The pair grew fond of each other in the following days and Enjolras was thankful for the company, even if Grantaire seemed to always vanish the moment a nurse appeared.
"I'm squeamish around blood." Grantaire would say, flashing a grin. Enjolras didn't ask many questions, he couldn't imagine that his wound was something that people were lining up at the door to see.
Yet, Grantaire stayed. He listened to Enjolras droll on for hours about politics, and human rights, and social rights, and how all of it was merged together in some way. Grantaire had never given much thought to such a thing. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever registered to vote when he was alive, if he had, he'd never put it to any use.
On the fifth day after the shooting, Enjolras slept blissfully while Grantaire watched over him with a careful eye. More than anything, Grantaire wished that he had a piece of paper and a tangible hand so that he could draw the sleeping boy.
"Julien!" Near eight o'clock that night, a large man burst into the room, followed by an anxious nurse.
"Sir," the nurse attempted to restrain him with her words. "You can't simply burst in-"
"I'm his father." The man looked upon Enjolras with little affection, only dark eyes which seemed to shame the boy. Grantaire decided quickly that he didn't like Enjolras' father, he seemed too much alike the classic rich villain, with an ugly face, suit, and large mustache.
"Leave him." Enjolras told the nurse. He'd awoken with a look of shock which had quickly turned to disgust. "It took you long enough to come see if I had survived."
"Don't act that way, Julien."
"It's the truth! I'm shot and you can hardly call."
"I was on a business trip."
"Really?"
"I don't understand why every visit must be an argument."
"You should go."
"I came to give you company, I'm sure being stuck here is killing you... You were always like me in that way..."
"The bullet did a fair enough job with that, and I have company."
"That friend of your's? What's his name - Comb- er..."
"Combeferre."
"Yes."
"No, they won't let him in because he isn't related. You should really meet Grantaire, though... It seems he's left because of the disruption."
"Grantaire? Another political groupie?"
"They're my friends, Henry."
"I shouldn't have come. I'll be going."
"I'll see you for Christmas."
"Yes, I'll tell your sisters and mother that you said hello."
"Thank you."
Enjolras' father talked to the side with a nurse, his voice particularly low. Occasionally, he glanced towards his son's room, as though the boy would manifest in the doorway.
"My son, he says that there's a boy who visits him." Henry said.
"No, that room is strictly off limits." The nurse confirmed, checking some papers.
"A man called Grantaire... I don't know if it's my place, but is he a patient here?"
"There's no boy here who visits, Mister... Mr. Enjolras."
"I'd like it checked into, nonetheless."
"Of course, sir."
I must thank you all for bearing with me - I haven't updated this story in what seems to be forever. But, here's the latest chapter.
In other news, I have a new user name, but it is still the same author. Thank you for reading, and please review if you are so obliged so that I can know where you'd like the story to go!