Jehan's POV

On my way to the Musain, I had been clutching fervidly the scrap upon which my poem was written. Now, on my way back from the Musain and towards my apartment, the scrap I clutch is the scrap that holds the phone number of my new acquaintance, an acquaintance I intend to call later in the evening to indicate that I am invested in strengthening our friendship.

I am completely and utterly ecstatic, prancing along the sidewalk with a smile plastered eternally to my face, and nothing can ruin my mood. I, as a poet, already derive beauty from everything, but now that beauty has somehow duplicated, and I drink everything in with a new lens and a deeper appreciation for life.

I'm in the spontaneous crushing phase that may or may not resolve itself, and whether that's because Montparnasse fades out of my mind or I start to date Montparnasse is out of my mind at the current moment, but all I know is that I am as jubilant as I have ever been, and there are very few things in the entire universe that can convince me that I shouldn't be this joyous.

One of them, I find unfortunately, is my roommate sitting on the couch and staring at the wall. I can only assume that he's been like this for a while, as Grantaire is both lazy and determined to perpetuate his laziness for as long as he can, which usually results in Enjolras engaging yet another argument with him. Both the fact that Grantaire is upset, and the fact that fixing him is difficult when he's got a will of stone, spoils my previously euphoric mood, but I shouldn't be so selfishly concerned with myself when it's obvious that my friend is in serious pain.

Being a poet, I am prone to extensive observation. I notice things about people that others don't, even if I don't choose to do anything with that information besides watch them more. Grantaire, I've concluded, is stronger emotionally than anyone I've ever met. If Enjolras yelled at me every day for as long as I've known him, then I would be worn to a pulp, but Grantaire can somehow withstand it, and all I can do is wonder how. He amazes me every day with how much he can handle, brushing everything off with a laugh, and not once does he slouch into the sofa like he's doing now. Something different is plaguing him, and I hope he mitigates his stubbornness enough to tell me what that is.

Judging from the conjecture that Grantaire has been in this numb position for quite a while, I doubt anything will stir him. Even when the door clicked on its hinges as I entered the apartment, he was unfazed, making my job more and more difficult, as if Grantaire isn't already a burden enough.

"Taire, are you doing okay?" I ask, but he does not budge, so I redirect my body to in front of him, and he still does not acknowledge me, only stares into the wall like he's been doing for a while before. "Taire, what's wrong?"

Grantaire has a soft heart for me, and he can only endure so much of my pleading before he'll snap because he doesn't want to hurt me, so he surprisingly gives up the fight early in the game. "I fucked everything up."

I pause for a second, utterly confused. Grantaire claims to be a fuck up as a person, so it doesn't really affect him when he fucks things up in his life, but now that notion seems to have shifted, and I can't quite catch up. "Grantaire, I don't think you could've done that."

"Then tell Enjolras," my roommate mutters, focusing back on the wall, as it is, quite frankly, very arduous to look people in the eyes when you're stressed. I get it.

I also get how mad Grantaire is about Enjolras, how he's been pining for months with nothing but insults thrown in his face, how he's devoted his life to worshiping a godly man who will supposedly never love him back, and up until now, Grantaire could partially live with that. To fight with Enjolras breaks his heart, yes, but he can always mend it in a split second, because he's so accustomed to the pain. He trudges on. Not this time, apparently.

My brows tie together. "What happened with Enjolras?"

Grantaire forces himself back into those terrible memories from earlier this evening, flashbacks to the war he once faced, and, to release himself of the trauma faster, he hastily rambles, "We got into a fight, and then I told him I love him, and then I left, and now I'm here, staring at the fucking wall like I'm dead."

I need a minute to process this all, but Grantaire will only allow me a second before he returns to his self-pity and agony, so it's my duty to move quickly. However, clarification still calls for words to fill the silence, and clarification is all that I need. "Wait, you told Enjolras you're head over heels in love with him?"

It's about time. All of our friends have been praying that they would finally realize their love for each other and go on a fucking date or something, but sadly that has not happened yet. Well, Enjolras has made no sign that he's interested in Grantaire, but Grantaire has displayed many signs (too many signs) that his heart belongs to one cause, and that one cause is Enjolras. But now that he's been rejected and slandered, the ropes holding Grantaire to his only belief are weathering expeditiously, and soon enough he will fall.

We all wanted Grantaire and Enjolras to date, but this is not the way we planned it would go down, not in the slightest. We would've never predicted that all of this pining would result in complete and utter pandemonium, that Grantaire would be sitting on the couch with no intentions of revealing the chaotic nature of what really transpired with him and his golden boy. This is not what any of us wanted.

Grantaire is distraught, and I'm not sure if I can get him back, especially not alone. I, the warrior poet, the master of linguistics, cannot find the proper words to soothe my aching friend. Love is a suicide bomb, but there's nothing Grantaire wants more than to destroy himself, and I can only assume that he's set on taking us down with him.

"Yeah, I thought it was obvious."

I sigh, flustered. I was supposed to be enjoying a good night of thinking about my new companion, the charismatic Montparnasse with features as striking as a god's (basically the equivalent of Enjolras to Grantaire, except not now that they've wrecked things together), but instead I'm having to coax my depressed friend out of his mental state. It's not that I'm unwilling to do it, just that it's tough as hell when you've got a roommate as obstinate as mine.

This is going to be a long night.

~~~~~

A/N: Jehan is too pure for this world and I just want Grantaire to be happy but obviously I'm an agonizing writer

sorry about that

~Dicknut