"Grantaire, please. It's half a piece of toast. Just eat it." Enjolras sighed from across the table, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
On the other side of the table, Grantaire was staring petulantly at a plate, upon which rested half a piece of liberally buttered toast. This was his breakfast because, as Enjolras had patiently explained what felt like a million times, cigarettes and orange juice were not breakfast. "I don't want to eat it," he whined, pushing it away.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own French toast, sliding a perfectly sliced strawberry onto Grantaire's plate. "That, too. You need fiber."
"There's fiber in beer," R pointed out unhelpfully. "And tobacco comes from a plant." He looked pointedly away from his breakfast dish.
The blonde young man gave a grunt of irritation. "You're wasting away, R!"
Grantaire gave a mirthless, almost hysterical laugh and leaned back in his chair. "God, Enjolras, stop stressing. I'm one hundred percent fine."

This was a definite falsehood. R had grown so thin that Enjolras could count his ribs through his t-shirt, so thin that the skin of his face pulled taught over his cheekbones until they looked like knives. There was barely any color to him anymore- his skin was pallid, his emerald eyes dull- and he was almost cold to the touch.
Enjolras shook his head. "Please, Grantaire. I'm begging you. Half a piece of toast and I'll leave you alone."

"I don't have to listen to you!" Grantaire had almost a feverish glint to his eyes as he shouted at his best friend. "Who do you think you are, huh?"
"Someone who cares enough about you to see what you're doing to yourself," Enjolras shouted back, standing up so fast his chair hit the floor with a clatter. "At this rate, you're going to starve to death!"
A crash now, as Grantaire stood, too. "If you really cared about me, you'd just leave me be!" His hands were in fists on either side of him, clenched so tight that his already white knuckles seemed to grow even paler.

Enjolras leaned forward a little. "Be rational, Grantaire." He could see how quickly the situation was spiralling out of control and was trying to back up and take hold of the reins once more, before it was too late.
"Maybe you're the one being irrational!" R looked like he was crying now, but it was hard to tell. "You can't see that I'm perfectly fine!"
It was Enjolras's turn to laugh now, and he did, a cold, unfriendly snicker. "Fine? If you're fine, then I'm Marie Antoinette."
Grantaire glared at him, one eyelid twitching slightly. "Prepare to eat cake, then!"
"Only if you will!" The boys were both a little hysterical at this point, and so they were a bit more incoherent than usual.

"I'm better than I've ever been," R hissed, his teeth clenched, biting off the end of each word.
Enjolras shook his head. "You know what you are? You're a ruined man- at twenty-two. You're destroying yourself."
Grantaire was definitely crying now, but he must have seen the truth in his friend's statement, because he switched tactics. "Why are you so upset about this?!

"Because I love you!" Enjolras blushed and covered his mouth with a hand- he hadn't meant for that to slip out. The room was silent, and he could feel Grantaire's eyes on him. He closed his own, fearing the worst.

No shout came, however. Instead, he heard breathing, and then footsteps growing closer. He felt a cold hand on his cheek- and then the butterflies in his stomach roused themselves, dancing to life as Grantaire kissed him.