Montparnasse's POV

I'm jolted by a frantic knocking at my door, whose origins are unknown and whose origins are beginning to frighten me, as barely anyone shows up at my apartment randomly (or anytime at all) besides Jehan, and Jehan is curled up beside me without the faintest clue that there's anyone rapping on the walls like they're being chased by a murderer, so I honestly have no idea who it could be, or if I should even answer it at all.

But, with how loud they're being, I don't want them to wake up Jehan, both because he looks so peaceful in the garden of sleep, and because Jehan will get suspicious of my drug deals and my street affairs, and the poor kid doesn't need to worry about any of that, so I rise from the couch, careful not to disturb my restful boyfriend, and see who's disrupting my repose.

My only guess as to who it could be is Claquesous, the absolute bane of my fucking existence. All he does is pester me about secrets I may or may not possess, knowledge of which he has barely revealed, all because we were friends in middle school, and he knows that my scary persona on the streets is all a façade to protect myself from nasty people like him, to level up in my credibility and business. He hasn't tested me yet, but I've assured him many times that I will not hesitate to destroy him if he does, and I suppose that's why. But why the hell must he mess with me all the time? I'm trying to enjoy myself.

I swing open the door, expecting it to be that vile man aforementioned, but the actual outcome is even more shocking than the person who's actually terrified of me. It's the curly-haired ravenette who purchased painkillers from me not too long ago, on a mission for who knows what.

"How the hell did you find me?"

"Jehan gave me your address. He thinks we're friends, but I could never be friends with a disgusting person like you, and I don't know how he can, either." Grantaire's expression reeks of a spite whose intensity I have never before witnessed, but I'm not scared of someone who depends on me to live; I'm in control of him, no matter how evil that sounds.

I'm more frustrated with him than intimidated, and I indicate this by clicking my hands onto my hips, sighing. "Why are you here, Grantaire?"

"Jehan isn't at the apartment, so I figured he'd be here. I've come to tell him the truth about you." Ah, good old righteous Grantaire, doing the world many favors when no one asked him to.

My brows coil. "Why are you out to get me?"

"Because you're unhealthy for my best friend."

I glance behind me to glimpse a still sleeping Jehan, not an ounce of fear circulating his body. "Then why is he the happiest he's ever been?"

Grantaire is silent, and it's obvious that he's been defeated, but he despises being defeated, and yet he has nothing to say that will unbury him from the trench we created together. The tools are in my hands, and I can either dig us deeper, or I can help us escape, but Grantaire is too paralyzed to decide, so I continue talking while I have the opportunity.

"I'll give you some more painkillers to keep your mouth shut." Grabbing my pouch of drugs (that Jehan hasn't yet questioned, thankfully) from the table near the doorway, I begin to root through the contents to produce some more painkillers, until Grantaire halts me.

"I'm quitting, actually."

My slender brow juts upward, and my arm slowly moves to return the bag to its original position. "Oh?"

It's obvious that Grantaire has not considered the fact that withdrawal will strike him like a fucking sledgehammer, but why should I spare someone like him? I shouldn't. If he accepts the painkillers, he's fucked. If he refuses the painkillers, he's fucked again. Grantaire is a mess of a person, no doubt, and now that he's dug himself into this wreck, he figures the only place to go is down.

Grantaire nods nonchalantly. "I don't want to be bound to the devil."

His comments, ever so virulent, never fail to draw a chuckle out of me. "I think you'll find that I'm not the malicious one. The last time we met, I gave you drugs in exchange for a favor, and this is it. My favor exists with the sole purpose of protecting someone I love. What are you using your reward for?" I scoff, words tainted by acerbity. "If you love your boyfriend even a little bit, you wouldn't squander your life on fucking drugs, of all things."

Grantaire looks as though I just knocked the wind out of him with a battering ram, to the point where composure is a faint memory.

"Keep my secret. That's all I ask."

"Fuck you," Grantaire spits.

I smile as the door swings shut. "Goodbye, Grantaire."

~~~~~

A/N: there was a time when I really tried to make Grantaire likable but I really hate this thing so I don't even care anymore

Montparnasse is the queen tho

~Dakoti