Chapter 4 – Aftershocks
"'Taire!"
The end of Gavroche's muffled shout reached Grantaire in a brief rest between songs.
"Petit homme!" By way of greeting the artist took his charcoal smeared hands and pressed them against the boy's cheeks. "Where's you sister?" He asked, removing his headphones.
"Talking to Enjolras" He answered innocently. Dumping the contents of his school sack on the worn wood, Gavroche tossed through the pile of rubbish, books and dog-eared papers.
Grantaire swallowed thickly. Even his instincts were conflicted. His heart hammered and thoughts tripped over themselves trying to be heard in the cacophony.
What was he doing here?
Fuck. Could use a shower.
'Ponine's gonna kill him.
Turpentine isn't sexy.
What's wrong with me?
No more. Not after last time.
"Enough." He whispered to himself and shifted his attention to the boy. "Shit. 'Roche, what are you doing? Christ, it's way past your bedtime."
Scrunching up his nose the boy stood up. "You're not 'Ponine."
Crossing his arms Grantaire sighed. "Half a program of Doctor Who on the couch and one of Cosette's cookies IF you manage to brush your teeth and change in the next 5 minutes."
After a pause, Gavroche spit in his hand and offered it to Grantaire. "Deal."
"Off with you" he grinned "Oy, finish with your school crap! If 'Ponine trips over it we're both dead."
Le petit homme dutifully crammed papers and books into his dilapidated sack and Grantaire rummaged through the fridge. After settling on cereal (without milk, since a taste test proved it to be spoiled), a strange scratching drew his attention to the door.
Though he gave a halfhearted attempt to ignore it, Grantaire had developed a soft spot for the neighborhood brothel's cat. Every few days, the poor animal wandered the neighborhood looking for a scrap or two.
"Come on then." He relented, undoing the puzzle of locks.
The door opened and Grantaire found himself on his knees. "E-Eponine?"
Every inch of her was shaking. Her eyes were dark and leaked tears.
"I promise…please stop." She mumbled, wringing her hands.
Rubbing his forehead, Grantaire slowly reached for her.
This was their dance. Most people around their age were students. Happily living off of their bourgeoisie parents' money. Partying whenever they wanted. They had custody of an 11-year old kid. They barely made rent every month. They dealt with nightmares of past lives that they could never really awaken from.
"Ep, please. It's me. Grantaire." With all the grace of using a calligraphy pen, he lifted her chin. Although she jumped away Grantaire continued "You are safe 'Ponine. I promise. We are safe now."
A shake of her head was barely discernable among the spasms that made her vibrate.
"Grantraire. 'Taire I don't wanna do this anymore. Please."
"I know Ep. I know. Here." He offered, leaning forward to gather her in his arms.
Hushed voices rose in volume as Eponine absently stretched. The peace she felt quickly turned to panic as she bolted upright. The mattress under her was uncovered and she was tangled in an old quilt pinched from a street fair last summer. Grantaire's room. Fingering dried paint on the floor, Eponine attempted to piece together the last few minutes or hours? Damn.
A quick search of her person revealed her phone, which informed her that it was a quarter after midnight. There were 2 texts from Courfrayac, both cryptic. Her head was spinning and Cosette in all of her psychology major wisdom would say that she was probably still dissociating. The blonde with her large doe eyes would also touch her arm and tell her to process everything. Ugh. Yanking on a pair of her roommate's socks Eponine pulled on the loose knob and stood in the doorway.
"'Ponine!" a little voice cried, followed by the sound of bare feet running towards her.
"Hey baby." She smiled, pulling her sibling into a hug. "What are you doing up?"
"Worried 'bout you." He frowned.
"No need to worry bug, I'm fine." Forcing a laugh she released him to do a quick turn. "See?"
Shaking his head, Gavroche looked at his sister. "You looked like Mom, and you couldn't talk right."
Biting her lip, Eponine caught Grantaire's eye across the room.
Shifting her attention back to the boy, she knelt down. "Tell you what, why don't you take Quincy tonight? I think he's getting tired of me."
"Alright." He nodded slowly.
"Night Grantaire, night 'Ponine." The boy yawned, dragging a bedraggled old teddy bear off to his corner of the room he usually shared with his sister.
"Love you 'Roche, good night."
"Night petit homme" Grantaire echoed softly.
Once the shoddy door shut Eponine folded her arms and moved to the kitchen where Grantaire was dumping the remnants of a cookie into the trash.
"You know, I thought you were are a cat with all of that scratching."
Quickly Eponine examined her arms before turning to her closest friend.
"Did I…I hurt you?"
"No, no." Replacing the lid, he wiped his hands on his shirt. "You scratched at the front door, and I thought you were the ladies' cat."
Laughing, she tried to pull at her ponytail surprised to find her hair neatly plaited with hints of crushed flowers along its' length.
"Shit. What happened?" As she undid the braid, Grantaire added his story to the clues Eponine had gathered. Her neatly braided hair. The texts from Courfrayac.
"Shouldn't this only happen with hangovers…you know after some fun was had?" She exhaled settling against Grantaire on the sofa.
"We'll get there Ep." He sighed, nibbling on a pen cap. "What's the last thing you remember before the Courfrayac-classroom-incident?"
He walked in. Enjolras' presentation was about the aid trip he and Les Amis had been organizing. They needed funding for supplies and were appealing to the University for sponsors. He was there. Montparnasse. How long had it been?
"Ep?"
His twisted grin in the ill lighting. Leaning over her, Eponine felt his erection through the grimy fabric. His hands were vices and pinned her beneath him again.
"Breath love. Please, Eponine."
Her body betrayed her. His breath hot and thick, against her ear. "Now I know how much you love our time together." With a laugh, he spilled out in her hair and face.
Gagging. Cool hands brushed her neck. The stench of bleach and urine filled her nose and the dingy bathroom spun around her.
"Welcome back." Grantaire said motherly. In low tones, he started to hum.
Closing her eyes, Eponine leaned against the ancient tub and fought to breath normally. After a flush, she felt Grantaire's body beside her. As the minutes passed, Eponine slipped her hand into his, and he let his head rest against her shoulder.
Eventually Eponine's breathing evened and Grantaire carried her to his mattress. Gavroche didn't need to witness the aftershocks of his sister's flashbacks.
He thanked God that at the time, the boy didn't understand who and what Thenardiar sold in the backrooms of 'The Family Inn". As a foster kid, Grantaire was told that he needed to contribute, since the allotment that came monthly from the state was not enough. He settled on the mattress, keeping himself as close to 'Ponine as possible without touching her.
Survival. It was why he worked three shit jobs. He made a promise. It was easier than caring. Who had time for frivolities like consistently hot water and God forbid lust?
Even so. As he fell asleep, the glow of Grantaire's phone betrayed a vice. His thumb settled on a text and an index finger traced the letters of a man's name.