Grantaire sat on the couch, a bottle of liquor once again held loosely in his hand. He was watching the news. He never quite understood why he liked it so much, seeing as he could never believe any of the bullshit he saw, but sometimes he liked to think that it was so he could see and remotely participate in things he could never be a part of.

"Twenty-three year old college student Enjolras Acord is still missing," Grantaire heard the reporter say. He jerked up and rushed downstairs where Enjolras was staring blankly at the wall opposite him. Grantaire grabbed handcuffs from a corner and fastened them around the blonde's wrists then released the chains binding him.

"Wha- What are you doing?" Enjolras asked, fear clouding his voice, but a small bit of hope seeping through.

"I want you to see something," Grantaire huffed as he dragged his victim up the stairs.

Enjolras blinked at the amount of light Grantaire allowed in his house (no one loves the light like a blind man). He staggered along with Grantaire and coughed at the amount of empty bottles littering the living room, remember the last time Grantaire was drunk. He briefly noted that the news was playing before Grantaire dragged him down onto the couch, maintaining a firm grip on his wrists. Grantaire turned up the TV where the report was showing.

"Enjolras was taken around midnight from his college campus four days ago on his way home from work. A note was left at the crime scene reading, 'Bonsoir, mon ami,' and signed from the Skoll Murderer."

"So it was you. I guessed as much," Enjolras said under his breath.

"Knew you were a smart one," Grantaire said, taking a drink of liquor.

"We do not know if Enjolras is still alive." The report cut to the view of a man with light brown hair and glasses crying silently on a couch.

"Combeferre…" Enjolras whispered, his face twisting in despair.

"I don't know if you've already killed him," Combeferre said, eyes down, "I don't know what you're doing to him or what you have planned for him, but please," he glanced up to look at the camera, "please if he's still alive, let him go. He has so much ahead of him. He makes a difference in peoples lives," pictures of Enjolras at protests, passionately orating flashed on screen, "He's going to change the world, I know it. I don't know why you're doing this, whoever you are. I don't know why you picked Enjolras, but please, show mercy. We can find you help for whatever you're suffering." (There is no cure, except death). "Please, we just want him back."

Grantaire turned to look at Enjolras and saw a single tear running down his face. He raised his hand and wiped it off with his thumb. He let his hand rest against Enjolras' cheekbone, they were hollow from four days of captivity and had large clotted lines from abuse. Enjolras didn't move at the touch, Grantaire doubted he even noticed it, he simply stared at the TV, his eyes dead for the first time since his capture.

"You're beautiful, you know," Grantaire said, "when you're fighting for something you believe in." Images of Enjolras at his protests flashed before his eyes.

"Thank you," Enjolras said thickly, blinking back more tears.

Grantaire handed him the bottle of whiskey. Enjolras accepted it greedily and gulped down a large amount before shakily handing it back. Grantaire slowly nodded and took a swallow himself. "Who was he?" Grantaire asked quietly.

"Combeferre. He's my- He's my second-in-command, if you will," Enjolras said with a sad smile. "He helped me organize every single one of my protests. We've been best friends since were five."

Grantaire nodded again before he stood and held a hand out for Enjolras to support himself on before shakily standing. He led the blonde back down to the basement. He chained him up again, and Enjolras put up no protest. Grantaire laid a tender hand over Enjolras' after he was done. He walked solemnly up the stairs and turned off the light. Before he could shut the door he heard Enjolras meekly say, "Why did you show me that?"

Although he could not see him, Grantaire knew Enjolras was looking up at him. "Because I wanted you to have a chance to say goodbye."

Grantaire turned and shut the door softly.

Notes:

Edit: So I have been informed through comments, that the Les Amis all go by their last names. I always had my suspicions of this (but was always too lazy to confirm), but I also have always felt as though going by your last name was a very odd thing to do in a modern relationship such as the ones I'm (and others) are trying to portray in modern AUs, so I decide to simply make their last names their first names and rechristen them with a new last name.

Because no last name was ever given to Enjolras, I took the liberty and deemed him Acord which means "bold edge." I felt it fitting.

I have the headcannon that Combeferre is secretly in love with Enjolras. I'm probably the biggest unrequited Combeferre/Enjolras shipper out there.

The quote "No one loves the light like a blind man" was taken straight from the brick and the quote "There is no cure, except death" was taken from a letter David Berkowitz (AKA The Son of Sam) sent to the police before he was apprehended.