Enjolras' POV

Combeferre, the control freak that he is, concluded that it was the safest option to walk me and Grantaire home so that he could ensure neither of us would back out on our deal and sprint as fervidly as we could to our apartments, where we would try to forget that any of this ever happened, just backing up a week and deciding that's good enough because nothing ever changes from the arguing hell between me and my roommate of the night, so it's clear that I'm stuck with him.

Combeferre also searched if there were any shelters willing to take either of us in for the night — just in case we decided to flee the apartment and pretend as though we endured the night — proving just how controlling he is. Combeferre is a smart man. There's no denying that. Even if you know nothing about him, his aura is enough to point you towards his sophisticated nature. Combeferre is willing to take every precautionary step to guarantee that we stick together for the terms to which we agreed in a moment of desperation, and although I am aware that this will pay off in the end, it doesn't mean that it isn't torture for the time being.

Grantaire will barely acknowledge me, so talking is relatively off the table. I've tried to engage him, but to no avail. It seems that his idea of a hobby is staring at the wall, at the table, and reversing. Sometimes he'll make the mistake of briefly glancing elsewhere, before he expeditiously corrects himself, and returns to one of his two spots.

Was Grantaire just as numb as I was last night, when our argument had just ended? Did he stare at the wall as I did, as he is doing right now? Was he difficult to rouse from his mindless state? Maybe Grantaire and I aren't so different after all, and maybe we could work out if we know how the other party responds. I'd very much like that, but Grantaire is far from budging, and for the first time in my life, I have no solution.

All I can do is pillage the refrigerator for something to eat, but there is nothing that would be suitable for dinner. The only thing that could pass as a meal would be these random fruit cups Combeferre bought a week ago and never ate. I select four fruit cups, two for each of us, so that we can sustain ourselves for a little while, though I doubt we need much. Tumult can purge hunger as well as medicine can.

I place the fruit cups in front of Grantaire, mindful of how much noise I make in an attempt to rattle him from his creepy staring activities, and I barely succeed. He only glances up at me, nods his head robotically in thanks, and operates his limbs as if he were made out of metal, slow and mechanistic, deliberate as if with a program installed unwaveringly into his head.

I am very sorry that fruit cups are the best I can provide us with, but I don't think Grantaire minds at all. In fact, I think he's actually enjoying them (if "enjoying" is the proper word; he looks just about as enthused as a rock), which is somewhat of a relief. I'm already stressed as it is. I don't need to get worked up over some goddamn fruit cups.

Ah, so I'm spending the night with someone who unseals the top of the cup minutely before he eats the fruit, just so he can drain the juice from it. It's a smart move, actually, because then when you go to try and bust open the container, the juice doesn't go sloshing around on your table and your clothes. Grantaire is more scholarly than I would've thought, even if it's for something as mundane as working a fruit cup.

Grantaire plunders his pockets for a moment until he procures something, but I can't detect what it is, as he's maneuvering his hands under the table and promptly returning his item to where it originated. I see soon enough that it's a pill, which he washes down with a swig of the remaining fruit juice at the bottom of the cup.

What could he be needing pills for? Yeah, I can sense some symptoms of depression and migraines and most likely some other issues, too, but I didn't think he would be suited for the routine life of taking pills. Grantaire has professed to me many times that he does not abide by a schedule, which is why he shows up late to almost every social event, so being required to take pills at the same time every day would surely disconcert him, to say the least.

But Grantaire also doesn't seem like the person to be avid about helping himself. He would much rather wallow in his despair than do anything that would require him to move an inch. He's obnoxiously lazy, and that's screwed him many times, including the voluntary neglect of his body and mind. He frankly doesn't give a shit (and never has), so pills are a con for him. And even if he were on medication to aid him with his probable depression, they don't seem to be as effective as they should be, which leads me to believe that the pills function for another purpose: substance abuse.

It wouldn't be total bullshit to say that Grantaire has struggled with some substance abuse issues. I could still most likely perceive this about him even if I was unaware that he has, in fact, suffered at the hands of alcoholism. I didn't know him while he was at his raging climax, but I caught the tail end of it, and Joly informed me of the rest. Joly has always been very supportive of Grantaire, and he's played a part in the magic that went into Grantaire quitting his alcohol addiction, but now Grantaire may be obsessed with pills instead, broadening his palette, if you will.

I shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet, as these pills could be regular medicine for a regular cause. Just because Grantaire wrestled with some issues in the past, doesn't mean that he's prone to a relapse with a different medium. He may have been hiding his pill bottle under the table, because he is so critical of medicine for labeling him as instable, and for some reason Grantaire doesn't like me knowing that he's a fuck up (that's his favorite thing to call himself, and I wish he would stop). He's okay with other people knowing, because it's quite the burden laboring to hide a central part of yourself to the whole world, but he still guards himself around me, and it's not really my business to ask why, nor is it my business to intrude on his pill-taking activities, so I drop everything.

Grantaire remains silent, now moving onto sucking the life out of his second fruit cup (while I am eating mine agonizingly slow because of how thick my thoughts are, how they encumber me and shut down my physical actions to reserve energy for themselves), but I'm through with this quiet. Soon enough I'll go insane, because humans can only withstand so much. I need to speak.

"Grantaire, can't we just pretend like our fight never happened?" I plead, scrunching my brows together in an expression of my blatant desperation. "We've already resolved it with Combeferre, so now it's basically just an empty shell who's too self-righteous to move out of the way. It's hollow, Grantaire."

"I'm hollow, Enjolras," Grantaire spits back, his first sentence since he arrived here almost a half hour ago. His eyes are an inferno whose fury I have never before witnessed in anyone, especially not the sarcastic, fun-loving Grantaire.

"Grantaire, I don't hate you. At all. I just want my friend back. Please." My voice snaps off at the end as if it were tree bark, plastered onto something people see as sturdy, something that is actually far from it. Tears snip the edges of my eyes, sting me all over, and when Grantaire beholds me it is clear that he is in the same state.

Grantaire's whole mood has shifted from spite to begging in a matter of seconds. His eyes trail towards mine, hosting both tears and a shakiness in his sapphire blues, and murmurs only one thing: "I want you back forever."

~~~~~

After a difficult day, Grantaire is as tired as can be. He managed to lure me onto the couch, and is now curled into my side like a puppy, compacting himself as much as possible to be wholly consumed by me. His breathing is slow and steady, which conveys that he trusts me and which also indicates that he's calmed down from the malicious tremors of today. It looks as though he's prepared for sleep, as though he's so close to grasping it, yet he still holds onto reality for a little while longer, cherishing his moments with me.

I have no idea what made Grantaire decide to draw himself so close to me when only two hours earlier he was at my neck with something as simple as his facial expressions, but it's not like I'm complaining. I'm enjoying the time with him just as much as he is. Would it be so sinful to admit that I don't want this to end?

Multiple seconds later, I spy the feeble snoring of the companion snuggled beside me, oddly reminiscent of a baby animal, breath so feathery and light that it swarms high enough to dance with the stars. He is finally at rest, drafted into the peace he deserves. He is safe.

I convince myself that it's suitable for me to fall asleep in this position with Grantaire already knocked out by the stress of the day, but the screen of my phone, who has been resting on the armrest for as long as I have been relaxing on the couch with my regained friend, jumps to life with a text from Combeferre. He's either trying to tell me that I'd better be with Grantaire (or he'll kick my ass all the way to the neighboring country of Germany), or that he's having the grandest time with Jehan and he hopes I'm having a good time with Grantaire — and if I'm not, then I need a find a way to do so.

I unlock my phone and read what the message actually says.

How is it with you and Grantaire?

I glance down at the small boy tucked under my arm, and a smile is all that welcomes itself to the smooth canvas of my face, evidently reveling in how intimate Grantaire and I have become in only a few minutes.

My reply comes as naturally as breathing, as definitively as fact, as amorous as new birth in spring. It is all I know to be true, to be holy, to be certain, and that one word speaks it all.

Perfect.

~~~~~

A/N: I'm just playing myself by this point honestly

everything is still rekt tho

~Dakotoe