RedAmbitions on Tumblr!

"Goddamn it, Grantaire! Stop drinking all the time! You think an alcoholic cynic can help us in any way? You screw everything up and plus all the alcohol — ! Just get out Grantaire! When you're like this I loathe you! You are useless and worthless and we don't need you here! I don't want you here!"

There is a loud silence in the room and Enjolras knows immediately that he had gone too far. Grantaire's face pales and completely shuts down. Enjolras catches the slightest tremor of his lip before he runs from the apartment, arm pressed over his eyes and bottle dropping from his hand, shattering against the ground.

Everyone stares at him, freezing in their various actions around the room. Courfeyrac stops fiddling with Jehan's long hair, dropping a few reddish blond strands. Combeferre holds the pot of coffee almost sideways, letting coffee drip slowly onto the counter. Joly clings tighter to Bossuet, while Musichetta's stare turns into a glare. Bahorel is one of the only ones who moves, sprinting after Grantaire directly, yelling his name. Marius clasps his hands tighter around Cosette's waist until she removes them and gets up from the squashy armchair she had even sharing with her boyfriend.

"What the hell, Enjolras?!" she yells and then runs out the door after Grantaire and Bahorel, moving fast even in her heeled sandals.

It's Eponine who moves first after that, striding across the room quickly to where Enjolras is standing, surrounded by piles of his notes and binders. When she slaps Enjolras across the face, it's not a complete surprise. Enjolras's face remains blank as his cheek starts turning red.

"What Cosette said. What. The. Fuck," Eponine screams as Enjolras stares vacantly at her. "Can you stop being an asshole for once and think about what Grantaire must be feeling? And you know how he feels about you and you acted on that. Don't think we don't see you kissing him in the back of the Musain or your little smiles whenever you get a text from him or how he's the only person you let stay over. Even if you haven't made it official, it's been months now! God! I thought you loved him! Well, I guess I was wrong because you are a total dick! And now he's probably gonna go get himself killed!" she screeches before running after Cosette and slamming the door behind her.

Combeferre starts to follow his girlfriend until he realizes that his best friend needs him more.
"Enjolras, are you okay?" Combeferre asks, approaching Enjolras as he sinks slowly into a chair and grips the table edge until his knuckles turn white.

Marius glances quickly at their leader before hastily grabbing his and Cosette's things and leaving without a word. Joly and Bossuet whisper a quick goodbye before leaving. Musichetta tells them something and glares at Enjolras one more time before heading down the same direction as Eponine and Cosette. Jehan runs to Enjolras, crawling into his lap, hugging him tightly and brushing Enjolras's golden hair with his fingers. Courfeyrac rubs Enjolras's shoulders comfortingly and murmurs quietly into his ear. Combeferre pours out coffee into one of Jehan's colorful mugs and hands it to Enjolras.

"Thanks," Enjolras mumbles, holding the mug without drinking.

"Enjolras, I'm not going to tell you that what you did was right, but — ."

Enjolras slams the cup down on the table and lightly pushes Jehan off. "What was I saying? Oh god, I... I didn't mean it, any of it, I just... I just got angry, and... Oh, 'Ponine was right." He bends over, resting his elbows on his knees and pulling his hair. "He's gonna hate me and he has a right to."

"He's not gonna hate you," Combeferre tells Enjolras, kneeling and rubbing Enjolras's back. "Grantaire could never hate you."

"He loves you so much and he knows you don't mean it," Jehan says, twisting Enjolras's hair around his fingers.

"But what if he thinks that I don't mean it when I tell him I love him?"

::::

TO GRANTAIRE [2:12 PM]: I'm really sorry.

TO GRANTAIRE [3:58 PM]: I screwed up.

TO GRANTAIRE [4:31 PM]: I tried calling you. Please pick up

TO GRANTAIRE [5:09 PM] Grantaire please. I fucked up big time, okay?

TO GRANTAIRE [5:13 PM]: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it.

TO GRANTAIRE [6:00 PM]: Please respond R.

TO GRANTAIRE [10:02 PM]: I'm sorry. I made a huge mistake.

::::

Enjolras had been constantly texting Grantaire every day for almost a week now. He hadn't shown up to any of the Friends of the ABC meetings. He never missed a meeting so when he didn't show up, Enjolras was worried.

"It's okay. He'll come around soon," Combeferre told him as everyone filed out of the cafe after the meeting two days ago. "He loves you. Just give him some time."

Enjolras had gone to his inactive personal Facebook page and actually looked Grantaire from his friends and spent ten minutes going through his photos. He hadn't updated since last week.
Now Enjolras is pacing in his bedroom, clutching his phone and dialing someone he would prefer not to talk to. As soon as he put the phone to his ear, high pitched yelling hit him.

"Enjolras! Have you fucking apologized to R yet? Do you understand what you did to him? He's devastated! He's been in his apartment this entire fucking time and he hasn't come out once. He's probably gonna drink himself to death or he's gonna get depressed again like in fucking high school senior year. I can't believe you said all that to him. Have you even talked to him at all? God, you are so —."

"Eponine, he hasn't been picking up or texting me back."

"...What? Y-You too?"

"Have you been in contact with him?"

"No," Eponine says quietly. "No, I'm really worried about him."

"Ah, yes. Me too..."

"God, I hate to ask you for anything right now," Eponine spits out. "But if you hear anything from him, please tell me immediately."

"Yeah, if he calls you, tell me too."

"We'll see," Eponine says and hangs up.

Enjolras groans and throws his phone onto a pile of papers while downing the rest of his lukewarm coffee. What was he going to do?

::::

The scent of the multicolored flowers was getting to him. Fucking allergies.

Enjolras sneezes violently as he stands on front of Grantaire's tiny apartment holding a huge bouquet of colorful flowers (per Jehan's suggestion), a box of Grantaire's favorite chocolates and a new set of watercolor paints. He had grumbled when Jehan told him to bring flowers. Flowers were expensive and useless, but Enjolras remembered that Grantaire liked to paint flowers so he bought some (with money that could have been given to charity). Bahorel had driven him here, since his eyes were watering and he was sneezing every ten seconds, and is now waiting in the parking lot in case something goes wrong. Somehow managing to hold everything in one hand and arm, Enjolras knocks on Grantaire's door. And again. And again.

"Grantaire, c'mon. Please answer. I'm really sorry. I made a mistake. I miss you. I need you. I-I love you. Please R."

"You haven't said that in months..." Grantaire's voice says from inside. "You don't need me," he slurs quietly, finally coming to the door but not opening it. He's been drinking. A lot.

"Grantaire! Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"No you were right. I'm worthless and useless," he mumbles and takes a loud gulp of whatever alcohol he was holding.

Enjolras leans his forehead against the cheap door and bangs against it with his palm. "No, I wasn't Grantaire. I was completely wrong."

Grantaire laughs, but it's an angry, self demeaning laugh. "Oh yeah, because I'm less than useless. I'm a fucking parasite. I'm gonna end up hurting or killing you one day. You're withering away because of me."

"What? No, Grantaire. You made my life so much better. You make me really happy Grantaire, so please, come out."

There is a silence then he hears a thump and something clattering down on the ground from inside. He immediately stands straight up and yells, "Grantaire? Grantaire! What are you doing? Grantaire!" He slams his body against the door to no avail. "Grantaire!" When there's no response, Enjolras drops the gifts next to the door and leans over the railing.

"Bahorel!" He yells to Bahorel who's leaning against his car, smoking.

"What?" He yells back, in the process of relighting his cigarette that had gone out in the cold wind.

"Get your ass up here!" Enjolras shouts. Bahorel drops his cigarette and dashes up the stairs to where Enjolras is.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Enjolras says, panicking and digging his nails into his palm. "Just bust the fucking door open. Something's wrong with Grantaire."

Bahorel rams his body against the door once, and then again with more strength. The door flies open on the second time and Enjolras runs past Bahorel into the cramped apartment. He sees Grantaire and promptly screams his name as Bahorel starts

A bottle of vodka and its contents lay next to Grantaire and a knife beside it. Grantaire lays on his side in a pool of crimson liquid. Blood. His blood. Deep red ribbons wrap across his wrists and forearms. They continue onto his shirtless torso. Shaky words are etched onto his non-dominant arm.

W orthless

U seless

Apollo hates me

Enjolras runs to his side, still saying his name over and over. "Grantaire... Grantaire, wake up. Oh god, wake up! Please!" Enjolras vaguely registers that Bahorel has pulled out his phone and calling someone. Enjolras cradles Grantaire's bloody figure gently as he realizes that tears are rolling off his face.

"Okay," Bahorel starts shakily, gripping his phone tightly in his fist. "The ambulance is coming and I called 'Ferre and Courf. They'll be here soon."

The next few minutes are a blur to Enjolras. Combeferre and Courfeyrac somehow make it to Grantaire's apartment first, probably breaking a few laws and a lot of speed limits. The ambulance arrives quickly after that and the paramedics load Grantaire onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Enjolras refuses to leave and after some arguing, he rides with Grantaire to the hospital, holding his cold hand the entire way.

::::

Grantaire is enveloped in white. He can barely lift his aching head or his arms. He can't move his body at all. So this is death. It isn't as great as all those books and movies made it out to be. He is still in pain but it was kind of dulled and numb.

"Grantaire?"

Oh, is there an angel? The voice that said his name is heavenly. But Grantaire shouldn't be in heaven (not that he even believes in it). He deserves hell.

"No, Grantaire! It's me."

Someone or something leans over him and Grantaire sees a beautiful face with a halo of golden hair. Angelic blue orbs stare at him. The long blond lashes had diamonds hanging on them. Yup, its an angel. Or maybe a god? Now Grantaire notices a faint beeping in the background. Did things beep in death?

"Goddamn it Grantaire! Do you know how fucking worried I was? Why would you do that to yourself? You could've fucking died! You almost did fucking die!" Now the angel/god was yelling and pulling at him and other arms came to take him away.

"I'm sorry," Grantaire whispers, hoping the angel hears him.

::::

Enjolras is sobbing as Combeferre drags him away from Grantaire's bedside. He settles Enjolras into a cushy chair in the hallway next to where Jehan is huddled against Courfeyrac on the bench. Bahorel is pacing, crushing a hospital stress ball in his fist (which he been given after he almost punched through a wall). Feuilly is rolling an unlit cigarette in his fingers, having just run in from one of his many day jobs. Joly is arguing with the nurse about Grantaire's medical treatment while Bossuet is sitting against the wall after knocking over a potted plant. Eponine stands up from her seat on the ground to stand next to Combeferre, leaning lightly against him. Her arms are crossed tightly but she is shaking and her face is creased with worry.

"It's all my fault. It's all my fucking fault," Enjolras cries. Combeferre rests his hands on his best friend's shoulders.

"It's okay. Grantaire is okay. He's going to live. They'll take care of him. We'll take care of him."

"He almost died and all I can do is yell at him," Enjolras continues without listening to Combeferre. "And I'm the reason he almost died." Enjolras curls in on himself, his long blond hair laying on his knees.

"No, it's all our faults. We all knew that he had problems with alcohol and cutting. We should have been there for him, helped him out," Combeferre says regretfully.

"But I was the one who caused it," Enjolras mumbles, burying his face in his hands.

"Stop beating yourself up about this!" Eponine suddenly bursts out. "Okay, this is pretty much your fault, but this is getting pathetic. You're our fearless, strong leader aren't you? You need to stay strong for R. No matter how I disapprove sometimes, he loves you so much and I know you love him back just as much. You're good for him and you have to be strong for him, especially now."

Enjolras locks eyes with Eponine's blazing hazel ones and slowly nods and wiping the last of his tears away. He keeps the last sob in his throat. "You're right. I need to stop this and be there for Grantaire."

Eponine sighs and then grins smugly. "Of course I'm right."

::::

Flowers really bother him.

Enjolras once again stands in front of a door with an armful of flowers and a new sketchbook, but this time it's a blank white door and there are voices from inside. Courfeyrac's loud babbling was clearly distinguishable from Bahorel's rougher baritone.

Enjolras hesitantly knocks and steps back to wait. Bahorel opens the door while laughing, his grin fading into a more serious expression.

"Hey, Enjolras," he says. Courfeyrac sits up abruptly from the cushioned bench he was laying on and stares at Enjolras. He stands and pats Grantaire's back, then goes over to Bahorel.

"Hi Enj, Bahorel and I were just gonna leave," Courfeyrac says, pushing Bahorel out of the room. "Right Bahorel? We're gonna go hit on the hot nurses."

Bahorel immediately catches on and nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, so we'll see you later Enjolras."

"Uh, but —," Enjolras starts before the two of them leave quickly and struts down the hall. Enjolras swallows nervously and walks into the hospital room, closing the door gently behind him. He turns to face Grantaire. Grantaire is determinedly not looking at Enjolras. His arms and what is exposed of his torso are bandaged heavily. An IV is inserted into the little patch on his forearm that is not bandaged and monitors are beeping all around him. He has dark circles under his eyes and is grasping the thin sheets tightly.

"Hi," Enjolras says quietly.

Grantaire still has his gray eyes trained on the window. "Hi," he replies in a raspy voice.

"I got you some flowers," Enjolras continues, holding out the bouquet awkwardly. "And a new sketchbook and some pencils. I thought you might want to sketch or something." He places the gifts on the counter next to the bed.

"Thanks," Grantaire says, his eyes moving to the flowers, anywhere except Enjolras.

"Are you... Are you feeling alright?"

Grantaire scoffs. "Yeah, definitely. My throat's just falling apart from all the tubes stuck down it the past few days and the headaches and insomnia from going cold turkey. And when I do sleep I get fucking nightmares. And they think I'm trying to die just 'cause I'm not eating. So I'm feeling fucking peachy, thank you very much."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry," Enjolras says.

Grantaire's eyes finally land on Enjolras but they are blank. "Why are you apologizing? This is completely my fault so you shouldn't be the one saying sorry. It should be me. I'm taking up so much of everyone's time."

"Why did you do it?" Enjolras blurts out.

A crease appears between Grantaire's eyebrows from confusion. "Do what?"

"Cut yourself."

Grantaire's eyes seem to dim and he pulls back against the pillows. "I-I haven't, not since I met —. Not for a long time now, but why I started, that's a story for another time."

"But this time, why would you —."

"Look, can you stop pretending you care?" Grantaire snaps. "'Cause it just hurts me more. We've been doing this weird kinda a couple but not really thing for months now and I can tell that you're tired of it, so you don't have to pretend anymore just to make me feel better." His voice fades off and he closes his eyes. "It's better if you just leave. It was nice to play pretend for a while though."

Enjolras digs his nails into his palm. "Grantaire, it's not like that."

Grantaire is silent.

"This is my fault. I was always so cruel to you. You deserve so much better." Enjolras approaches Grantaire's bedside and gently strokes Grantaire's rough, painter hands. Grantaire's eyes open wide, with conflicting emotions. "And never told you how much I need you. And I love you, I really really love you Grantaire and I'm so sorry that I never told you. I love you, I love you so much. I can't make up for all the times I should have told you that but hopefully I'll have months or years in the future to make up for that because I love you so much."

Grantaire looks at Enjolras with complete adoration and surprise and Enjolras knows that he has never looked at Grantaire with that much love. When a tear rolls down his pale cheek, Enjolras leans in and embraces him gently. His left knee is awkwardly perched on the bed but when Grantaire's arm is rested on his back, he feels everything is okay.

"Oh shit, I'm crying," Grantaire sobs against Enjolras's shoulder.

And Enjolras realizes that he is crying too, but he laughs against Grantaire's ebony curls. "That's okay." He lifts his other leg onto the hospital bed and straddles Grantaire's thighs, keeping most of his weight on his knees. Before he knew, Enjolras's arms are wrapped around Grantaire's neck and his lips are crashing into the artist's. Grantaire smiles and Enjolras thinks that this might be all he ever needs.