"Hey," Jehan spoke softly into the phone.
"Jehan, not now!" Grantaire growled into the phone.
"Please tell me you're not drunk again," Jehan pleaded. This had gone on for too many months, so many that each night one friend of Grantaire would call and check up on him. Jehan happened to be the poor friend who lost at rock, paper, and scissors tonight. Jehan cringed, waiting for an answer. Grantaire didn't answer, he only threw his phone at the couch and lumbered away. His silent tears leaving a path to his room. His parents weren't at the house now, they didn't know anything on why or how this had happened to Grantaire. Grantaire shuttered at the thought of his parents finding any of this out, but didn't dwell on it, he didn't allow himself to.
He remembered solemnly, as he sat against the wall in his closet, that one night that had changed everything. Enjolras was there, had been going on about the injustices of the curriculum and how they were being robbed of a basic education. Of course he spoke so profoundly everyone agreed with him, everyone but Grantaire. He didn't let it show though, he just followed Enjolras as always. This time was different, however, because after lunch Grantaire stayed behind with Enjolras.
"Enj," He said pleadingly, "Hear me out this time." Enjolras had looked crossly at Grantaire.
"About what?" He spat, "About how you completely shattered all my hopes that we could even be friends?"
"It was a mistake! I apologized didn't I! I promise it won't ever happen again, just give me another shot!" Grantaire was practically begging now, but Enjolras didn't look pleased with anything. He just turned on his heels and began to walk away. Grantaire felt like he had to move a mountain to get to Enjolras a speedily as he could. When he finally was able to jerk Enjolras around he stared at him for a while, taking it in.
"Enj," He whispered softly, pleading him with his eyes. Enjolras pulled away fast, but Grantaire was faster. He put his hands on Enjolras' face and kissed, just kissed. It didn't last long.
The disgust on Enjolras' face after Grantaire had been pushed away, very abruptly. It was too much for Grantaire to handle then, too much for him now even.
Grantaire snapped out of it, looking towards the whiskey bottle on his dresser. He used to only like wine, it was his special touch. After his life fell apart, however, it didn't matter what went down his throat. As long as it did something to numb the pain. Grantaire didn't notice the silent tears falling down his face as he slowly stumbled up and walked towards the bottle. He should have hidden the bottle after he bought it, but he didn't think of that. His parents opened the front door, and everything seemed to line up perfectly. His parents immediately went to his room to check on him and saw him slowly taking drunken steps towards liquor they never bought.
Grantaire noticed his father walking to snatch the bottle away and fell to the ground in a pitiful mess of tears.
"Dad! No!" He screeched with a bloodcurdling affect. His father stopped dead in his tracks, looking back to his wife who had tears streaming down her face. Suddenly something in Grantaire's stomach lurched and he hurled on the floor beneath him. His mother jumped and his father went to his sons aid.
"Anita, call 911!" He yelled to his wife. She nodded blindly and ran to her cell phone on the kitchen counter. Grantaire started retching, nothing coming out of his mouth but something definitely coming up through his esophagus. After minutes just sitting there and retching he lurched with a violent tremble and hurled some more. His mother came back in and found him crying on his father's shirt.
Snot was everywhere-and so was the vomit-when the 911 call responders came rushing through the door. They, without hesitation, said that Anita and Jonathon's 17 year old son was more wasted than anyone could have imagined. Grantaire, after everything that had happened, refused to go with them. He refused so much he hit the paramedic who came to his aid first.
Stumbling into an upright and standing position he lept for the bottle of whisky. His eyes welling up with tears as he was caught by three paramedics and one with a sedative.
Next thing he knew he awoke in a white bedroom. The window was as big as a wall, looking over a vast field that eventually turned into a forest. He immediately rushed out of the bed into the nearest door, which luckily was a bathroom, and hurled violently into the crisp and clean toilet.
A nurse came into check on him and gasped when she saw the gruesome reality. She rushed out and within minutes a doctor came in and looked in the bathroom at the suffering boy. He was only 17 and was already a raging alcoholic. The doctor sat on a chair and waited for Grantaire to slowly trudge back to the bed, he offered Grantaire a mint and Grantaire declined. The doctor at first didn't know why but soon made the connection that he had always had to hide his addiction, why would he try to get rid of the most putrid smell to cover up an even more noticeable smell.
"Take the mint. You of all people should remember you no longer need to hide your massive drinking problem," The doctor said forcing the mint into Grantaire's hands. Grantaire obliged and popped the candy onto his tongue.
"What is this? Rehab?" Grantaire blurted. While he was very skeptical this was rehab it looked so sappy, like in the movies, he had to be sure. It was probably just a posh hospital. Even the thought of that made his heart turn into flames, he didn't need help, he thought.
"I wouldn't call this Rehab, but I would call it what you need," The doctor responded coolly. Grantaire completely freaked out mentally, on the outside however it showed a different story. He began sweating and his eyes got lost in fury.
"Sorry, I am not in need of help, so please just let me go," He said calmly, so calmly it was obvious he was choking down pure anger. The doctor stood up and called in nurses to restrict Grantaire, one brought in a sedative.
"I'm very sorry, I don't understand. I don't need help!" Grantaire said feverishly, "Just-please!" He cried out. The anger diminished and was replaced by an aching in his heart. Where he was now, it was only for people who had lost control of their life. Or celebrities that were stupid enough to get hooked on weed or some other drug. Not him. Tears began streaming down his face as the nurses got to him. He folded his legs so his knees were right below his chin. His eyes beginning to get red and puffy.
"This is not my life!" He screamed. The nurse with the sedative gently eased the needle into his skin and released the medicine. Within minutes Grantaire was out and the therapist had been called in. She waited by Grantaire's bedside for 6 hours, thinking about how she would help this obviously depressed boy.
Within the fifth hour she had begun listing medications, she had already figured out that she would have Grantaire take a sedative every night before bed. A stronger one than this so he could sleep all night. The list could have gone on and on but in the sixth hour Grantaire woke up.
"Enj, I'm sorry okay?" He murmured. The therapist's ears perked up and she sat there silently listening to the murmuring boy.
"I… I didn't mean to do it. I won't do it again! Give me one more-" He stopped when he opened his eyes to see a smiling woman staring at him. He was still in that white room with the relaxing view.
"Hello Grantaire," The woman said. Grantaire just sat up in his bed and looked away.
"I'm Melissa Gibbly," She thrust her arm out, "Your new therapist."
Grantaire slapped her hand away and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I don't need help! How many times do I have to say that?" He screamed.
"Grantaire, who's Enj?" Melissa Gibbly asked. Grantaire folded his arms even tighter.
"His name is Enjolras, don't call him Enj again," He growled. Before Melissa Gibbly could ask another question Grantaire's hands began nervously gripping and ungripping the sheets. He looked around, cool sweat on his face. His mind tried not to wander to any other thought of Enjolras, he couldn't possibly go through anything like that. Not without some sort of remedy.
He laughed dryly, "Where could one get a drink over here?" Melissa Gibbly just shook her head.
"No drinks, you're only 17." He looked at her, tears coming down in a more steady flow. He punched the bed, his nasty addiction coming back to bite him.
"Come on," He whispered, "Just one." His looked up at Melissa Gibbly and she hatched a plan.
"If you tell me about Enjolras," Grantaire's eyes pleaded no, "Then I will get you a drink." The stage was set, all Grantaire had to do was be desperate enough to talk. Grantaire closed his eyes, not wanting to see Melissa Gibbly's face as he told her.
"He's… um this boy. And you could say that I'm..well...um fond for this particular...boy." Grantaire stopped, he could not show Melissa how much Enjolras meant to him. It would only spell out bad news for the rest of his stay.
"That is definitely not enough to warrant a drink," Melissa said finally. Grantaire's eyes shot open and her glared at her.
"Well it's all you are ever going to hear!" He snapped at her. Melissa Gibbly nodded and walked out of the room.
It was dark outside, his view completely shattered by the blackness surrounding everything. He had a lamp on, even though it was supposed to have been lights out 2 hours ago. He was on the top floor of the building, so it took forever for the nurses to get to his bedroom. If they even checked bedrooms after lights out.
Grantaire had begun thinking they didn't and it only planted a horrid plan in his mind. Enjolras would never take a drug addict that had to be sent to rehab, forcefully he might add. Grantaire's parents surely would never let him touch alcohol again, needless to say his friends would do the same. He would have no way to drown the pain that surrounded him. He hadn't even heard from anyone that day, his parents never said goodbye. What would Bousset, Joly, Jehan, Marius, and worst of all Combeferre and Enjolras think of his actions? Coufeyrac probably would think nothing of this, only give Grantaire a great big pat on the back. Only, it wasn't Coufeyrac that he wanted to have welcome him back.
With all of these thoughts circling around his head he stepped out of bed, careful not to run over anything. He grabbed the heaviest chair he could lift and walked towards the large window. He heard running down the halls, his eyes flicked to the security camera. He decided haste was his only friend and threw the chair hurling towards the window. It shattered the whole thing and his door began to get unlocked. He could hear Melissa Gibbly begging him not to jump.
He stepped up to the edge of the his room, now feeling a breeze that was best described at serene. He had cut his feet and legs on glass, but he couldn't feel the blood gushing out of his wounds. He could only feel the breeze running through his disheveled hair. He began to lean forward when the nurses rushed in and grabbed him, just as he feet were about to stumble off. He kicked and screamed, now feeling the glass protruding out of his cuts.
"No!" He screamed, "Please!" His voice cracked and he choked back tears. When he was finally carried back to his bed he had to be restrained while another nurse ran down the hall to grab sedative.
"You don't understand!" He screamed even louder this time. Other patients unlocked their doors and walked out to see what was happening. Some saw the broken window, Grantaire's cut up legs and feet, and him being restrained before the door was shut.
Inside the room Grantaire kept kicking and screaming.
"Grantaire, you must stop. Let yourself go to sleep before we have to make you go to sleep. Can you do that for us?" Melissa Gibbly asked coolly. Grantaire spat at her, his eyes filled with tears.
"I will never do anything for you! You will never understand anything!" He yelled at her. His mind only thought of the cool breeze picking up pace as he fell down the five floors. While it may have not seemed like a long time to others, Grantaire felt the minutes tick by. Each minute would have been a millisecond to average people, people who didn't (and would never) understand. The pain was unbearable, his chest about to burst, but everything vanished as he hit the concrete. His world went black: no pain, no guilt, and best of all no regret.
But that wasn't how his story would end, he realized solemnly. His eyes flicked up to the nurse putting the sedative needle into his arm.
"What?" He yelled again, "Does putting me to sleep solve all of your problems?" The nurse pulled out the needle and looked away.
"Why won't you let me put myself to sleep then? Wouldn't that be easier?" Melissa Gibbly motioned for the nurses to take their hands off of Grantaire. He saw his chance and tried to get up, towards the window. He only fell face first onto the cold floor.
Melissa Gibbly answered his unspoken question, "This is our strongest sedative. I will see you in the morning R."