ate there together. They talk about their classes and professors, some who range from moderately weird to pure chaos. Cosette talks a lot about her father, and, bit by bit, Grantaire tells her more about his parents. He tries to play it off with silly jokes about what a disappointment he is for not getting into med-school. Cosette just listens carefully and assures him he’s not a failure. On another occasion, she describes how she and Marius met, and how he was a blushing, nervous wreck at first. He tells her about Enjolras, and she smiles, telling him she already knew. Their lunch together quickly becomes the best part of his Wednesdays.

***

Whenever all of the Amis have a movie marathon, it happens at Grantaire's place. The living room and kitchen are huge, and Courfeyrac claims it's perfect for holding lots of people. So when Joly suggests a Twilight marathon, naturally it's hosted at their place.

Grantaire hates Twilight almost as much as Robert Pattinson does, but Joly bribes him with pizza and the idea of seeing his friends. He ends up with Eponine on his lap on the couch. They make snarky comments throughout Twilight and New Moon. Then Bossuet kicks them both and tells them to shut the fuck up. They start texting their remarks back and forth instead, snickering, until Breaking Dawn: Part I, when Bossuet has enough of it and takes their (cold) pizza away.

When the last film ends, it’s well past two am. Jehan is curled up, like a cat, in an armchair next and snores lightly. Eponine gets up from Grantaire’s lap and hogs the other armchair. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta disappear into their bedroom, and Grantaire tells Cosette she and Marius they could steal his bed. Bahorel left after Eclipse , since he has to work early. When Grantaire comes back to the living room after brushing his teeth, Enjolras is spread out on the couch. Courfeyrac and Combeferre are snuggling on the only inflatable mattress. Grantaire doesn’t mind; he’s used to sleeping on the floor, and the carpet they have is really soft. He grabs an unused blanket and starts to settle down, when he hears a quiet, distinct whisper of his name. He sits up, confused, and looks around.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras is sitting up too. It’s dark and Grantaire’s eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the dark, but he thinks Enjolras is looking at him. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“Of course I can,” he whispers back, sliding closer to the sofa, trying not to wake anyone up. “I’m used to it, plus this carpet is really soft.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor,” Enjolras repeats. “Come on. We can share the couch.”

A panicked squeak escapes him and he clamps his hand over his mouth. “What?” He asks, trying to keep his voice down, because he must have heard wrong. But even in the dark, he can see Enjolras roll his eyes.

“I’ll move some of the cushions in the back, and there’ll be space for both of us.” He tosses the cushions over the back of the couch. “There. Now get up here so we can sleep. I’m tired.”

Grantaire only sits still another second before slowly standing, and wills his heart to not beat like a drummer on acid. He slides down next to Enjolras, who is facing him.

“See,” Enjolras mumbles. Grantaire can feel his breath on his arm. “This works.”

“Uh, yeah.” Maybe he’ll pass out so he can pretend he’s sleeping. “Good night, Enjolras.”

“Good night, R.”

Grantaire thinks that might be the first time Enjolras has called him that. Despite his pounding heart, Grantaire sets his breathing to match Enjolras' slow pace. He's asleep before he knows it.

When he wakes up he’s both disappointed and relieved to find them in the exact same position as they fell asleep in. Carefully, he tries to quietly slip off the couch, but miscalculates the distance between his shoulder and the couch’s arm, and falls flat on his ass with a bang. Enjolras and Eponine bolt up at the noise, but Jehan still snores. Grantaire curses softly, rubbing his tailbone, while Eponine and Enjolras look down on him, literally. He glances up at Enjolras, who looks both confused and amused. There’s a smile tugging on his lips, one that breaks into a full grin when he offers Grantaire a hand. Eponine makes a noise like she’s dying. When Grantaire looks, she’s doubled over in silent laughter, covering her mouth with one hand and hitting the armrest with the other. Enjolras' hand is warm when he takes it, pushing himself off the floor. He glares at Eponine, but he can feel his blush, making his glare not very effective.

“I’ll um, I’ll make some coffee. Do you want some?” He looks between Enjolras and Eponine.

“Sure,” Enjolras smiles then searches for his phone.

Eponine stands up. “I’ll help you.”

A nice thing about this kitchen is that it’s the only room in their apartment where sound doesn’t travel. It comes with its backsides, as Grantaire has walked in to find on more than one occasion, but it’s really nice for making coffee in the morning without waking anyone up. When they walk into the kitchen, Eponine nearly falls over laughing.

“I can’t believe,” she wheezes, “you finally get Enjolras in bed-or, couch, I guess- and you-” she breaks off and he takes the moment to glare “-and you fall off it, I swear to God, R…”

He snorts because okay, it is kind of funny. “I didn’t get Enjolras in bed,” he clarifies while he looks for the coffee scoop. “Or on the couch. He just didn’t want me to sleep on the floor, so we shared the couch.”

“Mhm,” Eponine says, head inside the fridge. She grabs an apple.

“Really.”

“Mhm.” It’s sort of muffled by her chewing.

“Anyways,” he says while he looks for the coffee (and finally remembers Musichetta rearranged their kitchen two days ago) “how’s that essay going?” he asks, desperate to change the subject.

“Ugh, don’t ask me shit like that first thing in the morning.” Eponine sits on the counter, waving her apple in the air. “It’s going like shit because I have the worst professor. You know the one I had my second semester, who looks like a rat? Yeah, that guy.”

Grantaire decides to make a full pot, figuring everyone else will wake up soon. He sits on the counter opposite Eponine and listens to her complaints about this professor. Apparently, he can’t give clear instructions and never listens to his students. The coffee is almost done when the kitchen door opens and Cosette sticks her head in.

“Good morning!” She smiles. “I thought I smelled coffee.”

“Morning,” Grantaire says, and Eponine mumbles something into her apple. Cosette moves next to Grantaire.

“Don’t you have Professor Lancaster?” He asks Cosette, watching from the corner of his eye how Eponine lowers her apple.

“Yeah I do, in my sociology class. Why?”

Grantaire nods towards Eponine. “Ep has him for her essay work,” he grins between them, “ says he’s a pest.”

“Wait,” Cosette turns to Eponine. “You’re studying sociology?”

“Yeah,” Eponine mumbles.

“That’s amazing!” Cosette looks at her with one of the widest smiles Grantaire has seen on her. “So what’s your plan after college?”

Eponine fiddles with her apple, slowly tearing the stem off. “I want to be a social worker. Help kids in abusive families and in the foster system.”

“Oh,” Cosette says, and Grantaire can see Eponine readying herself for questions about her family and a flood of pity. But Cosette smiles, softer this time. “That is amazing. I really admire people who do that type of work. I was in the system before my dad adopted me, so I know that good social workers can really make all the difference.”

Eponine’s hands still grip the apple. Cosette continues, glancing at Grantaire before returning to Eponine. “That’s why I’m studying psychology, actually. I don’t think I could be a social worker, but I really want to be able to help those who’ve seen the things that I’ve seen. I feel like I can do that as a psychologist.” She picks at her chipping lilac nail polish “Oh, the coffee is done. Where do you keep the mugs, Grantaire?”

He produces four mugs from the cupboard, fills them, and hands them off. “You two are going to do some amazing work,” he says. “A lot of people are going to have a much better life thanks to you.”

“Thank you, R.” They say at the same time and smile. Eponine gives him a look that says thank you, and tells him to give her and Cosette a moment alone. He takes the other mugs in one hand and squeezes her knee on the way out. He closes the door behind him and sits next to Enjolras on the couch.

“Here you go,” he says when he hands off coffee.

“Thanks.”

Jehan is somehow still asleep and snoring. Grantaire snorts, and Enjolras looks at him. “Aren’t you impressed by how they can sleep through anything?”

Enjolras laughs quietly. “Yeah. I wish I had that ability.”

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“Grantaire, you don’t need to apologise. Besides,” Enjolras eyes gleam when he looks at him over the rim of the cup, “it was pretty funny.”

“Shut up.” He smiles into his coffee. The room around them falls into peaceful silence and they sit on opposite ends of the couch scrolling on their phones, but for once, it feels good.

***

“No, but listen! It’s a great idea!”

If Joly was a dog, he’d be a Golden Retriever puppy, Grantaire decides. He’d definitely be wagging his tail right now, that’s for sure. He’s going to hit Bossuet or Jehan if he keeps gesturing like that. Maybe gesturing wildly might be the human equivalent of wagging your tail, Grantaire thinks.

“R!” Joly waggles a finger in his face. “You’re not listening!”

“I’m listening, Joly,” he assures him. “You want to set up Marius and Combeferre. In a friend-way,” he clarifies. Jehan shudders, probably thinking of Marius and Combeferre in a romantic relationship. Courfeyrac looks both amused and disturbed at that thought.

“If Eponine and Cosette can become friends, so can Marius and Combeferre,” Joly nods. Grantaire sees a lot of flaws in that argument, but he’s not going to be the one to point that out.

“Totally!” Courfeyrac says and Bossuet nods. Grantaire suddenly relates a lot to Scar talking to the hyenas in The Lion King . He would make a reference, but apparently you can’t know who’s actually watched the classics these days. And, contrary to popular belief, Grantaire isn’t so much of an asshole that he’ll crush the dreams of his friends. He is, however, just enough of an asshole to sit and not say anything when his friends plan something that will surely make his other friends lives a mess.

Joly looks around, probably looking for Combeferre and Marius in the chaos of the cafeteria. “Look,” he says, leaning over the table. “It’s not like Marius and Combeferre hate each other, right? They just don’t hang out with each other. So, we make them hang out more and boom! They’ll become closer!”

“I love it,” Courfeyrac says, because of course he does. He’s been wanting Marius and Combeferre to become friends for ages, which in Grantaire’s eyes is totally fair but unlikely to happen in reality. It seems like trying to mix oil and water; they’re simply too different. (And if you ask Grantaire, Marius is a lot denser than Combeferre.) Bossuet and Jehan nod, and Joly looks at him.

“R, you in?”

“Yeah, what the hell, I’m in.” At least he’ll have a front row seat when everything goes to hell. Joly grins, then dives straight into making plans. Bossuet wants to force them to sit together during a movie, which everyone objects too, especially Courfeyrac. Jehan wants them to go for coffee together. Joly thinks it’s a good idea, but that they should wait a bit.

“Why not just have them work together during a meeting?” Grantaire offers when Bossuet suggests ziplining. They pause, realising no one has suggested that, the most obvious choice. Courfeyrac nods.

“Yeah, that’s good. I think Enjolras wants us to make pamphlets or something next meeting, so that should work.”

“Signs,” Grantaire says. “He wanted us to come up with designs for the protest signs.”

“Right, even better actually.”

“It’s settled then,” Joly says, and tries to high five them all at the same time, which results in Bossuet hitting him in the face.

***

Marius and Cosette arrive late to the next meeting, and Courfeyrac immediately drags Marius down next to him and Combeferre. Cosette looks confused, but sits down there too. Enjolras starts reviewing the agenda for the day, while Joly bounces his leg up and down next to Grantaire. When Enjolras announces they’re going to design signs, Courfeyrac announces way too loudly that Marius and Combeferre will work together. He does his best to include Cosette too, and Grantaire briefly wonders if the others think Courfeyrac is crazy. Enjolras shrugs and joins Bahorel and Feuilly. Jehan looks between them and Joly and Bossuet, who’s scooting towards Grantaire and Eponine. They seem to decide they have enough people, so they scoot closer to Feuilly.

Bossuet’s come up with a solid idea, so Grantaire sketches it out while the others throw suggestions at him. It doesn’t take long before two other voices drown them out.

“But that looks good!”

“It compromises the message!”

They look to Courfeyrac’s group, where Marius and Combeferre gesticulate wildly above their pamphlet. Courfeyrac is between them, looking slightly pale.

“We can’t word it like that,” Combeferre says, pointing towards the paper. “It makes us sound stupid.”

“It does not,” Marius argues. “It's just simplifying it.”

“Yes, which is why it sounds stupid. It simplifies it too much.”

“It does not.”

“Oh for the love of…” Cosette snatches the paper and writes something. She passes it back. “There. How’s that?”

Combeferre and Marius lean forward to read, while Courfeyrac mouths ‘help’ in Grantaire’s direction. Combeferre looks up and nods.

“That sounds better.”

Marius agrees, giving Cosette a kiss on the cheek. Courfeyrac looks relieved. The whole room lets out a breath, and returns to sketching designs. Grantaire suggests “We have to save the oceans or we’re fin-ished.” Eponine hits him in response. Joly thinks Grantaire should draw fish on the signs. This results in Bossuet singing Under the Sea , but aside from that they manage to stay relatively focused. Near the end of the meeting, Marius and Combeferre start arguing again. Grantaire can’t catch what they’re arguing about, since they’re keeping their voice down. Given Marius' red face and Comebeferre’s annoyed gesturing, they’re definitely at odds about something. Grantaire bites his tongue to stop laughing. Cosette looks like she wants to be anywhere but here.

Enjolras closes the meeting. Combeferre drags Courfeyrac out of there unusually fast. Enjolras looks confused, but says he has a meeting with Lamarque and heads out too. Grantaire moves to sit with Bahorel, Jehan and Feuilly. They look like they’re trying not to laugh.

“What happened?” He asks, and Feuilly gestures for him to wait. Cosette waves, dragging Marius out the door, and laughter erupts around Grantaire.

“Jehan told us about the plan,” Feuilly says, snickering. “Man, it’s going straight to hell.”

Bahorel nods, still laughing. “At first they just argued about what to write, but man they got petty.” He says. “Marius started complaining about Comebeferr’s handwriting and Combeferre said Marius couldn’t spell, so he has to write.”

“And then,” Jehan jumps in, “they started arguing over the accuracy of Finding Nemo, and whether or not it was appropriate to draw Nemo on a sign. Oh man,” they shake their head, making hair fall out of their ponytail. “Feuilly is right, this is gonna go so wrong.”

“Oh, I know,” Grantaire grins. “I love it.”

***

Eponine (3:04 pm):

wanna join me and cosette for coffee?

Grantaire (3:10 pm):

you’re doing coffee dates without me?

i’m hurt

HURT i’m telling you

Eponine (3:11 pm):

cosette says stop whining and get here

Grantaire (3:12 pm): 

am WOUNDED

where are you?

“You’ve really both abandoned me,” he says when he sits down with them, whining. Eponine and Cosette look unimpressed; Cosette rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Stop being such a drama queen,” Eponine kicks him under the table.

“Ah, but it’s in my nature.”

“So, Grantaire,” Cosette says, warming her hands on her cup. “What is going on with Marius and Combeferre?”

He laughs, making a couple nearby turn and glare. Eponine kicks him again, making him laugh even harder. “Right, Joly never told you,” he manages when he’s calmed down. “Oh man-“ he has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing “-it’s gold.”

He explains Joly’s plan and by the time he gets to the upcoming ideas, Cosette is laughing so hard she’s crying. Eponine bursts out laughing too when he mentions having them play board games together. The couple is still glaring at them.

“Oh my god,” Cosette tries to dry her tears, but accidentally smudges some of her eyeliner instead. “Oh my poor Marius, he’s going to die.”

Eponine chokes on her coffee. Cosette pats her on the back while she coughs sympathetically, still laughing.

“And poor Combeferre,” Eponine says when she’s stopped coughing. “He’s going to go crazy. And you said Courfeyrac was in on it too?” Grantaire nods. Eponine snorts, shaking her head. “Oh man,” Grantaire couldn’t agree more.

Cosette giggles again. “Did you hear they argued over Finding Nemo ?” Grantaire laughs; he heard that from Bahorel. Cosette covers her mouth to stop giggling, and Eponine throws in that Finding Nemo is actually pretty accurate when it comes to a lot of things, save for the fact that Marvin should be Nemo's mother.

They drift to talking about other things. Grantaire teases Cosette about Marius. She retorts back, teasing him about Enjolras. Eponine concludes they both have shit taste in men. They sit there until Bossuet asks Grantaire if he’s coming home for dinner. Cosette decides it’s time to head home, but Grantaire convinces Eponine to eat dinner with him at home. She sleeps over on their couch after winning a Super Smash tournament.

***

Enjolras comes to the next meeting with a sour look on his face. That should have been the first hint to Grantaire to go easy on him. Even before the start of the meeting, he’s rubbing his temples. He starts like normal however, and things run smoothly until Enjolras brings up suggestions for what to focus on at the protest. Enjolras tends to take shortcuts in his arguments and twists the facts up when he’s tired. That should have given Grantaire some indication to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t. So when he starts disagreeing, Enjolras glares at him. He snarls something Grantaire almost doesn’t catch, about how they can’t keep letting huge corporations pollute sea water and let small fishermen along the coasts struggle. He definitely has a point, but Grantaire knows Enjolras is merging two separate issues. They are related, but not to the extent Enjolras suggests. When he says so, Enjolras just snaps that they need to highlight the bigger picture at the protest and show the people the connections.

“Well why don’t you include a tap dance number too, Apollo?” Grantaire says. Joly jabs him on the arm, but ignores it. “Surely that would be as ridiculous as what you’re suggesting.”

Enjolras crushes the notes in his hand. He crosses his arms and raises his chin. “Oh really,” he says, eyebrows raised. “You think that’s ridiculous?”

“As a matter of fact-“ Grantaire points with his pen “-I do. Bring that up, you’ll seem like an uneducated fool.”

Enjolras flinches. His gaze narrows. “And do you have any suggestions instead? Like, actually useful suggestions. Not just complaints about what I say.”

“I do give you concrete suggestions,” Grantaire says in a cold voice he hates. “You just don’t listen to me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees Combeferre moving to cut in and stop this fight, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Enjolras, who glares right back with a fire Grabtaire hasn't seen in some time. Well, fight fire with fire.

“So please, Apollo. Enlighten me,” he says, doing as good of a mock bow as he can sitting down. “What do I have to do to please you? Blacken your boots?”

“You could start by actually taking an active role in this group. All you do is sit in the corner and make rude comments on whatever pleases you. Frankly, you’re of no use to anyone here. Why do you even bother coming?”

Grantaire hears his heartbeat when the room stops. Combeferre is frozen halfway out of his seat. Enjolras is still glaring into his eyes and Grantaire has the sudden urge to throw up. He swallows hard, and without breaking eye contact with Enjolras, gathers his things. He’s smiling bitterly. That smile leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he doesn’t trust himself to stop, so he won’t start crying.

“You’re absolutely right, Apollo,” he says cheerfully and something in Enjolras eyes changes. Grantaire doesn’t look long enough to find out what it is. “I don’t know why I come here myself.”

He does his best to not run, but he probably does anyway. No one stops him on the way out. He’s not sure if that or Enjolras' words hurt more.Stepping out to the street, he takes a deep breath. It feels like he’s not got enough oxygen in his lungs. He almost starts crying but he decides he’s absolutely not going to in public, so he breathes in and out as calmly as he can while walking away from the Musain as fast as possible. Someone grabs his elbow. He yanks his arm free by reflex and spins around. His pens fall to the ground but he holds on to his sketchbook. Courfeyrac is holding his hand out, as if still gripping Grantaire’s arm.

“Grantaire I’m sorry, he-“

“Listen, Courf, I give zero fucks.” And just like that his throat is going thick with tears again. “Just leave me alone.”

“Please Grantaire, I’m sure he didn’t mean it like-“

“Like what, Courf? Like exactly what he said? Because you and I both know Enjolras, and he never, ever, says something he doesn’t mean.” Well, except for wanting to be friends with me and caring about my opinions. Courfeyrac looks down and doesn’t say anything.

“Exactly,” Grantaire responds and hates that Courfeyrac proved his point. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving, so please leave me the fuck alone.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and walks away as fast as he can. Courfeyrac doesn’t follow him, and when he realises he’s alone, he can’t stop himself from crying.

He ends up on one of the swings in the park. It’s late enough for no kids to be there but not late enough for the junkies to be there.

Why do you even bother coming? He thought they were getting somewhere. Towards a real, functional friendship. And he hadn’t realised how much he’d treasured it. They’d been having normal conversations, even good conversations, and conversations where it felt like they understood each other.

He just doesn’t understand why Enjolras would lead him on like this. What he said to Courfeyrac was true: Enjolras never says something he doesn’t mean. For some reason, Grantaire feels like this is the real Enjolras. Enjolras never truly liked Grantaire. All those nice moments at the Belle Vie weren't genuine. Why Enjolras pretended to like him in the first place is a mystery. He swings back and forth, kicking up the sand beneath him. It almost looks like the colour of the aprons at the Belle Vie. He feels sick again.

Leaning back, he looks up at the sky. It’s gray and dark, cloudy and unfriendly. Grantaire doesn’t believe in any high power, never has, but right now he really wants to give the sky the middle finger. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out. He’s such an idiot. To think, Grantaire believed he and Enjolras could be something. He really believed Enjolras didn’t see him as a failure, despite the fact that he definitely is. He just barely got into art school and will just barely graduate. He doesn’t contribute to the politics he’s involved himself in, other than mocking the group leader. He’d started to believe Enjolras even liked him to some extent, not just tolerated him. It really has the stupidest thing he’s managed to believe. 

The swing is cold beneath him as the air grows colder around him. Still, going home isn’t like an option. Going home will have Joly clinging to him, asking if he’s okay or if he needs to talk. It’ll mean Bossuet will try to make him sit down to talk, after Joly’s attempt fails. Then Musichetta will try to cheer him up with hot chocolate. They will want to take care of him, he knows that, but every fibre of his being tells him he wants space. He desperately wants space.

It’s past dark when he finally checks his phone. He has a ton of messages and several missed calls. He’s been in the park nearly three hours. Courfeyrac texted him too, apologising for Enjolras and himself. Joly and Bosseut’s messages increasingly get more worried, asking where he is and if he’s okay. Joly has even called him twice. He’s going to have to respond soon, before Joly calls the police or something. Cosette has texted him and so has Eponine.

Eponine (5:10 pm):

are you okay?

dumb question ofc you’re not

Eponine (5:15 pm):

i will kill him

literally

Eponine (5:28 pm):

seriously tho are you ok??

text me if you want to come over

Eponine (5:33 pm):

we don’t have to talk about it

Eponine’s place is a better option than going home, and a much better option than sleeping in the park. He stands from the swing, forcing his cold legs to work, and texts her he will be there. He texts Joly and Bosseut on the walk, to let him know he’ll be with Eponine. Joly answers just seconds later, glad Grantaire’s okay and with Eponine. He says that he, Bosseut and Musichetta love him, making Grantaire smile a little, even though he doesn’t have the energy to respond.

“Can I hug you?” Is the first thing Eponine says when she lets Grantaire in. He nods. Eponine doesn’t give out hugs unless people really need them and he really needs it now.

“Jesus fuck, you’re cold,” she says when she pulls away. She pulls him to the sofa and pushes him down. “There,” she tosses a blanket over him. “I’m microwaving pizza and we can watch some dumb movie. How does that sound?”

“Great,” he says with a thumbs up. He puts on Night at The Museum because, as Jehan once said, it’s illegal to watch those movies and be sad at the same time. If Eponine notices that he gets distracted and doesn’t focus on the movie, she doesn’t say anything. They fall asleep together on the couch, tangled up in the blankets.

When the sun from the kitchen window hits him in the face, he sits up and rubs his eyes. The apartment is quiet, and he’s alone on the couch. He shakes off the tangled blanket and sits up. Eponine has left him a note, saying she’s at a seminar at university, and he can take whatever he wants from her fridge. He stays on the couch a little longer. Maybe he should let some people know he’s alive. Jehan texted him at some point after he was asleep, asking if he’s home and doing okay. He texts them back, saying he stayed with Eponine and not to worry. Courfeyrac messaged him again, so he answers, just so he’ll stop worrying.

Enjolras has texted him too. Grantaire’s thumb hovers above his name on the display, then decides that Enjolras doesn’t need an answer. He doesn't need to read whatever bullshit Enjolras has sent him anyway. Ignoring the bitter feeling in his stomach, he sifts through Eponine’s fridge. She doesn’t have a lot, but he grabs an apple and settles back on the couch. He plays some stupid game on his phone to keep him entertained and distracted. Eponine texts him after the seminar is over. She's going to stay longer to work on a group project.

Eponine’s couch is a lot softer than Grantaire’s, so it’s really tempting to fall back asleep. It’s almost noon, though, and he needs to go home sooner or later. Sighing, he pushes off the couch and lets Eponine know he’s heading home. She takes her extra key from above her wardrobe and locks the door; he can return it tomorrow.

It’s raining outside when Grantaire leaves the building.He almost laughs because it’s just too cliche, even for him. Eponine’s place isn’t that far from his, but he’s still soaked when he gets home. Joly doesn’t care,though, and throws himself at Grantaire when he arrives.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling? Oh my god you’re soaked, why didn’t you have an umbrella? You’re going to get sick!”

Musichetta gently pulls Joly away from Grantaire so he can take off his coat. Bossuet appears in the hallway and throws a towel at him. “I heard Joly yelling,” he says and Grantaire smiles while he dries his hair. They step further into the apartment and Musichetta gives Bossuet a look that sends him and Joly away to the kitchen, loudly announcing they’ll make lunch. 

Musichetta smiles softly at Grantaire. “You should take a shower. Get yourself warmed up, so you don’t actually get sick.”

“Thank you, ‘Chetta,” he says, and walks towards his room to drop off his bag (and check if the sketchbook is ruined by the rain).

“Hey R,” Musichetta says and he stops, turning back to her. “We’re glad you’re home.” She smiles before disappearing into the kitchen. Grantaire really loves her so much in that moment.

They eat dinner in front of the tv again, ordering takeout from their favorite Chinese restaurant. Technically, it’s Bossuets turn to pick a movie, but he asks Grantaire to choose instead. As long as he doesn’t put on My Little Pony , Grantaire says anything’s fine. Bossuet laughs, saying he's tempted to do just that, but puts on The Good Place instead. Grantaire’s phone buzzes several times throughout the evening, and eventually he takes it out, meaning to turn off the notifications. Enjolras has texted him several times during the evening, and Grantaire still hasn’t read the messages from yesterday.

Enjolras (6:30 pm):

I overstepped at the meeting, I’m sorry.

Enjolras (6:34 pm):

I really shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.

Seriously, that was really awful of me. I’m so sorry Grantaire.

Enjolras (9:55 pm):

Please at least let me know you’re alright and got home safe.

Enjolras (10:03 pm):

Okay, Eponine texted me you slept over at her place.

I’m glad you’re okay. Or I mean, I’m glad you were with her.

I’m so sorry R.

He doesn’t bother replying.

***

“Hey, R,” Joly pops his head through Grantaire’s door way too early on Sunday morning. It’s really just pure luck that Grantaire is awake and watching YouTube in bed. “I invited Courf and Ferre and Marius and Cosette over for brunch.”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow and closes his computer. “Did you now? How sneaky of you,” he says, and Joly has the decency to blush. Grantaire laughs and shakes his head. “I’m messing with you, Joly. Have fun.”

Joly frowns, stepping into the room. “I was planning on forcing you to join us.” He sits on the edge of Grantaire's bed.

“I don’t want to get dressed,” Grantaire tires, and points at his sweatpants that have more holes and food stains than socially acceptable. Joly uses his crane to pick up a pair of jeans on the floor by Grantaire’s bed and throws them at him.

“Come on, R,” he says. “You can sit, and eat pancakes, and talk shit with Cosette and Musichetta. I promise you don’t have to deal with the Ferre-Marius plan today.”

“Who’s making the pancakes?”

“Chetta.”

“Okay fine,” he gets up and Joly cheers. “Get out of my room, let me get dressed.”

Joly laughs and says something about not being interested in Grantaire anyway, but he does leave his room. Grantaire hears him telling Musichetta to make more pancakes. He picks up a shirt off the floor that doesn’t have too many wrinkles, deems it socially acceptable for brunch and goes to take a quick shower and change.

Cosette and Marius have arrived when Grantaire is dressed. Cosette throws herself at him and hugs him for a little longer than normal. When she lets him go, she looks up at him with an expression that clearly asks if he wants to talk about it. He shakes his head and she smiles, grabbing his hand, dragging him into the kitchen. Musichetta looks up when they come in, and gives Cosette a long hug.

“Can we help you with anything?” Cosette asks. Musichetta nods then puts them to work. Grantaire is cutting mango when he hears Courfeyrac and Combeferre in the hallway. Technically, he only hears Courfeyrac, and assumes Combeferre is there, but whatever.

“Hello!” Courfeyrac leans into the kitchen. He looks ready to tackle Grantaire into a hug, but suddenly Combeferre is standing behind him, holding him back.

“Courf,” he says gently, “Grantaire is holding a knife.”

“Oh, right.”

Grantaire snorts and puts down the knife. “There.” Courfeyrac does nearly tackle him. “Hi, Courf.” Courfeyrac squeezes him tightly, to the point where Grantaire feels his lungs squeeze. He doesn’t say anything when he lets Grantaire go, he goes to tackle Cosette instead (who saw it coming and put the mugs she was holding down). Combeferre walks up to Grantaire, looking at Courfeyrac with a soft smile.

“How are you doing?” He asks Grantaire, who shrugs. There’s no reason to bother pretending Combeferre means something else.

“Okay,” which is true in the moment, and Combeferre squeezes his shoulder. Bossuet walks into the crowded kitchen, and asks if he can carry anything out. Musichetta hands him a plate full of pancakes, and they all start setting the table.

Joly and Courfeyrac arrange the seating in a not-so-subtle way, making Marius and Combeferre sit next to each other at the far end of the table. Grantaire rolls his eyes and chooses a seat between Musichetta and Cosette on the other end. They’re chatting about Musichetta’s houseplants, of which she has an impressive collection. When Grantaire sits down, Musichetta takes the opportunity to tell Cosette about the time Grantaire managed to kill a cactus.

“In my defence,” Grantaire replies to an already unimpressed Cosette, “I was away for a while with school work.”

“Grantaire, sweetheart,” Musichetta says, resting her hands on his. “It takes more than five days to kill a cactus.”

Cosette laughs into her drink, then teasingly offers Grantaire one of her dad’s gardening books to borrow. Musichetta continues, telling Cosette about how she’s the only person in this house, save for Joly sometimes, who takes care of the plants. Bossuet is not allowed within five feet of her plants, since once he accidentally used herbicide instead of manure on her sunflowers. Grantaire looks over the table; it’s nice, having brunch like this. Joly, Bossuet and Courfeyrac are immersed in a conversation about some TV series they watch. Marius and Combeferre seem to attempt having a conversation. Marius looks more at his food than at Combeferre, but Grantaire is impressed nonetheless; Joly’s plan is working better than he thought. They’re actually getting along.

It reminds him of the time he spent with Enjolras at Belle Vie. He can’t help the way the food seems to grow in his mouth when he thinks about that. Musichetta makes amazing pancakes, she’s bought really good fruit and berries; it all just tastes like iron now. He does his best to get the rest of his pancake down, but it just makes the taste worse.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Musichetta and Cosette. They look at him with worried eyes. Pitying eyes. He ignores it and ignores his anger about their pity, and disappears into the bathroom as quickly as he can.

“Okay, okay,” he tells himself, sitting on the toilet. “It’s fine, I’m okay.” Tears are stinging his eyes, and that makes him furious with himself. He was supposed to be okay for breakfast with his friends, not get upset about Enjolras. Okay . He breathes in, out, and tries to focus on the feeling of his feet on the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor. It feels like it takes forever, but he manages to calm his breathing. He sits a little longer, just to make sure he’s ready to go back out. His eyes and cheeks look a little red in the mirror, so he splashes his face with cold water, and it mostly works. It’s acceptable, he decides. He doesn’t want to wait until he looks perfect, acceptable is enough.

When he leaves the bathroom, Combeferre looks very annoyed, and Marius' face is redder than Grantaire’s. He raises an eyebrow at Courfeyrac as he walks past and gets a micro-shrug in response. Musichetta and Cosette don't mention him leaving, and rope him into a debate about which Ghibli movie is the best. Cosette thinks it’s Howl’s Moving Castle and Musichetta thinks it’s Spirited Away.

“They’re all cinematic wonders, but because they touch upon such different subjects it’s not fair to compare them to each other.” He waves his fork in the air. “You also can’t compare the animation, because Miyasaki manages to animate them spectauraly every time. They all make you reflect on something which… What?” Musichetta and Cosette both look at him, unimpressed. “Okay fine. Princess Mononoke. ”

Musichetta and Cosette nod in agreement. Then Musichetta mentions to Cosette that she should watch Wolf Children . “Technically, it’s not a Ghibli film. But it’s so good.”

Grantaire nods in agreement, eating the last of this pancake. It’s gone cold, but Musichetta’s pancakes are amazing so he finishes them anyway. “Oh yeah. Joly cried his eyes out.”

Musichetta rolls her eyes. “Grantaire, darling, so did you.” He laughs and admits that he definitely did. Musichetta explains the plot to Cosette, so Grantaire takes a moment to look at Combeferre and Marius. Combeferre gesticulates with his fork and Marius looks even redder than before, which is saying a lot. Bossuet and Courfeyrac’s conversation is loud, but Grantaire can make out a faint ‘Voltaire did not say that’ from Combeferre. Marius leans forward in his seat to answer him. Grantaire can’t hear what he says, but it makes Combeferre gesture even wilder with his fork. It looks like he wants to stab Marius with it. Grantaire knows Combeferre would never stab Marius, but now, he’s not so sure. Courfeyrac looks back and forth between them. Combeferre and his fork have caught Cosette and Musichetta's attention now, slowing their conversation. Cosette looks worried, as the boys' discussion gets more heated. Marius looks like he's about to pass out.

“Marius for the last time-”

“But look at the evidence, Combeferre!”

“Marius your evidence-”

“Oh, babe, look at the time!” Cosette stands up, rushing to Marius. “We promised Dad to help with that furniture he ordered, remember? If we’re late he’ll just start lifting everything himself, you know that.” Marius lets Cosette drag him off, and she continues “and dad really can’t do that, not with his bad back and arm.”

She ducks into the hallway, throws Marius his hat and coat, and leans back into the kitchen while putting on her jacket. “It was so lovely to be here,” she says, blowing them all a kiss. “I’m so sorry we have to rush, but we’ll make it up with dinner sometime, yes?” She waves, takes Marius’ hand, and then they’re out the door.

Combeferre sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You okay, babe?” Courfeyrac asks carefully, and Combeferre groans.

“Voltaire didn’t…” He sighs again and straightens his glasses. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

***

On Thursday, they have an extra meeting. They often do, before a rally or a protest. For some reason, Granatire feels like Enjolras decided to hold it just to see if he would show up. Grantaire wants to prove Enjolras wrong by showing up at the meeting, but he really can't stand the thought of seeing Enjolras' face, so he stays home and avoids it in the end. Instead of going to the Musain after class, he goes by Starbucks, buys a coffee and a cake, then heads home to watch TV. Joly texts him halfway through a movie, asking if he’s going to show up, but no one else bothers him. Musichetta attended the meeting this time, and he blesses her for that, because he can be alone for almost three full hours.

When they come home, Bossuet joins him on the sofa and they finish season seven of Game of Thrones . Bossuet has seen it twice before, once with Musichetta and once with Joly, so he watches Grantaire’s reactions more than the tv. Unfortunately for Bossuet, Grantaire doesn’t yell at the tv like Joly or Musichetta.

“Just wait until you start season eight,” Bossuet says. No one mentions Grantaire’s absence at the Musain during dinner, and he’s grateful for that.

He runs into Combeferre on campus the next day. They bump into each other in the hallway. Grantaire is finished for the day, and he knows Combeferre on his way to another class. Combeferre should be in a hurry, but he stops Grantaire with a hand on his arm.

“Enjolras asked about you last night,” Combeferre says. Grantaire sighs and shakes Combeferre’s hand off. “He said you haven’t been answering his texts.”

“I’m sure he’s worried,” Grantaire responds, and Combeferre frowns at his sarcastic tone.

“He really is, Grantaire,” Grantaire rolls his eyes at that, because, sure, Enjolras worries about him. And Grantaire is the heir to the Russian throne. “I’m serious,” Combeferre continues. “Look, you both overstepped, but what Enjolras said was an over exaggeration. And he knows that.”

Granatire starts to disagree, but Combeferre holds a hand up to stop him. “Look, Grantaire, I get it if you don’t want to talk to him. But he’s sorry for what he said, and he wants to apologise.” Combeferre glaces at his watch and curses under his breath. “I gotta go,” he says, already stepping away from Grantaire, “but please keep that in mind, okay?”

Grantaire waves at him but doesn’t answer.

***

Enjolras (9:34 pm):

R, can we please talk?

Cosette invites him over with the excuse that she, Eponine and Musichetta baked way too many cookies yesterday. Who is Grantaire to say no to that? Poor Marius has been kidnapped by Joly and Bossuet, meaning he’s being set up with Combeferre again. Cosette and Marius’ apartment is big, especially considering there’s only two of them.

“Technically, it’s my dad’s,” Cosette says, showing him around. “He bought a new apartment a little bit outside of town when he started working at the high school, and decided to keep this one for me to live in when I started college.”

“Damn. That’s really nice of him.”

Cosette just smiles, and gestures for Grantaire to sit down while she digs out cups and cookies. This kitchen is a lot bigger than the one in Grantaire’s apartment. His kitchen is just made for cooking; this one is made for cooking, eating, and existing. It’s open and has windows on both sides of the walls, making the whole room bright. There are bookshelves on the wall, mostly filled with cookbooks and old newspapers, but also a couple of photos.

“Who’s that?” Grantaire nods towards the frame closest to the table. The woman in the picture looks young, probably not more than twenty, but the photo looks old. Cosette sets down a cup of coffee for him and a cup of tea for her.

“That’s my mother,” she says, fetching the cookies out of the pantry. “Remember my dad adopted me?” She sits down and Grantaire nods. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was eighteen, by some older guy who ditched her. My grandparents kicked her out and she had to find other means to support us.” Cosette clears her throat. Grantaire takes her hand and she squeezes it. “Anyway, she got really sick, I don’t know from what. Died just before I turned three.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cosette straightens up a little. “My mom did everything she could to support me. And now I have my dad. I love them both very much, and I know they both love me very much too.”

“Can I still give you a hug?”

Cosette glance softens. “Of course you can.” He stands up and gently wraps his arms around her where she sits, stroking her back softly. He has no idea how long they stay that way, but eventually Cosette pulls back.

“Thank you, R.” she says, and he gives her shoulder a light squeeze before sitting back. “Now,” she says, clearly intent on changing the subject. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He sighs, taking a sip of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process. “Let me guess: Enjolras.”

“Spot on,” she takes a cookie and he follows. “Look, R, I get why you’re angry with him. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset with him, because you have every right to be.”

“But you want me to talk to him.” The cookies are really good, totally drenched in chocolate. He chooses to focus on that instead of thought about Enjolras.

“If everyone was as clever as you, no one would need a therapist,” she grins, and he smiles despite himself. “And yes, that’s exactly what I think. Look-” she takes another sip of from her mug-”I know Combeferre talked to you. He probably said that Enjolras is really sorry and that you should talk to him, right?”

He nods, and takes another cookie. “Yep. And I promise I’m going to let you finish, but dude, these are great.”

“I know, right? Thank Musichetta, it’s her recipe.” Cosette takes another bite before continuing. “Anyway, about what Combeferre said. I say fuck that,” she says, and he chokes on his cookie from laughing. “I think you should talk to him, but don’t do it because Enjolras is upset over what he said.” She looks him straight in the eyes. “He said what he said, and he has to face the consequences. Now, stop me if I’m wrong. I know you love him, and as much as you enjoy teasing him, you don’t want to fight with him.”

Grantaire nods slowly, and Cosette continues, eyes and voice gentle. “When we had lunch together, you used to tell me about the Belle Vie and the conversations you guys had there. How much you appreciate that. So I'm assuming, because he hurt you and because you're angry with him for that, you're not holding up well in this situation either. And that’s why I think you should talk to him; not for Enjolras’ sake, but for your own sake.”

Grantaire stares at her, slowly feeling his brain processing her words. A grin breaks out on his face. “Are you going full Freud on me, Cosette Fauchelevent?”

She laughs and winks at him, raising her cup. “More like spilling the tea on you.”

He busts out laughing and soon they’re both doubled over the kitchen table. They’re conversation moves away to other topics and Grantaire stays far longer than he intended. When he checks his phone, it’s almost dinnertime, and Joly texted him nearly three hours ago. He starts laughing again. He opens the text and shows Cosette the image Joly sent; he’s taken a selfie with Courfeyrac, with Marius and Combeferre in the background. Cosette laughs, and tells him she’s going to have a storm coming home soon, and he agrees. She invites him to stay for dinner anyway, but he declines, saying he has to focus on his project. She gives him a long hug before he leaves.

A few steps away from Cosette’s apartment, his phone buzzes. He checks, walking down the stairs, and almost falls down when he starts laughing.

Joly (5:38 pm):

MISSION FAILED!!!

He takes a screenshot and sends it to Cosette. He sees the conversation below Joly’s and his finger hovers over it. He thinks about what Cosette said, takes a deep breath, and sends the text before he can start overthinking it.

Grantaire (5:42 pm):

1. we can talk. tomorrow?

***

Grantaire smokes while he waits for Enjolras to finish his shift. He’s so close to bailing, and really, he could. Run off before Enjolras comes out, never come to another meeting, and avoid him at university. He could totally do that. 

Okay, he totally couldn’t do that. 

Rubbing his face, he hears the door to the Belle Vie open. Blowing out smoke, he keeps his eye straight ahead. Enjolras can come to him. Enjolras clears his throat behind him.

“R?”

He turns. Enjolras is a few feet away from him, hands his jacket pockets and with his hair a mess. He’s shifting his weight between his feet restlessly.

“Apollo.” Grantaire says. Enjolras flinches. He glances at the cafe.

“Walk with me?” He asks. Grantaire shrugs, and puts his cigarette out. They walk down to the Seine, walking away from Notre-Dame and the Musain. There are less things to see, walking this direction, but also fewer people. Beside him, Enjolras sighs, and Grantaire braces himself.

“I’m very sorry about what I said, R.” Grantaire keeps his eyes on the ground. “It was unfair, and it wasn’t remotely true.”

Grantaire can't help but laugh at that. Enjolras flinches again. “Except you know, it was.” At least he shouldn’t trip, since he’s looking at the ground. “I just sit there and toss around rude comments. Not really helping with the whole cause and all that. So hey, you just spoke the truth. Can’t blame you for that.”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras replies. “You point out mistakes, so we don’t have to make them. You see the flaws everyone else misses. You see things from a different perspective than the rest of us, and it’s a valuable asset.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes, even though Enjolras can’t see them. “Now you're just saying that because Courf and the rest wants you to, you don't care about this. It's fine, Apollo. I know my place in this group.”

“That’s not what I...Oh for god’s sake, will you look at me Grantaire?” Enjolras touches his arm. Grantaire jerks around, and they’re standing face to face. Enjolras’ eyes are burning, but not with anger. Something else Grantaire can’t read.

“Listen,” Enjolras says. “I don’t say that because Courfeyrac or anyone else told me to. I’m saying it because it is true. And before you say anything-” Enjolras boxes him in before Grantaire can rush past -”I do feel bad. I feel bad because I care about you, and I know I hurt you. I feel bad because I know I damaged our relationship, and our relationship is important to me. Please, Grantaire,” Enjolras tilts his head to try and meet Grantaire’s eyes. “You’re important to me. I want you at those meetings.”

After a beat, Grantaire turns his head to meet Enjolras’ eyes. They're very blue, look very sad, and are very close. Grantaire draws in a sharp breath and steps back a little; Enjolras is still gripping Grantaire’s arm. “Okay, okay,” Grantaire replies. “Do you mean that? Really, mean it?”

“I mean it.” Enjolras says, and smiles. “Really, mean it.”

“Okay, um..." Suddenly, Grantaire's legs feel like they're going to give out on him. He sees a bench a few feet away and manages to sit before he falls. Enjolras sits with him.

“Look, I’m-” Grantaire takes a deep breath -”I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been mocking you like that. And if you want me at meetings,” he smiles at Enjolras. “Then, I’ll be happy to go to meetings.”

Enjolras pulls him into a tight hug. Grantaire forgets how to breathe for a second, then wraps his arms around Enjolras, and rests his head on his shoulder. Enjolras still smells like coffee and cinnamon from the bakery. It’s a very pleasant smell, wonderful even. Is that how he smells all the time?

“Are we friends again?” Enjolras asks in Grantaire’s ear. Grantaire shivers, which Enjolras totally misread, because he pulls back. “You’re shivering! Come on, let’s go somewhere warm. We can even go to Starbucks,” Enjolras says with a smile on his lips.

Grantaire lets out a gasp and puts his hand to Enjolras forehead. “Enjolras? Suggesting Starbucks? We might have a medical emergency on our hands!” Enjolras laughs, swatting at Grantaire’s hand. He captures it, stands up, and pulls Grantaire with him.

“It’s probably the only place that’s still open,” he says. He’s still holding Grantaire’s hand. “And judging by your hands, you need something warm to hold.” He swings Grantaire’s hand back and forth a little, grinning. Grantaire has to bite his tongue to not say ‘your hands are warm’. But Grantaire can recognize a peace offering when he sees it. Plus, it seems Enjolras can put aside his distaste for Starbucks long enough for Grantaire to have a cup of his favorite coffee.

“Let’s go,” and Enjolras' smile widens. He drops Grantaire's hand, and the cold takes it over. “And yes, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“We’re friends again.”

***

“Bonjour, y’all!” Courfeyrac dramatically enters the living room, arms spread wide. Combeferre follows, shaking his head. Courfeyrac sits on the couch next to Grantaire. Combeferre sits down next to him on the armrest. “What are we paying?”

“Risk,” Bossuet says, and Combeferre stares at him with something like a glare, but almost.

“Risk?”

“Risk.”

Combeferre just sighs. Joly tells him that Bossuet originally wanted to play Monopoly, but they decided not to, out of respect for Enjolras.

“In what way,” Combeferre responds, “is playing Risk respectful towards Enjolras?”

Joly launches into an argument, saying Risk is really a game about diplomacy and conflict, and they could use Risk as a method to understand how and why war is waged. “Which, if you think about it,” Joly says, “is the key to putting an end to war. Plus,” he adds, waving a tiny soldier in the air, “we could use our world domination to solve all issues with poverty and hunger.”

Combeferre silently shakes his head, but sits on the floor to reach the table. Someone knocks and Jehan steps in, carrying a bunch of jars in their arms. They sit between Courfeyrac and Combeferre, setting the jars on the table.

“Jehan,” Grantaire says, inspecting one of the scented candles. “We’re not going to use an Ouija board.”

Jehan looks up at him from the floor. “They set a nice mood, R.”

Courfeyrac laughs and smells one. “I mean, why not?” he continues. “Let’s play a game about war sitting in a room that smells like roses. I like it.”

Marius tumbles into the room soon after that, followed by Bahorel just a few minutes later. They settle down around the table and Bossuet passes around a bowl of chips. Jehan lights the candles, carefully placing them away from the edges of the table.

“Okay,” Joly announces, “everyone is here! Now there are only six colours to play with and there’s eight of us. We have to team up.”

“I’m with Jehan!” Courfeyrac claims quickly, and Jehan leans back on Courfeyrac’s legs with a smile.

“I’m stealing Bahorel,” Grantaire says, and Joly and Bossuet team up of course. Joly’s sitting on Bossuet’s lap already. All eyes turn to Combeferre and Marius, the only two without a partner. They’re looking everywhere but at each other. Combeferre closes his eyes for a second, like he’s mentally readying himself.

“So it’s us two then,” he says, and Joly tries to subtly fist bump Bossuet behind his own back.

By all standards, the game starts out fine. Grantaire stops Bahorel from invading Russia and losing half their troops in one go, and Jehan and Courfeyrac lose their part of Africa in the first round. But other than that, things go really well. But then Marius continuously rolls below four for three rounds and loses both Mongolia and Eastern Europe. Bossuet, who’s won for the first time since they started the game, cheers loudly from behind Joly. Combeferre looks annoyed but let’s Marius roll one more time, for reasons Grantaire can’t fathom, because Combeferre is actually good at Risk. Maybe it’s his own way of telling Marius he’s not mad about their argument about Voltaire. But, Marius being Marius, manages to screw up anyway. This time he attacks Grantaire and Bahorel’s newly won Russia, where they’ve placed all troops they can afford. Marius rolls snake eyes.

“Oh for the love of-“ Combeferre reaches for the board, and Marius, being Marius, hits the table with his knee, moving away from Combeferre. Everything wobbles. Grantaire manages to  catch some falling cards, but misses one of Jehan’s candles tipping over.

It falls right on the board, on Europe, where most of the troops are placed. The tiny plastic soldiers immediately go up in flames. Someone yell ‘holy fuck’, then everyone is on their feet. The entirety of Europe and half of Asia is already on fire. Grantaire would move the stack of cards and paper money that would add fuel to the fire, but he’s not about to get his hands burnt off. The smoke alarm goes off, and Musichetta comes storming out of the kitchen. Combeferre is looking around himself frantically, and Grantaire can’t remember for his life where the fire extinguisher is. Bossuet’s yelling that he found it, then Musichetta snatches it from him. Combeferre and Jehan manage to jump out of the way when she points it to the table and shoots. The fire on the table is replaced by white foam, which covers half the living room

“What the fuck?” Musichetta yells echo over the fire alarm. “What the absolute fuck?”

Combeferre makes a distressed gesture, Marius' face is as red as the fire extinguisher, and Jehan, who is white with the foam, is looking everywhere but Musichetta. Grantaire does his best to not laugh, as Musichetta looks like she’s done with everything and everyone. She ushers them out of the building when the fire brigade shows up. Musichetta gives Bossuet and Joly a look that says ‘you deal with this’.

“What the fuck,” she repeats, walking up to Grantaire.

“In-flame-matory game,” Grantaire says, and she punches his arm. “Okay, I deserved that.” When he’s explained what happened, Musichetta is rubbing her temples.

“Board games,” she says slowly, “are banned from now on. I swear to god,” she mutters, taking out her phone, “I need to talk to someone who isn’t a man.”

Grantaire looks around. The entire apartment complex is out on the street, glaring at them. They can exactly hide that it was them who caused the alarm to go off. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are helping Jehan get the foam off their clothes. Marius joins Joly and Bossuet by the fire trucks, trying to assure the firemen that the fire is out. The only one not obviously involved is Bahorel, who’s standing a little bit away from Combeferre and the rest, texting someone. Grantaire’s phone rings.

“Hi Ep,” he says, and hears laughter on the other end. “Rude,” he says, “For all you know, I could have died in the fire.”

“Sure,” he knows she’s rolling her eyes. He hears giggling in the background. “So Chetta wasn’t kidding then, you guys seriously set a board game on fire.”

“Technically,” he says, “it was Marius and Combeferre.”

“Grantaire,” he hears Cosette yell faintly in the background, “it doesn’t matter. A board game was set on fire.”

Grantaire laughs, but stops when the people around him glare. “True.”

“So,” Eponine says. “Do you think this is the end for the whole Marius-Combeferre thing?”

Grantaire looks between Combeferre, still trying to help Jehan, and Marius, still by the fire trucks. “Definitely,” he says and Eponine cheers.

“Hey, is Bahorel there?” She asks, and Grantaire checks that Bahorel is still standing with the rest. “Great,” she says when he confirms. “Get the phone to him, I need to tell him something.”

Grantaire pushes his way through the crowd that’s beginning to move back into the building. They glare at him as he pushes past him and he ignores them. Jehan seems to be free from the foam when he gets to them and is chatting with Courfeyrac. Bahorel and Combeferre are on their phones.

“Hey, Bahorel,” Grantaire says and hands him the phone. “Eponine wanted to say something.”

Bahorel has the phone, but everyone around him can hear Eponine yell ‘in your face bitch, you owe me five bucks,’ which makes Grantaire laugh. Courfeyrac starts giggling and Combeferre looks like he’s been through far too much in one day. When Bahorel hands his phone back, Grantaire is laughing so hard he almost drops it.

“Aw man,” he says. “You placed bets without telling me?”

Bahorel grins and shrugs. Joly, Bossuet and Marius walk up, all looking to varying degrees mortified and embarrassed. Behind them, Musichetta is following too, still texting Cosette and Eponine. Joly makes little circles on the ground with his cane. Combeferre takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes.

“Joly, do you need help cleaning up?” He asks and both Joly his head. “In that case, I’m driving Courf and Jehan home.” He mutters something Grantaire doesn’t catch; Courfeyrac looks nervous. Grantaire walks up to Joly and Bossuet and slings his arms around their necks.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this.” He eyes the rest of them. “You guys go home, we’ll clean it up.”

Combeferre nods and leads Courfeyrac and Jehan away to his car. Marius looks like he wants to say something, but fumbles a bit with his jacket and nods goodbye too. The only one who actually says goodbye is Bahorel, who announces he’s going to visit Feuilly, who needs Bahorel’s help for something.

Behind them, someone clears their throat. The three men turn. Musichetta waves her phone at them.

“I’m heading over to Eponine’s for a girl’s night. When I come back, which will probably be tomorrow, there will be no trace of foam in the living room. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they respond in unison. Musichetta throws them a kiss before walking off.

Grantaire releases the others, then speaks after a moment of silence. “Before we start cleaning up, can we just agree to never, ever, attempt something like that again.”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely.”

“Courf just texted me that. Jehan agrees too.”

***

Aside from Marius and Combeferre not really talking to each other, things calm down in their group. Enjolras admits his parents cut him off at a meeting. When everyone is done hugging him and asking him if there’s anything they can do, he looks relieved. Enjolras gives Grantaire a thankful look for his support and Grantaire just smiles back.

The rest of the meetings are intense, but in a good way, as everyone focuses on the upcoming protest. Grantaire is finally getting somewhere with his art project. He sent in the last sketch to his Professor, who thought the idea of making blue and orange into a piece about fire was brilliant.

Irma knows him by name now, and Enjolras continues taking his breaks with him. Things are really good between them. Enjolras has developed a habit of trailing his fingers along Grantaire’s arm when he goes back to work. This makes Grantaire’s heart race every time. He often stays until the Belle Vie closes, so they can walk home together. Now, since that night on the bench, they hug each other goodbye. Grantaire offhandedly mentioned it to Eponine one morning and she laughed until she cried. “Please just go get Enjolras already.”

Had Grantiare been crushing on someone else, he knows he would be reading too much into it. But this is Enjolras and Enjolras doesn’t flirt with people. He definitely does not flirt with Grantaire.

Grantaire is lazily testing out colours on the purple and yellow sketch when Enjolras sits down with him. “Hey,” Grantaire says, looking up briefly before returning to his colouring.

“Hey,” Enjolras says. He nods towards Grantaire’s sketchbook. “How is the drawing coming along?”

Grantaire turns the sketchbook to Enjolras, holding back a grin. He’s actually proud of this drawing, and hopes that he’s captured what he wants with it. Enjolras whistles.

“Damn, R.” Enjolras stares at the drawing and Grantaire lets the grin out. “This is really good.”

”Thank you,” he says, hiding his Cheshire Cat grin behind his coffee cup .

“And you based this on Eponine and Cosette?” He glances up and Grantaire nods. “This is really impressive.”

“Stop, you’re stroking my artist ego.”

“I should feed your artistic ego more, R,” Enjolras meets his eyes. “Then maybe you’d see your own drawings for what they are which-“ Enjolras holds up a finger to shush him-“before you say something degrading, is beautiful.”

Grantaire starts fiddling with the handle of his cup, not sure how to answer. Enjolras doesn’t seem to notice, still looking at the picture. “Can I…?” Enjolras lifts the corner of the sketchbook slightly. Grantaire gestures for him to go on. The next drawing is that he made after Marius and Combeferre set fire to the board game, and he thinks Enjolras will probably have a good laugh at that. Enjolras flips the page and suddenly his smile drops.

Grantaire sets down his cup, confused. Then...  fuck . He miscalculated. He’s an idiot because the drawing after Cosette’s and Eponine’s wasn’t the one inspired by the game night.

“Is this…” Enjolras turns the sketchbook towards Grantaire, eyes still fixated on the drawing. “Is this me? And you?”

“I…yes.”

Enjolras lays the sketchbook down and rests his head in his hands. Grantaire hears his pounding heart and feels it in his fingers and toes. Enjolras sighs, and Grantaire flinches. “No, no, Grantaire you…” He pauses, takes a deep breath and stands up. “We’re not having this conversation here just…” He steps back and forth, as is unsure whether to run away or stay with Grantaire. “Listen, just wait here, please?”

Enjolras disappears behind the counter. If Grantaire could move, he would not sit here and wait for him. He manages to pack his bag with shaking hands, but then Enjolras is back again, his coat on. “Come on,” he says, gently taking Grantaire’s arm and leading him out of the building. 

They walk in silence, Enjolras setting a fast pace. It doesn’t take long to arrive at Enjolras apartment, but those few minutes are more than enough time for Grantaire to consider every scenario and possible outcome he can think of. Enjolras leads him up to the apartment and drags him to the couch without even bothering taking off his coat.

“Okay, Grantaire…” Enjolras pauses, rubs his hands over his face, into his hair. “Okay, I have no idea how to do this. Just...hear me out.” He grabs Grantaire’s hands and locks them together. “I need you to understand two things. The first is that I’m no god. I’m just a person. But the second thing, the important thing, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and does that little tilt with his head again so that he can look Grantaire in the eyes, “is that you are not beneath me.”

Grantaire can only manage some sort of strangled noise. Enjolras squeezes his hands. “Please, look at me Grantaire.” He does look up at him and Enjolras looks him in the eyes with a soft smile. He traces little circles on the back of Grantaire’s hands. “You don’t live in my shadow, Grantaire. Or at the very least you shouldn’t. I know that people praise me and put me on a pedestal for my speeches and my leadership. But those qualities in me don’t diminish the qualities in you.”

Enjolras cups Grantiare’s check with his left hand. He gently strokes his cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re the most clever person I know Grantaire. You know everything there is to know about so much. You always think three steps ahead. You’re definitely the funniest person in our group of friends and you’re an insanely talented artist. I could go on, trust me,” he says with a smile. “We have different qualities, Grantaire, and yours are in no way less valuable than mine.”

Enjolras hand leaves his cheek and slides down to his back when Enjolras pulls him into a hug. If Grantaire is sobbing, Enjolras doesn’t comment on it. He just slides his other arm back around Grantaire’s waist too. Grantaire doesn’t even know why he’s crying. Relief? Enjolras words? Everything?

“Remember what I said about you being a valuable asset at the meetings?” Enjolras continues. “I did mean that. But we love to have you there not because of your abilities. We love to have you there simply because we love you.” Grantaire is definitely crying now. “We all do, and that has nothing to do with what you’re able to do; we love you because you’re you, Grantaire. I do too,” Enjolras mumbles into Grantaire’s hair. “Even if I’m not great at showing it.”

Grantaire doesn’t answer, because he’s not sure he can, and hopes Enjolras gets it when he just hugs him tighter. Enjolras leans back on the couch so that Grantaire practically lays on top of him. He traces gentle circles around Grantaire’s back and rests his head on Grantaire’s; he can feel Enjorlas breath on his hair. Neither of them says anything and they sit there for god knows how long, just wrapped up in each other.

***

They don’t dwell on what happened in Enjolras apartment, but the air around them feels lighter and more comfortable. Grantaire can’t remember feeling this at ease around Enjolras. Enjolras seems calmer and more at ease around Grantaire too, to the point where the rest of their friends have begun to notice how much their dynamic has changed. At first glance, it may seem like they’ve just found a way to have civilized discussions without yelling at each other. But then Enjolras will sit down with him and chat after a meeting, or they’ll come to a meeting together. Enjolras has made a habit of touching Grantaire’s arm when talking. Grantaire finds himself easing into it more and more; touching Enjolras seems natural now. At one point Bossuet tries to ask Grantaire about it, only to be interrupted by Musichetta yelling at him that whatever they’re watching on tv is starting (it wasn’t). Mid-class the day after that, Grantaire gets a text.

Enjolras (2:05 pm): You know, I actually never watched the lion king

Grantaire (2:06 pm): unacceptable!! i’ll come over after class(?)

Enjolras (2:07 pm): I’ll meet you at the main building

“Hey,” Grantaire says when he meets Enjolras outside. He notices new dark clouds slowly replacing the sun from this morning. Enjolras smiles and gives him a quick hug as a greeting. Grantaire hopes he’s not grinning too widely.

“Maybe we could walk through the park?” Enjolras asks. “The weather is so nice.” Grantaire nods and Enjolras leads them through the park. Grantaire isn’t sure if it's a shortcut or the opposite. Not that he minds if it is; the park is nice and relatively calm for an afternoon. An old lady is sitting by the pond, and a few people are jogging around it, but other than that it’s calm and quiet. Grantaire figures it’s the weather.

Up ahead, a cat walks out from behind a tree. It's a small cat, probably only a year old, with a beautiful calico coat. The cat take's Grantaire's attention from Enjolras. He stops and calls to the cat, crouching down, rubbing his fingers together, and making kissy sounds. It stops, eyeing him , trying to decide if it's worth being pet. She seems to think it is and wraps around Grantaire's legs. Enjolras laughs gently when the cat butts her head against Grantaire's legs.

“He seems to like you,” Enjolras says, but doesn’t sit down with Grantaire to pet her. Grantaire thinks Enjolras has said something about an allergy.

“She,” Grantaire says and the cat purrs. “Calico cats are female.”

“What?” Enjolras says and Grantaire stifles his laughter to not scare the cat away.

“It’s a genetic thing,” Grantaire says. “The genetic determination of the coats is linked to the X chromosome, so they’d need two X chromosomes to get a coat like this. Hence why almost all calico cats are female.

“Huh,” is all Enjolras says, and Grantaire smiles. The cat butts his knee again as if to say I’m the one who needs attention, pet me and who is Grantaire to object to that?

“Hey, Enjolras,” Grantaire suddenly blurts out and once he’s started he can’t stop. “About what you said about you and me and the drawing and that… How I need to stop picturing you as a god, with myself beneath you.” He keeps his eyes on the cat. “It’s not that I won’t try to change my mindset about that. I get that it isn’t healthy but...It’s not going to happen just like that.”

“I know that,” Enjolras says gently. “And I don’t expect that of you.”

Grantaire scratches the cat behind her ear and she purrs and leans against him. “And you know how much I admire you,” he says, because admire seems like a better word to say than love. “And respect you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking up to you. I don’t even think I want that,” he says a little quieter and the words 'I love you’ hang dangerously close on his tongue.

Something wet hits his knee. He sees dark spots on the pavement appear. A raindrop hits the cat, who hisses and runs off at the speed of light. Grantaire stands up, and suddenly it’s as if someone dumped a bucket of water over the park.

“Run!” Enjolras shouts and grabs Grantaire’s hand and then they’re running. Grantaire would focus on Enjolras hand in his if he wasn’t running blindly through a heavy rain. Thankfully, Enjolras apartment is close to the park.

Grantaire waits for Enjolras to let go of his hand when they reach the building, but he doesn’t. Their hands connect until Enjolras shrugs off his coat. Enjolras disappears into the apartment. Grantaire hangs up his drenched jacket too. His shoes aren’t waterproof and his socks are soaked through, so he takes them off too. Enjolras reappears with a towel for Grantaire.

“Joly’s going to kill me,” Grantaire jokes while drying his hair. “He always yells at me for going out in the rain without an umbrella.”

Enjolras laughs, adding his hands to Grantaire's towel and ruffling his hair through the towel. Grantaire laughs, squirming, and then his hands are on Enjolras hips and their faces are close. They freeze; Grantaire’s eyes shift between Enjolras eyes and his lips. Then he notices Enjolras is doing the same thingHe thinks he notices Enjolras leaning in about and- fuck it . 

It’s more of a brush of the lips than an actual kiss, as if they’re both unsure of the other’s thoughts. They separate and stare at each other. After a moment, Enjolras smiles and tugs on Grantaire’s towel to bring their lips together again. He tosses Grantaire’s towel aside to tangle his hands in Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire links his arms around Enjolras’ back and pulls him as close as physically possible.

When they break apart to breathe, Enjolras rests his forehead against Grantaire’s. They stand like that, looking into each other's eyes before Grantaire starts giggling. Enjolras grins and presses a little kiss to his nose. Grantaire backs up to look at Enjolras better, sliding his hands up Enjolras’ neck at the same time. Enjolras shivers.

“Your hands are cold,” he complains.

“Oh, really,” Grantaire grins, shoving one hand down the back of Enjolras shirt. Enjolras lets out a screech and moves away, then laughs and pulls Grantaire in again. He presses kisses all over Grantaire’s face while dragging him towards the sofa and pushes him down before kissing him on the lips again. Grantaire tangles his hands into Enjolras hair and figures they’ll warm up eventually.

***

“So,” Eponine asks with a smug look, “did you actually ever watch The Lion King?”

He leans over the table to hit smack her lightly on the head and she laughs. Leaning back into his seat, he can’t help but laugh a little too. “We did watch it,” he says, and figures he doesn’t need to specify whether or not they watched it at that particular time.

“Hm,” Eponine sips her coffee. She smiles over the rim of her cup. “I’m happy for you though,” she says. “I’m glad you two worked it out.”

“So am I,” he smiles. “Did you hear anything from Cosette about Marius, by the way? Has he had that talk with Combeferre?”

“Nope,” Eponine checks her phone. “Cosette says congrats on the sex though.”

Grantaire feels his face heat up and Eponine laughs at him. “You are both insufferable,” he says. She winks at him as if to say ‘of course’.

“What did your professor say about your project?” She asks him and he grins.

“He loved it,” he says. “Said he would check if there was any space at the local art exhibition.”

Eponine grins widely at him. “R, that’s great! I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, and checks the time on his phone. “Hey, sorry, I gotta go. Promised Enjolras I’d come over.” Eponine waggles her eyebrows and he flips her off with a smile. Standing up, he grabs his things and goes to give Eponine a quick hug. “I love you,” he says and kisses her on her hair.

“Gross,” she says, but smiles. “I love you too. Now go to your man. Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.”

“Doesn’t really say much does it,” he says, walking backwards away from her. She flips him off and he laughs. Walking out of the cafe, he sends Enjolras a text.

Grantaire (3:30 pm):

omw now!

He gets a reply almost instantly.

Enjolras (3:31 pm):

Can’t wait <3

Putting his phone down, Grantaire steps out into the sunlight with a smile on his face.

***

They have a small exhibition on all the final projects. Somehow, Grantaire’s professor has managed to rent a small place down by the Seine. All of the Amis have promised to show up after Joly mentioned it at a meeting. Grantaire isn’t sure if he should be grateful for their support or stressed about them seeing the artwork. Especially the one he painted after the disastrous game night. Grantaire texts Enjolras before he sets up his artwork and asks if he can come in a little earlier than the rest. Enjolras responds almost immediately and promises to be there as soon as the exhibition opens.

Grantaire waits for him outside, appreciating the weather that finally seems to have settled on being warm. He pulls the sleeves on the suit jacket he borrowed from Joly. Apparently, Grantaire’s own wasn’t fit for an art exhibition, but the one Joly lent him is a little bit too small. Enjolras comes walking. The red blazer he’s wearing makes a sharp contrast against the Seine behind him. He waves when he sees Grantaire.

“Hey,” he gives Grantaire a peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” Grantaire replies. He takes Enjolras’ hand and leads him inside. The only people there so far are other art students and a couple of teachers. They smile at them when Grantaire drags Enjolras around the hall. He shows him some other artists first, until Enjolras begins asking for Grantaire’s own art.

“You’ve already seen it though,” Grantaire says and Enjolras rolls his eyes and responds that yes, he’s seen sketches, but not the real deal. Enjolras smiles when he sees the art and tells him it looks even better as full paintings. Grantaire grins. He’s actually happy with the paintings. His professor became ecstatic when Grantaire showed him his final result and assured him that if he just kept on painting he could become big. Enjolras, who’s heard the game night story many times, laughs at the painting of the burning soldier. Grantaire grins and tells him the professor assumed it was meant to symbolise the horrors of war and conflict.

“And I mean,” Grantaire shrugs, “he’s not wrong.”

Enjolras laughs. Grantaire checks his watch. The others should get here pretty soon. He glances at Enjolras, and pulls his hand.

“Come,” he says, leading Enjolras into the second room of the exhibit. “I want to show you something.”

He feels nervous and really hopes he’s not sweating or shaking. The crowd has increased a bit, but Grantaire can still navigate them quite easily through it. He stops in front of a painting with two birds. A red one and a green one, flying in a yin-yang like constellation. Grantaire points at it, avoiding looking at Enjolras.

“I had already sent in the first red-green painting to my professor, so I couldn’t use this for my project,” he begins, pushing hair out of his face. “But I convinced him to let me put up this one here too. I wanted to try and draw something where everything was in a more equal light. What do you think?” The nervousness definitely slips through in his voice. Enjolras is silent next to him and Grantaire starts feeling a little sick before Enjolras suddenly stammers ‘wow’.

“It’s beautiful, Grantaire.” Enjolras lets go of his hand and sneaks his arm around Grantaire’s waist instead. “I love it,” he says, pressing a kiss on the top of Grantaire’s head. “I love you.”

Smiling, Grantaire leans on Enjolras, resting his head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around Enjolras waist. “I love you too.”

“There he is!” Bahorel yells, making both Enjolras and Grantaire jump. Seconds later Bahorel tackles Grantaire. It’s only luck they don’t stumble into the painting. “The new Picasso!”

“I’m not a cubist,” Grantaire says and Bahorel just waves him off.

“The new Monet then. Or whatever you want to be. I don’t know artists.”

“Holy shit, R,” Jehan appears behind Bahorel. They stare at the bird painting with wide eyes. “It’s stunning.”

“Thank you, Jehan,” Grantaire says and they give him a tight hug. The rest of the Amis gather up behind them, whistling and shouting praises. Courfeyrac grabs Grantaire’s wrist and pulls him away from the painting.

“R, you need to show us the rest too!”

The others, standing closer to the door, run ahead. Joly quickly finds Grantaire’s pieces and then they’re all yelling about how amazing it is and how much they love it. Bahorel starts teasing Marius and Combeferre about the Risk game. Grantaire would tell them to keep it down, but he’s having too much fun to care. Enjolras comes up next to him again. Leaning onto him, watching their friends going crazy over the paintings, Grantaire can only think that he’s really, really lucky.