What woke Enjolras was the glorious smell of coffee and crêpes. His mother had used to make them when he was younger so he easily recognized the smell. They were his and his sister's favorite. Enjolras climbed out of Grantaire's bed and walked into the kitchen.
"I have coffee and crêpes." Grantaire announced.
"I noticed. They smell delicious." Enjolras commented.
"I was hoping you'd like them. They're from that new café you sent me to." Grantaire said. "Why did you send me there?"
"I was looking for another place we could meet, in case we should be forced to abandon the Musain or the Corinth." Enjolras clarified.
"So I take it your back up plans have back up plans?" Grantaire teased.
Enjolras grinned. "I suppose they do. How long did I sleep?"
"About six hours. You should probably sleep more but I doubt you will listen." Grantaire rolled his eyes.
"You are being childish." Enjolras taunted.
Grantaire shrugged and sat down on the floor with the coffee and crepes.
"My friend, this is your house. Please, I insist you sit in the chair." Enjolras pressed. Even though he was known for standing on tables and chairs, he truly hated being above those he considered equal. And even though, Grantaire never believed him, he thought Grantaire equal to him. He knew it in his heart.
"I shall have none of that. You are a guest. Sit down in the chair so we can stop this fruitless argument." Grantaire said.
"I protest this." Enjolras said, sitting down.
"Protest all you want. My opinion is not changing." Grantaire said, handing Enjolras his coffee and crepes.
"Thank you, my friend." Enjolras said as he accepted what Grantaire offered.
"No problem, it's my pleasure. Combeferre told me to get you to eat so I figured crepes are universally loved." Grantaire dismissed.
"If you do not mind my asking, how do you pay for such things? University, food, shelter, and... wine. I have a trust fund, and most everyone else gets money from home." Enjolras asked, sipping his coffee and smiling.
"My father wrote in his will everything would be left to me. And before you say he cared for me enough to do that, we had no other family and my father hated charity. So much that when I tried to donate some of my mother's old jewelry he broke my arm. He set some money aside that I can't touch for my University tuition and I sold their old house. I had no desire to ever return there." Grantaire explained, his voice ghosting over his past.
Though he hungered for more, Enjolras knew he had to be careful when pushing Grantaire's past out of him.
"Your mother is not buried there?" Enjolras asked.
"No. I looked." Grantaire said darkly.
Sensing he was pushing, Enjolras decided to take a chance. He swallowed and said, "You weaseled your way out of this once. Courfeyrac would be proud of your tactics, and would probably ask you to teach him so he could win over more women. However, you cannot hide any longer. You must hold up your end of the deal. Tell me of those six years."
"I do not wish to taint your virgin ears, Apollo." Grantaire said, avoiding Enjolras's intense blue eyes.
"Do you remember nothing of this morning? My 'virgin ears' were lost a long time ago." Enjolras said bitterly.
"I remember. I merely wanted to stall at the very least." Grantaire admitted, blushing.
"At least you're honest. I am not leaving until you tell me." Enjolras said sternly.
"Roomie!" Grantaire cried, hugging Enjolras tightly. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you. You won't even miss the Amis. I'll bring them by and we'll have our meetings here and everything will be great! You'll love it. You won't want for anything I promise you."
"As entertaining as that sounds, perhaps I should rethink that. I shall... I shall bar the Musain and Corinth from serving you at our meetings." Enjolras thought aloud.
"Apollo! Such cruelty." Grantaire pulled away, looking hurt.
"Is necessary." Enjolras finished.
"Why now? Merely because you know I've lived a hard life? Because your perfect dream of my cynicism has shattered? Why do you care for me now?" Grantaire spat, almost shouting.
Used to such comments from Grantaire, Enjolras continued, "I have always cared for you."
"You have a funny way of proving it. 'Winecask, why do you even come... Winecask, go away... Winecask, you're more alcohol than blood'." Grantaire sneered.
"I- I admit I am not the best at social situations. I can even be called 'anti-social' for my deficiencies. I know this to be true. However, my ineptitude cannot shroud the fact that I do care about you, I do consider you my friend, and I wish to know you the way I know the others, if not more. I can sympathize without pity, truly empathize with you. Am I wrong when I say that I will be the first to ever hear of these years in your prison?" Enjolras asked, passion usually reserved for his speeches and essays flowing into his voice.
Grantaire said nothing, only looked away and shook his head.
"Then repay me the same favor I granted you." Enjolras pressed softly.
"I'm not good at letting people in." Grantaire shifted uncomfortably.
Suddenly, Enjolras had an idea. "You call me a god. Pray."
"What?" Grantaire sputtered.
"Pray. Pray to your precious Apollo. He is willing to listen for the first time in his life. He knows he should have opened his ears long ago and he regrets that. But now he truly wants to listen." Enjolras said, pouring his emotions into his third-person speech.
"All right." Grantaire squeaked out. "There is not much to tell. My father kept me under his boot with the knowledge of my mother's fate. In that, he hit me in whatever way he felt like, gave me glass over glass of wine, and did whatever he wanted in the house. I heard him with other women, but they were always gone by morning. Each of them whores, beneath my mother's station. My father- I kept thinking of how he betrayed my mother every time he brought one home. I did not care who they were. I just tried to drown him out. For my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a girl and told me to make him proud. I begged her to say we slept together and not. Seeing as she wasn't much older than myself, and wanted to get paid for no work, she took it. But my father came up as we were talking and forced her to undress and..."
"Keep going." Enjolras pressed.
"Gods are silent during prayer, Apollo." Grantaire chastised, smiling slightly. "Anyways, I kept that up with every girl he brought me. But it wasn't long before my father found out and I had no choice. You'll be surprised by this, I know, but I never enjoyed sex with those girls. Not once. I did not live as your sister, Enjolras, but I can understand her. I simply wasn't given away like she was. That's basically it." Grantaire finished, not meeting Enjolras's gaze.
"There is more." Enjolras said, and Grantaire blushed.
"Yes, but I cannot remember it. I know something happened when I was near seventeen but my father got me so drunk even I cannot remember it. He was how I built up such a tolerance to alcohol, how I can drink so much without dying." Grantaire admitted.
Enjolras said nothing for a while. He just digested what he heard.
"Apollo, why do you look like you're going to weep?" Grantaire asked, shrinking away, as if afraid.
Enjolras rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine. I am sorry, Grantaire. No one should have to go through what you did. Although, there is one thing I cannot understand."
"What?" Grantaire inched closer.
"Why didn't you call for someone? The police? A neighbor? Anyone?" Enjolras asked.
"I did." Grantaire whispered, so low Enjolras almost didn't catch it. "No one came to help me."
It took a few seconds for Enjolras to remember to breathe. Grantaire suddenly sounded so strong, though he considered himself weak. Everything he knew about the drunk made sense and now he felt like a true idiot. He had judged Grantaire for things he knew nothing about. He had vilified Grantaire for his experiences. Worse, he had failed him. Failed him worse than anything he could remember, except his sister.
"I- I-" Enjolras sputtered.
For the first time in his life, Enjolras had no words.
"I know. Now you get why I'm so cynical. Now you see why I drink. You understand. Are we done discussing our horrible lives? Your crêpe is going cold." Grantaire dismissed.
Enjolras took a bite mechanically.
"You really must eat more Enjolras. You are seriously light." Grantaire remarked.
"And how would you know?" Enjolras contested.
"Combeferre is not the only one to take you home at night." Grantaire shrugged and Enjolras blushed beat red.
At least, the next conversation was easier. Softer. Lighter. As if the two scarred boys had shown their scars to only find they were truly looking in a mirror.
Urg! I need new prompts! The best have to do with sleepwalking/talking. I'm running out of ideas. Hopefully, my self-deprecation is wrong and this story is actually good. Adieu, mes chers dévots.