Hey everyone! Yeah, that took forever to update. Sorry…
Anyways, hope you all had a great Barricade Day. I went to school dressed as Enjolras. (Yes, I am a girl, and yes, I was stared at.)
Obviously, I don't own the characters.
Presently, he looks up at me and I can clearly see the confusion in his dark eyes. "Apollo?" he slurs, the word almost unrecognizable. "What're you doing?"
"Making sure you didn't crack your thick skull open when you fell," I answer coldly. "There might be awkward questions if you turn up dead in your corner tomorrow morning."
"Thanks for the sympathy."
"I have no sympathy for the likes of you."
He looks away, his face hidden behind his tangled brown hair, but I believe I saw tears glistening in his eyes before they vanished from sight. "M'sorry," he mumbles, the words slurring even more than a few moments ago. "I'm pathetic, I know, and to a god like you I must be intolerable. I don't blame you for hating me…I'd hate me…"
"Shut up, winecask," I snap, loathing myself. "I'm in no mood to hear your drunken nonsense."
We stay there on the floor in silence for several minutes before I stand and march back to my table. I sit down and pretend to keep writing, but all I can really do is listen to the sound of Grantaire's quiet sniffling and hold myself back from rushing to his side once more. With each passing minute, I feel that I have lived another year. After a decade of this, Grantaire begins to make loud heaving noises. I turn slightly toward him, not enough so that I appear to be watching him, but in a way that I can see him out of the corner of my eye.
He has managed to drag himself onto all fours and is now shakily maintaining the position, his shoulders lurching violently. The most forceful of these motions finally yields results; Grantaire lets his head fall forward and empties at least one bottle of wine from his stomach.
I walk toward him slowly, each step carefully measured so as not to seem too fast or too slow. "Winecask," I say, hovering over him, "you are disgraceful. Now get a grip on yourself, get up, clean this mess, and leave."
I don't know what I expected him to do. Perhaps I thought he would obey or make some obnoxious comment typical of himself or not respond at all or…not this. He's looking at me, just looking at me like I've stabbed him. There are chunks of his dinner in his hair and his eyes are swimming with sorrow. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then shuts it. His entire face crumples and he bursts into tears. After a moment, he sits back on his haunches and buries his face in his hands.
"I'm s-sorry, Apollo…I am disgraceful, I know it….I'm useless…I shouldn't even waste your time by coming here…but I don't have anywhere else to go and…and I like it here…I like hearing your speeches, Apollo…Do you think it can really come true?...Do you think we could win?...I don't deserve to be a part of your efforts…I don't deserve to live in the world you want to create…"
He has fallen into a heap on the floor, his face lying on the rough boards, partially in his own vomit. I believe he is still speaking, but no words are distinguishable through his sobs.
I can no longer play this cruel game of disapproval and scathing dislike. Grantaire is begging me to reach out to him, something I would have done years ago, had I not been afraid that showing emotion would make me appear a weaker leader. Now is the time, for his sake, and to hell with what's best for me. To hell with what's best for France!
Sitting down on the floor, I reach my hand out and gently touch Grantaire's trembling shoulder. "Hush. Pull yourself together, Grantaire. You're acting childish." Gods! Why can't I just be kind to the man? I try again.
"We don't want you to leave, Grantaire. We need all the men we can get. You just have to get your infernal drinking under control."
Apparently, I've come closer to saying the right thing, for he looks up at me, tears still pouring down his ugly face. "'We.' I don't want the group to accept me Apollo. I don't care what they think. I only want you to consider me a worthy human being…It's all I've ever wanted."
Dammit! How do I answer that? I can't tell him how I feel. I can't tell him that I…no. I mustn't even think that. It's revolting. He's only a friend, and barely that. He's…he's…Dammit!
"Shut up, Winecask." He turns away again and resumes his crying. I didn't mean to say that. Gods, why can I do nothing but hurt this man?
"Grantaire, please," I begin again, sighing loudly. I grab his shoulders and force him to face me. "I'm sorry."
He looks stunned. "You are? You're…sorry? Does that mean you don't hate me?"
"Of course I don't hate you, Grantaire. You're just irritating."
He smiles weakly. "I know. That's why no one likes me."
This is it. This may be the best chance I get to tear down this wall I've built between us. I must speak. "I like you, Grantaire. I like you very much. What I dislike is your disrespect for yourself and unwillingness to hope for a better future."
"Hoping is opening yourself up for disappointment."
I have no answer for that, so I remain silent, but continue to hold his shoulders. After several minutes, exhaustion and inebriation cause Grantaire to slump forward and rest his head against my chest. I let my arms snake their way around his back, holding him to me gently. His breathing has slowed and returned to a steady pace. I think he may have fallen asleep.
There will be at least one more chapter, so give me abut two weeks to have this thing finished. Thanks for reading!
Oh, and PLEASE REVIEW!
Emilie Rose
