Disclaimer: I am still not Victor Hugo.
Thanks for all of the reviews and follows! And for your input on the E/É story. I think I'll start working on it soon, once I get enough of a plot idea in my head. Hope you all enjoy the chapter!
Grantaire woke up before Marie did. The moment his eyes opened, he had intended to go get a bottle of wine from the kitchen - he hadn't had nearly enough to drink the night before. However, he had nearly forgotten where he was. His eyes opened slowly, and a sleeping Marie came into focus.
She was curled up next to him, barely an inch separating them. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and his shit nearly swallowed her whole. Her chest rose and fell steadily and slowly. She would have seemed peaceful if it were not for the look on her face. Her face looked almost tense, like she was frightened. Worry crossed Grantaire's face.
Without a second thought, he turned on his side so that he was facing her, holding himself up with one arm and rubbing her back gently with the other. His fingers traced her skin lightly so as not to wake her up. Slowly, she seemed to relax. Whether she was conscious of it or not - he had no idea - she moved closer to him, her forehead resting on his chest.
Suddenly, he didn't need a drink anymore.
This was enough.
The week passed by quickly. And, as much as Grantaire wanted Marie to fully recover, it saddened him. She was flighty, and she knew that he would keep to her word and leave that evening. He had brought up the possibility of her staying with him - she was doing so well. With just a week of actually eating, her bones were less visible and her skin glowed. She was far healthier than she had been. He didn't want to send her back out there... Even though she did promise to visit Café Musain often. He was just scared for what she would encounter. And, he had to admit, a bit upset about the idea of her going back to her old profession.
"If not for yourself, do it for me," he begged, trying the last possible thing he could think of.
He sat with Marie in the kitchen, steaming cups of coffee in front of each of them, though they were untouched.
"I haven't even gotten completely drunk once since you've been here... Well, except that once," he pointed out. That should make her happy - she told him how she believed it was bad for his health.
"And you can continue when I'm gone," Marie dissuaded him quickly. "I'll be there to check up on you," she reminded him.
It was taking all of her willpower not to accept his offer. She wanted nothing more than to stay, but she simply couldn't. It wouldn't be right.
"Marie, I don't think it is safe to go back out there. You can stay here," he offered for the hundredth time that morning.
"I told you I will be fine. I have things I must take care of," she explained, also for the hundreth time that morning.
Grantaire was growing more desperate by the moment. He didn't want her to leave. He couldn't let her leave. He couldn't go back to living alone again, with no one to talk to. He had grown so used to her company. Now she was just going to leave. She had just healed. The bruise on her cheek was gone.
"I might even be able to get a job wearing this," she said with a smile. She wore a dress that, after much convincing, she finally allowed Grantaire to buy for her. It was deep blue fabric that contrasted with her pale skin, fashionably cut and everything, even in it's simplicity. Marie couldn't stop looking at herself the first day she'd worn it, but she still knew her words were not entirely true. She may look like a grisette, but she was still nothing more than a gamine, even in her new gown.
Grantaire sighed, knowing there was going to be no winning the argument, though it was frustrating him even more.
"Marie, please," he pleaded once more, not caring how pathetic it looked. He knew he shouldn't even care so much. Friends did not need to live together. Though, the line of their friendship was quite blurry. He was pretty certain that normal friends did not hold each other as they slept, either.
"I can't!" Marie was getting frustrated now. Could he not understand that she simply could not accept his charity like that? She had to go back to her own home and face her problems.
"Yes, you can!" he countered, "The only person stopping yourself is you!" Out of frustration, he stood up quickly, his hands slamming down onto the table much harder than he had meant them to. His heart broke as he saw Marie flinch back out of instinct. She was practically cowering in her chair.
Grantaire took a deep breath. "Marie, I would never hurt you," he said gently, reaching out and touching one of the small arms she held up in front of her face. Slowly, she lowered him.
"Right... I know," she said, feeling stupid. She wished that wasn't her damn instinct. She had learned a lot about Grantaire since she had been there, especially that he was not a violent man, even when he was drunk. He made plenty of jokes, and stumbled around like an idiot, but he was not dangerous. She could tell he felt guilty.
"Just stay with me," he implored her, for one last time, ash he leaned toward her, lowering himself down to meet her gaze. He held it for a moment before pressing his lips to hers in a last-ditch effort.
She had been waiting for this, though she didn't even realize until now, since the last time they had kissed. She deepened the kiss, closing her eyes as his tongue explored her mouth, hers doing the same to his own. This kiss was more urgent, less gentle than the ones before. She felt his arms snake around her waist, pressing her close as he stood, bringing her up with him. Her hands ran up his arms and to his chest as she placed kisses along his jaw, and neck.
She shouldn't be taking things this far... But it felt so good. So perfect and wonderful.
A soft groan escaped him as her lips pressed to his neck, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to crush her even closer to him. He could feel him smile against him as he did so.
Seeming to lose all control even without the influence of alcohol, he backed her up until they reached the couch. It was, come to think of it, a bit of a long walk, but neither of them noticed as they tumbled onto the couch, her beneath him. He held himself up to avoid crushing her, but his lips continued their path from her lips down her neck, causing a small gasp to escape her lips this time.
His hands moved to her sides now, trailing up her stomach as hers did the same to him. In that moment, he could sense how desperate she truly was to stay with him, even if she tried to hide it, and she could sense that he had been speaking the truth. Having him close was unlike any feeling she had ever had before. It was like heaven.
But no.
She did not deserve heaven. She was an urchin, a whore. He deserved much more. She was not meant to receive these sweet kisses. He deserved far better than her. She pushed against his chest, as much as it pained her, and wiggled out from underneath him. Grantaire looked at her, truly confused. It seemed as if she had been enjoying it, even needing it as he did. But apparently he had been wrong.
"Grantaire, I've got to go. You heard what Joly said, it's been a week."
She scrambled off the couch and avoided looking at him.
"Why are you so scared?" he called after her as she scrambled to the door - it wasn't as if she had belongings to collect.
Marie ignored the question and opened the door, hurrying down the stairs and out into the streets of Paris, wiping tears from her eyes.
Oh, Bourgeois Boy, I don't deserve you. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into.
"It has been three days, R," Joly said, his lips pressed into a tight line. "What the hell happened?"
Grantaire frowned, taking yet another swig of wine.
"I already told you. She took off... She said she was going to visit, but she hadn't yet. You know as much as I do."
Even Enjolras seemed slightly concerned, though Grantaire couldn't even begin to understand why he would be. He was never one to be concerned with matters of the heart. Which, after all this time, he had finally come to terms with the fact that it was. Mostly because his chest felt like it had been shot through, and even alcohol wasn't numbing him as it should.
"I'm worried about her," Jehan spoke seemingly out of nowhere. "She should have come back by now..."
Grantaire shrugged, "Maybe she just doesn't want anything to do with me," he mused. It was actually easier to think of that than to think of the possibility that she could be hurt or in danger.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the door bursted open. It was late, past midnight, so no one should have been there. The café had technically been closed for hours.
He stood up immediately when he saw who it was, but she was not alone. She still wore the dress he bought her, but the week seemed to have nearly destroyed it. A man had her by her hair, and she looked as if she had been crying. "Is this it?" he asked, "Is this where the little rich boy who bought you that fancy dress comes? Don't think I didn't see you trying to sneak here last night!"
Marie didn't answer. The man yanked her head back, and she yelped in pain.
The remaining Amis - Grantaire, Enjolras, Joly, and Jehan - were all standing now.
Grantaire locked eyes with Marie. What the hell was going on? Instinctively, all four of them seemed to step forward at once.
"Got yourself a little army?" the man asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I don't know them!" she squeaked. She couldn't let them be associated with her. It had been stupid of her to try and come back here.
"Really? Because they seem to recognize you."
Marie looked at the four with panicked eyes, pleading silently with them not to say anything.
This man was a member of one of Paris' many gangs. After one night, a couple of weeks before, he had decided that she was his. She refused his advances, and she thought after being gone for a week he wouldn't be around anymore, but she had been wrong. Half the reason she had left Grantaire that day was to ensure that he was gone, because she knew how he could be, and she couldn't have Grantaire be associated with her. It wouldn't be safe.
Grantaire and the others picked up on her signals well, but they knew they could not just stand there and let this happen. It was clear the man was dangerous.
"You know her?" he asked, his eyes scanning over the group of schoolboys. "My little whore of a girlfriend been here lately?"
"I already told you, I don't know these people!" She was not going to let these people get involved in this. She couldn't let anything happen to Grantaire.
"Stop lying!" the sadistic man kept a hold on her hair as he kneed her in the stomach, causing her to wretch and making it impossible to speak as she caught her breath. However, the hand that had been digging into her scalp released her all of a sudden, and she fell to the ground. The four Amis were rushing forward, murder in their eyes as they reached the man called Brujon.
Marie felt sick. They may be able to get rid of the man for now, but what would happen when the rest of the gang learned of this?