Chapter 1

Why was he at a party? Why was he surrounded by all these people, especially when he knew less than a quarter of them personally? As he pushed through another group of people all milling together, he vowed to kill Courfeyrac when he found him again. Found being the operative word. Although he was in a house that belonged to one of his friends, he could not locate that friend or, in fact, any of his friends anywhere.

The music was throbbing louder than ever, louder even than his own head. How he wished he hadn't drunk so much earlier. He hadn't really thought about it at the time. Most likely due to the fact that his friends had been present at the time so it seemed a much safer idea. But now that he was alone, surrounded by people he didn't know, forced to listen to music he didn't like being blasted at ridiculous volumes, he couldn't help thinking it may have been the biggest mistake of his life.

Still, he stumbled on, trying to ignore that his vision was getting fuzzy at the edges and that his body coordination was definitely worsening. He really shouldn't have drunk so much. Damn he was going to kill Courfeyrac for ever convincing him to come to this stupid party.

When he felt a sudden pressure on his arm, he jumped in alarm flailing wildly trying to find the source of the touch. It probably would have been embarrassing if he wasn't this drunk and therefore would hardly remember it tomorrow. He stared accusingly at the hand that was gripping his arm as though it was personally offending him. And when said hand started to drag him out of the main fray of the party, he struggled despite the grip not even being tight. Perhaps if he'd been slightly more sober he probably would have realised how easy it was to escape. Still, he didn't kick up too much of a fuss and followed wherever the mysterious hand was guiding him.

They made it outside and Enjolras shivered, hit by a sudden rush of cool air. Not that he was complaining. The fresh air was a lot more comfortable to breathe in than the stuffy overly warm air of the house. There was also the added bonus of the lights dotted around the back garden because finally he was able to see who the hand, which was strangely still holding onto him, belonged to.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, unaware that his speech was slurred.

Finally the hand let go. "I've been watching you stagger around the house for the past hour or so and frankly I was getting bored of seeing you get more and more confused so I thought I'd step in."

"I am free to walk around as much as I please, I was invited here by friends and...wait, I do not stagger!" He said, trying to ignore the chuckle it ignited within the mysterious hand man.

"You were. Anyway, where are your friends now?"

"That's who I was looking for, they said they wanted more drinks and never came back and..."

"Woah," the stranger said suddenly, holding Enjolras steady after he started to teeter to one side. "Let's get you sat down."

Enjolras made a noncommittal noise, allowing himself to be steered backwards onto a bench that was against one wall of the house. The stranger sat down beside him, but not too close because he was still, in fact, a stranger. He took the opportunity to look over his saviour? Was that what he was? After a quick once over, and then a more thorough look afterwards, Enjolras discovered that he wasn't just hands. He was a full on man. Shorter than Enjolras himself, loose shirt and tight dark jeans, blue eyes and a mess of dark brown curls adorned his head like a halo. Maybe that did make him a saviour?

"When did you last see your friends?" the stranger asked, clearly not noticing Enjolras staring at him.

"What's your name?"

The stranger laughed again. A quiet sound. Almost secretive. As though it was a privilege to hear it. Enjolras certainly felt privileged to hear it.

"Grantaire, my name's Grantaire. And yours?"

"Enjolras," Enjolras said.

"Enjolras," the man now known as Grantaire repeated. "I like it. Now, your friends?"

"Right," Enjolras said, having lost track of the conversation as he had been more lost in Grantaire's overly blue stare.

Maybe he was way past drunk. He didn't usually sit here next to men and ogle them, especially when he didn't even know them. And with the mounting desire to lean over and press his lips against Grantaire's own, he came to the conclusion that he had definitely drunk too much.

"Yes?" Grantaire prompted again.

"Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head to clear those dangerous thoughts. That was the wrong thing to do.

He was immediately bombarded with a wave of nausea and his head pounded worse than ever. He must have made some noise of discomfort because he felt, once again, one of Grantaire's hands on his arm. There as a muffled "I'll be back in a minute" and then the hand was gone, along with Grantaire. He was left alone in the darkness with the cool night air as his only company.

"Hear, drink this," a voice insisted. Grantaire had returned, a bottle of water in hand which he gave to Enjolras.

"I don't usually drink this much. Or any at all," he said after he'd swallowed down almost half the bottle.

"I can tell. Now, back on the topic of your friends, what are their names, what do they look like?"

"One's taller, one's shorter. Go by the names of Idiot number one and Idiot number two. They are also most hopelessly in love with each other and haven't quite figured it out yet. I'm hoping though that them not looking for me is a sign that they might have actually figured it out and are finally voicing their feelings. Not that this is really the best environment for declarations of such a nature," he added as an afterthought.

Grantaire laughed again and what a wonderful sound it was.

"Don't you approve?"

"Oh I very much approve of them, they've been beating around the bush for ages and I just hope they've finally figured it out. Otherwise I'll be quite upset that they haven't looked for me."

Though he made no move to reply, a small smile played on Grantaire's lips and it increased Enjolras's urge to reach over and kiss him.

They sat in companionable silence for some time. It was strange how totally okay they both were with the other seeing as they still barely knew each other. Sometimes words were needed. But right now, they were both perfectly content to sit outside beside each other, in silence, as the party continued on without them.

Only when Grantaire glanced up did he realise that Enjolras had fallen asleep. Taking pity on the man, he took off his own jacket and draped it over him having noticed him occasionally shivering. Still having no idea who he had come with, Grantaire fumbled around in Enjolras's own jacket to try to find his phone. He wasn't the type to usually rummage through strangers' pockets but desperate times and all. He tried not to rouse Enjolras, feeling sorry for him enough as it was, the man deserved his sleep. And secretly Grantaire thought he looked adorable while he slept. Unfortunately, as he drew his hand away triumphantly with the phone in his hand, he jostled the sleeping Enjolras. He made a noise of protest, muttered something incoherent before shifting closer and resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder.

He really hadn't signed up for this. He'd planned to come to the party, get mindlessly drunk and hope that someone would help him find his way home. Instead he had been distracted by an unfairly attractive man, which had led to looking after said man, to now having become his pillow. The night certainly couldn't have taken a more unexpected turn.

It was by sheer dumb luck that as he started to scroll through Enjolras's contacts that the phone started to ring. He answered it immediately.

"Hi."

"Who's this? Enj? Why do you sound weird, and where are you?"

"No this is Grantaire. Um...Enjolras is with me at the party. We're outside in the garden, sitting on a bench."

He heard a murmur of voices on the other end of the line before the voice rang clearly through again. "We'll be there in a minute." Then the line went dead.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, the back door opened and two men appeared. When they spotted Enjolras and Grantaire they were rendered speechless. Apparently this wasn't what Enjolras usually did at parties and, to be honest, this isn't usually what Grantaire did either. Not that he was complaining. More the opposite. To have a slightly drunk hot guy fall asleep on him was the highlight of his night.

"Grantaire?" The first man asked, offering his hand politely while the other man continued to stare at the sleeping form of Enjolras with amusement. He accepted the offered and hand shook. "I'm Combeferre, this is Courfeyrac."

He nodded in greeting at them both before glancing back down to the sleeping figure.

"We should really take him home," the one named Courfeyrac commented. And then to Combeferre, "I can't wait to see him in the morning. Hung over Enjolras is almost better than drunk Enjolras."

Combeferre just shook his head before shaking Enjolras awake. He barely stirred. Somehow, between, them they managed to heave him up and balance his weight between them. They half carried, half dragged his away, back through the house and off into the night. Grantaire was left alone with the ringing sound of their thank you's as his only company.

It was only after the trio were long gone and he was starting to freeze from the night air that he realised he still had Enjolras's phone clutched in his hand.

Grantaire found his own way home much more successfully than usual, perhaps due to the unusual lack of alcohol in his system. Before he went to bed he left Enjolras's phone safely on his bedside table, knowing that if he put it there he would be far less likely to lose it.

In the morning he was woken by a horribly mundane ringtone that definitely was not his own. He fumbled around; laying a hand on everything on his bedside table except the thing he actually wanted. In the end, his hand made contact with the phone and he answered with a groan, his brain still clouded with sleep.

"Hello?" A voice said at the end of the line. "Is this the guy named Grantaire from the party yesterday who looked after our drunk friend?"

Grantaire immediately perked up at that. "Yes, this is him."

"Great! We were worried Enjolras's phone might have gone missing after you had it. We didn't know if you would keep it. Anyway thankyou for that, Enjolras would be so angry if he lost it."

"Yeah," Grantaire replied stupidly. Really? What else could he say? It's not like he knew the guy personally.

"Well, do you want him to come get it-" There was some incoherent grumbling the other end of the line. "Okay, scratch that. Do you want me to come get it from you, me being the smaller hotter one who carried our dear drunk friend home, or do you want to drop it round to our apartment?"

"I can drop it off to you on my way to college," Grantaire said after checking the time. He needed to leave soon otherwise he would be late. Maybe it was a good thing that the phone rang because otherwise he would never have gotten up in time.

"Thankyou that's really great of you," Courfeyrac sighed before reeling off their address. It turned out they didn't live too far from each other so Grantaire wouldn't have to go too out of his way to get there.

"So he's bringing it over?" Enjolras asked when Courfeyrac put the phone down.

"Yepp," Courfeyrac confirmed. "I'll see you later, I'm going to meet Combeferre so make sure you listen for the door and keep drinking lots of water."

"You're not my mother."

"Maybe not biologically but 'ferre and I are your backup parents. Someone has to sort you out when you get all grouchy and no one else would take the job."

With a smile and a wave he left, leaving Enjolras moping around on the sofa, waiting for Grantaire to arrive with his phone.

He only had a dim recollection of the night before and even then he wasn't sure whether any of what he remembered was true. Shaking his head, he lay down and closed his eyes, willing away his headache and tiredness. Begrudgingly he got to his feet when he heard a knock at the door. He could have sworn he'd only been lying down for a second or two. Still wrapped up in his duvet, Enjolras shuffled to the door, grumbling all the way, though not loud enough for the person at the door to hear.

"Hello," he said after he had opened the door.

"Hi," Grantaire replied, looking awkward.

Enjolras couldn't help but notice the way the man's eyes travelled up and down his body. Maybe he was judging his duvet. It was covered in a ghastly floral pattern that had been picked out by Courfeyrac, much to his own complaint. It was awful enough to definitely warrant a few stares.

"I brought you your phone," Grantaire continued, oblivious to the fact that he was now the one being scrutinised.

"Thankyou, I really appreciate it," Enjolras said, finally getting back on track with the conversation.

There was just the vague hint of a smile on Grantaire's face at that but it made no notion as to wanting to grow any wider. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel sad.

"How are you? You were pretty out of it yesterday."

"I'm fine. I just have a headache and I'm a bit tired."

"Oh sorry to have disturbed you then. I should really be going anyway."

Enjolras felt bad for that, he hadn't meant what he had said in a rude way. He meant it more as just a statement, an answer to the question.

"Okay, well thankyou again for giving me my phone back."

"No worries, see you around maybe."

Their eyes met for a second before Grantaire turned and left. Enjolras looked down at his phone, now safely in his own hand, and couldn't help feeling at a loss. He didn't even know the guy, why was he feeling anything at all? But the worst thing was that he couldn't even identify the emotion he was feeling which was what bothered him the most. He didn't really do emotions and he definitely didn't do secret emotions that needed decoding before he could even feel them properly. It just seemed like a hassle that he didn't need in his life. Preferring his usual method of moving on, Enjolras simply chose to forget the whole incident. That was the simplest thing to do. Well at least it had been.

"He dropped your phone off then?" Courfeyrac said as soon as he walked through the door late in the afternoon. Enjolras made a noncommittal noise despite having his phone in his hand and continued to stare at its screen blankly. "Something wrong?" No response. "Enjolras?"

He glanced up, his eyes glassy as though he wasn't really there. For one panicked second Courfeyrac genuinely thought there was something seriously wrong. But then he remembered how much of a drama queen his friend could be sometimes and carried on into the apartment, passing Enjolras on the sofa, and made a cup of tea.

Leaning against the kitchen doorframe and blowing casually on his tea, he looked back over to Enjolras who was still contemplating his phone. Finally having enough, he plopped down on the spare seat beside him and grabbed the phone out of his slackened grip.

"Seriously, what's the matter with you?" He looked at the screen but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a list of his contacts. His name was there and so was Combeferre's just above it. "Right, I'm not even going to pretend to know what is wrong with you," he said, handing the phone back.

Enjolras took it and looked over to his friend. "What do I do?" He asked, seemingly not to have heard anything that had been previously said.

"About what?" Courfeyrac demanded, still exceptionally confused. "Maybe if you'd stop being so cryptic we might actually get somewhere."

Sighing dramatically, Enjolras thrust the phone under his nose and pointed out directly what the issue was. It took a moment for Courfeyrac to take in what he was being shown. But once he did he let out a whoop of joy and stared at Enjolras incredulously.

"Is this what I think this is? Did Grantaire leave that in your phone?"

Enjolras nodded. They both stared at his phone screen where a new contact had been added. There wasn't a name but there were the two words 'call me' followed by an unfamiliar number.

"So are you going to call him?" Courfeyrac demanded, a wide grin on his face.

"I have no idea. I mean, I don't even know him." He looked pleadingly at his friend, willing him to tell him what he should do. He didn't. He just continued to smile.

They didn't speak about the matter again until late that evening when Combeferre had come round for an exceptionally late dinner. Enjolras didn't believe a word of it, he knew it was just an excuse for him to see Courfeyrac again. He'd learned that, despite the party, they still hadn't gotten anywhere nearer to actually being together. Even Enjolras, with his obvious lack of relationship experience, could see how much they liked each other and yet here they were, still dancing round each other. He was actually starting to debate on whether he should just lock them together in the same room until they confessed. He smiled to himself at that. It would be nice to see them both happy.

"Thinking about your mystery man?" Courfeyrac teased from where he was sitting with Combeferre at their small table.

"No," he snapped, feeling his face heat up.

Combeferre looked at them both curiously. Saving Enjolras from further embarrassment, he asked Courfeyrac what had happened to which the man in question was happy to explain in as much detail as he could. After he was finished with his exaggerated rendition, they exchanged a glance before they turned simultaneously to stare at Enjolras.

"Are you going to call him?" Combeferre asked, taking off his glances and cleaning them on his shirt.

"Like I said to Courf', I don't even know him and I barely remember last night so I don't see why he would want me to call him in the first place."

"Well you must have made some kind of an impression."

"A poor one."

"If it helps, he's in college," Courfeyrac volunteered.

Enjolras perked up at that. "What does he study?"

"No idea, I didn't ask. He just mentioned that he'd drop your phone off on his way to college."

"Look, ultimately it's your choice," Combeferre cut in as Enjolras slumped back against the sofa cushions. "When we met him briefly he didn't seem too bad, I mean he'd stayed with you all night just to make sure you were okay. Personally I think you should go for it. He's clearly interested and you need to have some fun for once. If things don't work out then they don't work out. It's that simple."

"It's that simple," Enjolras echoed hollowly, not believing him in the slightest. It was never that simple.

A silence ensued as he continued to contemplate Combeferre's words while Combeferre and Courfeyrac collected their plates together, washing them up in the kitchen before packing them away in the correct cupboards. When they came back into the main living area they both sighed when they saw Enjolras staring at his phone again. Taking pity on him they both sat down either side of him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Just call him," Combeferre said.

"What's the worst that could happen? And he doesn't have your number right? So if you panic when you call him just end it, he'll never know it was you. But for the love of all things French please just make a decision, this suspense is killing me."

"Fine I'll call him."

They both cheered, Enjolras just looked disgruntled.

Combeferre checked his watch. "I should go, it's getting really late."

"Why don't you just stay over," Courfeyrac said. "You don't have classes tomorrow so it shouldn't be a problem. I'll make up the sofa bed.

For a moment Combeferre looked as though he was going to decline but then he saw something in Courfeyrac's expression that changed his mind. He nodded. Courfeyrac beamed. Enjolras had had enough.

"I'm going to bed."

"I thought you were calling your man?" Courfeyrac said, collecting the cushions from on the sofa together.

"One, he's not my man and two, it's very late."

"Love doesn't have a closing hour Enjolras."

Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Not having the energy to argue, he turned around and went to his room, calling out a 'good night' before closing the door. After changing out of his clothes, he picked up a book and settled into bed. About ten minutes later, he closed it and placed it beside his bed. His phone caught his eye as he went to turn off his bedside lamp.

Grumbling to himself, he snatched it up, found his contacts and dialled the mystery number. At such a late hour he didn't expect anyone to answer. But did he want anyone to answer? Would he be disappointed if they didn't? He assumed it would go straight to voicemail which would save him from any future guilt because then he could always say that at least he tried. What he didn't expect was for someone to pick up after the first ring.

This is a new story that was the result of late night musings that somehow manifested into a multi-chapter fic. I'm currently in the middle of my A-Levels so please be patient with updates and for those who read Tipping Point I promise an update is coming. I welcome feedback so leave a comment if you can and if you liked it please follow and favourite. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time! :)