Enjolras ran a hand through his tired hair. One night. He'd let his guard down for one fucking night. He was going to crucify Combeferre when he found him, crucify him and… read him incorrect maths equations and…. fuck. He leant back into the wall, his cigarette starting to burn his fingers. Fucking Bahorel and fucking Feuilly and fucking Grantaire, oh fuck Grantaire. Fucking useless Grantaire that did nothing but piss him off and then look at him so fragilely and he'd actually held his hair back and talked to him and stroked him and he'd just sat there with the room tipping merrily. He hated himself. He hated himself so much he hoped he'd catch fire with it. Maybe that's what he'd do to Combeferre. Get him piss dunk and leave him with the most notorious drunken bastard in the world.

Because he'd probably weather it a hell of a lot better than Enjolras had and he'd probably even keep his glasses on and shit. He debated sliding down the wall dejectedly and crying until he saw a huge body wrapped in a huge Iron Maiden hoodie working its way down the street.

He called out, "hey."

Bahorel stopped and looked over both shoulders.

"Bahorel."

"Fuck Enj." He turned around and revealed his colossal shiner to the world. "I didn't know where the shit that was coming from. Why are you hanging about alone in the street?"

"Fresh air. Jesus, your face."

"Yeah, s'fine. Fresh air? You're smoking. Oh hang on, you're actually fucking not, are you? You've set some flowers on fire to try and look rebellious."

"Why are you walking down the street carrying McDonald's?"

"For the lady."

Enjy tried his hardest to think.

"… did that girl not leave?"

Bahorel looked at him.

"The one Marius has been stalking?"

"Dude."

"What? He hasn't exactly been normal about it."

Bahorel's confusion suddenly burst into gleeful delight. "Oh my God, you genuinely don't remember! Dude, how far gone were you? Cosette's friend?"

Enjolras looked blank.

"Shit, mate. Well, Marius and Cosette were out. One of Cosette's friend's boyfriend who was beating her in the street. Are you seriously telling me you don't fucking remember?"

"Christ alive."

"Yeah. So we bought her home. She's up in the dorms right now."

"Right now? Isn't that against the rules?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Are you going straight there?"

Bahorel looked at him. "You joking? The chips will go cold."

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose"

"You alright, Enj?"

"Yeah. I just… don't want to go back just yet."

"Still feeling rough?"

"Sort of."

"Happens to the best of us, mate. And it's not like Grantaire minds."

Enjolras snorted.

"Why, what's wrong with Grantaire?"

"Nothing. It's just he's… you know. Perpetually drunk."

"Yeah, so's everyone."

Enjolras scoffed. Yeah, well. There's being young and there's being stupid."

"I don't know, mate," Bahorel said, managing to take a cigarette out of his own coat pocket and light it in one fluid motion. "I think he's had some pretty rough shit in his life."

Enjolras tossed his head. "Mmm."

Courf sat down heavily beside him. "Can I have some of your fag?"

Grantaire passed it over to him quietly.

"Thanks mate. Feisty one, isn't she?"

"Huh?"

"You alright, 'Aire?"

"Yeah, whatever."

He'd have denied it. But something inside him broke. "It's like, think how long took taking care of him last night, you know? I don't even get a fucking thank you."
Courfeyrac took a drag of his Grantaire's cigarette thoughtfully. "You know, there's this thing called the 'Apollo archetype'"

"Oh," said Grantaire.

"We did it in Psychology. It's where you'd rather think than feel, or have distance rather than closeness, that kind of thing."

"Uh."

"Sound like anyone you know?"

"Uh."

"So you shouldn't take it to heart because it's his archetype. Which comes from a deep rooted desire to sleep with his grandfather or something, I don't know. I didn't really pay attention"

"Nah, not his grandfather," said Grantaire, taking back the remains of his cigarette. "Robespierre, maybe."

Enj reached his bed and collapsed backwards. Grantaire had tidied up his little bed. Oh, no. He hadn't. His hoodie was still there. The one that had slipped off his shoulder slightly. Enjolras had reached around and tucked it gently back in.