Chapter Text
“Hey look over here, the pretty boy thinks he’s so tough!”
Enjolras bared his teeth as he turned in the direction of the voice. On the other side of the barricade, keeping the crowd back from city hall, were a couple of riot police, pacing casually as if all of this amused them. They were staring, laughing at Enjolras, who was at the front right up against the iron bars with the rest of the ABC Society beside him, rage coursing through their blood.
“You little shits go home!” said the other policeman. “Your whining ain’t gonna do jack.”
“It’s people like you,” growled Enjolras. “That make me weep for my country.”
“What was that?” The first walked over, banging his shield up against the iron bar in front of Enjolras.
“Sounded like a personal attack to me,” spat the other.
There was a surge in the crowd and they were crushed forward, Enjolras hitting the bar, getting pushed toward the policeman.
“Back off!” the guard cried.
“Enjolras,” Combeferre was right there behind him, an arm at his back. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I just-”
Another wave nearly sent him toppling over the barricade, arms flailing out for balance and hitting the policeman. Combeferre reached and managed to haul him back, but the guards were right there.
“Behind the rail!!” the one screamed, holding out his weapon.
“He’s getting unruly!” The other policeman shouted.
“It was an accident!” Enjolras snarled back. “Can’t you see what’s going on here? Are you really so-”
“Enjolras!“ Combeferre warned, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.”
“I ain’t warning you again!” The guard yelled.
“Ow!” Enjolras couldn’t help but yelp as a stranger behind him shoved him into the iron barricade. “Watch it!” he growled, spinning to see who had done it, but the protest sign in his hand knocked against the guard’s riot shield.
“That’s it!” the policeman shouted.
Enjolras turned back to explain, but the policeman raised his arm, something clutched in his grip. And then Enjolras felt the burning liquid hit his eyes and it was all he could do not to scream.
“No!” he heard Combferre shout, reaching for him, but the policeman let out another cry and he sprayed them again.
Enjolras couldn’t breathe, the mace clouding the air, spilling into his lungs, suffocating him. He fell limp into the arms of someone behind him, praying it was one of his friends as he fought for air, his eyes shut tight, the burning unstoppable.
He heard his friends screaming in protest, the ones who weren’t coughing from the mace in the air, and he felt hands upon him, hauling him away through the crowd, bodies knocking into him as they went. The suffocating was getting worse, and even though he gasped for air it didn’t seem to help, when suddenly…he felt the open air. They had made it through the crowd.
“Where can we go?” he heard Jehan cry.
“M-my place,” Combeferre coughed weakly. “It’s the closest.”
Enjolras was dragged along at first, but since he couldn’t seem to make his feet obey, he found himself being lifted off the ground and carried down the street. Even with the impossible pain in his throat, he seemed to be capable of taking in oxygen and focused on breathing, his burning eyes squeezed shut.
“Is he okay?” Courfeyrac said.
Enjolras weakly shook his head, not sure if Courfeyrac was even referring to him but attempting to answer anyway.
“We’ll check inside. N-not much further,” Combeferre said.
“Give me your glasses, they’re a mess,” Courfeyrac's voice trailed off in the direction of Combeferre.
It seemed an eternity later that Enjolras heard a door opening, and felt his rescuer ascending the stairs, panting with the effort of carrying him. The frantic voices of his friends echoed all around him in the stairwell as they raced up to the apartment. Another door opened, and he was lowered, laid down on the familiar cushions of Combeferre’s couch. He was somewhat comforted in all the chaos that he was somewhere safe now, relieved to hear the closing of the apartment door behind them.
“Get some milk,” Courfeyrac said.
“Milk, why milk?” Marius asked.
“It neutralizes burning.”
“Pepper spray though. That was mace,” Jehan cut in.
“Are you sure?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Mace is a lot worse.”
“But isn’t mace a spice too? Like pepper?”
“No, I thought it was all chemicals…”
“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!”
“Please! Let’s just try the milk,” Combeferre grunted, clearly in pain.
“I’ll get it,” Grantaire said. “Do you have an eyedropper?”
“Check the bathroom.”
Now that they were safely at Combeferre’s, Enjolras’s friends went off on a venomous tirade against the police, their voices making his head pound. The swearing and yelling was growing louder, though Joly was continually telling them to keep it down so the rest of the building wouldn’t hear. Bahorel wanted to go back, and Jehan was scolding him. “Are you insane? Look what just happened.”
“So we’re just going to let them get away with it!?” Bahorel asked, incredulous.
Enjolras heard footsteps on the kitchen tiles, the opening of the fridge. “Got the milk,” Grantaire said hurriedly.
“Him first,” Combeferre urged.
“Of course.”
Enjolras felt a gentle touch on his cheek, his face guided up as Grantaire knelt beside him in front of the couch.
“Hey,” Grantaire said, his voice soft. “Can you open your eyes?”
Enjolras shook his head. He was afraid to open them, and wasn’t even sure if he would be able to.
“That’s alright. I’ll be careful.” Grantaire put his thumb over Enjolras’s eyelid. “Alright, first one,” he said, lifting up his eyelid as it fluttered in discomfort. “Oh god,” Grantaire breathed.
“What?”
“No, no it’s okay,” he said quickly, and Enjolras felt liquid dropping into his eye. Grantaire released his eyelid and Enjolras blinked a bit more, a tear of milk dripping down his cheek. “And the other.”
“Why did you say ‘oh god’?” Enjolras pressed again, scared.
“They’re just…really red. It’s a bit jarring,” he said as he treated the other eye. “Is this helping?”
“I’m not sure. Go tend Combeferre.”
“Alright.”
Enjolras was left alone but he heard Marius and Courfeyrac arguing about mace, seemingly looking it up on their phones. Jehan was still attempting to keep Bahorel in line, and it sounded like Joly was crying by himself, probably in the armchair by the TV.
“Ferre,” Enjolras called after a moment. “Are you alright?”
“Yea,” he answered. “My glasses blocked most of it. My vision’s a bit blurry but I think I’m okay.”
“That’s good,” Enjolras said, his voice quiet. At least Combeferre wasn’t badly hurt…
“You’ll be okay,” Combeferre said, coming closer, bending down beside him. “Just go to sleep and it’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep but I want everyone to shut up… It hurts so much, Ferre.” His voice cracked as he spoke, embarrassed at how vulnerable he felt.
“Hold on.” Combeferre picked up Enjolras and took him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. “I’ll tell everyone to be quiet,” he said, removing Enjolras’s shoes. He left and came back shortly, “I’m not sure if painkillers will help but it can’t hurt to try.” He helped Enjolras sit up for a moment, pressing two pills into his hand. Enjolras took them obediently and Combeferre held the glass of water to his lips so he could swallow them down. “Good,” he concluded as he laid him back down. “Yell if you need me.” He shut the door, and Enjolras heard a stern “Everyone be quiet,” from the other side.
Enjolras lay there in agony, feeling as if his head was on fire, trying and failing to meditate the pain away. He heard the hushed voices of his friends on the other side of the door, every now and then the volume rising until someone reminded them to be quiet again. He didn’t know how long he lay there before passing out, more shutting down than actually falling asleep, but it was at least a reprieve from the pain…
When Enjolras woke up, he felt warmth, sunlight on his body. The sounds of his friends were absent, it was quiet. He was alone, Combeferre must have let him take his bed for the night, and his eyes weren’t hurting as much. There was still pain, but he felt a bit better, and he ventured to open his eyes.
There was nothing.
“Ferre!” he shouted. “Combeferre!”
There was no answer at first, then a dull thumping and Combeferre burst in the door. “Enjolras? Are you okay?”
“I can’t see,” Enjolras whispered mournfully.
Someone else came in, climbing onto the bed beside him, crawling over. “Let me see.” It was Courfeyrac, taking Enjolras’s face in his hands. “Oh god.“ He released him. “Can you see this?”
Enjolras’s vision was an expanse of murky emptiness, and he was unsure whether there were phantom shapes somewhere out there or not. “It’s…movement?”
“He’s waving his hand in front of your face,” Combeferre supplied in a panic.
“I don’t know…I…I just see a lot of grey…” Enjolras swallowed with difficulty.
“We have to take him to a doctor,” Courfeyrac said.
“Immediately,” Combeferre agreed. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Enj, what were we thinking? We should have taken you directly to the hospital and-”
“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras said, trying to steady his quickening heart. “The damage was done.”
“Who should take him?” Courfeyrac asked.
There was silence, and Enjolras swallowed, realizing he was now a burden to his friends. “Can… anyone take me?”
“Grantaire’s raising his hand,” Combeferre said. Enjolras wasn’t even aware Grantaire was in the room. “Enj, let me take you,” Combeferre added. “I feel like this is my-“
“You have work,” Enjolras remembered. “No, I don’t want you to skip because of me. Let Grantaire do it.”
“I….Enjolras, Are you sure?” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Do you remember the time that you asked him to-”
“I’m right here,” Grantaire cut in, his voice sounding from the doorway.
“It’s alright, Ferre.” Enjolras assured him. “That was different. I-I’m sure he can handle taking me to the doctor.”
“Thank you,” Grantaire huffed, clearly affronted.
Combeferre grunted a little in his throat, but conceded. “Courf, go look up an eye doctor and tell them it’s an emergency. If they don’t have an opening, he’ll have to go to the hospital.”
“Ferre, are you okay?” Enjolras tried to take hold of his wrist, but failed to find it, his hand falling useless to the bedspread.
“Yea, I’m fine, it just… it hurts to read, but it’s not a problem. I’m okay. Let me make you something to eat.” Combeferre got up, padding out of the room.
“Okay,” Enjolras said, completely lost. Usually he was the one taking charge, but now he had no choice but to sit here, helpless and fearful. He could feel the warmth of Courfeyrac still beside him on the bed. “Is everyone still here?”
“Nope, it’s just us four for now. The others went home to sleep. Ferre and I slept on the couch together and Grantaire was on the floor.”
“Someone could have come in here with me,” Enjolras said guiltily, feeling as if he had put them out.
“Nah…” Courfeyrac patted his shoulder. “It’s alright. We didn’t want to wake you in case you had actually gone to sleep.” He got up off the bed. “I’m going to make the call.”
Then it was quiet, and Enjolras felt everything closing in around him, confused as to how one could feel so alone with three other people in the apartment. “Grantaire?” he called out softly.
“I’m right here.” Grantaire moved closer and sat down on the edge of the bed nearby.
“You slept on the floor?” Enjolras asked. He was shocked that Grantaire had stayed. Grantaire wasn’t close to him like Courfeyrac and Combeferre were, and he didn’t have the best track record of being responsible, as Combeferre had been trying to point out. But he had showed up to the protest, and sober as well, much to Enjolras’s surprise
“Yea,” Grantaire replied, and Enjolras felt a hand on his. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He swallowed. “But you’re not, are you…”
“I…I’ll be fine…” Enjolras’s voice wavered, unable to convince himself.
He was caught off guard as Grantaire’s arms encircled him, pulling him into a hug. Enjolras let out a soft breath, confused, before giving up and limply falling against him, pressing his face into his shirt. The smell of him was comforting and somewhat familiar... Grantaire ran his hand through Enjolras’s hair, stroking it lightly. “I’m here for you.”
“Thank you,” Enjolras whispered mournfully.
--
Courfeyrac managed to convince an eye doctor across town to take an emergency appointment, while Enjolras sipped on the smoothie Combeferre made him, thankfully something he didn’t need to see to consume. When it was all arranged, Grantaire escorted him down the stairs, Enjolras holding on to the railing for dear life. “You know, I could just carry you like last night…” Grantaire offered.
“No, I can do this…” Enjolras said stubbornly, cautiously taking another step. “Wait, that was you?”
“Yea, that was me,” Grantaire replied, his voice quiet.
Enjolras felt his face flushing, not used to being treated like such a vulnerable specimen. “You’re strong, then. You carried me a long way.” He understood now why Grantaire had smelled familiar.
“Adrenaline, I guess…” Grantaire was dismissive as if it was nothing, still holding onto Enjolras’s hand tightly as they slowly traversed the stairwell.
“Thank you,” Enjolras said again, wishing he could meet his eyes as he said it.
“No need to thank me, Enjolras,” Grantaire replied. “I would do it again.”
“Thank you, but… I think you helping me like this is just fine for now.”
They made it to the bottom of the stairs, and Grantaire led him outside to the street. Enjolras suddenly found himself in a world of sound, hearing the cars rushing past, the rumble of a bus stopping at the corner, people walking around them as if they were an obstacle on the sidewalk. Enjolras nervously squeezed Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire pulled him closer, steering him over to somewhere where they could stand still. “Just a sec,” he said.
Suddenly there was a shrill, high pitched sound resonating in Enjolras’s ear and he cried out, shocked. “Oh, sorry! Sorry!” Grantaire was apologetic, stroking Enjolras’s hair in an attempt to soothe him, his fingers brushing over his ear. It was a few seconds before Enjolras realized the noise had been Grantaire whistling for a taxi. Grantaire laughed softly beside him. “I just thought you might like to be deaf, too,” he joked.
Enjolras was feeling so odd he couldn’t help but laugh, wondering why he hadn’t allowed himself to spend much time with Grantaire before. Then he heard the taxi pull up to the curb and Grantaire opened the door for him, guiding him inside. On the way to the doctor they were quiet, but Grantaire kept hold of his hand, even though there was no need to. Enjolras was glad for the comfort, knowing that someone, his friend, was there for him while he was lost in this strange world of grey light.
Enjolras thought Grantaire would stay in the waiting room, when he was finally called into see the doctor, but Grantaire went right in with him, guiding him as if it wasn’t even a question. He heard Grantaire take a seat in the corner after setting him in the chair, while the nurse got to work asking him questions, mostly about what happened the night before and what they’d done about it so far. Then the doctor came in, and there were several tests he failed miserably. He couldn’t see that there were letters on the chart, let alone a chart in front of him, although he realized the shapes moving back and forth were the doctor and nurse walking around him. His eyes were examined up close, his lids held back while they cleaned them with a solution. He saw bright white suddenly, a light shining directly in his eyes for a time. Enjolras was hoping for a miracle but there was no change. And then when the doctor spoke, his heart sunk.
“I’m afraid I we can’t say anything for certain at this time. There’s a possibility the damage could be permanent.”
Enjolras let out a sound of distress, and suddenly Grantaire was right there, taking Enjolras’s hand in his own. Enjolras squeezed it hard, his fingers tensing in fear.
“Mace is made up of several dangerous chemicals, and you were sprayed at close proximity. It’s very destructive, it can dry up the retinas completely in some cases. That being said, your pupils are reacting to light, which is a good sign, though there is extensive damage to your corneas. I can’t make any promises, but there’s a chance that you might recover from this. You haven’t gone blind yet. I ask that you wear this…” As the doctor was speaking, Enjolras felt a gauze bandage being wrapped around his eyes and the back of his head. The nurse was tending to him, and Grantaire released Enjolras’s hand to give her room to work. Enjolras’s world went from grey to completely black as the bandage covered his eyes. “It will keep your eyes from being exposed to anything else while they attempt to heal. You can remove it while bathing or sleeping, but keep it on the rest of the time. We’ll have to see how it goes. I’d like you to make an appointment as soon as there’s a change, for better or worse.”
They left the doctor’s office, after Grantaire had filled out some paperwork and slipped Enjolras’s new medications into his backpack. With a heavy heart, Enjolras stepped out onto the sidewalk, bandaged in darkness. He thought he would have been leaving with more optimistic news, but now he had no idea what the future held. The doctor hadn’t seemed too hopeful. “I’ll get a cab,” Grantaire said, his voice solemn.
“No. Please, I want to walk home. Through the park.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Enjolras replied resolutely.
“Okay, stay close,” Grantaire led him over to the crosswalk, waiting patiently for the signal. Enjolras appreciated for the first time the chirping noise the streetlight made for the vision impaired, signaling it was safe to cross. Still, he was tentative as they stepped down off the curb, though he knew Grantaire wouldn’t have led him into open traffic.
“Are people staring?” Enjolras asked, aware how strange he must look in his bandage, being pulled around.
“No,” Grantaire replied quickly.
“It’s okay, Grantaire, you don’t have to lie. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
“…some people,” he admitted. “But don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter.”
“Right.” It upset Enjolras to think that people, even strangers, would perceive him as helpless. He was already trying hard to convince himself he wasn’t.
After they had walked for a bit, he caught the scent of flowers in bloom all around them in the air. “We’ve reached the park,” Enjolras announced.
“Yes, we’re here,” Grantaire confirmed, and Enjolras suddenly felt the soft ground under his shoes as they took a step off the concrete.
“Can we sit, for a minute?” he asked Grantaire.
“Of course.”
They sat in the grass beneath a tree, as Grantaire informed him, though Enjolras could tell by the change in temperature they were in the shade. He lay back in the grass, staring out at the dark within his bandaged eyelids as if the leaves and the sky above would be revealed, if he concentrated hard enough.
“Enjolras…” Grantaire started. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m… I’m thinking I…” He feared he was going to choke on his words, so he paused to take a breath. “What good am I, like this? What could I do for anyone?”
“Lots of things. You can still-”
“I can’t even read,” Enjolras interrupted. “How can anyone rely on me now?”
He heard Grantaire pick at the grass, fidgeting. “The doctors said there’s a chance…”
“A chance…” Enjolras repeated. “There’s a chance you’ll win the lottery, if you buy a ticket.”
“Your chances are greater than that.”
“But not greater than the chance that I’ll stay blind.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“I’m sure it was implied.”
Grantaire was silent.
“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said after a moment. “I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, it’s ugly.”
“You have every right to be angry. If talking like this helps, I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s not helping,” Enjolras sighed.
He heard Grantaire get up, the sound of the grass crackling under his feet as he walked away. Enjolras lay there, fighting his instinct to panic at being left alone. It was jarring not knowing what direction he was facing, what part of the park he was in, not knowing how he would even get home if he was left here. But soon he heard footsteps approaching again. “Grantaire?” He asked softly, just to check.
“Yes, I’m right here.” Grantaire dropped back down beside him.
“Next time, tell me where you’re going,” Enjolras said indignantly, a bit ashamed he had been fighting back fear.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get this for you.”
Enjolras was confused at first, but then smelled something fragrant right under his nose. He reached up and felt Grantaire’s hand, his fingers sliding up Grantaire’s until he felt the stem, then the soft petals of a flower in bloom. “Why?” he asked, bemused.
“I just… I don’t know. Something you can appreciate without your sight.”
“Yes. Thank you,” he said quietly, the scent calming him at least. “What color is it?”
“Red,” Grantaire supplied. “A carnation.”
Enjolras remained silent for a long time, just simply holding the flower, his hand frozen. Grantaire lay down beside him in the grass. “What will happen,” Enjolras finally asked, “if I remain blind?”
“I’ll be your seeing-eye dog.”
Enjolras breathed out a bitter laugh. “I’m asking a serious question.”
“I gave you a serious answer. But if you don’t like it then I’ll give you some more… you’ll listen to audiobooks, you’ll learn braille…you can voice command your phone to call and text people…you can record yourself, to write your speeches….” But Grantaire trailed off, seeming to run out of things to say.
“I won’t be able to see my friends again…” Enjolras’s voice was hollow.
“We’ll still be right here. And you can see us, in your head, in your dreams, you’ll remember.”
Enjolras sniffed, a choking sound escaping his throat and Grantaire gasped, taking his hand. “No, no don’t cry, please don’t cry, Enj.”
“I’m not going to cry,” Enjolras said stubbornly, though his voice wavered, his eyes burning fiercely.
“If you cry you’ll get your bandage wet and we can’t take it off…” Grantaire sounded distressed, as if he were going to cry too.
Enjolras pulled his hand back, annoyed, but Grantaire’s reminder forced him to hold back his tears and he took a deep breath, and another. “…I’m ready to go home now.”
“Where do you live?”
“At the corner of Fifth and Main. It’s a large brick building.” He heard Grantaire stand up, and Enjolras tentatively held out his hand again so Grantaire could pull him to his feet. Enjolras kept the flower safely in his other hand.
“I’ve never been to your place before.”
“It’s nothing special. It’s probably a bit of a mess right now. Lots of papers and books.”
“You think I’m not used to mess?” Grantaire asked, sounding as if he was smiling.
“No, I suppose you would be.”
Hand in hand, Grantaire escorted Enjolras safely to his own apartment. Enjolras handed him the key and they went up in the elevator together to his apartment.
“What number?”
“307.”
He heard Grantaire turn the key and they went in. “This is nice,” Grantaire remarked as he shut the door behind them.
“I can’t remember the state it’s been left in.”
“Looks fairly clean to me.” Grantaire set down his backpack, his voice drifting away as he walked around. “Nice kitchen.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I- Wait. Grantaire, my phone, it’s ringing.” Enjolras took out his phone and held it up. “Who is it?”
Grantaire came back over to inspect. “It’s Combeferre.”
“Answer it.”
“Why me?”
Enjolras swallowed. “Because if I talk to him, I will cry.”
“Ah.” Grantaire took the phone out of his hand, and Enjolras felt around for the couch. He found it and sunk into it. “Hi….no this is Grantaire… No, we’re done there…Well, he doesn’t think he can talk right now… ”
Enjolras could hear Combeferre’s voice rising on the other end, panicking. His head started pounding. “Grantaire…”
“Hold on,” Grantaire said to Combeferre before coming over to him, his voice low. “What is it, Enj?”
“Can you go in the bedroom? I don’t…want to hear it over again, not right now.”
“Yea, of course.” Grantaire walked off, shutting the bedroom door behind him before continuing. Even though the words were muffled, Enjolras lay down and put one of the couch pillows over his head, trying to drown out the sound completely.
About ten minutes later, he felt a hand on his foot. “I’ve told him,” Grantaire said softly.
“How’d he take it?”
“You’re not blind yet, Enjolras,” Grantaire reminded him. “We’re both hoping it’s going to be okay.”
Grantaire poked him with the phone, and Enjolras took it, setting it on the coffee table in front of him. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”
“Should I go?”
“No, I meant anyone else.” Enjolras sat up. “I’m glad I’m not alone. Please, stay, if that’s alright. But if you have other things-”
Grantaire took his hand. “I want to help you. Honestly. There isn’t anywhere else I need to be than here.”
“Okay…” Enjolras nodded. “I’m sorry, all the same. Being dependent is…well, I feel like a child.”
“Don’t apologize. Please. You don’t have to feel bad, not for me. Now, you said you were hungry?”
“Yes, but I can do it.” Enjolras got up to go to his kitchen, feeling his way around the couch and finding the counter. He heard his phone vibrate on the coffee table and sound of a text. “What’s it say?”
“It’s Jehan. He’s asking how you are. Should I send him a bunch of random letters so he gets the point?’”
Enjolras coughed out a bitter laugh. He heard Grantaire send a text back. “You didn’t!”
“I said, ‘Call Combeferre. – R’”
“Oh. Good.” Enjolras felt his way to the fridge, then the freezer, knowing he had some frozen food he could easily throw in the oven. He felt around for the pizza box and pulled it out, setting it on the counter. Bending down, he found the sheet pan in the cabinet, and unwrapped the frozen pizza. And then… he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t read the temperature on the box, and even if he had a guess, he couldn’t set the oven by feel alone. He stood there, his fingers tensing on the edge of the metal pan, as the panic came rushing back, the helplessness threatening to overtake him. “Grantaire,” he said softly, but suddenly he was shaking in frustration, his lip quivering. “Grantaire!”
“What, what I’m here!” Grantaire bounded into the kitchen, taking him by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m blind, that’s what’s wrong!” Enjolras shouted, trying to pull away from him. “I can’t even eat!” He dropped the cardboard box on the floor, breathing heavily. “I’m useless…” He leaned on the counter, feeling tears soaking his bandage. “Fucking pigs…” he whispered.
“Shh…” Grantaire turned him and took him into his arms, holding him tightly. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not alright,” Enjolras protested stiffly, his mouth against Grantaire’s shirt.
“It’s going to be alright. Maybe not today. Soon.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It will be okay, whatever happens. You will learn to live should the worst happen. I know you.”
Enjolras’s brows furrowed at the words. Do you, Grantaire? I don’t know you that well.
“You’re courageous and determined. You crave freedom, your independence, and you’ll do anything to overcome what holds you down. You’ll get through it.” Grantaire’s hand stroked his back soothingly. “And I’ll be here to help you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“You want to today. Think if you had to do it every day. A chore.”
“You could never be a chore.”
Enjolras simply shook his head, resigning. “Help me make this stupid pizza.”
“Of course.” Grantaire let him go, and Enjolras heard him scoop the box off the ground and set the oven.
“My hero…” Enjolras admitted pathetically.
“Nah, c’mon now,” Grantaire jostled his shoulder.
“Mmf. ” Enjolras sighed, feeling worn out, realizing he was still in yesterday’s clothes. “Grantaire,” he started reluctantly. “I want to…” He paused, unsure.
“Hm?”
“No, it’s okay. Let’s just eat first.”
Enjolras found it hard to enjoy the food; eating without the use of his eyes made him feel clumsy and inept. After they’d finished their pizza and cleaned up, sitting back on the couch, Enjolras felt a soft poke on his leg. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?” Grantaire asked curiously.
“Oh.” He paused. “I-I wanted to know if you would help me… with my homework assignment. If you’d read to me from my textbook.”
“Oh, just that?”
Enjolras bit his lip, not sure what to say, but Grantaire sighed dismissively. “Whatever, that’s easy. Of course I can do that. Where’s your book?”
“It’s on my bed. The page numbers are on a memo on my phone.”
Grantaire got up and came back, settling on the couch again. “Okay, pages 253-275, ready.”
He started to read to him, and Enjolras did his best to pay attention, but he was thinking of the doctor. The night at Combeferre’s. The police. It pained him to think that the last thing he saw wasn’t something pleasant, not his friends, nothing comforting, but a policeman, spraying him in the face. He thought of how he wouldn’t know what new people look like when he met them, how he couldn’t look at photos…colors...art… He put his hand to Grantaire’s leg. “I’m sorry, Grantaire. I haven’t been listening.”
“Oh. Do you…do you need me to start over?”
“No, no, I can’t listen to it at all right now. I’m sorry. Thank you for reading it, though. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”
“Five minutes of my life I will never get back,” Grantaire joked, closing the book. “It’s really okay.”
“I…Grantaire,” Enjolras started slowly, finally getting up the courage to express what he wanted. “Can I ask for your help? I’d like to take a shower.”
“O-oh, of course,” Grantaire stuttered out.
“I-I don’t mean to be weird or anything,” Enjolras quickly amended. “It’s just, I’m thinking about how I slipped one time, and that was when I actually could see, and I don’t want to-”
“Enj, it’s fine.” Grantaire seemed to have recovered. “I need a shower too so that works for me.”
“Oh.” Enjolras felt himself turn red. He hadn’t meant that much help, he was simply hoping Grantaire would sit nearby in the bathroom but… he couldn’t deny it would be more practical, really, to have him standing right there.
“Is that not what you meant?” Grantaire had noticed his tone.
“No, no. Th-that’s fine. Neither of us have bathed since the fucking rally.”
“And could I borrow a clean shirt or something after? I don’t mean to-”
“No, of course, Grantaire. It’s not a problem. You can borrow anything you need. It’s the least I can offer you back.”
Enjolras felt his way to the bathroom while Grantaire went to the dresser in his bedroom to lay out clothes for the two of them. Enjolras found the soft bathmat under his feet and disrobed, carefully folding his clothes and setting them on the floor. He opened the glass door to the shower and turned the dial, switching on the hot water. Then he waited for Grantaire, standing naked on the bathmat and covering himself with a towel. He knew better than to get in without him.
“Oh h-hey there, you’re all ready,” Grantaire said, coming into the bathroom.
“Yes, I just was waiting for you. This would be so much easier if I had a tub, then I could just sit and you wouldn’t have to do this.”
“No, trust me, Enjolras. It’s fine. Really.” Enjolras heard Grantaire’s clothes drop to the floor, and then he was taking his elbow gently. Enjolras let go of the towel. “Alright, we can… oh, wait. Your bandage.” Grantaire reached up and started to unwind it carefully. The darkness lifted a little from Enjolras’s eyes and his eyelids fluttered open. He could see the vague shapes again, a dark spot just in front of him. He reached out to touch it and found it was Grantaire’s dark curls. Grantaire laughed softly, taking him by the chin and tilting his head up to inspect him.
“How do they look?” Enjolras asked.
“A bit red still, but better than last night. If I didn’t know what happened to you I might not guess there was anything wrong. Your eyes are still beautiful and blue even so.” Enjolras felt himself blushing at his words, but Grantaire released him to put the bandage on the bathroom counter. He returned, placing a hand on Enjolras’s back and turning him towards the shower doorway. “Go ahead,” Grantaire said softly. “I’ve got you. Just remember there’s a small step up.”
“Yes, I know.” Enjolras stepped up into the shower, one hand on the doorframe, and he went to stand under the water. Then Grantaire was in behind him, closing the door. “You can sit there,” Enjolras pointed, though he ended up poking Grantaire in the stomach. “Oh, sorry. Well, behind you.” There was a thick shelf built low on the shower wall, where Enjolras kept his shampoo bottles, originally meant to be a bench.
“Okay,” Grantaire pushed the bottles aside and sat down to await his turn. Enjolras stood under the water, letting it soak into his hair, wishing it could wash away his thoughts as well. He had the urge to sink down and curl up on the shower floor, but thought it best not to do that in present company. “Close your eyes,” Grantaire reminded him. “Here.” Grantaire tucked the soap into his hand.
Enjolras shut his useless eyes and started lathering himself, rubbing the soap over his naked torso and limbs. He was acutely aware that he had an audience and tried not to mind. “Grantaire,” he said, sure he was red again. “It would help me feel more comfortable if you kept talking to me.”
“Oh, yes, sure,” Grantaire replied quickly, tripping over his words. “Um…let’s see… I….um…”
“That’s alright, Grantaire. Sorry. I’ll think of-” The soap slipped out of Enjolras’s hands, noisily dropping to the shower floor. “Shit,” he sighed. “Please don’t make any jokes.” He started to bend down but Grantaire stopped him.
“No, no, I’ll get it, stay there.” Enjolras stood back up, feeling Grantaire down on the floor beside him, his arm brushing up against his leg. Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s back, feeling steadier, and then the soap was being placed back into his hands as Grantaire withdrew back to the seat.
“Thank you.” Enjolras finished soaping himself, the suds running down his body as he rinsed under the steaming water, and he asked Grantaire for the shampoo. As he washed his hair, he thought for a moment to come up with something to talk about. “Grantaire, what color are your eyes?”
“Hm?”
“You saying that about my eyes, it made me think, well… I’m not sure what yours are like.”
Grantaire was quiet, then, “I’ll have you guess.”
“Don’t embarrass me, I’ll get it wrong.”
“No, no. Think about it. We’re back in the café, you turn to me, we lock eyes. What do you remember?”
Enjolras thought as he stood under the water, picturing what he was describing. He wasn’t imagining it though, he had a real memory in mind. “…they’re also blue,” he said, though a bit unsure. “Not the same color as mine, but blue.”
“Yes. That’s right. I won’t have you forget what I look like.”
Enjolras was relieved that his memory didn’t fail him, and he reached out in the direction of Grantaire. “We can switch now.”
Grantaire took his hand, getting up and turning them around, gently pushing him down onto the seat. Enjolras could have asked to get out, but it seemed polite to wait. Grantaire groaned softly as he stepped under the water.
“Grantaire?”
“Sorry, it’s just a bit... hot in here,” he said awkwardly.
“Too hot?” Enjolras asked, confused. “I thought the water was nice.”
“No it’s nice, it’s perfect.” They were silent for a moment, Enjolras just listening to the water running down Grantaire. “Enj, I should probably tell you, you’re staring directly at my-”
“Oh!” Enjolras turned his head and looked up towards the ceiling, terribly embarrassed. “Sorry, you know I can’t see!”
“No, i-it’s fine. Just a bit odd, knowing you’re really staring into space.”
“Sorry,” Enjolras apologized again, bringing his feet up onto the bench, wanting to curl up in shame. “I must look so strange, without the bandage on, focusing on nothing.”
“Not really new, I’ve seen that look before. You just look lost in thought, mostly.”
“I am. More than ever.” Enjolras felt a hand on his head, patting him gently as Grantaire picked up one of the shampoo bottles beside him.
“You’ll find your way. I know you will.”
Enjolras smiled faintly at that. “You know, I used to think you were incorrigible, Grantaire, but I’m glad to know you have faith in something. Even if it’s just me.”
“Yes, I do. I know you’ll be okay. ...I’m kinda glad you can’t see me now, though.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I look ridiculous when my hair is wet.”
Enjolras laughed. “What do you mean?” He stood up, holding out his hand. Grantaire obliged, guiding it over to feel the wet curls spilling into his face, around his nose, flattened at the top of his head. Enjolras grinned. “I’m imagining a sheepdog.”
“Close.” Grantaire let him go but Enjolras remained standing, keeping his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder for support while he finished rinsing out his hair. When he was done, he turned off the water and guided Enjolras out, hands at his waist. “Step down.” Then he handed him a towel, and went off to get one for himself.
“Thank you, for doing that,” Enjolras said as he ran the towel over his damp body.
“No problem, thanks for letting me join you,” he replied back.
After drying off, they went to the bedroom and Grantaire handed him a clean t-shirt and boxers to put on. Enjolras felt his way into them and climbed up onto his bed to lie down. “Hey, you forgot something,” Grantaire said. He left and came back, sitting down on the mattress beside him. “Sit up,” he said, and Enjolras sat up obediently.
He felt Grantaire wrapping the bandage carefully back around his eyes, trying to place it just right, and everything went dark again. Enjolras sighed softly.
“Are you tired?”
“No, I just don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Homework again?”
“Please, no. Did Combeferre say he was going to come by later?”
“I told him to call back to see how you were, when he was done with work.”
“Okay. “ Enjolras lay back down on the pillow, breathing deeply, telling himself to relax. He wasn’t used to being less than productive.
“Listen, I’ve got a book I’ve been carrying around in my backpack. I’ve finished it but I could read it to you, if you want.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a Greek mythology book. It’s quite beautiful and I kind of… identify with it, I don’t know. I really liked it.”
“Is it sad?”
“Yes but we won’t get that far,” he laughed softly. “I would have to read for a long time.”
“Well I might be blind for a while,” Enjolras sighed. “Go ahead, I’ll try to listen this time.”
“It’s more interesting than a textbook, I promise.” Grantaire left to retrieve the book from his backpack. When he came back, he gently pulled the blankets aside. “Scooch.” Enjolras moved over to make room for him and Grantaire got in the bed beside him, stealing a pillow so he could sit up to read. “It’s about Achilles and Patroclus. Do you know it?”
“If you’re about to read to me from the Iliad, I’d rather something else. That’s-”
“No, don’t worry, this starts out before all that.” Grantaire began to read, and Enjolras listened for a while, laying his head down on the pillow, his eyes still hurting even with the painkillers. The story started off with young Patroclus, plain and shunned, sent off by his father to live in another kingdom, where there was a beautiful, blonde prince, who stood out from all the other boys…
“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted. “I’m a little tired now to tell you the truth. It sounds nice, but if you don’t mind I’d like to rest a bit.”
“That’s okay,” Grantaire said. “Should I go home?”
“Yes, I don’t want to keep you here. I’ll call if I need help, okay? Maybe we can read the book later.”
“Okay.” Grantaire squeezed his hand gently.
Enjolras heard him set the book on the nightstand as he left, going to the living room for his bag. “Lock the door behind me,” he called out as he went.
Enjolras crawled out of bed to go lock the door, and found his phone on the coffee table before returning to the bedroom. He waited for a bit, trying to sleep, but it wasn’t long before Combeferre called, as promised.
He clumsily fussed with the touchscreen, hoping he picked up the call. “Ferre?”
“Enj. Hi. How are you doing?”
“Not better or worse. Just here.”
“Is Grantaire still with you?”
“No, I’m just here in bed.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Do you need help with dinner?” Combeferre asked.
“I’ve got leftover pizza now, it’s okay.” Then, as if to assure himself, he added, “I can figure out the microwave by touch.”
“I’m going to call the school, to let them know you can’t be expected to have your assignments ready this week.”
Enjolras groaned. “Oh god. I’m going to be so behind,” he whimpered.
“I can come help you do the homework.”
“Yes, thank you. Tomorrow.”
“Do you still want to have our regular meeting tomorrow night?”
“Oh.” Enjolras hadn’t even remembered that. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, if we call it off the guys will all think I’m in critical condition, and on the other hand if we have the meeting, this might be all we end up talking about. I don’t know if I want that.”
“Well, let’s just see how you feel. There might be an improvement.”
“Ugh, Ferre, I hope so.”
Enjolras spent the evening alone, figuring out the microwave successfully, turning on the tv to listen to the news, feeling frustrated when he couldn’t see what was on screen. When he finished washing his dinner plate, he smelled something nice, and he reached out, looking for the source. His hand bumped into something, and he heard glass shattering on the floor around him. He shrieked, bending down, unaware of what he knocked over. His fingers grazed shards of broken glass, and water seeped under his feet on the kitchen tiles. He started to panic, feeling tentatively for how far the mess spread, and his hands fell on something soft. He picked it up, realizing it was his carnation and that Grantaire must have put it in a vase on the kitchen counter.
Enjolras started to cry, feeling clumsy and stupid, despondent that there was broken glass all over the floor he couldn’t see. He pulled his bandage off, not wanting to get it wet, and noticed it was just as dark when he removed it. He wasn’t sure if he had gotten worse or if it was just simply nighttime, but it made him cry harder in his confusion. He crawled out of the kitchen, away from the broken glass and leaned on the side of the couch, curling up on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest. He wanted to make a phone call but he wasn’t sure how, not knowing how to find the person he needed without seeing the screen. He sobbed into the fabric of the sofa for a few lonely minutes before remembering what Grantaire had said, about using the voice commands on the phone.
He pressed the button to activate the voice command function. “Call Grantaire,” he said shakily.
Grantaire picked up after a single ring. “Hi. Are you okay?” he asked, sounding as if he was out on the street.
“I need help,” Enjolras said, his voice wavering.
“Oh no, Enj, I’m coming right now, I’m already on my way.” His voice was full of concern. “I left your medicine in my backpack, I’ll be there soon. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll be fine until you get here. I won’t move.”
“Okay, I’ll hurry. I’ve still got your key, too.”
Not too long after, Enjolras heard heavy footsteps out in the hallway, a key frantically fitted into the door. “It’s dark,” Grantaire said blankly, flipping the light switch. Enjolras saw grey again, and the shape of Grantaire running to him. “Why are you on the floor?” he protested, taking Enjolras’s hands. “Where’s your bandage….and you’re bleeding…”
“Where?” Enjolras asked, unable to stop from tearing up again.
“Your hand,” he said, his fingers stroking it. “There blood on the carpet too. What happened?”
“The flower,” he whimpered. “I didn’t know it was there. The vase fell.”
Grantaire got up to go to the kitchen, turning on another light. “Oh jeez, okay. I’ll clean it up, don’t cry. It’s not a big deal. Let me fix your hand first.” He came back, sitting on the floor beside him and dabbing his hand with a cloth soaked in hot water.
“I didn’t even feel it,” Enjolras said, a little confused.
“Glass can do that sometimes. I broke a coffee mug one time and I didn’t even realize it cut me til I saw the blood.”
“Is it bad?”
“No, not bad. Just a small slice. Why did you take off your bandage?”
“I was crying.”
“…I wish I had stayed.”
“It’s my fault. I told you to go.”
“Don’t worry. It’s done.” He rummaged around in his backpack. “There’s a whole roll of gauze from the doctor to make you new bandages. So here.” He started wrapping his hand up with care. “See, it’s fine.”
“’See’…” Enjolras repeated back, grumbling.
“Augh, you know what I meant.” Grantaire got up to take care of the rest.
“I’m sorry you have to clean up my mess. I'm pathetic.”
“No, I should have told you I put something there. You didn’t know.”
Enjolras heard the tinkling of the glass as Grantaire swept it up. “And the flower?”
“It’s wilted. Just a flower, Enjolras, it’s fine.”
“I was happy you gave it to me.”
“Well good. Maybe I’ll get you another one,” Grantaire said dismissively, but Enjolras still felt as if he had done something terrible.
“How much blood is on the carpet?”
“Not a lot, I’ll clean it in a second. Don’t fret.”
Enjolras waited, staying where he was on the floor, afraid to move and ruin anything else while Grantaire cleaned up after him. After he had finished scrubbing the carpet and washed his hands clean, Enjolras reached up for him. Grantaire scooped him up into his arms and carried him into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. “You okay?” he asked, his fingers brushing Enjolras’s cheek.
“Better," Enjolras admitted reluctantly.
“Did you get some sleep while I was gone?”
He shook his head. “I tried but I couldn’t.”
“Well maybe you can now. You ready for bed?”
“Yes, but...” Enjolras paused. His dependence on Grantaire was practically humiliating.
“What is it?”
“I’d feel safer, if you stayed.”
“Of course.”
Grantaire helped him take his medicine and then went to turn off the lights around the apartment. When he came back, Enjolras heard him remove his pants before he crawled into bed beside him.
“Thanks for... everything, today,” Enjolras said, reaching out to find him. He felt Grantaire’s wrist, then drew his hand up to entwine their fingers.
“I want nothing more than to be here to help you. It’s no trouble at all.”
“I know but, thank you, all the same.”