Chapter Text
The furthest corner of the school parking lot is where the Bad Kids hang out and every student and member of staff is well aware of that fact. Of course, in reality, they aren't really so much bad, per say, as they are rather rough around the edges. Sure a few of them enjoy some slightly questionable pastimes and most of them have had a few run-ins with local law enforcement but mostly their reputations are the result of troubled home lives, ignorant administrators, and forced bravado. Still, that corner belongs to the "miscreants" and, for the most part, those who haven't been slapped with that label tend to avoid those spaces at all costs. That includes school security.
Grantaire is usually just as happy for their misplaced fears and general disgust. It makes it a lot easier to keep to himself when he's feeling asocial and lets him watch people without being bothered. Even better, it makes it a lot easier to park there overnight and sleep in his car without being asked any questions. He doesn't do it often, of course. His back seat, while not the most uncomfortable back seat he's ever been on (and he's been on a fair few), isn't really built to provide for a particularly restful night's sleep. Having the option available is nice, though, and most mornings the noise of other students arriving does a pretty good job of waking him up in time for classes and his rather unflattering reputation means that people rarely bring up the fact that he's wearing the same clothes two or very occasionally three days in a row. The fact that the school counselors are among the majority who have never questioned such a habit has done nothing to temper his cynical nature and general bitterness toward, well, everything.
There are places that he could probably go where he would be able to borrow a bed or at least a sofa but he's a bit self-conscious of asking and what few friends he has have never really known that there might be any reason to make the offer. If Joly were to be made aware, he would make a fuss and insist that Grantaire stay with him, might even insist that Grantaire take his bed. Joly's parents had already let Bossuet move into their spare bedroom for the year, though, and they had never actually said it to his face but Grantaire knew that Joly's parents didn't particularly like him. Then again, they didn't particularly like a lot of things and they rarely actually voiced their displeasure or disgust, opting instead for dirty looks and poorly hidden suspicions. Bahorel's parents were much friendlier and more accommodating and likely would have figured out a way to stuff another bed into Bahorel and Feuilly's room if asked. Grantaire always felt like he was a burden when he visited them, however, because Bahorel's mother always felt compelled to feed him despite already having half a dozen mouths to feed between the core family and their foster children. A burden which they gladly, perhaps, but a burden nonetheless. And that is honestly the extent of his list of actual friends.
At least, that was the extent of his list until one fateful morning when a stranger comes knocking on his car window before pretty much anyone besides the cross-country team ever showed up to school. It takes a solid five minutes before Grantaire actually realizes what's happening and groggily moves his arm from where it rests over his eyes to block out the sun. Once his brain catches up with his senses and he manages to blink the bleariness out of his eyes, he is, he would like to think, understandably startled to find a slightly cherubesque face peering in through the foggy window at his feet. Seemingly unbothered by the way that Grantaire nearly jumps right out of his skin and barely keeps from falling to the floorboard, the stranger simply smiles the widest, brightest smile that Grantaire can ever remember having seen and tucks a lock of pale pink hair behind one ear before offering a rather too enthusiastic wave.
"Good morning!" Even muffled by the door, the voice is far too loud and cheerful.
Grantaire isn't entirely sure that "good" is how he would describe it.
With a groan, he forces himself to sit up. The person outside appears to be bouncing, a series of tote bags jostling about on his arms, but doesn't seem to actually be in any sort of hurry to receive a proper response. Mostly they just look to be an extremely energetic person and Grantaire isn't entirely certain whether or not he has enough energy himself to handle that this early in the morning. Not that it really makes any difference. Setting aside the jacket he'd used as a blanket for the night, he finally gets himself upright and moves to crack the door open. He'd just roll down the window but the mechanism in that particular door has been busted for the past year and it doesn't like to roll back up without a fight.
"Can I help you?" His voice is low and hoarse and maybe a little bit grumpier than he actually intended it to be.
The stranger's smile doesn't waver in the slightest. "Oh! No. Well, maybe yes? I don't know if it's really a thing that requires help or if it's just a, well, thing but I thought this care was empty and had just broken down or something but then I noticed that you were inside and I was just surprised to see you and then I thought that, if you're sleeping in a car in the school parking lot, you probably weren't going to have any opportunity to actually eat anything before school starts and, well..."
Grantaire hasn't even entirely caught up with the rambling by the time there's a cup of coffee being shoved through the narrow space he's left open for their conversation.
"Do you like coffee? I'm not supposed to drink it myself but it was my turn to pick up breakfast for the meeting and some of the others drink it so I bought a java box from the shop on the corner. I've got cream and sugar, if you need it. I'll just need a minute to find it."
There's a fairly long pause, which doesn't seem to bother this kid at all, but finally Grantaire processes everything that's been said enough to hesitantly accept the coffee with what he hopes comes across as a grunt of gratitude. "Black is fine. What meeting?" He doesn't really care, of course, but it's only polite to sound at least a little bit curious.
"Debate Club! Well, okay, not exactly. There's already a Debate Club, I guess. Some of us are in that, too. Politics Club, maybe? Um, Recent Events Club?" The kid laughs. "We meet up and talk about what's going on in the world and we're hopefully going to organize some trips out to protests and marches and stuff eventually but right now we're still waiting to see if our club is even officially approved by the school board. Mabeuf is letting us meet in his room two mornings a week until we hear back. Maybe you could come to a meeting some time! If you're interested in that sort of thing, I mean."
Again, it takes a minute to process everything that's been said. He was right, though; he doesn't really care. Still, in a continued effort toward politeness, he does at least shrug and say, "Maybe."
Apparently, that's all his new acquaintance needs. Bags are set down on the ground for a moment as the kid crouches down and digs out a bagel and "I'm Jehan, by the way! Do you like cream cheese? Enjolras and Bossuet both hate cream cheese so I've learned to ask people."
"Wait, Bossuet?" Grantaire's thoughts grind to a halt. "How do you know Bossuet?"
Jehan pauses to look up at him, smile patient. "Well, he's in the club, of course! Why else would I know how he likes his bagels?" One of said bagels appears through the space in the door, held on top of a napkin with a plastic knife underneath and a little, single-serve pot of cream cheese on top. "He and Joly are always a little bit late so I usually get their breakfast put together for them so they can just join right in with the discussion."
Grantaire blinks and slowly accepts the food as his sleepy brain does its best to wrap itself around this new information. Bossuet and Joly had joined a new club and not mentioned it? Then again, they were only about a month into the school year and it wasn't like any of them usually talked much about their extracurricular activities anyway and it sort of made sense for Bossuet to be interested in political discussions. He was hoping to go to law school after all.
"Well, I should get going!" Jehan is standing again, bags once more overloading two rather skinny arms and a rather cumbersome box of coffee awkwardly held in one hand, and Grantaire feels a pang of guilt stab him in the gut at the sight of it. The kid is tiny and skinny and stupidly cheerful and totally willing to juggle everything on his own and looks rather surprised but definitely grateful when Grantaire actually gets out of his car and takes the coffee box and a couple of the bags away from him.
"Gimme a minute to get my shit together." He's not planning on staying at the meeting or anything. It's just that he feels bad watching this scrawny, little good samaritan struggling. Maybe he'll hang out long enough to actually drink his coffee and eat his bagel and say hi to Bossuet and Joly. The art room might be open by then and he could get some work done on that still-life project they'd started in class. If not, the weight room would definitely be open. Bahorel swore that a good work-out was a great way to start the day and it would give him an excuse to take a shower.
A few moments later, his bagel wrapped up in its napkin and stuffed into his hoodie pocket, Grantaire throws his backpack over one shoulder, takes up the bags and coffee box and gestures toward the school with his own sloshing cup. Jehan's smile is blinding. If that's any indication of what he'd have to deal with at this club meeting, yeah, he's definitely not going to be hanging around.
Despite the fact that the meeting is taking place in Mabeuf's classroom and, technically, all school clubs require there to be a member of staff present at all gatherings on campus, Mabeuf himself is nowhere to be seen when Jehan finally leads the way inside. In fact, there are only three people waiting for them and only one of those is even paying attention to the door. The other two appear to be deep in conversation, presumably before the meeting has even begun. Unless this plus Bossuet and Joly is the extent of the club, that is.
"Jehan! Good morning!" The greeting draws everyone's attention toward them, though the greeter is the only one close enough to lighten their load very quickly. Well, he lightens Jehan's load, at least. Being considerably bigger than everyone else in the room, Grantaire doesn't particularly begrudge him that.
It's one of the other two who takes the coffee box, even as he pushes a pair of glasses up his nose and offers a pleasant smile. "I see you've brought your staple breakfast. Also, perhaps, a new friend?" This guy is way more proper than any kid his age has any right to be.
Jehan sounds far too delighted to proclaim, "I found him sleeping in his car!"
The greeter and the kid with the glasses both look a bit shocked. Further away, previously sorting through some newspapers and print-outs, the third looks up at that, brow furrowed and corners of his mouth curving downward. All of the attention makes Grantaire twitchy and generally uncomfortable but he can at least pretend that it's no big deal when he's facing the first two. He has to keep that third one off in his periphery. There's something far too intense about him for such an early hour.
"He's friends with Bossuet," Jehan goes on. "Also Joly, obviously. You can't really be friends with one and not the other, after all."
"Do you usually sleep in your car?" Greeter asks.
Glasses jabs him with an elbow. "You're supposed to introduce yourself to someone before you start asking them personal questions." Then he looks toward Grantaire, clearing his throat as he adjusts his glasses again. "This is Courfeyrac, my name is Combeferre, and that over there is Enjolras. Do you usually sleep in your car?"
The delivery is so straight-faced that Grantaire can't help a snort of laughter. "Name's Grantaire. Capital R, if you ask Joly, or just R." He doesn't make any attempt to hide the fact that he's avoiding their question when he adds, "I'm just here to say hi to the latecomers and then I'll be out of your hair. I've got a date with cracked vase and a dusty bouquet."
Jehan is the only one who doesn't look confused (or irritable, in the case of the one apparently known as Enjolras) and actually gasps, big eyes going even bigger and once more overflowing with excitement. "You're in the Portfolio class?"
It's a good enough distraction as any and Grantaire shrugs. "Yeah. It was the last art class left for me to take. I think Gros is determined to get me into art school by sheer force of will but I'm not really that into it. Just another easy A."
"Portfolio is an easy A?" It's Courfeyrac who asks the question, his tone and expression both disbelieving behind Jehan's look of absolute awe.
Grantaire shrugs again. If being badgered about his future by a group of underclassmen who don't even know him is how he avoids all of those questions that he so rarely hears and yet always hates, then so be it. He'll put up with it until Bossuet and Joly arrive and then he'll excuse himself and that will be the end of that. He just wishes that Enjolras kid would actually speak instead of just giving him that Look.