hey everybody! This is my second e/R fic and they're both a little OOC. Hope you can still enjoy it. I thought that they must have something of a past before the revolution came into play, so I decided to work on -shot for now, but might turn into something later! Keep updating, mon amis!
WARNING: if gay French boys are not to your liking, don't read it. Also emotional breakdowns and possible grammar error.
"D'you remember what it used t'be like?" Grantaire said a little bit too quickly.
Enjolras sat next to him on the park bench, as far away as possible, until he was practically leaning over the edge. "Do I remember what what used to be like?" He answered with another question, almost giving his attention, and he might be if he wasn't checking the time every five seconds. He acted like he had somewhere to be, but Grantaire knew otherwise.
"Us," he replied simply. "How we were. Back when you acknowledged my humanity." Enjolras laughed bitterly in a way that made Grantaire wince. "You're human. How else would you get all drunk and make fun of me?"
Grantaire paused. "Maybe I'm human."
Enjolras was frustrated, for about the seventeenth time this week, and being only four days in the forecast didn't look so friendly either. Why did Grantaire always have to be so cryptic? "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Be straightforward for once." He sounded cold, like he always was when people were watching. He was kinder sometimes, when they were alone. Not often, though, enough to be expected.
To this the drunkard replied honestly: "I'm human. I can feel... Feelings. You've never asked me why I drink. I dont know why i thought you cared.
He began to stand up, but was stopped when Enjolras grabbed his arm.
"How was I? Back when I could see it?" Enjolras still didn't look at him, but this time he looked ashamed, like he wanted to look at him. He couldn't bring himself to. Grantaire tried to be a good person and let it be, but his impulses got the better of him.
"Ha! And you would care what you used to be? The old you who gave a damn how I felt? Nobody would care, not Apollo. No, he would rather-" he was cut off by a voice, softer than he remembered it, and this time on the verge of tears.
"I want to know. What changed? What did I do wrong?" He sounded almost sorry, if that was possible. But now he ran his fingers through his hair, and looked more sincere than ever. "it's my fault, isn't it? Oh god..."
"I don't follow, oh fearless leader. What have you done wrong? I thought it was all my fault, all the time. Aren't those the rules?" He regretted bringing up the conversation. Before this human rights shithad taken him away, they'd been close - like brothers, even. But now Enjolras spent half his time painting cardboard signs and the other half sitting in tents outside churches and vandalizing banks. He'd onlyfollowed him to this protest because he'd left his favorite hoodie in the café.
His bitter voice forced a heavy guilt into Eniolras' stomach. "I don't blame you for making me not care!" Enjolras spun around in his seat, now facing Grantaire face-to-face, and the drunkard could see tears beginning to well up in the other man's eyes.
"I do." Grantaire choked on his own words. "You don't care. I should just get over that, okay? Leave me alone." Now they faced the opposite direction, and it was Grantaire whose back was turned.
"'Taire, I'm sorry, please... Just... Stay for a bit. I never brought it up before because, well, it was a sensitive topic..." he trailed off and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. The moon shone high above in the black, cloudless sky, so reverse of the whirlwind in his mind.
"I can handle myself! I'm not fragile, and I'm not half as drunk half the time you think I am!" Grantaire's outbursts were few and far between, so Enjolras knew he had said too much. Yet he couldn't let him leave without saying.
"... A sensitive topic... For me." For once he begged the drunkard wouldn't put up that childish mask he hid behind.
"So... You... Have wondered?" His voice was so full of wonder that Enjolras couldn't help letting out a shaky laugh. "I just always assumed it was a bad idea to talk about. I always thought it was my fault." Grantaire looked shocked, and rather cold, and his eyes were so near crying that Enjolras unzipped his red hoodie and wrapped it gently around the other man's shoulders. He heard a whispered "Thanks." before Grantaire turned to sit beside him again. His knees were close to his chest and his arms slung around them, skinny things they were.
"It's not your fault, it's really not. It's just... I don't want to lose you. I watch the news, every day, actually, and I see police shooting at crowds and bodies being carried out, people who got trampled to death, and... Every time I'm praying to god it's not you who got killed."
"half the time I see you, I'm scared to death because it might well be the last time." Enjolras just stared with gentle eyes, as Grantaire weakly tried to express his fear. At once it was decided he didn't need to, as he was pulled into a fierce hug by none other that his own Apollo.
"Hey, you know I'd never leave you, right? Don't think like that. I'm here. I'm here." Enjolras shushed and calmed the drunkard, who, now sober, sniffled and trembled slightly. "Thanks, Enj."
"I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong, okay?"
R giggled, then in a more somber tone, added, "you know I'd die for you, right?"
"And I'd die for you, too."
The heartbreak eased up for the first time in a while. Every time something like this happened, the next day it would be forgotten. They'd be their own selves again, with their own dreams to live for. But for now, they had each other.
sorry if you didn't like it! It went a little fast, just remember I wrote this at 2am last night without anything in mind. Reviews are much appreciated!
strawberrybear