Chapter Text
He was looking at me again. Why did he always have to give me that look? He knew what it did to me, how I froze up and stopped breathing, just like I always used to do before we started dating. He knew how my spine was starting to feel un-spine-like. All because of how he was looking at me.
“I swear to God, Apollo, it’s not your cooking.” I tell him, but he still doesn’t look like he believes me. “I’m serious!”
He flicks his eyebrows up and I know I better keep talking. “I’m serious, I’ve just lost my appetite.”
Finally, he believes me, and his sigh matches my internal one. “Alright, R. I just wish you’d start feeling better. I hate that you’ve been so sick lately.”
There he goes again. “I’m not sick,” I tell him, just like I’ve told him countless times. “I just haven’t been hungry.” I shrug my shoulders and turn away. “Maybe I’m just going through a reverse growth spurt.”
He doesn’t laugh, just turns me back to face him, his hand lingering on my shoulder. “That’s not funny, Grantaire. Maybe you should talk to Joly.”
I roll my eyes and twirl away. “Joly? Joly would just tell me I have cancer or something.”
“Well, people don’t lose their appetite all the time for no reason.” Enjolras wasn’t letting this go. “Obviously, something’s going on.”
I open my mouth to argue with him, something we both know I love, but realize he has a point. Damn. “Fine, I’ll talk to Joly. Baby.”
“Coward,” he retorts.
“Pansy.”
“Foolish.”
“Overprotective.”
“Reckless.”
“Beautiful,” I tell him, then kiss him lightly before grabbing his hand. “C’mon, we’ll miss Courf’s party.”
“R, I made dinner-“
I put on an innocent expression. “What, you don’t think Courfeyrac will have food at the party?” This is a challenge, and I know it and he knows it.
He accepts, narrowing his eyes. “Are you going to eat any?”
I’m suddenly uncomfortable with how well he can read me. “Well, no, but-“
He doesn’t even give me a chance to finish. “And you better not drink, either.”
He’s gone too far now, and I can see that he knows it somewhere in his eyes, but I don’t let him take it back. “Apollo, you know I gave that up. Years ago, in fact.” I could stop here, but I won’t. Can’t. I have to continue, now placing just a ghost of a superior tone in my voice. “You said that if I didn’t drink for a year, you would go on a date with me. And,” The superiority has taken me over now, and there’s even a hint of indignation, too “you didn’t think I would, but I did. So you had to go on the stupid date with me, and you-“
“Fell hopelessly in love with you, yes.” Enjolras looks directly at me, holding my gaze. “It’s not something I’m forgetting anytime soon, R, trust me.”
The words make me blush, but I’m not quite done yet. “Anyway, I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since, as you very well know.”
“Except at Feuilly’s wedding," he points out, and I throw my hands up in the air. “Jesus, Apollo, do you remember everything?! I had a sip of wine. I barely got my lips wet.”
He bites his lip. “I know,” he says, and goes in to hug me. Our heartbeats are synchronized, and he rests his chin on my head. “I know,” he repeats quietly, “and I’m so proud of you for it.”
This is unexpected, so I kiss his collarbone as a thank-you. We stay there for a while, and I can feel myself getting closer to him, physically and emotionally, until he draws back.
“C’mon,” he says. “We’ll miss the party.”
~
Courfeyrac really has outdone himself this time. Neither Enjolras nor I have to say it; we’re both thinking it as we walk in, hand in hand. He spots Combeferre and turns to me, asking with his eyes if he can go over, and I nod. I’ll catch up to him later. I walk away, too, and find our youngest friend, Gavroche, who’s still in high school.
“Gav, what are you doing? It’s past your curfew, isn’t it?”
He glares at me. “Do you think my parents really care?” He reaches for his beer and I flinch. “C’mon, Gav, at least don’t drink in front of me? I hate that you’ve started so young.”
“I’m seventeen,” he corrects me, and I sigh as he continues talking. “How old were you when you started drinking? Fifteen?”
I was thirteen, but I ignore his question. “Please?” At this point, my only hope is the middle-school-inspirational-speaker tactic. “Look at what it did to me.”
He looks at me. “It got you the love of your life.”
I shake my head. “No, quitting got me the love of my life. Drinking made him think I was a good-for-nothing fool.”
Gavroche’s look has a million words in it, but he speaks anyway. “He didn’t think that, Grantaire. He never would have.”
Enjolras is usually one of my favorite subjects, but now, I’m uncomfortable. “It was the quitting that, uh…” I tug at my collar. “That made him…”
“Love you,” Gavroche finishes, smiling at me, and I know that I’m blushing.
“Anyway, I can’t force you not to drink at all, but can you at least save it for when I can’t see you?”
“Sure,” he tells me, smiling and placing his beer out of reach, and I ruffle his hair. “Thanks. Where’s your sister?”
He rolls his eyes. “Playing Spin the Bottle.” He pauses. “With Courfeyrac.”
The way he says it catches my attention. “Does she like him?”
Gavroche shakes his head. “As far as I know, she’s still hung up on Pontmercy.” He bites his lip. “But last I heard, he’s been getting a crush on her…”
I think of my best friend, tough in so many ways, but weak in so many others, and try to picture her with fun-loving, life-of-the-party Courfeyrac. I can’t remember him ever really crushing on anyone, but I like the idea of him with Eponine.
“Alright,” I nod. “Maybe something’ll happen.”
Shouts from the next room, and Courf’s voice, sluggish with alcohol already, “I’m not kissing you again, Bahorel! Spin again!”
I roll my eyes. “Or maybe not.”
Gavroche grins at me. “You know you’d be in there with them if it wasn’t for Enjolras.”
I can’t help it-even after four years of dating, I smile at my boyfriend’s name. “That’s true.” I acknowledge. “But I think I prefer his kisses anyway.”
“You sure?” he jokes. “I can’t imagine Bossuet tasting too bad.”
I slap his arm. “You can’t make those jokes. He’s in…well, in whatever it is he’s in with Joly and Muschietta.”
Gavroche’s mischievous grin only makes me laugh, though, until his phone buzzes. “Shit,” he says, jumping up. “It’s Azelma. I’ve got to get back home.” He shoots me a hopeful look. “Talk to you later?”
“Of course, Gav,” I tell him. “Take care of yourself.”
I could go over by Enjolras and Combeferre, but they’re probably talking about something too smart for me to understand, so I opt for the Spin the Bottle room instead, hoping to avoid any unwanted kisses.
As I walk in, I hear whistles and hoots. I can’t imagine why they’d be for me, but all I have to do is turn, and I see Eponine and Muschietta kissing. That’ll do it .I clear my throat. “Well, this is some greeting.”
It’s Muschietta who spots me first, and she leaps up to hug me. “Grantaire!” It doesn’t matter to her that we don’t know each other too well-she’s just a hugger. I squeeze her back, grinning as Eponine bounds over, too.
“Hey, ‘Taire,” she greets me, and I know I have to give her the lecture again. “Ep, nobody’s called me ‘Taire since I was five.”
She tosses her head back and laughs. “Bullshit, I’ll bet anything Enjolras uses it in bed.”
I act offended, playing her game. “Oh, come on, Ep, you know I don’t fuck and tell.”
“Really?” she throws back. “Because I can name about a dozen guys in high school who were the exception to that rule. Let’s see, there was…”
“Alright, alright!” I hurry. She’s won this round and we both know it. She hugs me again and whispers “I really get it, though,” and I’m overcome with gratefulness that she never makes a big deal of the fact that I have a boyfriend and she doesn’t.
As if she read my thoughts, though, she pulls back and asks, “Have you seen Marius?”
I have seen her crush, deep in conversation with his girlfriend, Cosette, in Courfeyrac’s spare bedroom, but I know Eponine, and even though she may not act like it, she’s pretty weak right now, so I choose to lie. “Nope,” I shake my head. “Haven’t seen him.”
“Yeah, well, good, I’m sick of seeing his rich ass around anyway,” she mutters, and I raise my eyebrows at this blatant lie, but know better than to say anything.
“Guys, I’m gonna head out, okay?” Eponine calls over her shoulder, and I notice Courf’s disappointed expression. Maybe Gavroche is right.
“That’s okay, the game was dying anyway,” Muschietta tells her with a hug. “See you soon, Ep. Call me, okay?”
Eponine says she will, and waves goodbye to me on her way out. “See ya, ‘Tairebear. Use a condom.” She winks and mouths ‘text me’ and I nod my promise.
From across the adjoining room, Enjolras gives me a pointed look and nods to Joly. I plead with my eyes to let it go, but his expression insists. As I shoot him puppy-dog eyes, he sighs and makes his way to my side.
“I’ll go with you,” he tells me, and I know that’s the best I’m going to get. We make our way to Joly, and I mutter to him to take it easy. Joly’s a good doctor, and I trust him, but he can get pretty paranoid in a short amount of time.
“Hey, Joly,” Enjolras says, completely confident, and I can’t help but marvel at his lack of self-consciousness. “We were wondering if you could help diagnose whatever R has.”
I know Joly’s concerned, but I love that he masks it. “Sure. What symptoms do you have, Grantaire?”
Enjolras opens his mouth to answer for me, but I know this is something I have to do myself. “Nothing except a lack of appetite.”
Joly’s usual grin is suddenly exchanged for a worried frown. “Grantaire, that could be any number of things! Hepatitis, or mumps or emphysema, or…”
His boyfriend, Bossuet, comes up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Doc, I’m sure it’s not all that bad.” He looks at me. “I would get tested, though. It’d be much worse to be wrong in thinking it’s nothing.”
Enjolras mirrors him, gently touching my shoulder. “Alright. Would tomorrow be good for you?” he asks Joly.
I can’t stand him treating me like I’m not there. “It works for me, Mommy.”
Bossuet laughs, but he’s the only one who does. Joly just nods. “Yes, tomorrow should work. Like, say…8:00?”
“Great,” Enjolras confirms, and I walk away, because what else is there for me to say?
~
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Enjolras asks on the car ride home.
I return the question with his least favorite response. “Why would I be mad at you?” Make him say what he’s done wrong, make him admit it.
He looks over at me. “You are.”
I don’t let him get away that easily, though. “Seriously, Apollo, what reason could I possibly have for being mad at you?”
“You know, I was just trying to help!”
I’ve been working so hard to keep at a neutral tone, but my temper gets the better of me with that comment. “I didn’t ask you to! I don’t always need your help, you know!”
He looks ready to tear out his hair. “Maybe I just wanted you to be okay!”
“If I’m not, what are you going to do about it?!”
His face looks as though I’ve slapped him. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispers, pulling into our parking spot in the apartment building.
“Okay,” I say back, and he turns the car off but stays inside, turning to face me.
“You are going to be okay, Grantaire.”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I know.”