Hello! So, this is my first fic ever. EVER. I wasn't planning on writing anything, but then it came to my head when I was practising piano, and then I noticed that in the Drink With Me scene in the 2012 film Grantaire kind of plays the broken piano that someone chucked out the window. I had to get it written, so I did and here it is. I don't like it much though but had to get of my head. Enjoy/Enjy!
It was a cold December evening, and the Café Musain was lit up, with warm, welcoming light. If Grantaire closed his eyes, he could imagine being in a place like this and treated as an equal. But, as quick as a candle being snuffed out, it was gone and Grantaire was the winecask once more.
He took a sip of the alcohol, the fiery liquid Grantaire had become so addicted to. It burned, but the pain was much less than the stabbing pain that his Apollo caused. The man in question was deep in discussion with Combeferre, beginning to start to work on his next speech. Neither of them noticed the bittersweet drunkard staring intently at them. Which, Grantaire decided, suited him just fine.
He studied the rest of the Amis. Courfeyrac, flirting with the barmaid. Bossuet and Bahoral laughing at something. Jehan writing a poem, and staring into the distance, sitting near the old piano. It was a strange thing; no one had played it in years. For all Grantaire knew, it might not even play.
There was a time when Grantaire played. He was good. Better than good, he supposed. But after the drinking and abuse began, it was just another addition to the memories of the things that could have been. Could have been. To another person in another world.
It was probably the drunkenness, but Grantaire staggered over to the stool and plopped himself down on it. The ivory keys shone, matted by dirt and dust but still with a beauty of their own. It invited him in, to make a melody out of the notes. He wanted to, but afraid that he would ruin the beauty, taint the innocence. Slowly, as if dreaming, he tapped one note with his finger. A C, he thought. Vaguely a piece came into mind. A favourite of his, once. Once. With a will of their own, his fingers created a melody. Fur Elise, wasn't it? For Elise. Or maybe For Apollo would work better.
The left hand accompaniment joined in, recollecting memories from years ago. Ages, it seemed. Eternity. Soon he had forgotten the world around him and lost himself in the piece. He didn't notice that, first Jehan, then the other Amis, gathered around the piano and watched him play.
Noticing, he stopped abruptly, his fingers sliding making an awkward sound. He winced despite himself. An unwelcome silence formed around the Amis. To Grantaire's surprise, first to speak was Enjolras, the Apollo himself.
"Wow, who knew you could play like that?" he said. Grantaire perked a bit at the words, only to have his hope tumble into a bottomless abyss with his idol's next words. "You don't need to waste your life in the bottle, there are things you could do. You're talented, you don't need to drink yourself senseless. You really are hopeless," Enjolras sighed, turning back to his paper. Although he didn't show it, Grantaire felt the words like a physical wound. At this rate the marble man would have no trouble slaughtering the National Guard with words.
His thoughts turned back to the piano. It was a beautiful instrument; it shouldn't be stained by him. He would never be good enough for it. Like he would never be good enough for his Apollo, he thought bitterly, and turned back to his drink.
The piano was never played again. In a few months it would be smashed, pushed out the window, to help form the barricade. Grantaire stroked the ivory keys once more, again whilst drinking, on the first night of the barricade. The day before his death, beside his Apollo. During that moment, he dwelled on that night. His wasted life. What he could have been. But Grantaire banished those thoughts from his mind. No use to dwell on those ivory memories.
Thanks for reading! Please review, I would love to hear what you have to say