Disclaimer: *bleh* I don't own anything in this story. Well, I own the
bottle but that I don't want that now, so Hugo can have that too! *Grin*
Note: I think this makes no sense, but I like it! I'm still new to this entire Les Mis fanfiction thing so pleeeeeease review. No flames though. Or I'll give you them back with a grin. *Giggle* enjoy! (If you can :P)
Once.
"Dear Apollo, won't you smile just once?"
Enjolras rubbed his forehead in frustration. "You're drunk. Go away."
Grantaire sat next to Enjolras, despite his moans; he put down a full bottle of wine. "I haven't touched that . . . yet."
Enjolras looked at the bottle and then at Grantaire. "You're point being?"
Grantaire laughed, "for once, Apollo, you're wrong. For I am not yet drunk, therefore I know what I'm talking about."
Enjolras rubbed his head again. "Must you bother me now?"
Grantaire nodded. "Yes. Just this once."
"Just this once? How many times must you say that?"
Grantaire didn't answer; he sat back on the chair and looked at Enjolras. "As many times as it takes for you to talk to me."
"I'm talking now aren't I?"
"Not the same thing Apollo."
"Just once! Just once, I wish you wouldn't do that!"
Grantaire gazed at Enjolras, shocked at the sudden outburst. He kept quiet, hoping Enjolras would say more.
Enjolras looked into Grantaire's eyes, as if pleading for an answer. Grantaire had never seen him like this before. /I bet no one has either./ He thought as he noticed Enjolras's icy stare falter and fade; his emotions seemed to fall out from behind his marble stature.
"Just . . . once."
"Wish I wouldn't do what?"
"Call me /that/!"
"Would you rather I called you by your /real/ name?"
"Anything but-"
"-Apollo?"
"Yes! Just once, that's all, just to have you treat me like a human! Not some god."
"But that's who you are, /Marcelin/, a god."
"No! I'm not!" Enjolras rubbed his head and flipped his hair out of his face, only to have it fall about his cheeks again. "I'm not."
"Do I upset you?"
"No . . . Well, yes . . . I mean. I don't know."
"Tell me. What's on your mind."
Enjolras sighed and looked at Grantaire who was staring contently straight into his eyes.
"What's on my mind? You don't want to know."
Grantaire picked up the bottle of wine that had been sitting in front of them both.
"Don't."
Grantaire looked at him. "Don't what."
"Drink that!"
"Why not."
"It's a repulsive liquid."
"You should try it sometime."
"Never."
"It that it? It is why you dislike me?"
"I don't dislike you. I dislike what you become when you drink /that/."
Grantaire looked at the bottle in his hands, he knew he had a reason to drink it. But if he told Enjolras, the icy façade will come back up. He sighed and decided it was worth the risk.
"I do it because of you."
"What?"
"You!" Grantaire put the bottle down and turned in his seat, facing Enjolras, he could tell he had confused Enjolras.
"Me?"
"You're the reason why I drink this stuff." He motioned to the bottle. "Tell me . . . last time I was sober. When was that?"
"I don't know. I've never seen you sober."
"That's a lie. One of the first time's we met here. I was sober. You didn't look at me twice. When I'm drunk. You notice me. I'm content when it's like that." Grantaire sighed and looked at Enjolras, then at the bottle. "I admire you, I venerate you. But you didn't know that. Did you?" He looked back at Enjolras.
Enjolras looked at Grantaire bewildered, "no, I didn't."
"There you go. Reason enough to drink this, don't you think?"
Enjolras stayed silent, everything flew out of place, and he tilted his head and looked at the ground.
"For once, the great Apollo is silent."
Grantaire stood up and walked out the room.
Enjolras watched Grantaire go and shook his head. He looked at the bottle, the bottle top now unscrewed; he scowled and shot a glance around him. He took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle, he took a large gulp and shook his head and it went down his throat. He screwed his face up and closed his eyes. /This is why I don't drink/. He looked back at the bottle, looking at the wall; he threw the bottle with all his force. The bottle smashed against the wall, the contents spilling over the floor.
Enjolras sighed and banged his fist on the table. "Damn you Grantaire."
Grantaire, who was still just outside the room, shook his head and chuckled under his breath. "You're welcome /mon ami/." He walked out the café leaving Enjolras to stare at the now smashed up bottle.
Note: I think this makes no sense, but I like it! I'm still new to this entire Les Mis fanfiction thing so pleeeeeease review. No flames though. Or I'll give you them back with a grin. *Giggle* enjoy! (If you can :P)
Once.
"Dear Apollo, won't you smile just once?"
Enjolras rubbed his forehead in frustration. "You're drunk. Go away."
Grantaire sat next to Enjolras, despite his moans; he put down a full bottle of wine. "I haven't touched that . . . yet."
Enjolras looked at the bottle and then at Grantaire. "You're point being?"
Grantaire laughed, "for once, Apollo, you're wrong. For I am not yet drunk, therefore I know what I'm talking about."
Enjolras rubbed his head again. "Must you bother me now?"
Grantaire nodded. "Yes. Just this once."
"Just this once? How many times must you say that?"
Grantaire didn't answer; he sat back on the chair and looked at Enjolras. "As many times as it takes for you to talk to me."
"I'm talking now aren't I?"
"Not the same thing Apollo."
"Just once! Just once, I wish you wouldn't do that!"
Grantaire gazed at Enjolras, shocked at the sudden outburst. He kept quiet, hoping Enjolras would say more.
Enjolras looked into Grantaire's eyes, as if pleading for an answer. Grantaire had never seen him like this before. /I bet no one has either./ He thought as he noticed Enjolras's icy stare falter and fade; his emotions seemed to fall out from behind his marble stature.
"Just . . . once."
"Wish I wouldn't do what?"
"Call me /that/!"
"Would you rather I called you by your /real/ name?"
"Anything but-"
"-Apollo?"
"Yes! Just once, that's all, just to have you treat me like a human! Not some god."
"But that's who you are, /Marcelin/, a god."
"No! I'm not!" Enjolras rubbed his head and flipped his hair out of his face, only to have it fall about his cheeks again. "I'm not."
"Do I upset you?"
"No . . . Well, yes . . . I mean. I don't know."
"Tell me. What's on your mind."
Enjolras sighed and looked at Grantaire who was staring contently straight into his eyes.
"What's on my mind? You don't want to know."
Grantaire picked up the bottle of wine that had been sitting in front of them both.
"Don't."
Grantaire looked at him. "Don't what."
"Drink that!"
"Why not."
"It's a repulsive liquid."
"You should try it sometime."
"Never."
"It that it? It is why you dislike me?"
"I don't dislike you. I dislike what you become when you drink /that/."
Grantaire looked at the bottle in his hands, he knew he had a reason to drink it. But if he told Enjolras, the icy façade will come back up. He sighed and decided it was worth the risk.
"I do it because of you."
"What?"
"You!" Grantaire put the bottle down and turned in his seat, facing Enjolras, he could tell he had confused Enjolras.
"Me?"
"You're the reason why I drink this stuff." He motioned to the bottle. "Tell me . . . last time I was sober. When was that?"
"I don't know. I've never seen you sober."
"That's a lie. One of the first time's we met here. I was sober. You didn't look at me twice. When I'm drunk. You notice me. I'm content when it's like that." Grantaire sighed and looked at Enjolras, then at the bottle. "I admire you, I venerate you. But you didn't know that. Did you?" He looked back at Enjolras.
Enjolras looked at Grantaire bewildered, "no, I didn't."
"There you go. Reason enough to drink this, don't you think?"
Enjolras stayed silent, everything flew out of place, and he tilted his head and looked at the ground.
"For once, the great Apollo is silent."
Grantaire stood up and walked out the room.
Enjolras watched Grantaire go and shook his head. He looked at the bottle, the bottle top now unscrewed; he scowled and shot a glance around him. He took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle, he took a large gulp and shook his head and it went down his throat. He screwed his face up and closed his eyes. /This is why I don't drink/. He looked back at the bottle, looking at the wall; he threw the bottle with all his force. The bottle smashed against the wall, the contents spilling over the floor.
Enjolras sighed and banged his fist on the table. "Damn you Grantaire."
Grantaire, who was still just outside the room, shook his head and chuckled under his breath. "You're welcome /mon ami/." He walked out the café leaving Enjolras to stare at the now smashed up bottle.