i.
They meet at a hospital. Bahorel is a patient, not because he got into a fight (this time), but because he and his friend Grantaire decided to go into the woods and try out stuff that happened in internet videos clearly labeled 'do not try this at home' (well, they weren't technically at home, were they?). Combeferre is an intern. Needless to say, Bahorel doesn't shy away from nurse jokes.
"So what's your name?" the injured man says with a toothy grin.
"Combeferre," the intern says, sighing as he tries to pull massive splinters from the other man's arm.
"Nurse Combeferre, hmmm… I like the sound of that," he laughs. "I'm Bahorel."
"I'm not a nurse, I'm an intern," Combeferre says.
"Shame. 'Nurse' just seems so much sexier," Bahorel replies, grin widening. Combeferre can feel himself turn bright red, but tries to just focus on his task.
"God, Bahorel, keep it in your pants," his friend says. He's leaning against the door frame, already stitched up and ready to go. He hadn't been nearly as cut up as his friend.
"I think you tell yourself that too much, R. It's making you a little angst-y," Bahorel replies. His friend just flips him off.
Combeferre continues his work, trying to ignore the man's comments. Or his hot skin. Or the way his muscles don't even tense up when he sticks a needle in him, stitching his wound close, as if it doesn't even hurt at all. Or his laugh, which is the kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh. He's trying really hard to ignore him completely.
When he's done, Combeferre takes a step back immediately. This guy is doing something weird to him, making his stomach knot up, and he's not sure if he likes it. "Just… try not to pop the stitches."
"But then you'd get another chance to see me."
Combeferre is pretty sure his face is on fire. "Do you need to call someone to come pick you two up?" is his response.
To answer, a curly-haired man in jeans and a waistcoat (Combeferre thought people only dressed like that in magazines?) comes bursting into the room. "The lady at the front desk told me where to find you," he pants. "Wait, Combeferre?" he says, noticing the intern.
"Courfeyrac? You know them?" Combeferre says, slightly stunned.
"Yeah, they work at the bar with Éponine. She couldn't come, she's still covering for these two asshats."
"Whoa. Hold on. So you two know each other?" Bahorel said, motioning between Combeferre and Courfeyrac.
"Uh I think that was made pretty clear," Grantaire said.
"We were friends in college," Courfeyrac explains.
"You should get them home before the pain medication kicks in," Combeferre tells Courfeyrac as if the other two weren't even there.
"You gave them meds?!"
"Yeah, once their blood alcohol levels went down. It won't make them hyper or anything. It'll probably just make them pass out."
Courfeyrac's eyes widened further. "Oh dear god. I can't lift Bahorel out of the car. Shit, let's get you home," he says, and practically sprints out the door. Grantaire follows, but not without winking at Bahorel.
"So are you going to let me buy you a drink? In a couple days, after the meds wear off, of course," Bahorel says without a stutter.
"You're a patient."
"Not anymore, I got discharged."
"Technically, you haven't, because you haven't checked out of the front desk," Combeferre points out.
"What if I ask you after I check out?"
"It would just be really unprofessional. This program is competitive enough without me going on dates with people I put twelve stitches into. The board members are already hounding me."
"I said drinks, not a date," Bahorel says, grinning stupidly. And with that, he goes out to meet his friends at the car, leaving Combeferre stammering stupidly in the room.
About six months later, Combeferre has a medical degree. Courfeyrac takes him and their close friend Enjolras out to celebrate at the bar Éponine works. They're pretty content watching the bartender, who Combeferre vaguely remembers as one of the men he stitched up six months ago, hit on Enjolras. Until Bahorel comes in from the back room.
Courfeyrac swears he didn't know he was working.
Bahorel's shift ends at eleven, but the bar is open till two, so he stays and finally gets to buy Combeferre a drink.
ii.
It's four months later, and a pretty typical Friday for their friends. Everyone's piled in the living room of Combeferre's house, because he has the most room, and there's about a dozen of them. He's got a spot on the couch because he's host, and Bahorel is right next to him because they're dating. After that, seats are first come, first serve and Azelma and Feuilly show up early to stake their claim beside them.
Their friends are watching some recently released movie, the kind with a lot of explosions and little plot line. Combeferre was actually the one to pick it out, because "God forbid our friends go ten minutes without getting into a discussion about union labors". Less plot, less requirement for attention.
Enjolras and Grantaire are curled up on the floor, which is kind of weird for Combeferre because he's known Enjolras his whole life and they never ever thought he would be with anyone. Ever. Jehan sits behind Enjolras, playing with his hair. He's the only one who is allowed to do so (besides Grantaire). And then there's Musichetta and Bossuet, who have turned Joly into a human pillow (Which couldn't possibly be comfortable, because he's so thin). Marius and Cosette are sitting in the middle of the room, being… Marius and Cosette.
Éponine keeps giving Feuilly dirty glares from her spot on Courfeyrac's lap, because, well, he's with her sister. It's starting to make Combeferre really uncomfortable, because Éponine can be terrifying sometimes. Feuilly and Azelma aren't even doing anything except holding hands, and she's got her head on his shoulder, and now he's whispering something in her ear, and now she's laughing, and oh god are they really going to try to make out here?
Bahorel's stomach growls, and it shakes the whole room. Combeferre has never been more relieved in his life.
"I'll go get snacks," Combeferre declares, jumping off the back of the couch because it's a much easier getaway than sidestepping around all the bodies on the floor.
Bahorel grins. "Do you want help?"
"No, I got it."
"'Kay. Thanks, babe."
"Yeah, thanks, babe," Courfeyrac mocks. Bahorel just casually flips him off.
It's a couple minutes later when Bahorel notices Feuilly and Azelma on the couch beside him, being… couple-y. And then he starts to feel uncomfortable, because Feuilly is one of his best friends, and Azelma is one of his best friends' sister, and he really doesn't know what to do.
A loud clanging comes from the kitchen, and it sounds like something breaking. Bahorel would be relieved at a chance to escape the disgusting couple sitting next to him, but for some reason he's not.
"Combeferre?" he calls out, jumping off the couch. Enjolras and Grantaire are both standing, too.
There isn't a reply. Bahorel runs into the kitchen, and the rest stare after him, because Bahorel seems worried and he's never worried about anything ever.
A moment later and they hear Bahorel yell. There's a massive rush of bodies as everyone stands. Enjolras and Courfeyrac are the first to make it into the kitchen.
It doesn't look like it does in movies. It doesn't look like corn syrup and food coloring. It looks like Hell. It looks like something only the darkest of minds could ever imagine.
Bahorel's on the ground, hunched over. It's such an odd position for him to be in. He's usually standing tall, with shoulders back. He usually has his chin turned up. It's uncomfortable to see him with his head bowed.
Combeferre's head is in Bahorel's lap. This, too, is odd, because they're never affectionate in public, beyond the casual hand-holding or Bahorel's arm around Combeferre's shoulder. But this, it's so intimate.
Enjolras tries to focus on this, because it's easier. In the movies it always seems so much cleaner, just small trails of blood trickling down from unrealistic wounds. It's never like this, now. His friend's blood is everywhere, spurting, soaking through his and Bahorel's shirt and covering the ground around him. Enjolras didn't even know there was that much blood in a person.
Bahorel's hands were clamped on his friend's stomach, around something that looks a lot like a knife but it's hard to tell because it's driven so far into his friend's stomach that the handle barely shows.
Courfeyrac pulls his phone out from his pocket, because he's pretty sure he's supposed to be calling for an ambulance, but his hands are shaking so bad that he drops it and it clatters to the ground.
Someone's screaming, but it's really hard to tell who. Courfeyrac looks around, and he sees that it's Cosette, and Marius is pulling her back. Enjolras has his phone out, making the call that Courfeyrac couldn't.
Joly runs up to Combeferre and Bahorel. He dropped out of medical school because he couldn't handle seeing blood, but he seems to have forgotten about that now.
"Goddammit, Combeferre," Bahorel yells, because he doesn't know what the hell else to do. "You trip and fall on a knife? A fucking knife, 'Ferre? That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard. I expect this shit from Bossuet, but not from you. You're really dumb for a doctor, you know that?!"
Combeferre laughs, but it doesn't sound like his usual laugh. His usual laugh is low, and soft, and makes Bahorel smile. This laugh is harsh, like sandpaper, and blood gets caught in his throat and stains his teeth and runs down his chin.
"You know what I'm going to do?" Bahorel continues. "When you get out of the hospital, and you're on your own two feet, you know what? I'm going to beat the shit out of you. Your black eye will be bigger than the one that I got at the bar on thirty-fifth street. Remember that one? How it was all ugly and purple and swollen? Yeah, it's gonna be worse than that. Because this is fucking ridiculous, Combeferre. I mean, I thought we agreed to draw the line and drunken fistfights."
Bahorel's and Joly's hands are still on Combeferre's chest, and they're supposed to be keeping the blood in but it's seeping through the cracks of their fingers. It's hot and sticky and Bahorel doesn't ever remember his own blood feeling like this.
Combeferre's hand flies up and its waving around a bit erratically. Bahorel wants nothing more than to take it in his own, but he can't bring himself to remove his hands from the wound; can feel his boyfriend's blood pressure dropping from underneath his palms. Instead, he leans his face so Combeferre's hand can find that contact.
"When we get to the hospital, you know what I'm telling all your coworkers? I'm going to tell them how I asked you if you wanted to get a drink, and you called it a date. And I had known you for what, an hour?"
Combeferre says something, and it kind of resembles a lot like a mangled version of Bahorel's name but no one can be sure because his voice is croaky and thick with the blood in his mouth.
"I know," Bahorel nods, even though he doesn't. He has no idea what Combeferre is trying to say, but his pulse is continually growing weaker and Bahorel doesn't want him to waste any energy.
The sirens sound from outside, and Bahorel doesn't think he's ever heard a sweeter sound. Except, maybe, Combeferre's laugh. But Combeferre's hand is dropping from the side of Bahorel's face and his eyelids are starting to droop.
Éponine runs to the door and brings the paramedics in.
"Listen, you bastard," Bahorel says, even as Enjolras and Marius are prying him away. "You're gonna be fine. They're gonna take you into surgery and I'm going to see you again soon. And we're going to have a serious discussion about how to not be a little shit, okay?"
He's following the paramedics out the house as they carry his boyfriend on a stretcher. "I love you, you know that? I wasn't going to tell you, because you're kind of a son of a bitch, but I love you." Bahorel's not sure if Combeferre heard, because he was already in the ambulance. But he tells himself he did.
They won't allow Bahorel into the ambulance with them.
So everyone piles into cars and follows the ambulance. Everyone except Enjolras and Grantaire. Enjolras stays standing in the kitchen, and eventually goes into the bathroom and gets some towels to clean up his best friend's blood from the kitchen floor. Grantaire tries to help, but Enjolras won't let him.
iii.
The hospital is quiet.
Actually, it's loud.
Or maybe it's both.
Bahorel can't decide.
It's quiet because nobody, for the first time in history, is talking.
But it's so loud, because there are people running around, and machines beeping, and nurses typing on keyboards. Files being shuffled, people sipping out of coffee cups. People crying.
Bahorel's made a trip to the bathroom to get some of the blood off his hands, but some of it has dried in his nail beds, a nasty brown color that looks a lot like rust. The blood on his shirt has also dried, and it's horribly uncomfortable but nobody has anything for him to change into that would fit. A nurse had come by, only minutes earlier, with scrubs he could change into. He refused.
Jehan is curled in Bahorel's arms. He's the only one brave enough to touch him. Cosette's the only one brave enough to cry.
A nurse comes out, and they've only been here for about half an hour. Bahorel convinces himself that the nurse is just updating him on the surgery, but it's pretty obvious by the nurse's face that he's going to say something else.
He asks who is here for Combeferre, and all nine of them stand up. They all look around, before everyone except Courfeyrac and Bahorel sit down. Bahorel would be mad about this, but he reminds himself that Courfeyrac's one of Combeferre's best friends and gets over it pretty quickly. The nurse lead them to a side room, where he motioned for the both of them to sit down.
"The knife, when it entered his abdomen, severed the abdominal aorta, which is one of the major arteries in the stomach. It, uh, it would cause major blood loss almost immediately. You guys did all the right things, applied pressure to the wound, left the impaled object in. But once a major artery is severed, there's only so much you can do. Bleeding like that doesn't just stop on its own. We did everything we could. The bleeding was just too severe. I'm sorry."
iv.
The last time Bahorel cried was when he was seven. It was the beginning of second grade, and it was recess, and a third grader punched him in the stomach. Bahorel hadn't cried since then.
He demands to be taken back to Combeferre's apartment, and then he cries. He cries until he can't, and then he screams. And when his voice is so raw he can't scream, he drinks. And he drinks until he pukes, and his stomach hurts so bad he wonders if it's anything like what Combeferre felt.
Enjolras and Grantaire are already gone when they get back, but Courfeyrac stays with him. He doesn't even try to stop him. He just waits until Bahorel is too exhausted to do anything else, and helps him crawl into bed.
He wakes up about three hours later to Jehan, Courfeyrac, and Éponine all asleep in his bed. They're all pretty small, but it's still cramped and hot.
He tries to get out of bed with as much grace as he can, but it's difficult because he's big and he's also still very drunk. But he can feel the acid burning once again in his throat and he needs to get to the toilet as soon as possible.
He's got nothing but bile left, but as soon as his head is in the toilet he coughs that up. It's only after he leans back that he realizes Courfeyrac is standing there.
"He loved you, you know," Courfeyrac says.
Bahorel just spits.
"He told me, like a month ago. But he said he didn't want to tell you first, and that he would wait as long as he had to for you to say it. He was more stubborn than you sometimes."
Bahorel doesn't look at him.
"I'll tell you again, later. You're drunk and I don't think you'll remember it."
"I'll remember," Bahorel says.