Chapter Text
Grantaire had a problem. Well, he had many, but he couldn’t seem to get this particular one out of his head, these days especially. It kept him up until 2 am every night, trying to drown his feelings in cheap wine.
His problem was six foot tall, golden-haired, ethereally beautiful Enjolras. Passionate, self-assured, deceptively charismatic Enjolras. He always carried himself with the utmost confidence, never caring about what others thought of him. A charming, intense, determined man, he was everything Grantaire wasn’t and everything he wished he could be. In short, Grantaire had fallen for him, and it was safe to say he was completely fucked.
Enjolras was The Les Amis de ABC’s founder and leader. Grantaire had stumbled into the back room of Cafe Musain and into a Les Amis meeting one day (probably the result of him being intoxicated) and once he was there, he couldn’t leave. Grantaire stayed until the very end, listening to the speech Enjolras was giving at the front of the room. His intense blue eyes were ignited with a fiery passion, and he held the attention of everyone in the room, including Grantaire’s. Enjolras spoke powerfully, his words inspiring and emotional.
Ever since then, and despite his best interests, Grantaire attended the Les Amis meetings, eventually becoming a member himself. He made good friends with the others in the group, especially the brunette named Eponine. She was a pessimistic, sardonic person, but then again, so was he. However, unlike Grantaire and the rest of the Amis, who were students at the local university, Eponine worked multiple jobs and did her best to look after Gavroche, her 12-year-old brother. He was a rebellious, mischievous kid who loved to cause trouble, always defying his teachers at school and pulling pranks. Eponine tried to discourage him from acting out, but there was only so much she could do.
Eponine, like Grantaire, was also hopelessly in love with another member of the Les Amis de ABC. It was Marius Pontmercy, who had joined the group just recently thanks to Courfeyrac. He was a romantic, somewhat distractible person who was prone to accidents. Marius always meant well, but it often came out wrong. Still, he was a kind-hearted person and never hesitated to stand up for others.
Eponine had been close friends with Marius for a while, but had never been able to capture his attention in a more intimate way. And when Cosette Fachelevent, the adopted daughter of Jean Valjean, moved to town, Marius had fallen head-over-heels in love with her, and her with him as well. Cosette was all he would ever talk about, all he would ever think about.
With that, Eponine’s already slim chances with Marius had been reduced to nothing. Still, she followed him around like a lost puppy and did whatever favors he asked of her, but Grantaire knew that it must break her heart even more than it did before now that Marius was openly crushing on Cosette.
Despite being friends with all of the members of the Les Amis, Grantaire had yet to come even close to befriending their leader, the one person he really, really wanted to. So instead, Grantaire did his best to capture Enjolras’s attention in any way he could, which meant shooting off snide remarks during meetings, mocking his ideals, and starting rather explosive arguments with him. And today’s meeting was certainly no exception.
Perhaps it was even worse than usual.
“We need to get more attention from the media for our next rally,” Enjolras began. He had taken his place at the front of the room besides his best friends and right-hand men Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “It will draw more people in and direct awareness to our cause.”
Courfeyrac removed the pencil he was chewing on the end of from his mouth to speak. “I was thinking we start with social media. Get the word out there. With all the followers I have---”
Everyone let out a collective groan. Courfeyrac was, simply put, a little addicted to social media. And for some reason, he was even more than usual lately.
Courfeyrac gave everyone his famous, gap-toothed smile and rolled his eyes in response. Across from him, Combeferre cleared his throat to regain the ever-fleeting attention of the group. “As much as I hate to admit it, Courf’s right. Almost everyone is on social media nowadays. It’s the best way to reach out to people and spread our message.”
Enjolras nodded in agreement. “So for anyone that has any kind of social media account, which is...all of you, I presume,” he grimaced, “please post updates regularly to inform the public of our upcoming rally.” The room responded positively with a chorus of “sures,” “okays,” and “why nots.”
Beside him, Courfeyrac let out a whine. “But it’ll ruin my aesthetic on Instagram, Enj.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “Why’d you suggest the idea of using social media if you’re not going to?”
“Well, you just don’t use Instagram! That’s reserved for pictures of hot chicks, amazing selfies, epic parties, and wild nights out with friends. Not rally stuff.”
Enjolras dragged a hand down his face in defeat while Combeferre anxiously shuffled beside him.
Meanwhile, Grantaire, who had been waiting for an opportunity to jump in, saw his chance and took it.
“Hey Apollo, why are you making everyone post political propaganda on their social media when you don’t even have one?” he jeered, “seems a little unfair to me.”
Enjolras immediately spun around to face Grantaire, a scowl already forming on his face. “Ah, here we go again…” Eponine muttered from where she was sitting beside Grantaire.
“I’ve never had the need for a social media account. It’s just not for me,” he spoke slowly, trying to contain the anger that Grantaire brought out in him so often. Grantaire scoffed loudly. “Well sure, you don’t need one, but feel free to dictate how we use ours.”
Enjolras’s face was as red as his jacket now. He told himself that he wouldn’t let Grantaire get to him today. He wouldn’t. The meeting, and his afternoon, had gone fairly well up to this point. But Grantaire was just repulsive to him. Everything he did and said just made Enjolras’s blood boil. The man seemed to be getting on his nerves a lot more lately and his patience for him was wearing thinner each day.
Grantaire sat back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. On the outside, he looked calm and complacent, but his heart was racing inside his chest. Enjolras was shooting daggers at Grantaire with his eyes, which wasn’t anything new, that was the way he always looked at him. But seeing those light blue, no--- cerulean, he reminded himself---eyes trained on him and no one else always made his stomach flip-flop. For a little bit, just a little bit, he had all of Enjolras’s attention, even if it was in a scathing way.
Enjolras was about to spit a harsh retort back at him when Courfeyrac leaned over and whispered something in his ear. His frown grew wider, and he shook his head, disagreeing with whatever his friend just told him.
“No, we’re going to use your idea, Courferyrac! I don’t think anyone in this room besides Grantaire,” he sneered, “has a problem with it.”
At that, everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It was true, they didn’t have a problem with making posts about the rally. And they knew in his heart Grantaire probably didn’t either. But he was determined to antagonize Enjolras however he could.
“I guess you’re right. I do have a problem with it. Some people just don’t like others telling them how to live their lives.” Grantaire wiggled his eyebrows, taunting him. He really shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was.
Enjolras was infuriated. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his side, trying to resist the very strong urge to walk over and smack Grantaire in the nose. He had no desire to control other people’s lives, only make them better. Grantaire had been coming to the Amis meetings for years, and Enjolras didn’t get why he couldn’t understand that. Why was Grantaire there if he didn’t believe in anything Enjolras believed in and worked so hard to accomplish? Before he could think of something to retort back, Grantaire spoke again.
“You’re clenching your fists pretty hard there. If you’re thinking of punching me, you probably shouldn’t. You know I box, right?” He smirked, showing off his slightly crooked teeth.
That was the last straw for Enjolras. He slammed his right fist down on the table beside him, startling everyone. "Grantaire, you're incapable of belief, of thought, of will, of life, and of death.”
The room went silent, and all eyes slowly turned towards Grantaire. His teasing smile had faltered for what seemed to be half of a second before he plastered it on once more, doing his best to keep his careless attitude. “Whatever you say, Apollo,” he said before taking a large gulp out of his beer can. Enjolras stared at him, shaking with fury.
“Meeting adjourned,” he said finally, and turned his back to the room, muttering something under his breath. Nobody made a move to get up until Combeferre cleared his throat.
Enjolras was still shaking when everyone had left, anger untamed. Combeferre gently laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it firmly. “Enjolras,” he calmly said, “that wasn’t---”
“What the fuck was that, Enjolras?” Courfeyrac cried, ignoring the way Combeferre was delicately trying to handle the matter. Combeferre let out an exasperated sigh.
“You can’t just say things like that!” Courfeyrac continued. “I know you guys argue but dude, that was heartless.”
Enjolras scowled. “So what, he’s allowed to constantly interrupt our meetings and mock our ideals but I’m not allowed to state the truth about him?”
“I don’t know! Just argue like you guys normally do! Don’t be an asshole!” Courfeyrac threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He looked over at Combeferre desperately. “‘Ferre? Help?”
Combeferre let go of his grip on Enjolras and took a deep breath, carefully choosing his next words. He knew his best friend well, well enough to know that he didn’t always think rationally when he was angry. “Enjolras, Grantaire can be beyond irritating sometimes, I know. But you have to be the mature one here. Don’t let him get to you.”
Enjolras sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, especially where Grantaire was concerned, he knew Combeferre was right. He had to control his temper better.
“Alright. I’ll work on it.” He gave his friends a reassuring smile and flung his knapsack over his shoulder. “Let’s get home. I’ve had a long day.”