Enjolras had pictured meeting Grantaire again a thousand different ways, but not like this. The day had started like any other. He had risen, albeit reluctantly, to the sound of his alarm clock. Managed a hasty breakfast, before bidding goodbye to his roommate, Courfeyrac. Just like any other day, Enjolras had ridden his bike down the road to the Cafe Musain where he started his shift. He had been working peaceably for the past two hours, taking people's orders and delivering their food, until Cosette, a coworker, told him there was a party of four at table seven. And that's when he caught sight of dark curls that once upon a time he had been intimately familiar with. There was no doubt about it. It was Grantaire. He was sitting with his parents and had his arm around the shoulders of a young woman. They seemed to be chatting easily as they waited for their server. As they waited for Enjolras.

Taking a deep breath, as if to gain some composure, Enjolras managed to walk over to the table.

"Good morning, I'm Enjolras and I'll be your server for today. What can I get you to drink?" Enjolras could feel Grantaire's eyes on him instantly when he had said his name, but instead he forced himself to look at Grantaire's father.

"Enjolras, dear, we didn't know you worked here," Grantaire's mother, Helene said kindly.

Enjolras gave a nervous laugh. She had always been kind to him. "Helps pay the medical bills."

"Darling, who is this?" the strange young woman asked staring intently at Enjolras. For the first time Enjolras looked at her. She was pretty, a petite young woman with her blonde hair pinned up in a fashionable manner. She was also very pale and under her calculating glare Enjolras seemed to falter.

"Ah, this is Enjolras. An old family friend," Grantaire offered smoothly. "Enjolras, meet Charla. My fiancee."

Enjolras' chest tightened at the words, but he managed to smile and offer his congratulations. "Now, what can I offer you to drink?"

Enjolras scribbled down their orders, and tried his best to walk away calmly.

About ten minutes later Cosette found him hiding in the kitchens. "Is everything alright, Enjolras? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"You could say that again," Enjolras gritted through his teeth.

"What happened? Is everything alright? Is it your mother-"

"No. No." He shook his head resolutely. "It's the customers at table seven."

"What about them?" Cosette asked. Cosette was new in town. She had only moved there a few years back when her father had decided that a small town was the perfect place to cultivate his hobby of bee keeping.

"The man is my ex," Enjolras stated.

Cosette cooed in sympathy. "That must be rough. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Seven years ago," Enjolras let out a brittle laugh. "Right before senior year started."

"Wow seven years?" Cosette seemed surprised. And she had every right to be. A normal person would have gotten over their ex in seven years. A normal person would have moved on, especially if they had been doing the dumping. But Enjolras wasn't exactly normal.

"Fuck." Enjolras mumbled tugging at his curls by their roots. It was a gesture he didn't do often, but when he did, his friends knew that he was stressed or anxious about something. "God. He's out there with his fiancee and everything is normal...and I'm hiding in the kitchen like a freak."

"Hey I'm sure he must think it awkward too," Cosette said kindly. "But it has been seven years. Things can't be so bad-"

"What a rose colored world you live in," he sounded sad. Morose, would be a better word. "Their drinks are ready...guess I've got to go face them again."

Cosette just offered her kindest smile, before grabbing a plate of eggs and making her way back to her customers.

Smoothing out his apron, and grabbing the tray of drinks, Enjolras managed to make it back out into the cafe. He forced his feet back in the direction of their table and carefully set out the drinks, two chamomile teas for Helene and her husband, a glass of iced water for Charla, and a black coffee for Grantaire. "Do you all know what you would like to order?"

"I'll have the eggs Benedict over easy with bacon," Augustin, Helene's husband, started.

"Just the french toast, with a side of fruit," Helene beamed up at him.

"I'll have the Belgian waffles, side of sausage," Grantaire ordered easily.

His fiancee looked up at Enjolras with a bored expression. "I'll have scrambled eggs with rye toast on the side. Extra crispy."

Enjolras nodded, took the menus and headed off to the other tables as quick was socially acceptable. It wasn't long enough before the food was ready, and he had to go deliver it to them. As he approached the table, he overheard a bit of their conversation.

"So when are you thinking of having the wedding?" Helene asked eagerly.

"We were thinking a summer wedding," Charla replied. "In the city."

"Are you sure? We've got a lovely little chapel here," Augustin said, only partially joking. "It was where our little 'Taire was baptized."

"Quite sure," Charla said definitively.

"A summer wedding," whistled Helene. "That's quite a lot of work to do."

"We have a schedule."

Grantaire laughed, "don't worry maman. A short engagement is what we both want."

Helene smiled, but it seemed uneasy. It was at this moment that Enjolras delivered the hot food, knowing that he couldn't really stall any longer. It didn't take long for them to eat and then ask for the bill. As soon as that was paid they left, but not before Helene had touched his arm and murmured how nice it was to see him, and that she hoped his mother was feeling better. It was kind, but unnecessary.

"Hey, Enjolras!" Enjolras turned to see Charlie, the busboy come up to him. "Found this at table seven."

With a short nod of thanks, Enjolras stuffed the napkin in his pocket, and continued his shift. By noon he was off work, and decided to call up Combeferre who was sure to have some advice.

"Hey can we meet up? Something urgent has come up and we need to talk," Enjolras said a bit breathlessly.

"Yeah of course. Is everything alright?" Combeferre asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Not really. Can I swing by your place?"

"Yeah come on around," Combeferre replied. "I'll see you shortly."

Enjolras got on his old bike and rode down the street to Combeferre's apartment. It wasn't far, and for that Enjolras was grateful. He was let in immediately, and offered something to drink.

"So what's wrong?"

"I saw Grantaire."

"What?" Combeferre had been there when Enjolras had dumped Grantaire in high school. He had seen how much it had hurt the teen to do it, and he was one of the few who knew why Enjolras had dumped him. "Where?"

"They were at Musain during my shift," Enjolras explained, tugging at his fingers nervously.

"They? Who exactly is they?" Combeferre asked patiently.

"Grantaire, his parents, and," here Enjolras swallowed, his mouth was dry as sandpaper, "and his fiancee."

"Grantaire's getting married?!"

"Apparently," muttered Enjolras.

"I'm sorry, Enjolras. I can't imagine what this must be like for you," Combeferre murmured.

"I should be fine," protested Enjolras weakly. "I dumped him when we were seventeen. That was years ago. I should be over him. Right?"

Combeferre's heart broke at how insecure Enjolras sounded. "I don't know about should... You're welcome to feel however you want towards Grantaire, but whether you act on it. That's up to you."

"Yes. Well now I can't! He's engaged! To a woman!" Enjolras seethed.

"Did you talk to him at all?" Combeferre asked maintaining a calm tone.

Enjolras slumped even further into the couch. "No. I was working...and he was there having brunch with his family...and his fiancee."

"What's she like?" Combeferre asked.

"Beautiful." Enjolras admitted, although a bit petulantly. "She's probably perfect. She better be. Grantaire deserves the best."

Combeferre put his hand on Enjolras' arm. "I think you need to talk to him."

"What for? Tell him I've still got feelings for him? That he can't marry this woman because, why? What exactly can I say to him?" Enjolras asked, he was angry again.

"Get some closure?" offered Combeferre. "Look, I'm not saying this situation is great, but maybe this will allow you to move on. You dumped him when you were seventeen, and you're still not over him. Maybe it's time you are."

Enjolras nodded. He needed to get some fresh air to think. He thanked Combeferre for listening before he went out again. This time he headed toward the park. It was only there that he remembered the napkin folded in his pocket.

Carefully he opened it. On it were some doodles that Enjolras very distinctly recognized as Grantaire's, as well as his loopy handwriting. E- it said, it was lovely to see you again. R.

And that's when Enjolras broke down and finally let his emotions get the best of him. And he began to cry.

Hey all. This is a new fic idea that has been bouncing around in my head for a very long time. Please let me know what you think so far. ~T.W.o.W.