3/10/13
Chapter 2 is here … enjoy :)
Chapter 2
"Julien Enjolras will you please report to the headmaster's office," the loud speaker announced and Enjolras groaned.
"Oooo what has perfect boy done now?" Courfeyrac teased; he ducked to avoid being swatted by Combeferre. Enjolras had only been at their meeting room for ten minutes and he was already being called away. He slammed the door in frustration before storming through the halls. It was probably another prefect duty that needed to be fulfilled; he hated this job but it allowed him to make changes. As he approached the office, Enjolras closed his eyes and calmed his breathing; it would not do to lose his temper in front of the boss. He knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open. He couldn't help roll his eyes and sigh at the boy slumped in the chair.
Grantaire, his new roommate, was slouched in the chair having a glaring contest with the grounds man who loitered behind Headmaster Javert. "Julien, sit down," Javert asked and Enjolras sunk into a chair. "Nicolas has been caught vandalising school property," Javert snarled at the rebel and Enjolras let out a sigh if despair. "And for that he must spend all his free periods helping Miss Nord in the Art Department and lunchtimes in detention for the next two months. I am relying on you to make sure he actually turns up to these punishments and keep him out of trouble," Javert explained and Enjolras reluctantly nodded before they were both dismissed. As soon as the door shut Enjolras flipped.
"What the hell did you do?" he exclaimed furiously. "I was gone for quarter of an hour and you got yourself caught vandalising!" he continued to shout.
"I was making a statement," Grantaire shrugged, pulling out a cigarette. Enjolras quickly swatted it to the floor with a growl.
"Don't smoke!" he shouted in exasperation. "What sort of statement?" Enjolras asked, partially to know what he was dealing with but mostly as he loved people making statements.
"Well," he mumbled but was hurried along by a glare from Enjolras. "I carved a seat out of a tree with a chainsaw and sat in it," Grantaire chuckled and full out laughed at Enjolras' jaw dropping open.
"I don't want to know how you managed that," Enjolras sighed shaking his head and Grantaire smirked.
Grantaire followed Enjolras; he didn't think it was the best idea to do something stupid but witty so soon after being caught. Enjolras stormed ahead lost in a world of his own, muttering under his breath obviously about Grantaire. They arrived at a little on campus café and Enjolras ushered him in. "You will sit there, you will say nothing. Do not do anything stupid!" Enjolras hissed sternly, pointing to a table in the corner. Grantaire shrugged sitting down and pulling out his ever faithful sketch pad. He could hear Enjolras and his friends talking about the new delinquent on the block but nothing like that bothered him anymore, it was like water off a birds wings. His art was all that mattered anymore, his art and Jean Henri. So he drew; he just sat there tuning out the conversation and drew whatever came to mind. He saw Enjolras talking with his eyes blazing like wild forest fires; and that was what was formed on the page in front of him. Enjolras' passion flowed through his pencil and spread all over the page in an every growing scene.
He didn't notice all the figures stop talking at the noise of his almost frantic pencil. The page was his world, his colouring pencils were spread all over the table and colour just made it more real. He only broke out of his daze when a hand rested on his shoulder. He snapped awake and covered the picture instantly. "Nicolas, what you drawing?" Jehan asked with a smile, leaning over Grantaire's shoulder.
"It's none of your business!" he shouted, knocking the one he knew was Jehan's hand off his shoulder. He leapt to his feet in a rage; his art was his sanctuary and no one was to disturb that little piece of him no one had ruined. And it was his secret; his foster parents hated it. They said it was a hobby not worth pursuing and he should spend his time academically. His teachers hated his obsessions with the colours, also saying that he should improve academically instead of useless pursuits. But no one would steal this one thing from him.
He gathered up his sketchbook but sheets fluttered to the floor in a whirlwind. He had had that book for five years and it was falling to pieces at the seams. The pages were falling out and he was running out of pages but his foster parents wouldn't give him pocket money anymore and he had no money of his own. He dived to pick them up but others beat him to it. They slowly picked up pages and gawped at his work. Grantaire panicked picking them all up and pulling them out of everyone's hands and shoving them in the book as quickly as he could. Enjolras was the one left with a sheet; it was his drawing of the whole Musain, the one that started this problem. He was staring at it inquisitively and Grantaire instantly felt self-conscious over his work. He snatched it out of Enjolras' thin spindly fingers and slapped Enjolras smack across the face. Enjolras' automatically went to his cheek and he stared shocked at the fuming smaller student. His knuckles were white as he was clenching his precious book so tight. "Never look at my work!" He screamed at the bemused Enjolras. Grantaire found himself shaking and turned to hurry out if the Musain. "R! Wait!" Jehan shouted grabbing Grantaire's shoulder. With one effortless movement, Jehan was sprawled on the floor and the door was swinging in Grantaire's wake. Everyone stood silently, trying to comprehend what had just happened. It took a minute or so before Enjolras jumped back to action chasing after Grantaire.
"Nicolas! Wait!" Enjolras shouted chasing after the retreating figure. Grantaire stopped and spun around angrily.
"F**k off Enjolras!" Grantaire shouted with his eyes raging like a fierce storm. Enjolras froze once again; he had never heard or seen Grantaire anything like this. This was the kind of behaviour that could get you expelled.
"I don't get what was so wrong?" Enjolras defended himself, his temper rising along with Grantaire's.
"No one looks at my art without permission," Grantaire snarled, walking off once again.
"But it's wonderful!" Enjolras exclaimed but Grantaire was disappearing into the fog. "I'm supposed to be keeping both eyes on you!" He screamed again and just received a finger up in response.
Later that night Enjolras returned to find Grantaire fast asleep, curled around his sketch book and a flask. Enjolras rolled his eyes and collapsed onto his bed, facing the wall. A piece on paper crumbled underneath his body; Enjolras grumbled to himself about Grantaire's messiness. It was a singular sheet of paper with only an arrow pointing upwards drawn on it. Enjolras slowly looked up and gasped. The whole of the previously white ceiling was painted like a perfect night's sky. Not a star nor speck was out of place; Enjolras loved it and found himself grinning like a mad man. He had never been a man for the arts; he loved music and could sing but it was never really his thing. But this was beauty. Enjolras fell asleep staring at the stars with a calm smile on his face as his eyes fluttered closed.
The next morning, Enjolras woke up to find Grantaire hanging from the thankfully study light fitting as he edited his night's sky mural. Enjolras sighed and shook his head as he sat up. "You break it, you pay for it," Enjolras grumbled and received no response from the dangling drunkard. "And no alcohol on campus," he added after a thought as he walked into the bathroom. Still no response from his new roommate. Enjolras quickly showered and got ready for that day at school; silently praying it was be less eventful than the previous one. He deserved a medal that Grantaire hadn't blown up the school yet. When he left the bathroom, Grantaire was half-heartedly brushing through his unruly brown locks in an attempt to at least look respectable. Enjolras did have to admit that the other man did look quite fetching in not paint-stained clothes. He had attempted to smarten up for his first real day at school but Enjolras could tell that all his clothes were tatty hand me downs especially when compared to Enjolras' smart yet casual look. Enjolras looked between the ceiling and Grantaire; the artist and with art.
"Why do you not want anyone to look at your art?" Enjolras blurted out after a long drawn out silence. Grantaire sighed and his head drooped slightly.
"It is barely worth pursuing as a hobby," he sighed with a shrug and Enjolras frowned with confusion.
"My foster parents hate it. They say that art and music are worthless and I should work on academic pursuits instead of worthless frivolities. If I ever showed anyone my work then I would be grounded and have all my supplies and pieces taken away. It is a default reaction now," he explained and Enjolras nodded. Inside he was fuming; no one deserves to be treated like that. No matter what they have done, that should not be happening.
"What have you got first?" Enjolras asked Grantaire, mostly to make some form of less awkward conversation.
"Business, Economics and Politics," Grantaire read on his timetable and Enjolras smiled slightly.
"You're with me, I'll show you the way," he stated and Grantaire smiled.
"Thanks, Apollo," he muttered and Enjolras frowned.
"Apollo?" he questioned but the door was already swinging in Grantaire's wake.