The room was quiet as Nikolas Grantaire woke slowly. The first things he noticed was someone sleeping on his bare chest and that he wasn't wearing any other clothes. The second was that he was sore. Incredibly sore. Thinking this was one of his one-night stands, whoever she was she must have been absolutely fantastic, since he knew the feeling of his bed at once, he started thinking of ways getting her to leave before the girl realized he didn't know her name. But then he opened his eyes and saw a golden halo of curls and a feminine figure so perfect it seemed to be made of marble. There was only one person who could belong to such a figure. Julia Enjolras, the woman he had loved for three years, the leader of the Les Amis de l'ABC, his passionate Apollo (Yes, he knew that was a male god but the female goddesses didn't fit her at all so Apollo it was). How in the hell did he end up with her in his bed? And her with no clothes either, with her legs wrapped around his. So something must've happened. And then that bitch memory came back to him and last night seemed to unfold before his eyes.
Dr. Larmarque had very suddenly died; heart attack. Since he was the only one there at the Musain at the time when she got the call, he had driven her to the hospital when Larmarque's wife had called her. He held her when she fought the nurses that Larmarque didn't really mean it when he signed the DNR order and that he needed to come back, please just come back. He kept her tightly to his chest as she seemed to go through the first four stages of grief at once. She started to attack him with whatever she could but only succeeded in going limp a few seconds later as she knew she couldn't bring back the man who had basically become to her a second father. When she pulled away, her face was empty and shattered and he simply led her to the car and strapped her into the back seat. She didn't seem to notice. He went back in for Mrs. Larmarque, as she had ridden in the ambulance, and offered to drive her home when she was finished with the paperwork. She thanked him and he stayed with her as she did everything the hospital required (much of the stuff he thought the hospital didn't need) and he led her to his car. Enjolras hadn't even moved. He drove Mrs. Larmarque home first, and surprising himself, he offered to stay with her if she needed someone. She thanked him but said she needed to be alone right now. He said goodbye, promised Enjolras would stop by sometime tomorrow to help prepare for the funeral and left her. He then moved Enjolras to the front seat and got back in the car. He didn't start the car though.
"Enjolras?" He tried.
His voice seemed to startle her. She turned to him, looking so lost and confused. She said nothing, only turned away looking utterly dejected.
"Enjolras, I promise you this is pain won't last." Combeferre had once said that Enjolras hated useless platitudes. She needed something to hold onto, something to know. A promise.
Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. He could feel her tears seep into his shirt, and her grip was almost painful. He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. She cried for a few minutes before hastily composing herself and sitting back into the seat. She wiped her eyes furiously.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your shirt wet." She mumbled.
"It's all right. It's just water. Let's go home." He told her and finally started the car and drove to his apartment.
Either she didn't notice that it was the wrong apartment or she didn't care as he led her up the stairs and down the hall. He fished the keys from his pants and brought her inside. The apartment was messy, bottles of beer and wine littered the floor, clothes were strewn about, paints and canvases seemed to decorate an entire wall and take-out food containers were in places he didn't even remember eating.
"Um, I know it's not a hotel or as neat your place but hopefully you can find a clean shirt of mine to change into for some sleeping clothes." He shrugged.
She nodded blankly and went to his room. He started brewing a pot of tea, and waited for her to re-emerge. When she did, she was wearing nothing but his old Guns N' Roses t-shirt. It was much too big for her and went down to the middle of her thighs. She looked so small. When she saw he was looking at her, she tried for a smile and tried and failed to hide and yawn.
"Take the bed. You need the sleep. You've had a long day." He told her.
"No, R. You've done enough for me today. Driving me to the hospital and being… there. I don't mind your couch. It's really not too bad." She protested.
"My couch is, and I quote, 'The worst thing I have ever sat on and how people manage to be comfortable is beyond me'." He mimicked her.
She glared at him.
"Please, Julia. Take the bed." He ordered.
She bristled at the use of her "horrid" first name but when a sigh turned into another sigh, she nodded and headed back to the bedroom. Then he texted the others, updating them on what happened to Larmarque and that Enjolras staying with him and that she needed space. He got several replies of 'Tell her we love her' and 'Take care of her' and Combeferre asking if he should come over. Grantaire texted him back saying that he had early hours at the hospital the next morning and he had the day off tomorrow. He could tell Combeferre wasn't happy but he still relented and allowed Grantaire to take care of his greatest friend and 'sister'. He waited a little bit before the tea was ready. He mixed his with a little whiskey and sat down on the couch. It wasn't long before she couldn't keep her cries as silent as she wanted to. He merely drained his cup and went inside his bedroom. She was curled up into a tight ball, crying into her knees. He sat next to her and offered her a cup of tea. She took it and sipped it (she still tested any drink he gave her since he had tried to play a joke on her by giving her hard lemonade) before finding out that it held no alcohol and taking a deeper drink. She rested her head on his shoulder and openly sobbed. He very nearly missed the cup she dropped as she buried herself into him and he set the cup as far away as he could. He held her close as she bawled and started rocking back and forth. He started saying things but even he wasn't sure what he was really saying. It was just words. He doubted she was listening. He held her for what seemed like an eternity. Normally, he loved it whenever she deigned to touch him and though he greatly cherished the feel of her skin on his, he couldn't be happy she was touching him this time. She was broken-hearted and devastated. Combeferre should be here instead of him but right now he obviously wasn't going to move to call Ferre. He would have to be here for her as much as she needed him to be. It wasn't until he felt his mouth stop moving that he realized she was talking.
"Why did he have to die, I mean yeah sure he was old but he wasn't that old, and he took care of himself, he shouldn't have had this happen to him, why did it have to be him… it's not fair. Did I tell you that he was my first class freshman year and when he saw how interested I was he invited me to his office to discuss politics and he taught me so much? I started showing up at his office hours every time I had a political question or topic for debate and we would spend hours on it. And now we can't do that anymore. It's just not fair!" She babbled.
He kissed the top of her head every time she took a breath. Finally, her cries reduced to shuddering breaths but still she stayed in his arms. If anything, she pressed closer to him.
"I'm cold." She whimpered. He wasn't sure whether it was her body temperature or her heart but he still rubbed his hand up and down the arm he could reach.
In the next moment, he wasn't sure exactly what happened. He looked down to see if there was a blanket he could get her and she looked up for some reason with her lips out and they ended up with lip contact. He pulled back, fumbling over himself to apologize but she just kissed him strongly to shut him up. He kissed back to show his interest but he didn't want to take advantage of her right now. He could feel the tears still sliding down her face. So, though he wanted nothing more to make her scream his name and hold onto the rails of the headboard until there was nothing left of her, he pulled back.
"We shouldn't do this. Especially if I'm the voice of reason here. I'm not exactly known for my good decisions. You're grieving and I'm way too sober to be thinking straight." He rambled until she grabbed his shirt with one hand and covered his mouth with the other.
"I know what I'm doing." She whispered, her eyes half-lidded. If anything, it just made her sexier (if that was possible).
That was the only permission he needed. He kissed her fiercely and she pulled slightly on his shirt and they just sort of… fell into bed together.
Enjolras was good. Oh he remembered that. Oh fuck did he remember that. She was very good, especially for what he assumed was her first time. She was also exceedingly rough. He never would've guessed someone as composed as Enjolras could be that violent in bed. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, and his scalp could as well. She had dug her fingernails into his back and shoulders until he bled and he had pushed her so far into the mattress he was surprised they didn't break the bed frame. He knew he should be freaking out in the fact that he and Enjolras just had sex, but if anything, it felt right. He guessed it was because he loved her. Still he knew the minute she woke up she was going to scream at him because he took advantage of her and he shouldn't've given in so easily when she was clearly incapable of making such a decision especially because sex is a part of their relationship that was never going to happen. But even still he couldn't stop the smile when she shifted and nuzzled his chest. In sleep, she looked nothing like the god he always compared her to. Here, she looked like an angel. Beautiful, peaceful. The worry lines that came from too much schoolwork and just plain work in general faded from existence and she seemed to be more her age. Her hair turned into an actual halo of golden curls atop her head that glowed in tune with her ethereal skin. Poets from every age would kill to see even just a glimpse of such a woman as she in their lifetime. Sometimes he doubted even Jehan really could put her beauty into words. Since a picture spoke a thousand words, he reached for his phone in his jeans' pocket. He had to stretch a bit and he was pretty sure Enjolras moved but his task was successful and he managed to get a good angle and snapped a picture. And according to the phone, it was only six thirty in the morning. He couldn't remember being up this early before in the past two years. Well, when he didn't pull all-nighters.
"I'd tell you to take a picture since it'll last longer but it seems you already have." Enjolras remarked drily, sitting up with a cheeky smile on her face.
He stilled, going pale. But the smile didn't fade and the anger in her eyes he expected didn't come. Instead, a type of sadness he didn't recognize filled her eyes.
"Not very romantic, I suppose." She grimaced and pulled herself up.
He had been wrong. She wasn't going to be cross with him, she regretted what had happened.
If anything, this was worse.
"Look, I know, you don't need to tell me that I made a mistake. I shouldn't've given in to you so easily after you just lost Larmarque. You weren't in your right mind and I wasn't thinking straight. If you want, we can just forget this whole thing ever happened and you can go back to hating me." He said.
"I don't hate you." She replied simply.
That made him stop and confusion filled him.
"You infuriate me, R. You infuriate me with your drinking, your mockery of what we do, and your debilitating comments to my arguments. But I've never hated you. In fact, I'd like to consider you a close friend." Enjolras shrugged.
At his pause, she continued, "Grantaire, you inspire me. Yes, you do, don't interrupt me." He had tried to protest. "You do not believe in our cause and yet I seem to find you at every meeting and at whatever rallies don't clash with your classes and work schedule. You were there every time I've gotten arrested and if it hadn't been for you threatening the cops to sue them over harassment and battery I wouldn't have gotten out quickly as I did when someone brought that gun to the rally. You say you are hopeless and yet all of your friends are those who try to make a difference in this world. You listen to them, you sympathize, you drink together, and you give them hope. Yes, hope. Your hope combined with your cynicism inspires me to make my arguments stronger, to close the loopholes and to concede defeat when I know I'm beat."
"That's never happened."
"I said don't interrupt me." She snapped. "What I mean to say is I don't hate you R. I could never hate you."
He smiled sadly. "Still doesn't mean I didn't cave too easy to you last night."
"I told you I knew what I was doing. I thought you knew too." Fear, even a little bit, did not suit her.
"No, no, I did." He promised.
"I mean, is it how I pictured us having sex for the first time? No, but-"
"You've pictured us having sex?" He asked.
She laughed lightly, clearly embarrassed, stuttering. "Um, well, yes."
He laughed out loud at that. "Wow. Would you look at that? Sensitive, virgin Enjolras thinking about bedding me."
"Why does everyone think I'm a virgin? I would've thought that you of all people would realize I've had some experience in that area!" She groaned.
"Seriously?" Grantaire was agog. Grantaire was aghast. His precious virgin goddess wasn't a virgin?
"Yes! It happened in high school before I met any of you fuckers!" She shouted.
"Whoa! Since when do you curse?" He gasped. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never used words 'worse' than 'ass', 'hell' or 'damn'.
"I curse a lot before I have my morning coffee." She snickered.
"No, wait I've seen you at when we all spend the night at someone's place. Even then you don't curse." He responded.
"Yeah but even when that happens I'm always the first one to get up. It's me or Combeferre anyways and he's very used to me cursing the coffeemaker at five in the morning. I'm certain it's out to make me as late as possible every day of my life. It always breaks on the days I need it most." She said seriously.
"So that's why you show up with Starbucks most rallies!" He pieced together.
"Yes because even though Starbucks is over-priced and I don't like the child labor laws in the countries they make the coffee, I must say the coffee is pretty… bitching." She smirked.
"Oh those words coming out of a fine lady's mouth is just- oh…" He pretended to swoon, throwing one arm over his face and let his tongue hang out of his mouth.
She laughed. He used the arm over his face to hide his complete adoration for the sound of her laughter. It was light and lilting, much unlike the passionate seriousness that usually decorated her voice. Suddenly, she shivered, and he once again realized she was very much naked next to him in his bed.
"Um, R, if you could hand me my shirt. I think it's somewhere over there. I don't remember where it ended up last night." She blushed, obviously realizing the same thing.
He nodded and tried to reach one of the shirts from the edge of the bed while still keeping his waist underneath the blanket. Or rather the think piece of cotton he called a blanket. Still it was black enough to keep the 'view' hidden as much as possible.
"Oh my God, it's not like I didn't see all of you last night." She groaned and stood up and walked over to the shirt. She shoved it on without properly looking at it. Not only was it backwards and inside out, but it wasn't even hers. "Um, this… isn't my shirt."
"It's mine but you can wear it. Just turn it around. And turn it right-side out." He burst out laughing as she did as he said. She just glared at him as he tried to smirk at her but couldn't because of his sniggering. She smacked his arm, hard.
"Do you have any kind of coffee or coffee maker here?" She demanded, cheeks deeply pink. It made her ever so cute.
"I have a coffee maker but it's usually dead so I just mostly make instant." He said.
She stared at him in horror. "You drink instant coffee?"
"Yeah." He stated.
"No wonder you're so hateful and cynical all the time! And you talk about the dregs of humankind! You're drinking the dregs of coffee kind! No one should be subjected to instant coffee! It's cruel and unusual punishment!" She yelped.
"I don't- I don't know what to say to that." He frowned.
"What's wrong with your coffee maker?" She demanded.
He shrugged. "I got it for three bucks at a garage sale. It worked for a few months and then it stopped being reliable."
"Why wouldn't you just buy an actual coffee maker from the store?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I live off an art students' salary. Which is to say I have about forty bucks to my name right now and I don't get paid until next Friday." He shrugged.
She stared at him, frowning intensely. Grantaire knew Enjolras came from money. Enjolras didn't have to worry about getting a job, her parents were extremely wealthy but still believed as she did and not only sent her a generous monthly allowance but also paid for her entire college tuition. She didn't have to do anything to stay in school except keep her grades up and not get into too much trouble.
"But I really don't mind instant." He said, trying to distract her from her thoughts. She couldn't frown in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and look incredibly sexy at the same time.
"Instant coffee is the scourge of humankind." She muttered and went into the kitchen.
He found what seemed to be a clean pair of boxers, and after a smell test were determined to be clean, and joined her in the kitchen. She seemed to be screwing with the filter biting her lip in concentration. He had to resist the urge to kiss her.
He checked the fridge for milk, he preferred making instant with it, and set about his task. The entire time Enjolras worked on the coffee maker he made a pot of instant coffee. He cleaned two mugs, since he didn't have any clean ones left, and handed one to her. In her intense focus, she didn't realize what he had given her and she took a sip. About two seconds later, she did a spit take worthy of those television shows like AFV or something.
"Treason! Treason of the highest order! How dare you give me such a poisonous thing as instant coffee! And here I was thinking you could be my confidant or even my suitor but I shall never trust a man who gives me instant coffee!" She shouted.
"Do you even know what you're saying?" He snorted with laughter.
"No I do not!" She slammed her hands on the table.
Unfortunately, he had been taking a drink just as she did so and he ended up inhaling some of the instant and he could feel it running down his nose. He choked as she shrieked with laughter.
"Serves you right for giving me that disgusting shit!" She teased through her laughter.
"Don't curse. Freaks me out." He gasped as he tried to clean himself up. She just snorted with laughter.
All of a sudden, she stopped. Her face went from happy and serene to haunted and sad.
"I was wondering when it would hit you. Which is it? Larmarque or the fact that we slept together?" He asked calmly.
"Both I think." She whispered.
Do you need me to go? I can go." He said lightly.
"I don't care what you do." She murmured.
He nodded and started to get dressed, thinking he could run out and get some errands in before he would run out of money. He didn't need much food but he did need to get some Dawn to wash his dishes and some toilet paper. That would be about seven or eight dollars. Six if he went with the bargain brand of toilet paper. He could do that. He was getting paid in next Friday. Maybe he could ask his boss to bump it to Friday and not get paid again until next month. No, then he couldn't afford rent. If he didn't eat lunch this entire week, he could afford dinner throughout this whole fortnight. Maybe even get a new coffee maker. Which he told himself every time his budget came into question but he never did it. He didn't mind owning a broken coffee maker that only worked maybe one day a week. He was addicted to coffee just as much as he was addicted to alcohol but he didn't really mind. Coffee was a godsend sometimes. Maybe if he skipped the dawn til next payday he could get some of those new flavors he'd been eyeing. No, he needed clean dishes to enjoy new flavors. Until next payday then. Maybe if one of his paintings sold. Wait, he'd have to give one of them to the gallery and none of them were at all finished the way he wanted them to be. He could paint after the errands. He could use Enjolras as a model maybe, if she even noticed he was there. He doubted she would. Even if she did, he could use the picture on his phone. It may be a small muse, but it was a great muse nonetheless. Maybe he could even paint now. No, he needed to run the errands or else he'd forget them and too involved in his work. He'd done it too many times. So he needed to find something at least somewhat clean. Thankfully, he did own a strong deodorant so it maybe it could have a couple wears to it. Once he found jeans that didn't seem too dirty and a shirt that could easily pass as paint smell, he started cleaning himself up. He was surprised to see that he still had shaving cream left, he could've sworn Courfeyrac stole his last bit the last time he was here, and started his somewhat daily routine of getting ready for his escapades in the world of humans.
"I changed my mind, I do care whether you stay here or not." Enjolras suddenly appeared in the doorway.
As he wasn't expecting her to move for several hours, he jumped into the air and jerked his hands. He didn't know what was worse, the sting from the cut, or the absolute agony that the shaving cream did to the open wound.
"Fuck!" He screamed, and quickly wiped the area clear and tried to clean it.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She said.
"It's fine." He muttered and turned to her, using his body language to prompt her. Then, of course, he remembered he was talking to fucking Enjolras and she didn't understand body language as well as other people. "You were saying?"
"I do care whether you stay here or not." She repeated then stopped.
"Yes, I've gathered that." He stated, turning back to the mirror.
She finally got to the point . "I want you to stay here."
"Well this is my apartment." He teased. She frowned. "Yes, I can stay here."
"I don't think I want you to talk yet, though." She stated.
"I can do that. I'll just paint." He finished shaving and futzed around for whatever Band-Aids he did have. Once he finally one 'cut-face-while-shaving' size and stuck it to the still bleeding cut. He brushed his teeth, ran a quick comb through his inky black mop he called hair, and sprayed on deodorant. When he turned back, she was still there.
And then she was around his waist. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him. He hugged her back awkwardly, completely at a loss for what to do. He wasn't Combeferre. He hadn't been her roommate since freshman year and he didn't know everything about her. He truly thought she hated him up until the point where she very obviously had sex with him. Even then he still doubted. After all, he'd had sex with people he hated.
"Thank you. For yesterday." She said quietly.
"It's my pleasure." He tried. Oh if only Combeferre were here. Hell, he would even take Courfeyrac or Jehan right now. They were better with people. Or, ooh, maybe Cosette. Cosette was wonderful when dealing with sad people.
As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to look up at him. "Why haven't I gotten any texts or calls asking where the hell I am and where I spent last night?"
"I texted everyone last night that you needed space. Combeferre would've come but he has the early shift today so he'll probably stop by after work if you're still here." He answered.
"Thanks. With everything that's happened, I don't think I could take everyone swarming us right now." She finally pulled back and headed back into the kitchen. She moved slowly yet gracefully, like mermaid underwater. He followed her quietly as she went back to her chair in the kitchen and she didn't move. He would've been worried if he hadn't seen Enjolras do this whenever she wanted to think long, hard and uninterrupted about something. The Les Amis lovingly dubbed it meditating whenever she did something like this. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he grabbed an easel from his closet (why he decided to keep the easels in the closet were beyond him) and canvas and paint and such and he planted himself in front of Enjolras, where he could see most of her face but he wasn't full frontal. He spent the next three hours staring at Enjolras's face and seeing her as an avenging angel with pure black wings covered in blood, standing over so many dead bodies, looking up to the sky with so much regret in her eyes, basically pleading with the Heavenly Father to say that this needed to be done. Though the chest area he kept flat to help ease the transition to Michael that he would eventually do, since he doubted Enjolras would want to be the subject of this painting. This was painful, desperate and depressing. Enjolras shifted, even took to pacing for a while but he didn't pay much attention to her. Though he would never admit it, he could get just as absorbed in his work as she could. He had just finished sketching out what he saw in his mind when he noticed Enjolras was very close to him. She was probably trying not to startle him again.
"Yes?" He prompted.
"It's beautiful." She murmured.
"Oh it's not even close to that yet. I haven't even started on the color, just the outline. It'll look better soon. Well, maybe not soon, but sometime." He corrected her.
"No. It's beautiful now." She insisted.
He shrugged.
"I need to talk to you." Oh if that didn't make his blood run cold. She did end up regretting their night together and she never wanted to see him again and the one thing he truly believed in would be gone. He deserved it for taking advantage of her while she was grieving. She pulled her chair next to his and faced him head-on.
"I don't regret what happened last night. Well, I do in the fact that I didn't want it to happen like that, I expected a little more romance and something like that, but I don't regret the fact that it happened. Do you understand?" She asked.
He nodded slowly. "I feel pretty much the same. Though I expected much more alcohol on my part."
She snorted and he could see her shoulders relax. As if his spidey-sense went off, he went to check his phone and found a message from Combeferre saying that his shift had ended and he was going to Grantaire's place to check on/pick up Enjolras and that he was bringing a set of clothes for her to change into. He relayed this message to Enjolras.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to call him. I need to check on Mrs. Larmarque. She said she'd like me to help with the… funeral." The word itself seemed to pain her, as if it made what happened all the more real. In a way, he knew it did.
"Okay. You may want to put on your clothes. You're only wearing one of my old shirts and I don't think Combeferre will approve." He muttered, unable to meet her eyes.
"Oh. I should go- do- that." She stood sharply and he caught a wonderful flash of her perfect ass. He whistled at her. She threw one of his shoes at him. It hit him square in the chest, leaving a nice boot mark on his shirt.
"Apollo! This was my last clean shirt!" He yelled.
"Why don't you have any clean clothes anyway?" She shouted back.
"Because Laundromats are expensive and so is detergent!" He barked.
"Okay I know for a fact that Ferre and I have a machine, Courfeyrac and Marius have a machine and Musichetta, Joly and Bousset definitely have a machine for laundry in our apartments. Why don't you just use one of ours?" She re-emerged buttoning up her white shirt. Her jeans had been found, and the red jacket she never went without was slung over her shoulder.
"I don't ask for things, Apollo." He said simply, his tone very much indicating that was the end of the story.
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe Combeferre will stop at Coffee Bean or something. I need good coffee."
"Oh I'm sorry my coffee isn't up to your royal highnesses standards." He mock-bowed to her.
"I will throw the other shoe at you." She threatened.
"Please don't. My clothes are dirty enough." He said.
"Well, next time you can pop over to my place to do it. I don't mind you stealing our washing machine from time to time." He could tell she was trying to be blasé but she wasn't very successful.
He knew he would never take her up on her offer, though. "I'll think about it."
She pursed her lips but decided not to say anything else after a knock sounded. Enjolras let in Combeferre and he enveloped her in a hug. They stayed that way a long time.
"Well, O Fearless Leader, your ride is here and I need bathroom and kitchen supplies. Also, she needs breakfast. And coffee, since she is too picky for my instant." He stated.
Combeferre frowned. "Ride?"
"You have my car, Ferre. You always take my car when you have early shifts. And I need to get to Do- Mrs. Larmarque's house. I said I would help her with the funeral." Enjolras tried for a smile but couldn't do it.
It broke his heart to see his precious leader like this. Apollo was marble, untouchable and unbreakable. Strong, pure and proud. It was moments like these that reminded him she was human. He hated those moments.
"All right. Thanks for letting her stay last night, Grantaire." Combeferre smiled gently.
Grantaire nodded and headed out with them until they parted ways at his car. Enjolras gave him a small hug, before saying goodbye quietly and heading to her own car. He got behind the wheel of his tiny little Honda Element and smacked his head onto the steering wheel, calling himself a thousand named under the sun.
"She's never going to want to talk to you again! God, so much for actually having friends." Of course, they'll take her side of the argument. He was pretty sure he was on her side.
His phone buzzed with a text. He steeled himself for Combeferre's 'You're never allowed to talk to her again' and instead found a text from Enjolras.
Enjolras: You didn't start your car.
Well, it wasn't much but he'll take it. He'd give anything to stay by her side.
Grantaire: I was just thinking. Getting my list all put together.
She responded quickly.
Enjolras: What are we?
Grantaire: Human beings. Wait a minute, you never said what happened to your virginity.
Enjolras: This is what you're asking about? Seriously?
Grantaire: Well, yeah. Even Combeferre doesn't believe you when you've said you've had sex.
Enjolras: That's his fault.
Grantaire: Yeah maybe doing this over text isn't such a great idea. Plus, I really do need to go to the store. I'll text you later.
He started his car and headed to the grocery store. Hopefully, Enjolras wouldn't mention it to Combeferre until they figured out what the hell they were supposed to do next and maybe he wouldn't lose all of his friends. It took him all of ten minutes to drive and find a parking space, so at least the gods of traffic didn't hate his guts today. He grabbed a basket and was checking out brands of dish soap when his phone rang. It was Combeferre.
Thinking it very strange, Grantaire answered, "He-"
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU SLEPT WITH HER?!" Combeferre's voice screamed at him. He was so loud that the few other people in the aisle stared at him.
"Where are you?" Grantaire demanded.
"I'm outside Dr. Larmarque's house. Enjolras is inside." Combeferre growled.
"Did she tell you that she knew what she was doing? Because that's what she told me." Grantaire tried.
"Yes, she did. But, come on, Grantaire! You should've known better! I mean, I know you love her and shit but seriously?" Combeferre ranted.
"What is it with everyone cursing this morning?" Grantaire remarked.
"Oh you very much deserve it!" Combeferre snapped.
"I still can't believe she told you. It's been like twenty minutes!" Grantaire said.
"She tells me everything, Grantaire. It was the first thing out of her mouth once we were alone." Combeferre retorted.
Grantaire wasn't sure what to say to that. So much for keeping some of his friends. Combeferre was incredibly persuasive and no one on his bad side stayed close to the Amis for long. He just picked the best bargain dish soap, even though he didn't know the brand, and moved onto the next aisle.
"Grantaire, I don't think she fully understands what she's done with you." Combeferre grumbled after Grantaire didn't answer.
"I don't see why you're freaking out. I've had sex with some of our friends before. I mean, I somehow ended up in bed with Courfeyrac on Halloween wearing nothing but Harry Potter glasses and a broom somehow between us. It didn't change anything." Grantaire defended.
"Yes, but this isn't Courfeyrac. I wouldn't be worried if it was anyone else. It's Enjolras." Combeferre reminded him.
"I know its Enjolras. I'm the one that had sex with her. Does Enjolras even know that you're calling me?" Grantaire asked as he checked the prices on toilet paper.
"Yes, she does, though I don't think she knows I'm yelling at you... Have you talked to her at all?" Combeferre asked after a long breath.
"I think she should deal with Larmarque before she deals with me. The funeral won't plan itself." Grantaire said, choosing the cheapest for the best amount and putting it into his basket and heading to the check-out.
"I know it won't but this will bug her until she unravels the mystery of it, especially with her feelings." Combeferre sighed.
"What feelings?" Grantaire found the quickest line and got in it.
"Grantaire, when have you seen her show any attraction to anyone?" Combeferre replied quickly.
"Well, according to her, she did have someone in high school. And I have to give it to her. If it was her first time, she is more skilled in that area than any virgin I've ever met." He commented drily.
A small gasp from behind revealed an elderly lady looking at him, scandalized. He simply turned back to see that it was his turn in line.
"Give me a minute, Ferre, I gotta pay for groceries." He mumbled and fished for the only ten in his wallet. Thankfully, he shopped as smart as any drowning in debt college student on a budget and the total only came out to about seven dollars. Granted, if he used up his two rolls in a week, he was screwed. Maybe he could ask one of his neighbors. Stuffing the change in his wallet, he grabbed his stuff and headed to the car. "You still there?"
"You seem awfully calm about this Grantaire." Combeferre noticed.
"It was no good to have the both of us freak out. She needs someone stable. I can freak out later. In fact, it's already in my schedule. I have it written in for three thirty to five." Grantaire threw his stuff into the passenger seat.
"All right, all right. I get it." Combeferre sighed.
"Look, I'm about to drive so I need to let you go. Keep me updated on Enjolras will you?" Grantaire asked.
"Yeah, all right. I should be heading inside too. I'll talk to you later. And we will be talking later. Goodbye, Grantaire." Combeferre hung up.
Grantaire sighed. He could feel it in his bones. This was going to be a long day.
Hey guys, so I know, I know I need to start updating Replaced Guitar Strings but with school and looking for a job and starting treatment for my depression I just haven't had the time to write something I don't gut the minute I see how it could work out. However, for some unknown reason, when I was rereading Talk Revolution to Me, Baby by truethingsproved (Oh my god, I freaking LOVE that story, it's amazing you should all read it) I started this and couldn't stop. truethingsproved thankfully approved of me posting this after using a few elements of the story for inspiration.
Leave a review if you can. It let's me know if you all want me to continue the story if I should just end it here. Goodbye, everyone and see you on the other side of the internet.