"'Taire, wake up."

The dark-haired man grumbled something and buried further into the sofa, clearly still fast asleep. Enjolras was about to shake his shoulder when he moved again, rolling over slightly. Grantaire's arm fell off the sofa, fingers trailing along the carpet, the scars on his wrists suddenly startlingly clear for Enjolras to see. The blonde drew in a deep breath, crouching and brushing his thumb gently over the marks, wondering how old they were and the story and meaning behind them. "Oh 'Taire," he whispered softly, wishing he could go back and change the way things were, anything to try and prevent his friend from hurting. Sighing, he rocked back onto his heels, watching the other man for a moment before speaking again.

"Grantaire, you need to wake up."

A snore was his only reply, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, wondering if anything was going to wake the older man. He glanced over at the clock. If he didn't leave in ten minutes, the meeting was going to be missed, but he didn't want to just go without a goodbye, even though he'd be back within a couple of hours.

"'Taire, will you please wake up!"

"Wha'?" Grantaire mumbled, falling off the sofa as he woke, Enjolras's impatient tone finally doing the trick. He blinked blearily up at the blonde. "Wha' time is it?"

"Seven, but I didn't want to just leave." Enjolras hesitated, almost mentioning the scars but deciding instead to stick on a safer topic until Grantaire was fully awake. "There's coffee in the cupboard next to the kettle but I doubt there's actually food there right now. If you're hungry, there's money in the cup on the windowsill, keys by the door, a decent shop just round the corner and remember the flat is number five, second floor."

Grantaire was still processing the first thing Enjolras had told him.

"Seven?! You woke me up at seven freaking a.m.?"

"Yes, because I have to leave but I didn't want you waking up alone," Enjolras repeated patiently.

"...Oh. Okay. Uh, thanks. I guess." Grantaire frowned, now working his way through the rest of what Enjolras had said. "I thought it was normally me who forgot food."

"It is, but it's not like I've been living here recently. I only kept the flat because I'd need somewhere to live whenever Hacker is in London."

"How long are we staying here this time?"

"Only until this afternoon."

Grantaire nodded. "Great. I'll grab us something for lunch as well." Sitting up, he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leant back against the sofa. Enjolras's eyes flickered up at the clock again.

"I'm going to be late, but I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll be here."

The meeting had been one of the more boring Enjolras had had to sit through, and he was most relieved to escape and make his way back to the flat. The moment he entered the flat he'd started talking Grantaire into leaving immediately, pointing out that their lunch would work just as well as a picnic.

"It's a lovely day and it'll be nicer eating out in the countryside somewhere than in this tiny flat. Come on 'Taire," he pleaded, and Grantaire finally gave in.

"Fine, but we'd best wrap up. It's not exactly warm." He huffed slightly when Enjolras grinned, trying to stop from smiling himself. "It's only March after all. And I hate picnics."

"It's been five years since I had a picnic," Enjolras admitted. "I think I took Charlie on one once, but that didn't exactly end well."

"Have you ever had a relationship without arguments?" Grantaire asked as he gathered up hoodies, coats and blankets.

"Considering I've only had two relationships, no." Enjolras headed between the kitchen and living room as he collected all the food and drink they would need. "Ready?"

"I guess so. If it starts snowing-"

"-then we'll just move back into the car," Enjolras interrupted firmly. "It won't be the end of the world."

"Okay, maybe this was a good idea after all," Grantaire admitted two hours later, after pushing his sleeves up and leaning back onto his elbows, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back so as to catch the sun.

"Told you," Enjolras laughed, stealing the biscuits from Grantaire's plate while he was distracted. His mood darkened as he caught sight of the newly revealed scars again. "Grantaire," he said quietly, sighing. "Care to explain the scars?"

Grantaire sat up instantly, staring at his friend with panic clear in his eyes.

"It's not what you think!" he blurted out quickly, pulling his shirt sleeves back down to cover them. Enjolras said nothing, simply looked at Grantaire with a sad disappointment clear in his face. "I never cut myself. Well, this one was a cut, but that was sort of an accident and I wasn't the one holding the knife." He traced a finger over the finest scar. "The rest... Well, they're scars, but not the type you're thinking of. I bake. I do all the baking for Courf at the cafe. And, well, I've kinda burnt myself a few times. Oven shelves and trays bloody hurt, I can tell you that." Grantaire rubbed at his forearms absentmindedly as he spoke. "It was embarrassing after every time. People would see the bandages and stare, or treat you as if you were made of glass and were going to shatter at any moment. The scars only made it worse if they saw you again, and the blessed things never fade. I swear burns are even more obvious than actual bloody cuts. Means I have to wear long sleeves, even in summer, but doesn't affect much else thankfully." He paused and met Enjolras's eyes for the first time since he started speaking. The strength of the relief he saw there shocked him.

Enjolras slowly reached out and took Grantaire's hand in his own, pulling it towards him and turning it so his palm faced upwards. Just as slowly he traced each scar with his thumb, Grantaire having to work hard to stop himself from gasping.

"Thank god," Enjolras breathed finally. "I was scared..." His voice trailed off. "We should get going," he decided, dropping Grantaire's arm and standing quickly. "Otherwise it'll be dark long before we get home."

Combeferre opened the door almost reluctantly, dreading who he might see there. After the past week he'd been hopeful that Enjolras and Grantaire could manage to maybe become friends again, but with the knock at the same time as always he couldn't help but worry that their plan had failed.

"Enjolras," he greeted, eyebrows rising slightly when he saw the blonde haired man standing in the place of the expected dark haired one. "I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight."

"I wasn't expecting to come," the other man shrugged. "Is Eponine here? If so, then I don't mind leaving and coming back another time."

"She's not." Combeferre held the door wider open. "Come on in, I'll put the kettle on. Unless you want something stronger that is?"

Enjolras shook his head. "I don't drink. Well, not normally."

"Tea it is then." Combeferre waited till they were both sat in his lounge before asking, "So what's wrong?"

"I saw the scars," he said quietly, staring down into his cup.

"Ah." Combeferre wasn't sure what else to say, and was slightly pleased when Enjolras started speaking again.

"God, I was so damn scared! I honestly thought that he'd tried to kill himself. And there were so many!"

Leaning over, Combeferre patted his arm lightly, unsure what else to do. "I take it he explained things."

"Yeah," he nodded. "But that's no longer the problem. Right this minute, that's not the thing scaring me."

"What is then?"

There was a moment's silence while Enjolras built up the nerve to speak.

"'Ferre, I think I still love him."

"Well, you were in love with him before," Combeferre pointed out sensibly. "Is it really such a shock that you're still in love with him?"

"Yes. No. I don't know!" Placing the cup down, he rested his head in his hands. "Honestly? It's fucking terrifying me. I made myself move on and get over him, and all it takes is one look at him and I'm like a lovestruck teenager again. I can't stop thinking about him."

"Is that really so bad?"

"Combeferre, I can't tell him." Combeferre said nothing, instead raising one eyebrow and waiting for an explanation. "It's so easy to fall back into the way things used to be. It's easy to relax and hang out with him and I feel like nothing ever changed and I never left. But then one of us is reminded of what happened and all that flies away in a heartbeat. No matter what, me leaving is always going to be between us. He said he hated and loved me at the same time. He also said he wants me in his life as a friend."

"Is that enough?"

"I don't know," Enjolras admitted honestly. "But I think it has to be."