Grantaire, Grow Up
A/N - Hi everyone! I really appreciate the feedback I've been receiving on this story. Initially, my plan for this story had about five chapters or so; but since I started writing it, GGU (as I affectionately refer to it) has kind of taken on a life of its own. It's already twice as long and we're probably only about halfway through. I hope you'll stick with me though as we find out where this is headed; and continue to review or give input/feedback on what you think! Lastly, since it is the tenth chapter, I decided one or two important plot points were in order; so it gets a little fun towards the end. Enjoy!
Chapter 10: Open the Floodgates
Enjolras, what has happened to you? You've always prided yourself on being calm and put together. You've always been able to think through a situation and reach a resolution that works. What is going on now? In 24 hours you've completely collapsed – gotten sick, almost killed the man you lo…your friend, and nearly destroyed your entire group of friends. Everything is falling apart around you, and it's your own doing. How do I fix this? Can I? What do I do if I can't?
These thoughts continued to circle his mind as he trudged through the streets of Paris to the home he wished he had spent time in before last night. Hopefully Ferre will know what to do.
-o-
It did not take him long to reach Grantaire's apartment, but Enjolras hesitated once more on the steps leading into the building. Is this what I should be doing? Ferre, if he is here, will be busy taking care of Grantaire, who actually needs the help. Won't I simply be being a burden to my already overworked friend? The thought had barely crossed his mind when the memory of words Combeferre had spoken just yesterday cancelled them out. "Come on Enjolras, you know I was only teasing. You are not a burden; you're my best friend. It's only natural for me to worry about you."
I suppose you are right, Ferre. I guess I'm going to find out if that is really true or not. He began to make his way up the stairs, anxious about what he might when he reached his destination. As his nerves grew, he realized his throat was beginning to feel scratchy again as well, and his aches and pains from yesterday were returning. Great, he thought, as if this wasn't already uncomfortable enough.
He reached the door to Grantaire's apartment and was about to knock on the door when a horrible flashback stopped him where he stood. His mind raced back to the night before, standing on this doorstep and being terrified at the sight of Grantaire sprawled on the floor inside unmoving. He had not had the courage to see if the man was dead or alive, instead waiting with bated breath to hear Joly give the verdict, then watching helplessly as he and Combeferre began to attend to him. As they fought to keep him alive, Enjolras' only contribution had been to find a bottle on the floor, and he began to feel even more guilt over his helplessness.
He was still standing there, silently brooding and berating himself, one hand half raised to knock on the door, when the door opened without his assistance. "If you need me, just send for me, otherwise I'll be back this evening," Combeferre called over his shoulder, presumably to Joly, as he began to leave the apartment. He stopped abruptly when he turned around and found himself face to face, or rather face to fist, with Enjolras.
"Enj, what are you doing?" he asked once he was sure his friend wasn't about to hit him.
Enjolras looked from Combeferre to his still raised hand, muttered a quick "sorry" and lowered the hand, but didn't immediately respond to the question he was asked. Instead he stared intently at the floor, embarrassed at being caught in a moment of indecision by his friend and once again questioning himself on whether or not he wanted to talk.
"Are you here to see Grantaire?" Combeferre tried again. He could tell his best friend was distressed, and he wanted to get the other man to open up and talk a bit so he could see what was going on.
"Umm…yes, I'm here to see Grantaire," Enjolras said, looking back up and deciding he wasn't so sure he wanted to talk after all. "How is he doing today?"
Combeferre was unsure of what to think about the abrupt change in his friend, but decided to go along with it and see what he could figure out. "He's about the same. We've been able to get some soup and water in him, hopefully that will strengthen him. He's still unconscious though, and Joly thinks he will remain that way for another day or two yet. Would you like to see him?"
Enjolras paused again before speaking, "Umm…yes, I want to see him."
"Ok," Combeferre replied, backing up slightly so Enjolras could enter the apartment, "Joly is with him at the moment, but I'll let him know you are here." As Enjolras walked inside and shut the door behind him, Combeferre went to Grantaire's bedroom to talk to Joly. The two came out a moment later, Joly going towards the kitchen after a quick hello to Enjolras and Combeferre going to his best friend.
"Joly says there isn't anything that needs to be done for awhile, so take as much time with him as you want. I'll be out here if you need me," he said, the concern evident on his face.
"I thought you were headed out," Enjolrs said, slightly puzzled.
Combeferre smiled slightly, "I've changed my mind and decided I'll stick around for a little bit longer. I'll be out here when you are finished."
Enjolras regarded his friend with fresh eyes, contemplating this turn of events before letting it fully sink in. Then he gave a small, knowing smile himself, "thank you, my friend," before entering Grantaire's room. He left the door slightly ajar, then turned with his back to it and stared at the man lying in the bed before him.
It was difficult, painful, seeing Grantaire this way. The cynic had often been unconscious in the revolutionary's presence, but always from his intoxicating beverages before this point. Seeing the man, who was also the center of his own internal turmoil, half dead because of something he had said was almost too much for Enjolras to take. He was in the process of turning to leave when his thoughts got ahold of him again. What are you doing Enjolras? You've been running since last night – running away from him, from your friends, and your thoughts. It needs to stop if you are going to get through this and be the leader you are meant to be.
He straightened slightly, turning once more away from the door and went to sit in the chair next to Grantaire's bedside. As he settled into it and tentatively took one of Grantaire's hands, he heard a rapt knock on the front door in the main room. He decided to ignore it, though, and steeled himself for what he had to say.
-o-
Combeferre wondered who else would be here, and what to say if they wanted to see Grantaire, as he got up from the chair in the main room and made his way for the second time in as many minutes towards the front door. He opened it, and for the second time also found himself staring at the fist of one of his friends, Courfeyrac, who was about to knock once more when the door was opened.
Courfeyrac quickly lowered his arm, sheepish about almost accidentally hitting his friend. "Hi Ferre, is Enj here?" he asked, looking over his friend's shoulder.
"Yes he is, what's up?"
"There was an…incident at the Café a little while ago. Jehan and I wanted to make sure everything was alright. We decided he probably either came here or went to his own home, so we split up. Can I come in?"
Combeferre raised his eyebrows at the word "incident," but otherwise remained at ease while he listened. "Of course, come in. Joly is making some lunch, would you like me to ask him to include some for you as well?"
"No, I'm ok. Where's Enjolras?" Courfeyrac asked as he stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.
"He's in Grantaire's room, talking."
"Oh" was Courfeyrac's only reply.
Combeferre waited a moment, then when it became obvious the other was not going to elaborate he decided to press on, "perhaps I can be of more assistance if you tell me about this incident at the café."
Courfeyrac looked up again, color draining from his face, "Oh, um, right. Well, the short version goes like this. We were all getting together for lunch and to have a meeting, and some of us were talking about Grantaire while we were waiting, and, we...well…" he looked down, unwilling to make eye contact with his friends as he shuffled slightly on his feet and wrung his hands, clearly uncomfortable.
"Courf?" Combeferre asked gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I said it was my fault, the stuff that happened. I caused the argument. Some of the others said no. That's when Enjolras came in, as Eponine was saying, well shouting, that it was all his fault, that he was heartless and happy to have Grantaire out of his way…" he trailed off again, either unsure of what to say next or afraid of what came next.
Combeferre did his best to remain calm and in control of his emotions, but the revelation of what had transpired hurt him for what must be going through his friend's mind. He grew impatient waiting for Courfeyrac to continue, and shook his shoulder slightly. "What happened next?"
Courfeyrac grew even more uncomfortable, if it was possible, and his voice became quieter as well. "He…well he heard it all as he walked up to our table. When she finished he said it wasn't true…but the way he said it, I've never heard him talk like that. It was…different. He also said he wished it had never happened, that he was the one to blame, and he was sorry…then…then he…as he was leaving, he said the Amis meetings were going to be postponed indefinitely, and you would let us know if that changed."
"He said what?" Combeferre was speechless, shocked by what he had just learned. He went over to sit back down in the chair under the window, thoughts racing through his mind. "What else happened?"
"Nothing. He walked out of the café. Some of us stuck around and talked for a while, then everyone left. Jehan and I were the last ones and we decided we should try to find him, or you, and see what we could figure out." Courfeyrac said quickly, moving to take a seat on the floor near Combeferre and looking up at his friend with an anxious, expectant expression.
Combeferre sighed and leaned back into the chair, thinking. "Well, thank you for letting me know what happened. I'll have to figure out what the best way to do this will be."
"Ferre…" Courfeyrac began quietly, looking back down at his hands in his lap as he spoke, "Ferre, the Amis…this isn't the end, is it? We're going to stay together, right?" He looked up at his friend, both hopeful and scared at the same time.
Combeferre gave him a soft smile in return, "Of course we are. We are the friends of the abased and afflicted, and right now that is us ourselves. Don't worry, our group is going to stay together, I promise. We will be friends until the day we die."
Courfeyrac melted with relief, lying back himself so he was flat on his back. "I'm glad to hear that. You all mean too much to me, I don't know what I'd do without the Amis in my life. I just wish everything could go back to the way it was."
"Me too my friend, me too," was Combeferre's response.
A minute or so went by in silence, until Courfeyrac shot up straight once more and quickly addressed his friend again, "I can't believe I completely forgot. How could I be so stupid and not ask? How is Grantaire doing? Is he any better yet?"
Combeferre calmed his friend and then began to explain it all again. Once Courfeyrac was satisfied, their conversation drifted to other things, until Courfeyrac decided he should head back out and let Jehan know he had found Enjolras and Combeferre was going to talk to him. "Which," as Courfeyrac said as he walked out the door, "is for the best anyway, because you know how to talk to him better than the rest of us do. And you are the only one he really listens to anyway; the rest of us he can ignore without getting slapped in the face," he finished cheekily, a small grin on his face.
"Hey now, watch it there. I'm not sure how much he'd appreciate you bringing that particular memory back up." Combeferre chastised his friend slightly, then softened and brought his hand up pretending like he was about to smack his friend. "Besides, there's plenty more to go around, if needed."
Courfeyrac quickly ducked out the door, "I'll pass. And I'm going to go before you decide to make good on that." He gave a short wave to his friend as he took off down the stairs.
Combeferre closed the door behind him and, turning into the main room, was greeted by Joly carrying a couple plates of food. "Lunch is ready," he announced happily, then looking around he asked, "is Courfeyrac gone already?"
"You just missed him," Combeferre replied, gratefully accepting his plate of food and going to set it on the table in the middle of the room to eat.
"Well, how do you like that? He left without even saying good-bye," Joly said crisply, moving to join his friend at the table.
"He had a lot of other things on his mind," Combeferre said simply, than the room grew silent once more as the two friends ate their meal together.
-o-
Enjolras was unsure of what exactly he should do, or if he should do anything at all. He noticed Grantaire's hand resting atop the blankets and absentmindedly grabbed it in his own. The sensation of holding the man's hand drew him out of his reveries quickly, and into a new one. His hand is so rough, Enjolras thought to himself, and yet it must be nimble for him to be able to do his artwork. He also noticed that it felt rather cold, so he quickly clasped it between both of his, hoping that would help. It would make more sense to just put his hand back under the blanket where it is warm, he thought. Yes, but then I wouldn't be able to hold it; I like this way better. A smile crept into the corners of his mouth at the thought.
For a while longer he simply sat there, gathering his thoughts. He stared deeply at the unconscious man in front of him, trying to piece together what was going on inside his head. Grantaire shifted in his sleep slightly, and his hand reflexively squeezed Enjolras' slightly. And that opened the floodgates of Enjolras' mind, which he poured out on the sleeping beauty in the bed before him.
"Grantaire," he said trying hard to choke back a sob in his already sore throat, "I'm so sorry for what I've done to you. You don't deserve to be in this bed fighting for your life. You don't deserve the pain I've caused you, over and over again since we first met. I've been nothing but rude to you. And you were right, you were completely right, I don't know anything about you. I don't know who you are, or who you have been, or who you one day want to be. I don't understand why you are so cynical, or why you drink so much, or why you paint. I don't understand why you keep coming back to the Les Amis meetings, or why you keep talking to me."
He paused for breath as he felt a few tears begin to flow down his cheeks. "But I am glad you do. The others are right, you do mean a lot to me. Your arguments force me to think about my convictions in a way no one else ever has, you make me understand there is more to it than what I see. You are able to lighten up a tense discussion in a way no one else I know can. I know I give you a hard time about your drinking, but it's only because I do care about you. And I give you a hard time about not believing in anything because…because I want what you said to be true, I want you to believe in me. I want your strength and your help as he fight for the future of France. I want the image you painted to become a reality." By now the tears were flowing fast and free, Enjolras' voice shaking slightly with the effort to keep himself from collapsing completely."
"But…but I want to make one change…I want you to be standing next to me in it, because I want you fighting alongside me to win it. Grantaire, I want you to grow up…with me, in a free world that we will build together. Grantaire, I…I want…I want you to get better…I want you to forgive me for hurting you so much…Grantaire, I…I want…I want you." As soon as he said it he recoiled, looking around furtively afraid that someone may have overheard. He had spoken his forbidden thoughts out loud, and it terrified him. Once he had determined he was alone, apart from the unconscious man to whom he was baring his soul, his resolve finally deteriorated altogether, and he collapsed sobbing onto the sleeping man's chest. "Grantaire…I want you…Grantaire…I…I…I…love…y-you." He had enough energy to say it only once. Exhausted from a sleepless night full of nightmares, still feeling ill and sore from the previous day, and now emotionally drained, Enjolras soon cried himself to sleep, the chest of the man he loved serving as his pillow.