The early spring sun gently warms up a young man, probably in his twenties, who jumps on the pavement. He has dark curled hair, which is now hidden by a red hat, because this year spring is literally kidding.

Who is this man? He has a tired face with dark skin under his eyes, but right now he is smiling, in his ears jazz playing obscenely loud.

Brown leather jacket is put on a violet pullover and a t-shirt under it. He laughs at something; his movements are a bit sharp as he jumps, trying to avoid the mud under his red converse. He starts whistling a tune, but then suddenly becomes silent and reaches for something in his jeans pocket. Thin fingers(usually artist have such)take a box of cigarettes and jerkily lights one, inhaling the smoke so desperately, like it isn't dangerous chemicals, but pure and fresh air for a drowning man.

A dark haired man stands still until his cigarette dies slowly; his eyes unfocused, but an aftertaste of grief is visible, even when he doesn't control himself. Then he shakes his head and starts walking.

Across the street is going another man, still cold wind playing with his golden hair as he watches strange guy on the other side. A smile appears on his lips for a second, but then he frowns.

Curled haired boy begins crossing the road, but suddenly stops and pulls his phone from the pocket. The other one stares at him with disbelief.

What are you doing? What..turning on your play list at the middle of the road?

Their gazes meet; as one smiles sadly, even bitterly, at the same moment the second man cries out loudly: "Watch out!"

A car hit the body, a cup of white coffee falls, headphones have disconnected and there is jazz.

He opens his eyes. A second later he shuts them again: so much bright lights around. He sighs. And then a thought slowly comes to his mind. Then another one. They've built a statement, then- a question. Oh, that's interesting. He can feel his arms and legs, his neck and head. But still_

"Where am I?" his voice sounds so strange to him, like he has never heard it before.

The sound left to his bed makes him turn his head slightly. A golden haired boy sits next to the bed, a sigh of relief escapes his mouth.

"In a hospital. " they stare at each other for some time.

In my head I can feel memories, slipping away like water and I can't catch them. I know this man in front of me. He must be very important to me. Me? I close my eyes. I. I can feel my body, my hands and fingers, my lips and cheeks. My chest and heart, beating loudly. And, yet I am lost, like I am borrowing all of those.

"And who am I?" I ask with closed eyes, realizing how desperate I sound.

"I saw an accident. You were hit by a car." He pauses, but when I say nothing, he continues. "You didn't have a phone, a wallet or student ID. Only your iPod. But in the hospital they need a name, so I said "Grantaire"."

I look at him. Why I feel that I want to cry. Damn it.

The man on the chair reads the question in the eyes of another. "I am Enjolras."

Enjolras. What a strange name. But a good strange.

I bit lips as my head suddenly bursts with pain. Trying really hard not to moan because of it, I grab the pillow and squeeze it.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras jumps from the chair. "Wait a second, I will call a doctor!" the sound of him running outside comes to my slowly. I breathe heavily, my hands shaking.

In his voice was panic. Who are you Enjolras?

They've returned in a minute, the doctor gives me something. That something, I hope it is a painkiller, is cold and as it runs down my veins the heavy mist inside my skull fades a bit.

Tiredly I look up at them, still breathing with difficulties, sweat on my forehead and dry lips.

So much grief in his eyes. Why?

"Grantaire. Do you hear me?" a doctor sits near me. I blink and look away from Enjolras. Then nod.

He asks me questions which honestly confuses me. What can I do if I can't remember my name or where do I live. It's not my fault. He annoys me so much. You are the doctor, not me, so do something.

I fall on the pillow and immediately regret doing that, as my head protests. The painful cry almost escapes my lips.

Just go already. I hide my face in hands. I can smell tobacco. Does it mean that I smoke?

"Okay." The doctor stands up and reaches for my medical card. "This man has amnesia and for now there are drags which can try to cure this. But they're expensive and_" he sighs, looking at me, then back at Enjolras. "they not always help. When a person was in an accident, sometimes it's a reaction of the brain, which tries to protect the body of memories which can hurt. You say you are his friend, don't you?"

My eyes automatically slip to Enjolras. Is he my friend? A warm bubble appears in my chest. This golden haired guy glances at me for a second. "Yes, I am." A creature inside me purrs satisfied.

"In that case, I advise you to take him home and practice with his memory." The doctor writes something down. "Talking, excursuses for the brain, show him some photos, visit familiar place in which you've been together." As he finishes writing he smiles to me. "Don't worry, you will be fine before you even know that."

I've noticed a name written on my card "Grantaire". I think about it. Sounds so strange to me.

When I look up, the doctor has already gone. "I am sorry."

Enjolras sits on the chair, his face expression unreadable for me. "For what?"

"For being a burden to you." He frowns. "I am not your friend, am I?"

He looks right at my eyes, invading my soul or what it is behind them. "I want to help."

I chuckle and only now notice that my right arm is covered with bandages. "Grantaire?"

"I think it suits you."

I shrug. "Maybe."

We just stare at each other for some minutes. Or hours. I don't want him to look away. But I can see a battle in his head. It reflects on his face.

"You do not need to be here, if it is a reason why you are so worried, Enjolras." I try to sit, but have been immediately stopped by him. His gaze's so sharp, that I literally feel it on my face. "All in all I am just a stranger to you."

The words pin Enjolras from the inside, revealing the pain they've caused.

"Leave you here? With amnesia? What a good idea." I watch his face. Study actually. Then try to sit, but been immediately stopped.

"It hurts."

"Oh." He quickly lets my left arm free, which he's been holding after my attempt to shift myself into a more comfortable position.

"Know what?" Enjolras shakes his head. "I hope I can draw." His thin brow rises again. "Because I'd very like to draw you, Apollo."

Enjolras's lips' corners curl into a small smile, which he hides. "Don't call me that. And you need to rest, Grantaire." He reaches for the blanket and covers me with it, touching my neck accidently, giving megoosebumps.

A sudden flash of light inside my head hit me forcibly; darkness appears in front of my eyes. An image of an unfinished portrait appears in front of me. When I close my eyes, I can see it better, like a photo. But I can't indentify who is pictured on the canvas.

"Who are you, Enjolras?" I ask quietly, watching his face and his determent look.

"Rest." He simply replies, sitting back on his chair next to my bed.

As Grantaire falls asleep Enjolras puts his face in hands and rubs his eyes. If the sleeping man could see him in this moment, then he would notice the desperation in his actions. He glares at Grantaire, his lips moves as he says something silently. Then he jerkily stands up, pulling out his phone, just at the moment when it starts vibrating, indicating a call. Enjolras rushes to the door.

"Hello." The voice on the other side sounds worried. "How is R?"

"Bad, he has amnesia." Enjolras leans against the wall. "Don't even remember his name."

A whistle. "That's bad indeed. And what about you?" When Enjolras doesn't response, the voice continues. "Ehm… anyway, when are you coming home?"

"Tomorrow." He runs his hand through his hair and closes eyes. "Don't tell him anything."

"Why? I thought you wanted Grantaire to recover quickly."

"I do want, Marius, but_" Enjolras bits the lower lip and takes a deep breath. "What would you do if you and Cossette had that what happened between us? Wouldn't you like to try to fix everything, to start from the beginning?" he sounds miserable. "To be forgiven."

"No. Overcoming difficulties together is what relationship is." The cold reply sounds in the Enjolras's phone. "You are cruel. You deliberately make him forget all of the good things that you had. Just because he once failed and you made a mistake ." A silence falls. "All of evenings you've spen_"

"I have to go. See you tomorrow, Marius. " he ends call quickly, shaking with different emotions, he has never witness in himself before.