Hello again, darlings! I have… (drum roll please) AN ANNOUNCMENT. This is NOT a prequel to More Broken anymore, because it would kill me if I didn't make E/R canon in this story. Oh well, things change. More Broken was supposed to be completely different too. (Don't kill me) :D

Also, school starts tomorrow, so I probably won't update much. I will try, though.

The funniest answer to the last question of the chapter: What Would You Change About Les Mis goes to Smiles1998. She said: Save the Les Amis and add a magical bunny named Corn Chip to the story.

Love ya all!

As if on cue, the rain started right as Grantaire stepped inside the movie theatre. Jehan wasn't so lucky, as he'd stayed outside a moment too long to examine a plastic Dalek in a shop window. Grantaire laughed when he heard a shriek, and Jean was running inside, looking amused and angry at the same time, as if that was at all possible. Joly was standing by the ticket counter, and so Grantaire waved him over.

"Do you need to get tickets?" asked Joly, staring bemusedly at the sudden rainstorm.

"Yeah," chorused the two boys. It seemed they were the first to the cinema, and the line was short. Even so, it was not until they had gotten tickets, food, drinks, and seats that Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly walked in. They gratefully took seats beside everyone, shaking out their wet things. It appeared to still be raining.

Finally, the theatre door opened and in walked the rest of the Amis, not a moment too soon. In fact, nearly as soon as Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had spotted them and started walking, the lights dimmed and previews started. That made Grantaire angry, because he hadn't gotten a long enough look at Enjolras. The blonde had been soaking wet, and yet his hair, devilishly, was still in place and he still looked stupidly beautiful. He supposed it was for the better that he couldn't see Enjolras, though, for when the blonde took the only open seat left in their row (beside Grantaire, of course) he could practically feel the loathing radiating from the person beside him. Grantaire pretended not to be offended and then finally gave up on the feeble protest and concentrated on the movie.

It was a good movie, as zombie flicks go. It was all filmed in first person, as if you were the person running and hiding and watching people die. Grantaire thought it all very clever, and very interesting. And since the movie was in surround sound, you were practically immersed in a post-apocalyptic world. At one point in the movie, a stick cracked to the camera's right and every head swiveled to the right of the theatre, including Grantaire's. He caught a swift glance of Enjolras's face, and dear god, he actually looked scared. He thought it a trick of the light and his probably desire-laced brain, but no, he looked again and Enjolras was still there, looking very real, and very vulnerable. Grantaire wanted to take the blonde's hand, but he banished the urge to the very recesses of his brain and took a very necessary swig of Coke instead.

Near the climax, the main character was hiding in a barn surrounded by zombies. All of his friends had been killed, or turned, or eaten, and the protagonist was scared. Grantaire did a slow turn to Enjolras, and the angel looked absolutely terrified. The one thing this savage Antinous is afraid of, and its zombies, Grantaire thought. Enjolras turned, just briefly, to meet Grantaire's eyes, and R offered up a little smile, sort of like a "hey, I'm here if you need me, dollophead."

He was fully prepared for the icy glare and the cold shoulder, steeling himself for the inevitable, in fact. But it didn't come. Enjolras was still frowning at him, as usual, but his eyes betrayed a bit of something that might have been soft gratitude. But Grantaire wasn't sure, because Enjolras suddenly turned away, back to the movie, and the moment was gone. That is, it you could call it a moment, (Grantaire wasn't really sure you could.)

The protagonist died, ripped apart by zombies, and yet, R noticed, Enjolras looked a bit less fearful than he had.

Afterward, the rain had abated a bit, but it was still drizzling. Most people trickled out in cars and bikes. Enjolras stayed behind, kicking at a puddle with the tip of one red high-top. To be honest, Grantaire had meant to leave, his bike just wasn't coming unlocked, and it was wet, and okay, okay, he didn't want to leave until he knew Enjolras had left safely.

"Why aren't you going home?" he asked, finally, when he had finally gotten his bike unlocked.

"I don't want to walk home in this," Enjolras groused. "It's wet." He sounded very much like a cat that had just fallen into a puddle.

"Oh, and is your precious hair going to get wet?" Grantaire asked sarcastically. Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"Where do you live?" Grantaire asked.

"Rue De'lAbbe," came the reply. Grantaire smiled wolfishly. "Want a ride?"

"You don't have a car," pointed out Enjolras, tucking one golden curl neatly behind his ear.

"Get on the handlebars," laughed Grantaire. "Unless you want to risk getting your precious shiny shoes wet,"

"Why should I?"

"It's not far. I'll avoid the worst of the puddles."

There was a loud sigh from the angel beside him, but he climbed on the handlebars of Grantaire's old bike anyway. Grantaire climbed on and rang the bell. Enjolras rolled his eyes. "What? Is this a no-fun zone?"

There was no reply, so Grantaire just merrily whizzed off down the street. He tried to slow down on the hill, but Enjolras's hair whipping in his face made it hard to see. Soon, an announcement from Enjolras made him turn down a large, well-paved street. It was filled with huge houses, with gates and fences and gardens and servant's quarters. The home of the rich and powerful, and Grantaire usually hated them.

Not this one, though, he mused, as the blonde haired boy climbed off his bike. He wasn't smiling, of course he wasn't, but he nodded at Grantaire. "Thanks," he said. "I owe you one." Grantaire smiled, laughing. Enjolras scowled. "Don't laugh. Your breath smells like brandy."

Grantaire grinned wickedly, but his heart didn't seem to be invested at the moment. Just when he thought that Enjolras was warming up to him, he had to go and do something stupid like laugh! It seemed that the angel was impossible to please.

Suddenly, he loathed the rich.

Without another word, Grantaire took off on his bike, ready to be off of the street and back in his own home where he could drink and paint. It was better that way. He rode so fast that his dark green beanie, his favorite, flew off his head and landed on the street. He didn't even notice.

Someone did, though.

The angel, watching Grantaire go, wondered why God had seen fit to place such a terribly despicable and yet utterly intriguing boy on the earth. Enjolras hated him. And yet he couldn't stop wondering about him.

There was a scrap of green fabric, lying on the street, and without even realizing what he was doing, Enjolras had strode straight through the largest puddle on the street, soaking his "precious Chucks" and grabbing it.

Curiouser and curiouser.

QotC: You have been told by Enjolras to tell Marius that he needs to stop stalking a girl he's never met. How do you break this news to Marius? (Funniest gets a shoutout next chapter.)

Love ya!

-CM