Grantaire's POV

Hectic knocking assails the sturdy wood of the door to the apartment, like a million bullets reverberating around both sides of the structure, jolting me from the numbness to which I've returned after quitting my use of those godforsaken painkillers, which should be for the better, right? I should be recovering just fine in order to revert back to my completely normal self, but my completely normal self isn't jubilant; my completely normal self wants to die most of the time, so the painkillers may have been a justifiable choice, and I just need them back, but I can't get them back because of my promise to Joly, who might be the one knocking on my door, so it's my duty to answer him after all he's done for me. He's too kind to be left waiting in the ambivalence that I might be dead or I might be alive, like a Schrodinger's cat situation.

It requires all of my power to lift myself from the couch and answer the door, but all throughout my journey to the front of the apartment, I tell myself that my efforts will pay off in the end, as the only people who come to this apartment are my friends, and my friends never fail to cheer me up when I've knocked myself into a hole again.

I am in need of cheering up now more than ever, and the person standing at my door is the perfect one to help me accomplish that — my golden boy, my radiant Apollo — but judging from the malicious expression on his marble face, I don't think he's here with those intentions.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Enjolras shouts, before I collect the time necessary to even processing this whole situation, a wrap of circumstances shot at me all of the sudden, and seemingly without an understandable cause.

"I don't know what you mean." Truthfully, I don't, and I wish Enjolras would explain his case before yelling at me, because that only escalates into confounded rambling and an intricate web of miscommunication, and I've always detested our fights, so I'd rather not bring about another one whose origins I can't even pinpoint this time.

"Why didn't you tell me about the painkillers?"

I'm silent. How did he find out about those? How did he, the person from whom I endeavored the most to keep the secret, hear about this? Why are other people so eager about inadvertently devastating themselves?

Enjolras doesn't wait for me to answer his question, instead penetrating me with the cold, hard truth that once again I cannot accept. "We, as boyfriends, are supposed to tell each other everything, and I have to find out about your addiction through Joly?"

Damn it. I should've told Joly to keep his fucking mouth shut, but I didn't, and now my secret has escaped. Who knows who else he told? Yeah, he was only trying to be a good friend by informing the others about my condition so that they could assist in fixing me, but he should've been smarter about Enjolras' presence and his authoritative nature. Enjolras has been trying for months to fix me, to little avail because I don't really give a shit about talking less when I always think my opinions are golden in that moment, so he is cognizant that my addiction couldn't have been prevented, but it could perhaps be stopped.

"I didn't want you to worry, so I kept it a secret, and now that you know, you look about as worried as a human can be."

Enjolras stares at me in disbelief, in the condescending attitude typical of adults speaking to a child, the kind of expression I despise. "That's because I care about you, Grantaire! You can't hide everything, okay? Friends are meant to help you, to support you, not to be pushed away because you think your problems are only a burden to them. Your friends are stronger than you think."

My brows cramp themselves to convey just how frustrated I am with someone whose stubbornness materializes out of his delusion that he's always correct, which he's not, so I'm willing to debate him as usual. "Have you ever considered that maybe I'm stronger than you think, Enjolras?"

"Yes, I have. I consider it very often," Enjolras admits. Damn, he really knows how to counter me; I suppose this is why he's the leader of the group, and I had always admired that, but now that quality is coming to bite me in the ass. "However, you can't dig yourself out of a drug addiction on your own, because your brain is conflicted. On one hand, you want to be free of your substance dependence, but on the other hand, you think there's a veritable reason why you chained yourself up in the first place. You can't progress anywhere with that."

"I'm trying to quit," I explain, as if pleading him to take into account what I'm saying for once. "I don't want the drugs anymore."

"That's the key word: trying. Quitting wouldn't be so arduous if all of your body rejected the drugs, but all of your body doesn't reject the drugs. You still crave them, even if that craving manifests in only a minuscule portion of your brain."

"I quit drinking because of you, Enjolras. I know how this shit works when you refuse it in the name of love."

Enjolras drags his palm across his forehead, clearly stressed. "Grantaire, we're done with this. We can talk in the morning."

Maybe he'll rethink his stance by then, and realize that I'm doing my fucking best.

 ~~~~~

A/N: ughghghg the baes are back to fighting again

we're almost done here tho

~Dakotable-flipper