Grantaire sits quietly, careful not to wake the now sleeping Courfeyrac. Worry creeps up on him slowly, the niggling thought of his boyfriend gone AWOL finally hitting him. Luckily, Cosette's intuition means that before he pulls out all of his hair to go looking for him, he realises that she has already texted him to tell him that Enjolras is in her company. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sinks back into the uncomfortable hospital chair.
He revels in the solitude for a while, knowing Courfeyrac will be awake in just moments looking for Enjolras, followed by forlorn looks and anticipation for his reappearance. Courfeyrac's eyes flutter open, and he sits up slowly, smiling to Grantaire.
"Is Enjolras okay?" he asks gently. "He seemed sad earlier."
"Cosette's treating him to The Breakfast Club," Grantaire grins. "I'm probably going to head home and study up; back to uni tomorrow for me."
"You're leaving?" unsettled by the lack of his ordinary company, Courfeyrac looks a little subdued.
"Bahorel's coming to see you for a bit. He's bringing a huge stack of films if you're up to it."
Courfeyrac smiles a sheepish smile. Bahorel is a friend he hasn't seen for a while. He knows it's silly, but he's almost a little apprehensive to be in his company. He waves Grantaire out, shuffling over to the now free chair for a little change in scenery. He can't help but think of Enjolras, and how downtrodden he had looked before. The man of marble had crumbled right before eyes. Despite Grantaire's reassurance, the thought of his friend so distraught, so not himself makes him feel as if he's about to vomit.
In all of the fuss of the past few weeks he hadn't noticed that there hadn't been a meeting for a while. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but then he remembers that this is Enjolras of all people he's thinking about. The idealist who'd without fail ensure that a meeting would go ahead no matter what the circumstances.
It comes to him slowly, his brain still feeling like it's in fragments floating atop the surface. Piecing the puzzle together, he can finally grasp the reason why Enjolras has seemed so different.
He doesn't seem to believe any more.
Bahorel seems to be running late, as Courfeyrac looks at his watch and taps his foot nervously. It's not a ritual like the tapping of his hand seems to have become, yet somehow it calms him down a little. That is, until he realises that the jumper he's wearing had once belonged to Jean Prouvaire, and he's overcome by a sudden sense of melancholy that he hadn't considered much until now. Numbed by Combeferre's death and an overwhelming sense of guilt concerning the man, he's avoided the subject whole heartedly.
The jumper smells like old books and cigarettes. Jean Prouvaire had leant him it during an unfortunate case of the flu Courfeyrac had suffered whilst sleeping over at his. This grey thing -thick and warm- feels itchy against his skin. Just thinking about Jehan's arms encased in the mass of wool fills his mind with images of those brittle little sticks of bone snapping with the force of the crash. Hands curled up into the jumper he breathes calmly, trying desperately to suppress the thoughts. He fails practically tearing off the jumper(his left hand still limp, he takes longer than expected) and shoves on one of his own hoodies over his t-shirt.
In the flat, busy schedules had often resulted in the sharing of clothes. Combeferre's height had unfortunately left him exempt from this, but it hadn't stopped Enjolras and Courfeyrac acquiring a few over the years.
In fact, he's pretty sure this blue university was his at one point, but had shrunk in the wash. Too old and worn to smell of Combeferre anymore, the fabric instead carries the scent of himself and Enjolras; aftershave with an after hint of Enjolras' morning coffee. It's so familiar, especially when masking the antiseptic odour of the hospital, that he can't help but feel as if he's back at home.
Bahorel enters the room a few minutes later, standing in the door frame. He smiles as Courfeyrac doesn't notice him quite yet, admiring the serenity as his friend reminisces. He drifts into the room, hands full to the brim with practically his whole DVD collection. Courfeyrac grins up at him, signalling for him to pull up a chair. Bahorel dwarfs the blue plastic, but the sheer comedy of it all puts a smile to Courfeyrac's face.
"So when are you getting out of this dump?" he grins full-heartedly.
"Friday; weekly therapy though because my speech is still a little fuzzy."
"You'll make it to Joly's party then?"
"Joly's having a party?"
"R didn't tell you? The lousy bum. An 'I can kind of, sort of, not really walk again' party. It's just a house party, but Joly's always a good host."
"Hmm, I'm not sure I want to go without a date..." the remark is meant to be jovial, but it only ceases to remind Courfeyrac of what he had quickly avoided just a bit earlier.
"Who said you'd be going without a date?" Bahorel grins widely, instantly removing the melancholy from Courfeyrac's face.
"Stop flirting with me."
"Only if you stop flirting with me first."
"Well, fine then."
"Fine."
And just seconds later, they are in fits of laughter, sharing those glances which articulate nothing more than 'is he thinking the same thing as me?'. The answer? Yes.
Just twenty minutes or so away, Enjolras is fast asleep on Cosette's sofa with little Benji with his head propped up on the man's knee. He takes a while to shake himself from his slumber, and as he reaches for the remainder of his hot chocolate, he realises it's gone cold and sighs. He doesn't register his whereabouts until he feels the dog's paw dig into his leg as he climbs off the chair, and is overcome by an overwhelming sense of embarrassment when he sees Cosette's face smiling from the other side of the room.
"I should... I should go," he mumbles.
"No, no! It's fine," her face softens with concern. "I'm worried about you."
"I'm okay."
"That's not what Grantaire said."
"What has Grantaire said?"
"We spoke earlier. He told me you've been acting strangely recently, and to keep a little eye on you because there's no way you're going back to sit in your house yourself."
"I'm okay."
"Keep telling yourself that. There hasn't been a meeting in weeks, nobody apart from Courfeyrac or Grantaire has seen you and-"
"M-maybe I'm not fine, okay? But everyone is going through the same thing. I can't fall apart when Bahorel and Joly and Bossuet and you and everyone else are keeping together!"
"Enjolras... Marius, Eponine and I have a good old cry every week without fail. Bahorel's been going to anger management. Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta are struggling. We're not all keeping it together; you don't have to be strong like that."
"It's not as if I have been today. You know, I just broke down in front of Courfeyrac and R today; like full on waterworks. And I don't do that. I'm not the kind to cry."
"Sometimes it's good to have that release. Don't bottle it up. Don't lock us all away. Look, you've probably heard from Grantaire about Joly's party on Sunday, right?"
"I haven't."
"Should have known! He's useless. Come with us. I know parties aren't your thing, but it's Joly and Joly's parties are always the best parties and we can all celebrate."
"I... I will. What are we celebrating?"
"Joly's physical therapy going well; he can walk a short distance by himself, and an even longer distance on a support such as crutches. And Courfeyrac being out of hospital of course.
"Sounds good," he nods apprehensively. "Alright. Thanks for this Cosette. Really, thank you."