A/N: Warnings for alcohol withdrawal.

Chapter 14

Later that day, Enjolras and Grantaire emptied his apartment of all alcohol, save Eponine's bottle of Sailor Jerry's. Grantaire shivered, as Enjolras poured the vodka down the sink.

"I'm proud of you." Enjolras insisted, squeezing Grantaire's shoulder.

Grantaire just nodded, fingers twitching.

The day progressed fairly smoothly. They shared breakfast at the coffee table. Grantaire edited pictures, while Enjolras read for his classes, in comfortable silence. Occasionally, Enjolras would mention something political, and Grantaire would say something snarky, which usually made Enjolras nod and note something. Once, they got into a relatively good-natured debate.

Around three in the afternoon, was when Grantaire began to feel himself crumble. He had been waiting for the withdrawal to start. With Enjolras, he had been drinking less, but his drinking habits were still significant.

As the sun sunk low in the sky, he became less and less able to concentrate. His hands trembled over the computer keys, so he eventually closed his work to avoid ruining some photo by mistake. It felt like the temperature in the room was steadily increasing, and he kept wiping his forehead, which was beading with sweat. He felt a headache building behind his eyes, and his breath hitched, as the computer screen blurred in front of him.

"'Aire?"

"Hmm…" He grunted noncommittally.

"Are you okay?"

He gritted his teeth, "Fine."

"What is it?" Enjolras put his things away, and looked fully at Grantaire.

"Nothing. I'm fine." He pushed the computer to his side and covered his face with his hands, feeling his skin crawl with a strange, wormlike sensations. He groaned.

Enjolras walked to him and pressed a cool hand to his forehead. "Shit, 'Aire, you're burning up."

"I know."

"What can I do?"

"Get me something to drink…" He grumbled.

Enjolras jumped up and brought him a cool glass of water. Grantaire smirked. He had expected as much, though he hoped for something stronger.

The water was bitter as it poured down his throat. He curled into a ball on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. Enjolras wrapped his arms around him, as he started shaking harder. He heard Enjolras swear.

"What alcohol do you have at your apartment?" Grantaire asked. Eponine's rum is far too tempting here…

"'Taire…" He warned.

"Just answer!" He snapped.

"I–I don't know. I think 'Ferre has a six-pack of beer or something.

"Can we go to yours?" He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Will that help?"

"I need to not be here."

"Fine, then." Enjolras answered, confused, and helped Grantaire stand and get out of the apartment.

The cool air of he night felt freezing against his sweaty skin, and he was pretty sure his brain was going to beat itself out of his skull. Enjolras's hand was steady on his lower back, and the blond kept his eyes fixed on Grantaire in concern. This is why I haven't succeeded giving this up before, Apollo.

On the metro, Grantaire realized he was making a terrible mistake, as the combination of fluorescent train lights and the shaking car caused a wave of nausea to wash over him. He doubled over on the seat and tried to settle his breathing, vaguely aware of Enjolras's voice, pitched with worry.

Once the metro stopped two stations away, Grantaire all but launched himself to a trash can, where he emptied the contents of his stomach.

"God, Grantaire…come, let's get you home." Enjolras nearly had to carry him.

Enjolras settled Grantaire in his bed, and Grantaire caught the scent of Enjolras's organic conditioner, through the haze. Normally, he would have reveled in it, but it wasn't nearly soothing enough, as he felt is heart and head about to explode. The effect of the cold night air had worn off, and he thrashed, kicking off the stifling blankets over him.

He heard Enjolras on the phone in hushed tones. He couldn't quite make out all the words, but he thought he recognized Joly's name in the jumble. His voice sounded worried, but it was still nice.

When Enjolras curled around him in the bed, he was torn. Enjolras was far too warm, but his smooth breathing and strong arms were like an anchor, reminding him inhale, exhale, inhale…so he clutched at the blond's shirt, holding him tightly.

He felt white hot needles stabbing at his skin, and he whimpered.

Enjolras whispered, "I'm here. You'll be alright. I'm here, I promise."

And, Grantaire made a pact with himself that he would wake up in the morning, if only to assure that Enjolras would keep his word.

He wretched himself awake the next morning, struggling with blankets that had wrapped around him through the night. His entire body was spasming, and he screamed.

"Shit, shit, shit…" he heard from the door. After a moment, he felt warm hands on his shoulders.

He snapped his eyes open, and for a second he saw an angel's face, but it blurred, then came into focus, and blurred again, so he closed his eyes, and just leaned forward, letting arms from the angel engulf him.

"God," the angel laughed, "I left you for a minute, just to get you water, and this is what happens?"

"Don't leave." Whoever this angel was was nice, and he swore, which didn't seem like a normal thing for angels, so he must be special.

"I'm here."

Grantaire started shaking, and he felt fire on his skin. He shoved the angel away. Angels shouldn't be burned.

"Grantaire, please…"

For a moment, Grantaire, eyes still shut, tried to push the angels hands from him. Angels must not be burned! But, Grantaire was far too selfish a creature to keep away those strong hands, which offered so much comfort, and he let the angel pull him into his arms.

He gasped for air, as his body trembled again.

Over the next few days, the hallucinations and convulsions subsided.

His head still pounded, and he was still nauseous, and every so often a wave of fever would hit him, but Enjolras finally felt comfortable leaving Grantaire alone for more than thirty seconds.

Grantaire hadn't been thrilled about Enjolras leaving, and Enjolras himself seemed reluctant, but Joly insisted that Enjolras eat a proper meal and at least sleep a bit, saying, "If you run yourself ragged, you'll get sick, and then be of no use to either of you," so Enjolras took a nap, and then went out to grab food for the both of them, Chinese takeout for him, and chicken noodle soup for Grantaire.

This was the problem. Grantaire had let Enjolras sleep and go, because it had been the right thing to do. He was enough of a burden for his Apollo, he couldn't keep him from doing everything he needed.

But, Grantaire was weak. He always had been. He knew this.

And, apparently, Enjolras didn't know about Courfeyrac's bottle of gin, and Courfeyrac didn't know that Grantaire had found it.

Grantaire groaned. The other roommates were at the café, running things for Enjolras, who was busy playing nursemaid. Grantaire you selfish bastard.

He stared at the bottle, tears springing to his eyes. His hands were shaking again. He just needed a little…just to stop the shaking and dull the headache…

He swigged from the bottle, the familiar burn comforting for a split second, before he let out a sob. I said I would fail you. I told you…Just leave me here. Grantaire lifted the bottle again, drinking, trying to forget trusting, faithful eyes, and a warm smile.

"Grantaire!"

Grantaire didn't even turn to the voice filled with shock and anger. He moaned sliding to his knees, forehead resting on the doors of the cabinets under the sink.

"What are you doing? Where did you get that?" He sounded angry, betrayed, and Grantaire couldn't blame him.

"Just leave me!" He moaned into the woodwork.

"Grantaire. Fuck, come on." Grantaire felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him up.

He flinched away. He wasn't drunk, not really, only a buzz through his head. But, he felt wretched, and collapsed in on himself, his shoulders heaving with tears.

"Grantaire…" Enjolras's voice was suddenly soft.

"Leave me…here, in the streets, at the bottom of the fucking Potomac! Just let me go! I can't do this! I can't!" He started slamming his head against the cabinet, before he was physically hauled from the solid object. He flailed for a moment, before Enjolras, who was apparently much stronger than him, succeeded in holding him still.

Several minutes later, Grantaire's hitching breath evened slightly. He turned his face into the crook of Enjolras's neck. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled, tears soaking the collar of Enjolras's shirt.

"It'll get better. I know it." Enjolras tried to comfort him.

Grantaire started crying again, "Why?" he beseeched, "Why are you still here?"

"Because, I believe in you, idiot." He whispered, somewhat fondly.

Grantaire pulled away to face him, "You believe in me?" he deadpanned.

Enjolras smiled, "From the first time you made me laugh."

"You believe in me…"

"I do." He leaned forward to kiss Grantaire gently. When he leaned back, he said, "Let's sleep." He helped Grantaire stand.

After a beat, Grantaire handed Enjolras the bottle of gin. Enjolras set it on the counter.

"Say it again." Grantaire pleaded.

"I believe in you." Enjolras started to lead Grantaire to the bedroom.

"Again."

"I believe in you."

"Again…"

And so, Enjolras repeated it throughout the night, "I believe in you. I believe in you. I believe in you…"