A/N: Trigger Warning! Self harm and body image problems - don't read this chapter if you are sensitive to that stuff! Also, I'm sorry if you don't think my portrayal of depression or self harm are accurate. I'm running on my personal experiences and they may differ from yours.
Grantaire was completely content in Enjolras' arms And he fell asleep quickly. His dreams were full of demons of his past and present. The reasons for his depression became more apparent and he relived the many painful meetings where Enjolras had shot him disapproving looks and yelled at him in anger. Grantaire woke up and stood up without pausing to look at Enjolras' sleeping figure as he usually did. He slipped on his discarded clothes from the day before and went to the fridge to grab a beer.
Grantaire finished the beer quickly and looked around the apartment. Enjolras was still lying naked on the couch in blissfully unaware sleep. Grantaire always envied the blond, but especially now. Enjolras had told him he loved him, but Grantaire was still having a hard time accepting it. How could someone as amazing as Enjolras love a depressed, ugly, and cynical drunk? The thought that Enjolras probably didn't really love him made Grantaire's chest grow heavy and his stomach drop. He opened the fridge again to search for more beer, but there was none. All the wine was gone too. He checked the cupboards and they were also empty.
"Look at you, you can't even remember to go shopping!" Grantaire cursed quietly as his troubled thoughts grew. He went into the bathroom and looked at the mirror as he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. His eyes still looked a bit bloodshot and his skin was clammy. He had started to gain a bit of weight, probably since he hadn't gone to the gym in a few days and with the excessive amount of alcohol he had consumed, he was a little flabby.
Normally, Grantaire wouldn't care much about his appearance, but since Enjolras was so beautiful, it made Grantaire feel more worthless to realize that he was out of shape. Enjolras was slender and tall, clean-shaven with lean muscles and a beautifully sculpted face. Grantaire was a stronger build, a bit shorter, hairy (especially recently), and had a larger nose and bushy eyebrows that probably looked stupid. On top of that, he had grown flabby and heroin hadn't helped his complexion or his dead-looking eyes.
"You're so ugly, it's no wonder Enjolras left you." Grantaire muttered. It wasn't completely true of course. Technically, Grantaire had left Enjolras. That being said, Enjolras had sort of implied that he wanted the drunk to leave.
By this point, Grantaire had gone from an unpleasant after-dream state to self-loathing and he felt darkness enclosing around his mind and heart. He felt a desperate need to escape because Enjolras would leave him again. He knew it.
Grantaire needed alcohol, but they were out, so he sought relief from the only other thing on hand. A knife. He searched the cupboards of the bathroom sink until he found a small pocket-knife that he kept for emergencies like these. Sure, cutting wasn't a great option, but neither was alcohol if Grantaire was honest with himself. He turned the blade over in his hand and traced his arm lightly with it, without making a scratch. He felt the desperation build up inside of him and finally, he took his shirt off and made a quick small cut in his upper-arm. He winced and felt a sick pleasure in the pain. He did it again. Blood trailed down his arm and he grabbed some toilet-paper to stop the bleeding.
The door opened with a small squeak.
"I was wondering where you-" Enjolras's voice cut off and Grantaire suspected the blond had seen what the cynic was doing to himself.
"I forgot to lock the door I guess." Grantaire muttered darkly and averted his eyes. There was a pause before arms wrapped around him and a hand took hold of the knife's handle.
"Give me the knife." Enjolras requested.
"I need it. You don't understand, but I need this. It helps me cope." Grantaire tried to explain. "It gives me a way to release all the negative emotions that build up."
"What happened? You were happy last night." Enjolras asked without removing his hand.
"You don't understand depression, do you? Sometimes I'm fine, sometimes I'm not. There isn't always really a reason. It just kind of happens. Anything can set me off."
"What was it today?" his blond boyfriend asked and looked at the cuts.
"I had a dream."
"About what?"
Grantaire darkened and tried to move his arm away so he could cut again.
"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to finish what I was doing so I can move on."
"How will that help? Isn't there anything I can do to take your mind off of it?" Enjolras asked.
"Probably, but...why would you want to? I'm ugly." Grantaire said quietly and brought the knife to his thigh.
"Why would you say that?" Enjolras asked another question. Grantaire snorted.
"Don't pretend you haven't noticed."
"Noticed what?" Enjolras frowned. Grantaire rolled his eyes. There was no way Enjolras didn't notice, was there?
"Well, look at me!"
Enjolras looked at Grantaire blankly.
"I've gained weight. And I'm so hairy and gross. My nose is too big." Grantaire explained with a sigh. Lips were pressed to Grantaire's neck and Grantaire wanted to enjoy it, but he couldn't.
"You aren't ugly, Grantaire." Enjolras' breath tickled the cynic's neck. "Do you want to have sex again? Will that help convince you?"
"I don't know," Grantaire admitted. "I don't think it will help. I...Im not sure you mean it. I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm such a terrible boyfriend! I don't know why you started going out with me!" He stood up and cut his arm again as tears gathered in his brown eyes. He cut a few more times and carved the word, "worthless" on his skin.
"Grantaire," Enjolras said and grabbed the drunk's arm. "Give me the knife."
"I need the p-"
"let me cut you instead." Enjolras interrupted. Grantaire looked at his boyfriend with wide eyes.
"Wait, what?" He asked. "You want to cut me?"
"No, but if you insist on doing it anyway, then I'll do it." Enjolras explained. Grantaire shrugged and handed Enjolras the blood-stained knife. Enjolras paused and glanced at Grantaire's face, but finally placed the knife a little lower on Grantaire's arm. Grantaire felt the familiar pain and winced but enjoyed it. It came many times more and Grantaire felt tears trail down his cheeks after a few times.
After a while, Enjolras stopped and knelt by the cupboard to search for the first-aid kit. Grantaire watched his boyfriend and admired the way the blond's body curved just right.
Grantaire glanced at his own arm and saw a bunch of blood. Enjolras dabbed disinfectant on it and Grantaire gasped and grimaced in pain, but found twisted pleasure in that too. Enjolras cleaned the blood off and Grantaire thought he could see the word, "strong" and another two words, "cared for"
Grantaire felt a lump form in his throat and he started to cry. Enjolras bandaged his arm and wrapped arms around the drunk as Grantaire clung to him. Grantaire fell to his knees crying with on hand on his boyfriend's hip and the other clutching the blond's hand.
Enjolras placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed his hand gently.
"I love you, but I'm not worthy of your love." Grantaire sobbed and clung to Enjolras' body like a sinner begging for mercy from a saint. Enjolras knelt in front of a Grantaire.
"You don't need to be." And the blond kissed him.