First off, I'm sooo sorry for the delay. Only just got my laptop back a couple of days ago, so this is the first I've been able to write. Add to that we've just finished fresher's week and I've been in a state to rival Grantaire for about nine days...but we won't mention that, lol.
Secondly, I apologise for the grammar and spelling mistakes in the last chapter. I did it on the morning I moved out and literally posted it like five minutes before I went out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT: GETTING TO GRIPS WITH GRIEF
As Julien fell against his chest, Etienne wrapped his arms around his drunken friend. He looked so unlike himself. The ever-alert blue eyes were glazed and only half in focus; his marble-white face was unnaturally flushed and glowing; his hair was falling out of his neat blond queue and hanging in his eyes.
"Julien, how much have you had to drink?" asked Etienne nervously, raising Julien's chin so that his eyes met his. He knew that the blond had no head for alcohol.
"It didn't work!" Julien choked sadly, his words slow and unclear. "I thought it might make the pain stop, but it didn't work!"
"I know." Etienne whispered, drawing him into his arms and hugging him tighter. "I know. Nothing will make it go away."
"I mean what the hell was God thinking?" Julien cried angrily, sitting back abruptly, his eyes over-bright. "What the hell was he playing at?"
"Julien, sssh!" begged Etienne, worried that his friend's voice would travel through to the parlor. "They'll hear you!"
"I don't care!" said Julien, the influence of drink destroying his normal control over his emotions. "I just want to know why this had to happen! I lost Nicolas, now I've lost Christine. He could have taken Louis, he could have taken Antoine, he could have taken Marie. Christ knows he could have had my parents! Why did he have to take the ones I cared about? Why did he have to take the only people I love?"
With a guttural sob, Julien buried his face in his hands and burst into sobs; gut-wrenching, heart-breaking sobs that shook his entire body and echoed throughout the room. Painful as they were, Etienne was relieved beyond belief to hear them.
Hoping beyond hope that Julien's cries would have gone unheard, Etienne simply wrapped his arms around his friend once more and held him close. Julien buried his face in Etienne's shoulder and continued to sob, crying like there was no tomorrow. Gone was the marble-faced statue who showed no emotion. In his place was a young soul in turmoil, struggling to cope with his raging emotions and losing the battle with his grief.
"It's alright, mon ami." Etienne whispered, running a gentle hand over the messy blond hair. "It's alright to cry for them. You're only human, Julien!"
"She was so young!" Julien cried, his body wracking with sobs. "She was only a child! How is that just? How the bloody hell is that just?"
"It's not." Etienne felt his own throat becoming tight with tears. "It's not just, Julien. But we can't help it, mon ami. We can't change the world, not matter how much you wish to."
"I'm sorry." said Julien, fiercely scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm not meaning to act like this. I hate being like this! I'm not weak! I don't want to be weak. But she was my sister. And I miss her!"
"Of course you do." Etienne could feel the tears soaking through the shoulder of his shirt.
"I miss her too. But she's safe now, Julien. She cannot suffer any more pain now."
"I know." Julien's frenzied sobs made his slurred words even harder to understand. "And I should be happy about that, yes? But how am I supposed to say goodbye when I don't want her to go?"
"You have to let her go, Julien." Etienne whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Nothing can bring her back. You have to let go."
"I was supposed to look after her. She was my sister." Julien wept, choking on his sobs. "I didn't see her for more than a year, and by the time I got here, I couldn't do anything to help her. I had to watch her die, Etienne! I promised I would always protect her. I broke my word!"
"There was nothing you could have done, Julien!" Etienne told him firmly, clasping his shoulders. "Rene is one of the best surgeons in France. If he could not help her, no one could. You cannot hold yourself responsible."
"I hate being so helpless!"
This gave way to another manic bout of sobs; so violent that Etienne feared his friend would make himself sick. But he was finally letting his grief out; the grief for his sister and the old grief for his brother that had been hidden away for far too long; eight years of pain and bereavement tumbling out in a frenzy. Suddenly, he retched and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Come on, maybe we should take you upstairs." said the curly-haired medical student, getting to his feet. "You don't have a head for drink."
"I just wanted…the pain…to go away!" Julien sobbed. "But…it didn't work! It didn't go away!"
"You can't make it vanish." Etienne soothed him. "Nothing will ever make it vanish. But it's going to get easier. It will stop hurting so much, but you won't make it vanish."
As the sobs subsided for a moment, he pulled the shaking young man to his feet. Julien's legs buckled beneath him, the effects of alcohol fast taking over. He'd never drunk more than three glasses of wine in his life; a whole bottle of brandy was more than he could handle.
It was a laborious task, getting the drunken student to the top of the wide, sweeping staircase, but somehow Etienne eventually managed it. Twice, he thought Julien was going to be sick all over the carpet, but thankfully they got to the door of his bedroom without any further incident, other than Julien stumbling against the wall about six times, blinded by tears and thoroughly inebriated.
Etienne kept an arm firmly about Julien's waist as he tried to get the door open; but it proved to be quite difficult. Julien was rapidly losing track of where he was and what was happening – the effects of far too much alcohol on an empty stomach.
Just as he was beginning to despair of ever getting the heavy oak door open, they were accosted by René. He relieved Etienne of Julien's weight and supported his younger brother while the door was opened.
"Mon dieu, petit." he whispered despairingly. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?" As Etienne stood aside, he gently guided Julien through to his bedroom.
"How much has he had to drink?" he asked Etienne anxiously. Etienne shrugged.
"I'm not sure. He vanished after we got back from Christine's funeral. I found him like this in the drawing room. He thought it would make the pain go away."
"Does my father know he's drunk?" asked Rene, quickly. Etienne shook his head and Rene hurried to shut the door.
"Say nothing to anyone else." he instructed, as he began to divest his younger brother of his waistcoat and shirt. "I'll stay here with him until he falls asleep. My father will make his life hell if he sees him like this. He's cruel enough to him already."
By this stage, Julien was so far lost to inebriation that he could barely stand. Between them, they managed to get him into his nightclothes and get him into bed. With a queasy groan, the young blond buried his head in the billow and curled up against some invisible force.
"You can go back downstairs if you wish, Etienne." said the eldest of the Enjolras brothers, his own red eyes the evidence of the grief that was so viciously consuming his younger brother. "I'll stay here with him until morning."
"No, it's alright. They will miss you before they will miss me." Etienne replied. "I promised I'd help him through this. I'll stay with him. You go back downstairs."
"If you're sure." said Rene worriedly, casting another anxious glance at his hiccupping younger brother. "Come and fetch me if he takes a turn for the worst."
"I will." Etienne promised, sitting down in the chair by Julien's bed. "They'll miss you if you don't return downstairs, then they'll come to look for you."
As Rene returned to the somber gathering downstairs, Etienne turned a compassion-filled glance to his prostate friend. An unfocused gaze met him in return.
"'Tienne?" he mumbled indistinctly, his eyes filling with tears again. Etienne leaned over and took Julien's hand.
"What is it?" he asked kindly. The tears began to overflow out of the ice-blue eyes.
"I'm never going to see her again, am I?" he asked sadly. Etienne shook his head gently.
"I'm afraid not." he whispered softly. "She's dead, mon ami. You cannot bring her back. You must let her go."
"I don't want to let her go." the child-like voice tugged at Etienne's heart. "I didn't want her to leave. I miss her, Etienne. I miss her!"
"I know Julien." Etienne moved closer and gently pushed the blond hair out of his friend's eyes. "But you need to let the grief out, mon ami. You can't keep it hidden."
"I feel sick." Julien groaned, burying his head in the pillow. Etienne quickly reached for the washbowl and stationed it beside the bed.
"How much did you drink?" he asked curiously.
"I can't remember. A lot." Julien slurred. "It was brandy. It felt good for a moment, but the pain came back."
"Drink won't solve your problems, Julien." Etienne told him gently. "You can't run away from it. You need to face it, or it will just continue to haunt you."
"Sometimes I think I don't understand anything." Julien muttered despondently.
"Julien, for such an intelligent boy, you can be so naïve sometimes." Etienne told him with affectionate patience. "Everyone cries for the ones they love. No one will think you weak because you miss your sister or your brother. I wish you could understand that."
"I just…I mean…I…" Julien broke into sobs again and turned his face away to hide his tears. Etienne sighed and moved to sit on the bed so he could wrap his arms around him again. Julien wrapped his arms around him and clung to him desperately.
"Move over." Etienne instructed gently, and shifted so that he could lie next to his friend, and comfort him in his despair.
They stayed that way for a while; and it was almost an hour before Julien finally cried himself into a fitful slumber. But Etienne remained awake to watch over him for a long time afterwards.
This was NOT meant to be slash. Please don't read it like that!
Please review.