Ghost

by Auguste Larson

Grantaire died in 1987 and has since then been wandering around with little purpose and no passage to the afterlife. He falls in love with a living man called Enjolras and watches from afar. Everything changes when Enjolras nearly dies, being left with the ability to see the dead. Featuring psychic con Montparnasse and ghost Eponine in upcoming chapters. See latest note please.

8. Chapter 8

The eighth day was spent away from Enjolras. As was the ninth, and the tenth, and then the next month passed by without Grantaire even realizing it. He frequented a new bar, one that had recently opened and was a great deal cleaner than the previous one that Grantaire had liked. He wasn't sure if he could ever go back.

You see, during the month that had passed without notice, it was as though a dam had broken within Grantaire. He crumbled into himself, flooded with emotions. What worth did he have anymore? Why was he stuck in a way that few seemed to be? Why didn't he have some other half to complete him - the way Joly had Bossuet, the way that Enjolras had his politics.

It was a cold day, the type of day that came and went as autumn faded and winter began to grow. Grantaire had been resting under a large tree by the University. The tree reminded Grantaire of something distant, some memory he'd discarded from life. He couldn't place it, despite having sat by it occasionally throughout the years.

"Grantaire!" A familiar voice called to him, and Grantaire opened his eyes to find a shadow over him. "I was starting to think that I'd imagined you."

"You can see me still?" Grantaire squinted at him, he'd been certain that once Enjolras had healed that he'd stop being able to see Grantaire.

"What? Are you high?" Enjolras asked, sitting down beside him.

"No, I'm just tired. How long have you been out of the hospital?"

"A couple weeks. They said I made a great recovery."

"I'm sure... And you're back at school?"

"Yeah, I've only got a couple credits to get out of the way before graduation. There's no reason to keep putting it off - just an art and science."

"Who do you have for a professor for art?"

"Smith - some painting class."

"Ah, he's a jerk."

"I never asked, but do you go here?"

"I did."

"You graduated?"

"Dropped out, you could say."

"You were kicked out?"

"No, I was an art student. Wasn't really my thing."

"Why were you studying art, then?"

"No, I liked the art, it was the whole student thing that wasn't my gig. I preferred the parties, to be honest."

"Ah." And that was that.

Have a wonderful holiday!