RedAmbitions on Tumblr
It starts raining outside.
Enjolras is curled in his armchair in his fleece pajamas pants and a gray t-shirt holding a hot cup of delicious coffee and reading the newspaper. The heater blew constantly, keeping the apartment just the temperature that Enjolras likes. Light Beethoven played in the background, a random CD that Combeferre probably left behind. Enjolras is comfortable and relaxed for the first time in a long time and he sighs happily, settling in deeper into the cushions until there is a knocking on the door. Enjolras rolls his eyes and tries to ignore it until whoever it is knocks again, this time more hesitantly and with a familiar rhythm.
Raindrops drip down the glass of the window next to the door, running into each other, melting into a fat blob of liquid then continuing it's journey to the edge of the window where it falls quickly to the ground. Some of those raindrops hang off of Grantaire's midnight hair and his eyelashes as he stands in the doorway of Enjolras's apartment. Grantaire stinks of alcohol and paint stains run up and down his torn jeans. Charcoal covers his long fingers and palms. The red beanie that sits on his curls is soaked and crystal droplets are frozen on each strand of thread. More raindrops trail from his eyes down his cheeks to the light stubble on his jaw.
Can I come in?
He stumbles in as Enjolras closes the door, trapping the cold air outside. Enjolras directs him towards the bathroom to take a hot shower and prepares a pile of his own clothes for Grantaire, leaving it on the counter. Grantaire comes out as Enjolras turns up the temperature and heats up a cup of water, and plops a tea bag in it. Grantaire collapses on Enjolras's brand new sofa. He leaves a streak of charcoal on the impeccable fabric but Enjolras doesn't care because it's Grantaire and he needs Enjolras right now. Instead of scolding him, Enjolras pulls a large blanket out of his closet and wraps it tenderly around Grantaire's shaking figure. He brings the tea over to Grantaire. He sits next to him and rubs Grantaire's knee comfortingly as he sips the tea.
What's wrong?
Grantaire brings his knees up to his chest and clutches the mug under his chin. He turns his face away from Enjolras and bows his head, water dripping onto his jeans. He looks young, like a child who needed a home or a lost puppy wandering the streets.
I don't want to talk about it.
Enjolras doesn't push him for any more and when he sets down the mug and starts sniffling, Enjolras lays Grantaire's head on his lap and runs his fingers through his wet hair. Grantaire's sniffles turn into tears and then into sobs and hiccups. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his borrowed shirt and holds onto Enjolras's shirt tightly. Enjolras pulls the blanket over Grantaire's shoulders and twists ebony curls around his fingers.
I'm worthless, aren't I?
Enjolras's eyes fly wide open and his hands stop moving through Grantaire's hair.
No. No, of course not. Why would you ever think that?
Grantaire hides his tear streaked face in the fabric on Enjolras's stomach and hiccups.
A lot of people say that so it's probably true.
No it isn't true.
Enjolras turns Grantaire's face up and bends down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. He traces the hairline of his unruly curls and his cheekbones under his clear gray eyes and the dark stubble on his jawline and his nose which has a smudge of paint on it and his chapped lips which usually tasted like alcohol and smoke (but was fading slightly everyday he spent with Enjolras).
So what am I then?
Grantaire's eyes look like the cloudy sky outside, sad, hopeless and raining. But behind the clouds hides the sun, which burns warmly, passionately and endlessly. The clouds hide the rainbow, streaming faintly, but beautifully and colorfully through the boundless sky.
Doesn't matter. 'Cause I love you no matter what you are.
Quick little short drabble. Thanks for reading~