Note:Yes, the name of the chapter is a quote from Sherlock BBC.
Enjolras briskly enters the living-room, where the Art student is sleeping, curled on the sofa. He is lying on his belly, hugging a big pillow, the blanket falls on the floor near a big scratch-book and three pencils. On the open page there is a picture of Grantaire, standing near Enjolras. He didn't make his own figure very detailed, but Enjolras's was neatly done.
He sighs as notices the green color of his hair, then his eyes glance at the cynic's face. Enjolras sits on the edge of the sofa. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." He shakes R's shoulder.
Grantaire only mumbles something and hides his head in the pillow. "Come on, we are going to be late." Enjolras (with his clean golden curls) shakes the sleeping man's forearm again; then leans forward, close to R's ear. "TO THE BARICADES!"
The Artist silently grabs his pillow and puts on his head. Enjolras rolls his eyes. His fingertips touches Grantaire's bare skin on his wrist. Then ember eyes smiles as they catch the reaction of the student: muscles on his hand tensed. Fingertips, almost not touching, very slightly caressing the skin, travel up, leaving goosebumps. Patiently Enjolras continues his actions, knowing that R won't resist at the end.
His hand reaches a blue sleeve of the t-shirt when_ "Aaah, you are a perfidious seducer!" Grantaire jerks up suddenly and his pillow collides with Enjolras's smiling face. "I want to sleep, for pity's sake. It's 6 a.m." he falls on the sofa again, scratching his left arm.
The leader of Les Amis frowns, placing the poor pillow on his laps. "We have train at 7.25 a.m."
Grantaire, rubbing his eyes hems. "Plenty of time."
Enjolras nods sarcastically and stands up, but his right palm has been caught by R's. "Can I sleep with you this night?" he uncertainly watches his friend. "I won't joke with you never again. I promise." Grantaire sounds really desperate, with his sleepy face and tangled curls. "I had bad dreams without you and I had to hug pillow, thinking that that was you."
The leader sighs, knowing that Grantaire is just pretending and playing, but he acts very realistic. "Maybe."
The grin appears on the face of the cynic. "I knew you love me!"
Enjolras turns, hiding his smile and walks to the kitchen. "I can change my mind easily, Grantaire."
The student grimaces and finally stands up from the sofa with a rather heavy head, because of the lack of sleep. He drags himself to the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder to see what Enjolras is doing in the kitchen and why that something smells so good. His bare feet feel the cool smooth surface of the glazed tile.
Grantaire stops in front of the mirror; his deep, dark blue eyes look at him from the mirror. The face with hollow cheeks and dark skin under those eyes. R closes them, having no strength to watch his own reflection. It reminds him times, when not only alcohol was his best friend. On his pale skin of the right arm, scars are still visible. The cynic sits on the edge of the bath and takes a deep breath.
Enjolras deserves much better than me.
He is what he was before. The poison of his own bitter thought is still making him sick. Enjolras is helping. More then anyone and anything in this world. But very often, Grantaire desperately bites his upper lip, swallowing heavily, trying to calm himself down, I think that Enjolras is with me just because of pity. He gasps, suddenly realizing how cold the bath, on which he is sitting, is.
"Tea or coffee?" the sound of Enjolras's voice reaches Grantaire's ears. He smiles sadly, realizing that without Ehis Apollo, he still would not survive. "Coffee, sweetheart." He wants to believe; but he is so afraid of believing that Enjolras is with him just because he loves Grantaire. It's because he never believes in miracles. That's why he acts so silly sometimes. To hide his pure disgust to himself, And his deepest fear.
The Phantom of the Opera loudly rings in Enjolras's jeans pocket as he is slicing the cheese for their sandwiches.
"And do I dream again? For now I find Phantom of the opera is there inside my mind"
"Wait a second, I am coming." He mutters in a hurry, reaching for the towel.
"Sing once again with me, our strange duet My power over you grows stronger yet"
At last, when his hands are dry and clean he reaches for the phone and picks up the call from Combeferre. "Yes?"
"Good morning. I am just calling you, to cheek that you've woken up." Enjolras rolls his eyes, pressing his phone with his shoulder, while making the second sandwich.
"Of course I've woken up, I have to look after Grantaire." He reaches for mayonnaise.
On the other side Ferry laughs gently."Don't pretend that you don't like that."
Enjolras chuckles, licking his fingers.
"But Mama I am in love with a criminal…"
Combeferre sighs. "Could it be that Grantaire is singing Britney Spears?"
The leader or Apollo to his cynical best friend and lover walks to the fridge, searching for tomatoes. "Yes. He has a very extensive knowledge in music. Yesterday, for example, he was singing the Ride of the Valkyries."
"It's a melody, how was he singing it?"
"No ideas. What a second, please." Enjolras takes away the phone from his ear and calls loudly. "Britney, hurry up, we are late!"
The singing stops so suddenly that Enjolras (and Combeferre more likely too) frowns. Suspiciously Enjolras pops his head from the kitchen's doorway.
"We'll stay, forever this way, you are safe in my heart, and my heart will go on and on!"
A whistle. "Admit that his voice sounds great, when he actually sings instead of making parodies."
Enjolras is smiling. He likes to realize that Grantaire is slowly changing. Of course his sarcasm and pessimism never leaves him completely, but he can see the difference. Between that angry, annoyed, tired, lost, cold, deep, blue eyes and more warm and smiling gaze that Grantaire has now. He smokes, but does a little less than before. He drinks, but not that much.
"Stop thinking of how amazing you Granta_" the sudden noises, which sound very like kisses make Combeferre stops talking. He clears his throat. "Guys?" no response and more sounds. "Ehm, okay. Well, you still are in a hurry, remember. A train? No? I_. Okay, see you at the railway station. Bye."
Courfeyrac smiles gently as he watches Jehan making photos of people on the railway station. The Poet's green eyes shine with strange, but very warm shine as he catches someone's face expression. Young girl, laughing as her older brother sneezes loudly. Old man slowly reads a newspaper sighing from time to time as he turns the pages. A young man is searching for someone, but his face lights up as he notices Jehan's making a picture of him. A woman wipes a single tear, while talking on her phone. Her eye look unnaturally stoned. Like if she has forgotten how to love.
Courfeyrac steps closer and takes away hair from Jehan's determined face. The second man closes his eyes, enjoying Courf's fingers on his cheek. "You look lovely." His nose touches Jehan's cheek.
Jehan opens his eyes. This time he wears ochre trousers, blue t-shirt under his checked shirt. Rather big sunglasses looks good on his nose. Courfeyrac watches his strange, charming Dreamer.
"Do you know with what speed falls the flower of a cherry tree?' he asks that so seriously, like if he is giving a lecture about an antimatter in Harvard University. The most amazing peculiarity of Jehan's character is that he cares about clouds, flowers, poetry and starry sky as much as he cares about political situation in France or helping Enjolras in his protests. But he doesn't sound very sappy or sentimental. His eyes are clever. And kind. Very often he reminds Courfeyrac an Elf. Not those little Santa helpers, but majestic creatures from Tolkien's mythology. They were wise, but sung happily like kids, knew everything since the beginning of the World, but that knowledge didn't make them look old, only eyes shone with secret light. So do Jehan's.
"I love you." When Courfeyrac says that, everytime Jehan feels that they are infinitive.
Suddenly, both of them hear someone's annoyed or rather angry snort. "Faggots." The man near them says. He looks like a successful businessman, with a tie and iPad in his hands.
"Nice to meet you." Courfeyrac replies, his hand is resting on Jehan's waist.
"Such scum like you, should not visit the same places as normal people." His grey eyes narrow. "You are the worst illness of the modern society."
"Of course we are. What is terrorism, the infringement of Human rights and Freedom, famine and wars are in a compare with my sexuality." The Poet's voice sounds so calm as he speaks. The words of the stranger didn't make any effect on him.
The businessman stares as a blond teen runs to the couple happily, a huge backpack on his back. "Hey, guys!" the kid stops near them, but then his smile fades a bit. "You are okay?"
Courfeyrac smiles. "Sure, we have been chatting with this lovely man.' He nods to the stranger. "He says lots of interesting facts about homosexuality, you know."
Gavroche turns and his big, blue eyes scan the man. As he finishes, he silently shows a middle finger of his right hand.
The black-haired man stands up, the devise in his hands. He looks up and down and then at last glances at Gavroche's face. The despise in that gaze is colossal. He walks away, like if he has witness a dissection of a corpse of the paedophile.
Gavroche jumps on Courfeyrac's bag, which is staying near the coffee automat and makes himself comfortable.
"There are chocolates in that bag. Were, by now." Jehan says, placing his sunglasses on his crown.
The teen glances on the bag. "Ooops." He reaches for the chewing gum. "Where is everyone else?"
"I've called Ferry and he said Enjolras and Grantaire would be probably late and_" Gavroche interrupts him, by pointing forward.
"No, they won't."
Enjolras walks in a grey jeans and red t-shirt. It is almost an obsession with red color as for Gavroche, but it doesn't bother anyone. He is caring Grantaire's backpack and a guitar in the cover. There is a light, summer scarf, neatly hanging around his neck. Jehan smiles as he remembers that particular brown scarf is, in fact, Grantaire's.
The cynic is walking near, tugging a big luggage. "You know, Enjolras, it would be very kind of you if you haven't packed your entire wardrobe… It's only two days." he breathes heavily as they reach Courfeyrac, Gavroche and Jehan. The last one's lips curls in a small mischief smile as he notices red mark on Grantaire's pale skin of is neck. R opens his mouth to ask, but realizes the reason and laughs.
Enjolras carefully places the guitar, leaning on the automat and cheeks the time. "Well done, Grantaire, we are not even late. Surprisingly." The Art student proudly stands near Courfeyrac, still breathing heavily. "And in the bag, there are not only mine clothes, but yours as well, our laptops and your scratch books."
"Well done us. Jesus, I want coffee." He searches for some coins.
"You've just had one. Stop it or you become a coffee addict." Enjolras warns.
R shrugs only in reply and pushes a button "Latte".
"Since when you drinking that milky, sweety latte?" Gavroche asks, playing with Courfeyrac's hand: there is a battle of fingers, to be more correct.
"I don't." he replies. Then carefully takes a plastic cup and turns to the leader. "Enjolras does. And he didn't have time for drinking it at home."
Jehan's eyes slip to Grantaire's mark on the neck again, but he just smiles.
Suddenly they all hear Joly's sad "hello" as he approaches them. He looks so pitiful that even Gavroche stops playing and stares at him.
"You are okay?" Enjolras asks, licking his lips after he has made a sip. (Grantaire saw that and felt butterflies in his stomach.)
"Combeferre doesn't talk to me anymore." He looks like he is going to cry right now. "We even had different busses to reach the station."
Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. You were about to take the whole chemist shop with you and he was against." Joly nods, sighing sadly.
"I was only caring about him."
Grantaire makes two steps and pats the medical student's shoulder, his eyes shine softly.
"We'll think of something, don't worry."
Combeferre appears ten minutes later together with Cosette and Marius, who have been caring so many bags and packages, that R glances at Enjolras with a don't-you-dare-to-say-I-have-to-many-luggage look.
"Sorry everybody, we've been in an enormous jam." Cosette takes a deep breath. Marius puts on the floor all the stuff he's been carrying and looks at the railway's clock.
"Jesus, only ten minutes and we'd be late…"
Ferry glances at Joly through his glasses. The second one looks so miserable that eventually it melts the heart of Combeferre. He smiles at Joly and everyone else laughs when Joly's face enlightens brightly.
After all with a great number of bags, backpacks, the guitar and food Les Amis have managed to sit on the right train(the first one which they entered because of Gavroche, who sworn it was their train, was actually heading to Berlin) and they tiredly collapse on their seats, closing the door to the compartment.
"Marius. Why 7 a.m? Are there no trains later?" Grantaire asks, searching for the bottle of cola in his backpack.
The Law students frown. "If we wait for the later ones it will be very hot outside and that will be worse."
Most of them roll their eyes, with "whatever" faces expression.
Half an hour later Marius is sitting near the window, reading the article in his phone, holding Cosette's hand. Cosette is listening the music with her gaze far away. Jehan is writing something in his notebook, smiling from time to time. Courfeyrac tries to read it, but the Poet glances at him with a serious face. "I haven't finished it!"
Enjolras has fallen asleep, leaning against the window. Grantaire notices that, puts his scratch book away and carefully shifts Enjolras. He puts the leader's head on his shoulder. Then goes back to his drawings.
Combeferre watches the cynic. He looks sad, when he thinks Enjolras can't see him. Ferry tries to understand why, but fails constantly. They look so happy together. But still Grantaire's eyes are sad so often.