AN: I know I should be writing the next chapters of my other story but I just couldn't get this out of my mind. It has been nipping at me ever since I saw the cover George Blagden did of Leave from Once.

I don't know why but the idea of Grantaire/Cosette has been bugging me ever since I started to write out my version of their characters for my story. I've made lots of head cannons for the pair and I just had to get this out of my system before I could write for To Dream a Dream.

I know this pair is a weird one. I mean, I had no idea what went through my mind when I thought that there could be something between them. But the more I thought of it, the more it kind of made sense. But I'm a bit conflicted with this pair. I love Marius and I just believe that Marius and Cosette belong with each other. So, since I couldn't insert this bit into my story I decided to make this one-shot.

I hope you all like it. Tell me what you think and give me your reviews. I'd really appreciate them.

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo I am not.

It was an odd kind of feeling – falling in love. But what did that actually mean? Going to dinner dates? Having your hand forever attached to someone else's? Worrying about anniversary gifts? Nope! It meant a whole lot of shit was being dumped on you. Well, at least that's how Grantaire sees it.

If Grantaire had one such talent then that would be to fall in love with the wrong people. Yes, it is a very much unwanted talent but it is something he has to deal with.

He never was the romantic type. Yet here he was, getting his third heartbreak in a row. How unfortunate.

It was mind boggling how easily he fell for someone who was never meant to be his. But for it to happen thrice, it had to be joke. A cruel, cruel joke that the universe played on him. Cupid must be laughing his ass off at the moment. But Grantaire? He was left with yet another broken heart.

They say that third time's the charm. Indeed, they were right. It was the third try that definitely left him empty. As if there was no more heart to break. And now, misery is his company because it's the only way he knows how to feel. It may sound a bit melodramatic but one must know the story first before making any judgments.

Grantaire's first heartbreak was in the form of a living marble statue. Enjolras. Yes, at the time, he had thought himself in love with his friend. He had adored him. Idolized him as if he was a Greek god. His Apollo. Only problem was he wasn't his to keep. Enjolras was for his Patria alone. He loved no other woman and most unfortunately, no man. Grantaire knew all that. But why love him when it is clear he won't love you back? Because it's inevitable. Because love's a bitch that'll keep you hurting until you're left with nothing. And Grantaire was just the biggest masochist for wanting more of it.

And so he looked on with a longing in his eyes, drowning each drop to erase his thoughts, his feelings. But it never did. He could only stay drunk for so long. And sobriety left him with a pain in the head and a much deeper pain in the heart. And he could've dealt with that. He really could've pulled it off if it wasn't for Enjolras. Of course he'd notice. And of course he'd have to tell him the truth. And of course, Enjolras just had to break his heart.

And with that, Grantaire closed the door labeled with Enjolras' name. And he did something to save their friendship, to save his heart. He forced himself to be straight. And he did. But at the price of his heart.

You see, he could have fallen in love with any ordinary girl out there. But Cupid had a particularly twisted sense of humor. Yes, Cupid struck an arrow through his heart as his eyes landed on her. Eponine.

Sure, he might have had a bigger chance with winning her heart than with winning Enjolras'. But luck was as scarce as a sober Grantaire.

The two had become friends in a speed much faster than that of a bullet train. They laughed. They joked. They teased. They drank. And most of all, they understood. They were each other's lending ears. They listened and understood the darker parts of their joyous personalities. They were quite a pair. It was almost as if they were made for each other. And how sad it is that the keyword in that sentence is "almost".

He was yet again, pushed into the "Friendzone". He had fallen in love with his best friend only to have her see him as nothing more than a friend for life. And with her knowing the truth, she had unconsciously pushed him farther away from her. And of course, it didn't end there. She had to fall in love. And what could make it even worse than with Enjolras? Cupid must be having a thrill with this ingenious twist of fate. And he must be having quite a laugh at Grantaire's poor old heart. And so what did Grantaire do about it? He drank, of course. He drank it all away. And then the third and last strike made its way right through his heart.

Someone just had to notice his troubling drinking problem. Someone just had to care. Someone just had to do something about it. Someone just had to make him fall in love with her in the process. And that someone was surprisingly Cosette.

She saw through it all. She saw the emotions swirling behind those eyes of his as if they were one of the artworks she liked to look at. Yes, a very beautiful yet tragic masterpiece.

Grantaire and Cosette had a casual friendship that mostly revolved around art. He was an artist and she was an art advocate. She'd spend hours just staring at an artwork looking for a deeper meaning behind it, for the emotions that were swirling in its depth. She searched for the story behind it all. And here she was given the opportunity to look at a living artwork which was in the form of Grantaire. But try as she did, she couldn't quite grasp what was behind those eyes. And so, she began to worry.

Cosette was the only one who saw the artist in Grantaire. Everyone regarded him as the funny drunk that kept good company. But she saw him as a brilliant artist whose greatest work was himself.

Everything about Grantaire was an art. The complete mess that seemed to neatly fall in place. The smile that held a frown. And the eyes that held so much yet so little at the same time. And this intrigued Cosette.

The more their friendship grew, the more she understood. It was like she was slowly pulling off the cloth that hid the beautiful masterpiece of Grantaire. She saw what everyone else refused to acknowledge: a broken Grantaire.

Now, what made Cosette so different from the rest? Well, to put it simply, she actually gave a damn. She tried to search for Grantaire. The Grantaire that was lost behind the mess. She didn't push him away or kept him in arm's length. No, she welcomed him with open arms. She took his hand and pulled him away from his self-imposed exile. She did the impossible. She made him believe. She made him believe in himself.

With Cosette's help, he actually became sober. He cleaned up his act. He did this all to please her. For all the effort she put into this – into him – she only deserved the best. And through it all she never let go of his hand. No, she kept him near. She made him feel that he was actually wanted near. She made him feel worthy. She made him feel that he had a purpose. She made him feel loved.

And so, one day mid-December day, he held her hand as they made their way through a place so close to his heart. It was a place where no one had the luxury to lay their eyes on except for him. And now, except for her as well. They entered the small art studio hand in hand. He removed the blindfold from her eyes and watched as it fell on the dusty floor.

He had ambushed her on her way home only to lead her to his fortress of solitude – to his heart.

And there she stood, mouth agape, eyes wide in bewilderment. She scanned the room and the various pieces of art that scattered there. There were paintings of their friends caught in a moment of pure candidness. Joly with his brows knit in worry. Courfeyrac crouching down to pet a cat. Marius blushing red in embarrassment. Enjolras in the middle of his speech. Eponine laughing hard at a joke. It was all so beautiful. There were sketches too. Most of them were of strangers he saw on the street. There was an old couple sitting on a bench. A beggar and his dog. A child crying in his mother's arms. They were all so real and ordinary but it was what made it even more beautiful.

"How come I never knew you had an art studio?" she asked, still caught in a moment of bewilderment.

"Because I never told anyone. It's my little secret." He said.

"But now it's mine as well." She smiled.

Grantaire went over to a corner where there was something hidden behind a cloth. He pulled it away to reveal a painting.

"Look, I know it's kind of late. I mean your birthday was over a week and a half ago but I needed more time." He said as he watched her carefully. She was completely surprised, that was obvious.

"Oh my God. Grantaire, it's so beautiful." She said breathlessly. Tears were starting to gather themselves in her eyes.

"It should be. It is you, after all." He said as he looked at the portrait of Cosette that he had made. Like all the other paintings, it was candid. She was facing a bit to the side as she smiled at something. It captured so much of the beauty that was Cosette.

"Happy Birthday, Cosette."

"I don't know what to say." she whispered, not letting her eyes move away from the painting.

"Then make no sound." He chuckled. He was interrupted when he felt a small figure embrace him. He let his arms hold her as he relished the moment.

She pulled away and looked him straight in the eyes.

"You truly are amazing, Grantaire. I've always believed that. I've always believed in you." she said.

It was at that moment that his heart fell even further than it had ever before. And it was at that moment that he knew his heart was breaking.

He was in love. But she wasn't his to keep. Cosette was madly in love with Marius and he with her. He knew that sooner or later Marius would pop the question and Cosette would say yes. As much as he loved her, he just couldn't pry her away from who she truly loved. And he just couldn't betray his friend who had been quite supportive of him throughout the years. They belonged together. And he was just an accessory.

He almost went in for a kiss but at the last moment he made his way to her forehead and planted a kiss on it.

"Thank you." was all he said. But that was more than a simple thanks. Behind those words was a hidden message he wanted to keep for himself: I love you.

A few months after that, an invitation was brought along with his mail. It was an invitation to Marius and Cosette's wedding. After that, he grew distant. He let his heart break in solitude.

But Cosette wouldn't have it. One day she came upon his apartment to yet again take his hand and lead him away from himself. But he wouldn't let her.

"Leave." He commanded.

She didn't She moved forward and clasped his hand in hers. That's when he finally looked at her. And Cosette almost backed away from what she saw. Tears. There were tears in Grantaire's eyes. She never saw him cry. He didn't let himself. But there he was, crying. Crying right in front of her.

"Let go of my hand. You've said what you had to. Now, leave." He almost screamed. The tears were falling and his voice was broken. Just like his heart.

Cosette finally saw it. She finally saw what was behind those eyes. She didn't see an artwork, a masterpiece unlike any other. No, she saw a human being. A human being broken beyond repair.

It was that look that told her everything and nothing at the same time that made her leave. She saw his need to be alone. She knew he was broken and that she couldn't fix him this time. And so she left, not because she wanted to but because that was what Grantaire wanted. Grantaire wanted his heart to break in peace.

This heartbreak was different from the rest. Unlike the other two, his beloved didn't push him away. The door of opportunity wasn't closed upon him. This time, he closed it himself. And it was the hardest thing he had to do. Even harder than becoming sober. He had to let go of Cosette.

It was then that he realized that to have something ripped away from you was easier than having to let go of it yourself.

Months passed and there he stood, in front of the stone church. He watched the ceremony from the back. He watched and watched because he didn't know what else to do.

In the middle of the reception, Cosette excused herself from the crowd and went inside the house. He followed her there. He found her right where he thought she'd be. She was in the study, staring at a painting someone dear to her had once given her.

" Aren't you glad you left?" he said as he stood by the doorway.

Cosette turned around to face him. He was smiling but she knew it was staged.

"No." she simply said.

"Congratulations, Cosette." He said as he was about to walk away but her voice stopped him.

"Stay." She said.

He turned to look at her and was stopped by the look in her eyes. It held so much. But he knew what her eyes wanted to say. They wanted him to stay. And that was what he did.

"You look beautiful, by the way." He said. She smiled at him.

"Thank you." she said. And that was more than just a simple thanks. It whispered one thing: I love you. It might have not been in the same way he felt but he'd just have to settle with that.

In the few months he was on his own, he realized something. Cosette didn't leave him. He left her. She didn't let go of his hand. He let go of hers. Even when she wasn't there, she never left him. No, Cosette was waiting. She was waiting for him to leave his self-imposed hell. She was the best friend he could ever have and he knew that she loved him and would never leave.

He would let his heart heal for a while. But no matter how many times he would fall in love and break his heart in the process, he knew that he'd never stop loving Cosette. Whether as a friend or more, Cosette would always hold a special place in his heart. Because she made him believe. She made him believe in himself. And maybe someday she'll make him believe in love again.

But for now, he'll stay. And he will never leave again.