Grantaire, I'm growing icicles on my nose. X

He sighed, glanced in the mirror, and turned off the tap. Grabbed his phone.

In the bathroom. Give me one minute. X

I'm counting. X

Quickly, with the skill of someone who was well practised in this, he wrapped a tight bandage around his right forearm and secured it. Pulled his arm-cover over it for good measure – and then put his shirt back on.

It still wouldn't go away.

But he fixed a smile on his face like it was another piece of clothing and ran downstairs to let Joly in. It was midday but the sky was dark and grey and looked like it was about to fall onto them.

"You trying to get out of this by freezing me to death?" Joly hissed, shuffling into the hallway and stomping his feet, trying to get warm. Grantaire just rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat.

"You're too important to me for me to use you as a get-out-of-politics-free card."

He made a disbelieving noise. "I'll believe that one day, R. But come on – it's already five past – "

"I know, Joly."

"He'll be pissed."

"He always is. At me, anyway," Grantaire clarified, thinking to grab his pens and sketchbook from the kitchen counter. "He'll forgive you, though."

"Not if we interrupt him mid speech," Joly muttered, starting to walk back towards the door again. "Come on. I'll get Bossuet to buy you a drink."

Grantaire winked, grabbed his wallet and darted past his friend into the air. It was icy underfoot and he almost skidded – but his balance was excellent and he just span, laughing at Joly's horrified face.

"Come on! I thought you were in a rush!"

"Grantaire, we will fall and die – "

"Nah, I'll break your fall," he said, offering his arm. Joly grumbled but took it, holding his cane very tightly in the other. "Why do you always insist on fetching me, hey? You're better off going straight there with Bossuet and Chetta."

"I like to make sure you're okay," Joly grumbled, concentrating on keeping his feet as stuck to the floor as possible. So it was almost half past when they got to the Musain and Enjolras stopped to glare at them.

Grantaire snapped before he could say anything. "It's icy out there, Apollo."

Enjolras nodded once and carried on. They had a lot to get through and they'd been sat there for two hours when Grantaire's arm started to itch. It was itching so much that he had to excuse himself.

Not thinking, he pushed his hand up his sleeve and scratched furiously.

His nails and fingers were covered in blood in the few short seconds it took him to get from their meeting room to the toilets. He took one look and hid in a stall, pulling out handfuls of tissue before exposing his arm.

He swore. Tried to get as much blood off of his clothes as possible with just the dry tissues. And then he stood there, glaring at the words which would not fade or disfigure no matter how many times he sliced into them.

Help him.

It wasn't that it made it so clear that his soulmate was his own gender. Even though he'd faced years of so-called therapy for it – even when the words hadn't changed and he'd been kicked out of his home. Even though the last time he'd seen his family was years ago.

It was because he could think of exactly one person he wanted to be able to fall in love with and they did not need help.

He stood there for a while, squeezing the skin together in an attempt to make it stop bleeding. He'd knocked the bandage, which was why it had itched – a simple mistake and now he was going to struggle to hide this from his friends.

Fortunately, no one came to find him. Even though he was gone for twenty minutes and, when he got back, he barely moved his arm. It was aching and he was scared of knocking the barely formed scabs.

Enjolras didn't even bat an eyelid at him. So he lifted his bottle with his uninjured arm and drank instead of working on his sketch.

"So we need to book a stand on the nineteenth," Combeferre muttered, scribbling this down. "Get some merch we can give away – badges and things like that. And we need something to encourage people to actually come to us – any ideas?"

"It's a family event, right?" Musichetta asked, pushing her hair back behind her ears. Enjolras nodded. "What about something for the kids?"

"Lucky dip? A – a teddy tombola?" Jehan suggested, fingers hidden somewhere under a net of wool. "Something cute like that which isn't harmful and isn't political – but something kids will like. It might get parents talking to us."

"What about face-painting?"Courfeyrac flicked a torn up bit of beermat at Grantaire. "You could do that."

He was shaking his head. "You have to have all sorts of forms and certificates – "

"You already have most of them," Joly said, nudging him under the table. "We can get whatever else you'd need. We have over a month."

Grantaire just shrugged. And Enjolras sighed sharply, hurting him more than the cuts on his arm.

"Grantaire, do you want to help us or not?"

"I want to help you."

And he'd never need it. He'd never accept it, anyway.

"Then help by showing some fucking enthusiasm for once in your life."

Grantaire looked down, more hurt than he could express in words. Fortunately his friends leapt to his defence –

"Enjolras, that was harsh," Musichetta snapped.

Over her, he heard Combeferre telling Enjolras to calm down. And Joly took his hand as it reached for the bottle and gave it a squeeze.

Enjolras sighed. "Sorry, R."

"Don't apologise to me," he sighed. "I'll be there. I'll go and get some new, decent paints and a bunch of disclaimers etcetera."

He wasn't looking up so didn't see the tiny smile which lightened Enjolras's face before he continued speaking.

"So we've got that event pretty much sorted. We really need to push because it's freezing – "

"Don't we know," Joly muttered, making Bossuet laugh.

" – and there are so many people out there with no shelter," Enjolras continued, voice wobbling slightly. Grantaire looked up. "How can – how can anyone think it's okay? For people to be left outside in the cold and rain and, god forbid, snow. It's not safe. People will get ill and it's not their fault – "

"We'll help them," Combeferre said, interrupting his friend and giving him a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Enjolras. We've got some weeks before it gets really bad – and we've got money already, remember." Enjolras nodded and Grantaire saw the worry lingering there. It was in the corners of his lips and in the shadow of his jaw. "We've got this, team."

Jehan whooped and Enjolras managed another small smile. Grantaire caught his eye, realised he was smiling, too, and looked down. Straight to his bottle.

They had a few more things to discuss. Were they going to push for longer opening hours for the public toilets? Of course – but they had so much to do. So that was going to have to wait.

It was almost evening by the time they'd finished and then, even though he was desperate to hide from the world, Grantaire couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Joly asked subtly, whispering to him before standing up. Grantaire gave him another smile and shook his head.

"Thanks, though. I just want a few minutes, y'know?"

"I hear you. Be careful walking home."

"You too," Grantaire laughed. "Bossuet?"

"Hola."

"He's like Bambi out there."

"Oh, I know," Bossuet laughed, helping Joly up. Mushcietta appeared on his other side, grinning. "Don't worry yourself, R. Speak to you later, right?"

"Of course."

They all left. At least, he thought they'd all gone. He didn't count footsteps on the stairs behind him and didn't look around before sighing and leaning forward, pushing his forehead against the table as hard as he could and letting out a long-supressed sob.

"Grantaire?"

He jumped so much that he bit his jaw and, eyes filling with tears, turned to face Enjolras. Who was waiting for him – who was standing at the top of the stairs with an expression which didn't suit him.

"Yes, Enjolras?"

"Are you okay?" He asked, stepping back towards him. Grantaire got to his feet and quickly swept up his things. "What was that – that sob?"

"It was a sob, Enjolras," Grantaire muttered, a little coolly. He was embarrassed. "I'm tired. See you soon."

Enjolras stood back and let him go, frowning and almost saying something else. He almost said so many things but he couldn't form words properly when he was around Grantaire.