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Enjolras folded himself into the armchair, with a book he had plucked off of Jehan’s shelf on his knees. He rubbed his arms to warm himself up.
Sunday mornings were often the only time all of them could meet outside of meetings, and piling into Jehan’s sprawling apartment was quite common. For all the opulence of the apartment itself, with its high ceilings and granite countertops, the furniture was a bit all over the place.
Enjolras watched as Bahorel eyed a poorly knitted blue and orange blanket with suspicion and bit back a smile. It was always a delight to have them all together like this. Eponine and Feuilly had fallen asleep on the rug, tangled together, exhausted as they always were.
Enjolras eyed the point Eponine’s ankles pressed against Feuilly’s bare calf, transfixed. He rubbed his thumb over his knee.
“Pancake, Enj?” Grantaire called from the kitchen.
Enjolras tore his eyes away, hastily standing up and heading to the kitchen.
“Hey,” Grantaire said, smiling at the sight of him, “Fruit or chocolate?”
Enjolras felt his heart clench at how Grantaire was looking at him. “Fruit, please.”
“Aye, aye, chief.”
Enjolras kept his eyes away from the corner beside the fridge where Courfeyrac seemed to have pressed Combeferre against the counter.
Grantaire gave him an amused look over the pancake he was flipping, and Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up.
He put the pancake on a plate, pouring the batter onto the pan. Enjolras kept his eyes trained on the batter that was bubbling up.
“No PDA in the kitchen, dads,” Grantaire called, giving Enjolras a wink, “You’re making the kids uncomfortable.”
Courfeyrac broke off, looking like he had just realized there were other people in the room.
“Sorry. Enj,” he said, a little breathless, “Didn’t realize you were here.”
Enjolras tried not to laugh as Combeferre quietly dragged his boyfriend out of the kitchen.
“Apollo?”
Enjolras looked up to see Grantaire giving him a careful look. “Yeah?”
“You looked stressed. Everything okay?”
Enjolras managed a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Grantaire looked at him pointedly, scooping strawberries onto the large pile of pancakes in the plate. He relented.
“My parents are in town. I’m having dinner with them today.”
Enjolras idly wrung his fingers as Grantaire winced.
“You deserve some whipped cream for that,” he said, pulling out a spray bottle of whipped cream from the fridge.
Enjolras laughed, and it came out more brittle than he thought it would sound, if the sympathetic look Grantaire gave him was anything to go by.
Grantaire handed him the plate, and Enjolras felt his fingers go hot where they touched. Grantaire hastily pulled away.
“Courage, Apollo,” he said, smiling at him and handing him a fork, “I promise I’ll make you a meal of your choice tomorrow. As a treat.”
Enjolras rushed home in a frenzy. He wished he hadn’t dumped all his cash on the table at the restaurant before running out of there like he was on fire.
He gritted his teeth together at the rising panic in his chest. Despite all the dread he felt each time he met them, he couldn’t help the voice in his head that kept saying maybe it will be better this time.
It was beginning to rain.
It was fitting, Enjolras thought, as he felt his hair beginning to hang limp around his face.
His father’s voice kept echoing in his head, but when he shut his eyes, all he could see was the white knuckled grip his mother had on her wine glass. He violently shook his head.
He had promised himself he wouldn’t spiral after dinner.
He was so tired of this. Of how long it took him to prepare emotionally to see them. Of how completely frozen he felt around them. Of how he felt so unworthy of being called fearless by his friends because he was the only one who knew how afraid he was when he was around them. Of how offhand his father sounded when he said, “You’re still running around with those delinquent friends of yours? Honestly, Annabelle, you’re nineteen years old, don’t you think it’s time to grow up and leave this phase behind.”
Enjolras felt the acid taste of bile rising in his throat.
He took a deep, shuddering breath.
He felt empty. Like his arms were too cold and everything in the world was too far away from him.
He thought of the way Jehan and Bahorel sat on the couch together sometimes, their arms wrapped around one another, languid and half asleep.
His apartment would be empty when he got home. Empty and cold and barren.
Enjolras felt his chest ache with the need to be held.
He turned around. He could not go home.
When Grantaire answered the door, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and was covered in paint.
Convenient, his mind supplied, and he laughed, feeling a little out of control.
“Apollo?”
“Is Eponine home?”
Grantaire’s face twisted in confusion. “No, she’s at ‘Parnasse’s tonight.”
Enjolras gingerly stepped into the apartment, stepping closer to Grantaire. It made him feel all too aware of the few inches of height he had over Grantaire. Grantaire’s eyes were very wide.
“Enjolras?” his voice was low and soft.
“Can I kiss you?”
Grantaire’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he nodded.
Enjolras pressed his mouth to Grantaire’s, pretending not have heard the gasp that escaped him when he did.
He felt like he was dangling mid-air until Grantaire brought his arms up around him, and Enjolras felt the tight coil of his shoulders loosen.
Grantaire pulled away, breathing hard. “Are you sure you want to do this right now? That looks like a very fancy shirt and I’ve got paint all over me.”
Enjolras nodded in lieu of answering, and kissed him again. Grantaire’s arms remained limp at his sides and Enjolras gave a frustrated growl. Grantaire grabbed him by the shoulders and gently pushed him away.
“Apollo, hey, are you sure about this?”
Enjolras felt all too aware that his eyes were too wide as his gaze fixed on his hands. They were splayed over Grantaire’s chest.
“You’re attracted to me, right?”
“Yeah, but-“
“And you do this so often-“
“I do this often enough to know what someone looks and acts like when they want sex. No offense Apollo, but you really don’t.”
Enjolras felt the ache in his chest grow.
“I want this, I do.” He felt frantic.
Grantaire placed his hands on top of his, and Enjolras inhaled sharply. Grantaire’s face went soft.
Grantaire was painfully gentle as he wrapped his arms around him. Enjolras, with his arms still trapped, pressed against his chest, tipped his head down to rest it on his shoulder. Grantaire rubbed his hand over his back.
Finally.
He felt hot, like he was next to bonfire, and he wanted to get closer.
“Hey, hey, Enj, relax, you’re breathing too fast.”
Enjolras felt like something was unravelling inside him. Grantaire pulled back slightly and Enjolras flinched, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could let go of him. He fought the panic rising up in his throat to say something, but nothing would come. All he could manage was a frustrated noise.
No, he wanted to say. Or stop. Or stay.
“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Let’s just- uh- sit down.”
Enjolras nodded, allowing Grantaire to step away from him and take his hand, leading him to the couch that looked like it had been slept on recently. Enjolras sat down, wordless, as Grantaire knelt in front of him and touched his forehead to his. Enjolras pressed closer letting out a long, shaky breath. Grantaire ran his hand over his neck and shoulders, slow and firm.
“There we go,” he said, smiling, “There we go, let it all out, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”
Enjolras mustered a shaky smile, trying to breathe slower. He closed his eyes, following the rhythm of the hands on his shoulders, until the urgency in his chest died down to a dull, aching throb.
Grantaire ran his hands down his arms and took his hands in his, pulling back to look at him. Enjolras fought to keep his gaze.
“Feeling better?”
Enjolras nodded, feeling his face heat up.
“You want some water?”
Enjolras wanted to say something along the lines of, don’t leave, or please don’t let go of me. But what he finally said was, “Yeah, water sounds great.”
Grantaire tapped his hand twice before standing, smiling. Enjolras put his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He had been in college for nearly six months now. He had done such a good job of seeming like a put together person.
Now all that was gone.
When Grantaire came back, he felt a wave of gratitude at the fact that he had brought him water in a mug instead of a glass. He held it in his shaky hands, tucking two fingers into the handle and taking a sip. Grantaire sat beside him.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to talk about it right now, Enjolras.” Grantaire’s gaze was kind. “You look exhausted. You can sleep in my bed, I’ve slept in Eponine’s bed before.”
Enjolras resisted the urge to ask if they shared the bed before. Whether he and Eponine sleep with their legs tangled together, their arms touching.
Enjolras shook his head. “No, I mean I’m sorry about kissing you.”
“I said yes.”
“But you didn’t want to.”
Grantaire made an odd noise. “I wanted to until I realized you were upset, Apollo. It’s cool, no worries.”
“But-“
“Fine, apology accepted.”
Enjolras pursed his lips and hung his head. “I just- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I just don’t know how else- and it always worked in school and I just thought maybe it would work here too, I don’t know.”
Grantaire’s voice sounded very controlled as he said, “What worked in high school?”
Enjolras shrugged. “You know. I didn’t- I didn’t really make friends easily. I’ve been told I’m a bit- a bit too much? But people always wanted to sleep with me and I figured why not, right? Whatever works.”
The room was silent. Enjolras looked up to find Grantaire looking at him with barely concealed disgust. He felt a lump settle in his throat. He’d been dealing with everything so well for so long.
“Stop it.”
Enjolras looked up at Grantaire’s voice. “Stop what?”
“Stop whatever shitty, untrue thought you have in your mind right now. I’m not upset with you.”
“Okay.”
“But, um, Enjolras?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you- did you want to sleep with them?”
Enjolras kept his eyes steady on the crates that they had glued together to make a coffee table. “I guess, yeah. I didn’t mind. There was this girl, Eloise. She used to hold my face in both her hands before kissing me. That was really nice. And sometimes, afterwards, some of them wanted to just, I don’t know, lay together. Close.”
Enjolras’ face felt hot. Grantaire was gazing at him with wet eyes, his jaw clenched.
“R?”
He hurriedly wiped his eyes. Enjolras felt a prickling of guilt creeping up his neck. He had been painting peacefully until Enjolras disrupted his night.
Grantaire took a deep breath, looking at him pointedly. “You have friends now, though.”
Enjolras averted his gaze.
“You don’t have to lie to me just because I was upset earlier, Grantaire. I’m not a child.”
“What?”
“I know you guys don’t like me very much, it’s fine, I’m not upset or anything.”
“Enjolras- what?”
Enjolras shut his mouth with a snap, feeling indignant. “I know you think I’m hot, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Grantaire looked completely baffled. “I’m not going to deny that I think you’re gorgeous, okay, but the other thing- just, what? What on earth gave you that idea?”
Every single reason Enjolras had accumulated over the past 6 months suddenly felt small and childish.
He couldn’t raise his eyes from the crate when he finally said, “You’re all always, you know, all over each other. Hugging and kissing each other’s cheeks and cuddling on the couch and stuff. None of you ever…touch me.”
The tears were back in Grantaire’s eyes and Enjolras felt a familiar voice in his head say, can you do anything but create a mess?
Grantaire extended a hand toward him, palm up. “This okay?”
Enjolras slipped his hand in it. Grantaire laced their fingers together, squeezing.
“Enj, I’m going to need you to listen to me for a bit, okay?”
Enjolras hummed.
“When we first came here, you flinched every time anyone reached toward you. And we just figured that you didn’t like it. That’s on us, for assuming instead of asking. Some people just don’t like being touched, you know?”
“I do. I like it.”
Grantaire looked down for a moment and swallowed.
“I don’t know how you feel about sex separate from all of this, and you can figure that out at your own pace. But you don’t need to- you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with to feel human touch, alright?”
Enjolras nodded, feeling rattled.
Grantaire continued. “I’m not the best at this, expressing emotions. I sort of wish Combeferre were here. Or Jehan. Or Courfeyrac.”
He laughed, a little nervous. “But I want you to know that this isn’t out of obligation or courtesy or whatever. Enjolras, Les Amis, we love you very, very much. We love having you around.”
Enjolras felt his eyes burn.
“And all you ever have to do if you want to be held,” Grantaire squeezed his hand, “Is ask.”
Enjolras half sobbed, choking on it.
“R?”
“Yeah, Enj?”
“Can I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to go back to my apartment alone.”
Grantaire smiled, a little watery. “Of course, you can. We can share the bed.”
Enjolras felt something loosen in his chest.
The armchair in Jehan’s apartment was basically Enjolras’ now. That’s what everyone called it anyway. Something warm coiled in his gut when he heard Jehan call it that. He had his legs thrown over one arm as he read.
Enjolras watched as they came into the room, holding fours mugs precariously in their hands. Enjolras was almost certain he had seen a tray in their kitchen earlier, but they seemed content playing contortionist with four mugs.
He smiled at the way they pointedly kissed each person on the head while handing them their mug. He was fully aware it was for his benefit, and it made something giddy bubble up in his chest. By the time Jehan was by his side, he had already tipped his head up in preparation.
Enjolras closed his eyes as he felt the lips brush his hairline.
Before he could open his mouth to say thank you, Bahorel came bounding into the house, leaving the door wide open, making Enjolras jump up in attention.
He was beaming. “You did it chief, your article got published!”
“What? Really?”
Enjolras had been trying to get his article on prejudice within the water crisis published for weeks, now. Bahorel violently shook the laptop he had in his hands.
“Yes, really!”
He stepped forward, leaning in for a hug before catching himself. He paused for a minute, allowing Enjolras to take the last step.
Enjolras tried to smile, his heart thundering in his chest. “It’s okay.”
Bahorel's grin widened, and he whooped, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him clean off the ground. Enjolras felt laughter bubble up inside his chest. Over his shoulder, he could see Grantaire watching them, his face soft, smiling.
It felt warm.