Grantaire was drunk, that's why, Enjolras told himself again and again. After their encounter, he had just stood there like an idiot. Grantaire had left, and Enjolras soon left too. But a million thoughts were running through his head all night. Why had Grantaire done that? He was obviously drunk, that's why. He just had too much to drink and didn't realize what he was doing. But, Enjolras, remembered, Grantaire's breath had barely any alcohol in it. If Grantaire really was drunk, he'd have to be even more drunk than usual. So, why did he smell less drunk than usual? If Grantaire had actually been sober during the exchange, that means that he really does have strong feelings, not some drunken hallucinations. Enjolras didn't want to think about that. A drunk Grantaire who mocked him, he could deal with. A sober Grantaire who has feelings for him, he didn't know what to do. Enjolras was up all night thinking about this.

Meanwhile, Grantaire was drinking. He had thought it was a good idea, but now he wasn't so sure. He felt as if he just totally destroyed his 'friendship,' or 'acquaintanceship,' with Enjolras. Would he ever be able to go back again? He decided he would, and he should just pretend like nothing had happened. Unless Enjolras said something, but that would be unlikely.

The next day, Musichetta entered the café, itching to tell someone. She went over to Joly and Bossuet and sat down next to them.

"Hey, Bossuet, where were you last night?" She asked.

"My professor gave me too much homework, and then I accidently set fire to my room. I spent all night cleaning it up," said Bossuet sadly.

Musichetta laughed and put a hand on top of Bossuet's hand, "Don't worry, sweetie, it's fine. I went to the café, and I saw something very interesting."

"What was it?" asked Joly, mildly interested. Musichetta motioned for the two of them to come closer. They were all huddling around the table, and barely inches apart.

"So, I headed to the back room of the café, and guess who I saw?" whispered Musichetta. Neither Joly nor Bossuet knew, so she continued. "Enjolras and Grantare. And guess what they were doing?"

"Arguing?" asked Joly, but Musichetta shook her head.

"Drinking?" asked Bossuet. Musichetta shook her head again.

"Okay, what were they doing?" asked Joly, frowning.

"Kissing," said Musichetta slyly, and then sitting back to enjoy the shocked faces of Joly and Bossuet.

"No!"

"Are you serious?!"

"There's no way!"

"Go R!"

"I assume Grantaire kissed Enjolras," stated Joly, which earned a shrug from Musichetta.

"Well, did Enjolras kiss back?" asked Bossuet.

Musichetta grinned and nodded. "Well, after a slight pause." The boys were even more shocked. All three of them turned to look at Enjolras. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all, and he was wearing his clothes from yesterday. Then they looked at Grantaire. He was wearing his clothes from yesterday too, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was dead drunk. Whenever Grantaire looked liked that, someone could infer that he had a bad night.

"Looks like they took it well," mused Bossuet.

"They better get together, I mean like they're perfect for each other!" said Musichetta.

"They're complete opposites," Joly pointed out.

Musichetta sighed, "Which makes them perfect for each other. They balance each other out."