kernow | ➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[ If Enjolras didn't feel like enough of an idiot now, he sure as shit did now. ]

...Yes? Look, I know how it sounds, but I could never make out your full face and voice, like it wouldn't even come into focus.

[ He takes a second look at the sweatshirt, and feel a deep surge of affection. ]

...Like I remember you dedicated you were to the color green. And apparently still are.

[ Another beat, as Enjolras fumbles with how to explain any of this, much less ask what he so desperately wants to know of the brunette. ]

Courfeyrac finally pointed it out, that there had to be someone outside the group that night in the barricade I was discounting. I just kept thinking I knew everyone who would have been part of our group that day. But it was my fault you weren't there, I sent you away--God, I'm so sorry Grantaire. I don't know what to do with any of this.

[ R smiles, and it only has a slight hint of sarcasm in it. ]

Enjolras. You had a lot on your mind. And I wasn’t much help to you.

[ He furrows his brow, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to say it nicely. ]

But you- you detested me. With those memories of me back I thought you’d—

... but you came back.

...You were in the end.

[ There's a meaningful look there. ]

I still don't understand why, but...thank you. After watching Courfeyrac and Combeferre-- [There's a soundless choke here; almost two centuries later, the memories of his friends perishing in front of his eyes, through his own leadership, cuts deep. ] ...I thought I was the last. I was supposed to be, anyway. I'm sorry I led you to that end, but I can't thank you enough for those last moments.

[ Enjolras looks stricken and a little embarrassed at the claim, shaking his head. ]

I didn't detest you, Grantaire. I won't lie, I was definitely frustrated with you back then: I didn't understand why you stayed all that time, what your motivations were in a group whose cause you didn't seem to care for, but...I think I simply didn't understand you then. I'm not even sure I fully do now, but...I'm getting there. But I promise I have never detested you.

[ Enjolras feels embarrassingly exposed, unused to talking about his feelings at length (it was always Courfeyrac's strength, and wouldn't he just laugh at him, stumbling over himself throughout this). He can feel the heat creep to the tips of his ears and back of his neck. ]

Of course I came back, why wouldn't I?

[ Grantaire feels his head ache behind his eyes, pulsing and dull. He takes a small step toward Enjolras, R’s voice soft in the aftermath of the other man’s admission. ]

You don’t know why I admitted support for the revolution? You must know. I told you.

[ Enjolras' brow furrows in confusion; he racks through his memory of that day, of his back pressed up against the wall, waiting for the national guard's bullets to fly, only to have the drunk brunette appear miraculously behind them, as if out of thin air... ]

When? We had so little time...

[ Grantaire laughs and it feels like fresh air after being held underwater. The tightness in his chest alleviates and the pounding slows. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he looks at Alexandre and his vision skips between the furrowed brow looking toward him and a long, blond mess of hair looking amazed as Grantaire emerges from the wreckage of the wine shop shouting for the guards to hear. ]

“I believe in you.”

[ Enjolras furrows face crumbles. ]

...Oh.

[ He reaches out tentatively, taking Grantaire's hand in his own. ]

Thank you. I'm so sorry. You really would have survived, if not for me.

Don’t apologize, Apollo. [ Grantaire squeezes his hand, pulling him toward him. ]

You- and everyone else- did... everything you could. And it was worth my life to be there.

[ Hesitantly and gently, he embraces the other man and buried his head into the crook of Enjolras’ neck and shoulder. He lifts his head and speaks softly beside his ear. ]

I didn’t particularly want to do anything “if not for you.” I was only there for you, Enjolras.

[ Although he looks indignant ~~and slightly petulant~~, Enjolras doesn't pull away; he instead tilts his head to try and maintain eye contact as best he can, brushing his spare hand over the base of Grantaire's neck. ]

That's hardly a good reason to give your life. [ He's sounding critical again, and finally some sensible part of Enjolras' brain tells him to let it rest. ] But I...can't begrudge it now. Just please never do something like that again.

[ Now Grantaire is feeling a bit more like himself and snickers derisively into Enjolras’ shirt, squeezing Enjolras’ hand before releasing it to hug him with both arms. He lifts his mouth to speak again, rubbing the man’s back patronizingly. ]

Or what, you’ll kill me?

[ Enjolras' ~~petulance~~ indignation only deepens, gripping Grantaire's side and hand and giving both a slight squeeze. ]

Hey, be serious.

[ His eyes quickly widen for what he's just left himself open for-- ]

Edited (random space was bugging me) 2020-04-05 18:02 (UTC)

[ Grantaire chuckles and pulls back. He cocks his head to the side, trying to decide if Enjolras did that intentionally or if it was a slip. Those wide, dumbstruck eyes make him kiss the mouth beneath them. ]

That’s your niche, leader. I wouldn’t want to take that from you.

[ Enjolras takes a kiss with a little delay, almost following him as he pulls back. A nice warmth begin to pool in his chest, undercutting whatever bitterness his retort might have had:]

Ha, hilarious, really. [ His fingers sitting at Grantaire's waist play at his waistband, but stop short when he takes his eyes off R's face to take in the room behind him. ]

...Oh my god, what even happened in here.

[ R looks around, from the lamp on the floor, to the disheveled rug with empty bottles on it, to the mattress with a balled up blanket, to the unwashed dishes in the sink and back to Enjolras. ]

I- uh. Did some redecorating. And didn’t plan on guests.

[ He pulls back and clears his throat, walking over to straighten the rug and pick up. An emptied plastic bottle as he lifts it makes Rémi pause. His nostrils flare as he turns it over to read— Vodka. Cheap shit. He rattles the bottle but finds no droplets left and hurriedly picks up another to throw out, carrying them to the bin in the kitchen to the right of Enjolras. ]

[ Enjolras stands there awkwardly for a second (internally hitting himself because he was being kissed and chose this moment to point out the room, bravo) but moves to take the items from Grantaire's hand. ]

Can I help? I'd like to help.

You’d like to help? Hah. Um. Well, I’m starving- realized I didn’t eat today actually. Can you help with that? I’m. I’ve got ... this. My place here. And while you’re busy, I can finish... with this.

[ R, do you have cleaning supplies? Shit. Are you sure you want to deal with this, Apollo? R, you drunken idiot. He’s too sober to deal with this. Any of it, honestly but there drops that other shoe. He looks increasingly miserable and embarrassed as he holds the bottles tighter and moved past Enjolras to toss them. ]

[ Enjolras, half-expecting to be rejected, jumps at the chance to actually do something positive, moving toward the fridge. ]

Sure, what do you have in the fridge, I can try to pull someth--

[ There's a slightly stale scent coming from the fridge when Enjolras opens it, which is ironic given then is only an almost empty minus a bottle of wine on the door and a now-expired carton of milk and old takeout box occupying its shelves. ]

...Or not. I can order takeaway, if you have any preferences? That way I can help you clean while we wait.

Takeaway would be great. There’s Indian on the corner, might be just as easy to go pick it up?

[ R seems eager to offer that point, grimacing at the state of the fridge that he finds over Enjolras’ shoulder. ]

I ran out of money to restock the fridge sorry- I just. I’m so sorry. Please just— let me get this a little more together.

[ His arms go across his chest as he tries not to sink into himself and the floor. Leaning against the wall here will do. A roll of thunder made him realize that was not something he was going to have Enjolras do, and sinks a little more.

This is why he ended up a lot in your apartment, Orestes. ]

[ Enjolras takes in Grantaire's shrinking frame, the empty fridge and emptier bottles littering the room and feels like a picture is starting to come together. ]

It's fine, Grantaire, really. It's not a problem.

[ He abandons his place in the kitchen to come back to where Grantaire has propped himself up against the wall, hearing the storm faintly beginning outside. He rubs R's arm up and down, trying his best to be calming.

The apartment is a mess, there's no way around it; there's clothing piled in a little stack next to the couch, and the kitchen, well...the fridge was really only a taste. But as much as the space needs a deep clean, Enjolras also can see how sparse everything is; aside from the couch and old television there's very little in the living room to speak of, and he can see some wears in the clothes piled alongside that are clearly from overuse, not aesthetic. Enjolras stares at the pile for a couple of beats while he absently strokes Grantaire's arm before bluntly asking: ]

...Do you want to just move in with me instead?

[ Grantaire takes a shaky breath as he focuses on how loving and kind Enjolras’ touch is. He looks up so suddenly he comes very close to nailing the other man in the nose. The brunette almost laughs and then doesn’t when he sees his... boyfriend? —Boyfriend’s expression. ]

What?

[ Enjolras sees Grantaire's expression and tries to word-vomit out some justifiable reasoning that doesn't sound outright like pandering. ]

Not for like tax break reasons or because I don't think you're competent or anything like that! Just, you know...we did die together, so I think our commitment level is there, and things have been going pretty well overall, minus the whole fight about your reincarnation, which again, I'm sorry, but my place is decently large for a one-bedroom, and the natural light I think would be better for your mental health, and it's closer to campus which might make commuting to classes easier, plus there's that Vietnamese place two blocks over you really liked, and--

[ He takes a breath, trying ~~and failing~~ to decipher R's expression. ]

...You're staring at me. Is it a bad idea...?

Yes, it’s a bad idea!

[ R kisses him quickly, grabbing his stupid, idealistic face with both hands to do so and letting go to explain the reality of that offer. ]

Alex- Enjolras. I— I’m not easy to live with. I go days without cleaning a damn thing. I sleep late and stay up late. I don’t have a job- Well. I guess you work in the restaurant district but.

No. I can’t put that on you. I just put my death on you, come on, you can’t— [ He looks at his eyes which look hurt and sincere. And we come to that word again. ]

You’re serious.

How is it a bad--mmph!

[ Whatever ready counterargument Enjolras had, it's temporarily muffled by Grantaire's lips on his, soft and slightly chapped. He closes his eyes to soak in the feeling, pushing forward to give the kiss a little more urgency, and utters a short whine when they break apart. ]

That's fine; apparently, neither am I if Courfeyrac and Combeferre are any judges. I'm horrible with picking up too, that's why mother insists on having a maid service come biweekly. But the rest of it is already paid for, from my grandfather in my name. Whatever isn't the paralegal work covers anyway. So yes, you can, I can, and I am.

[ He quirks an eyebrow, feeling a little cheeky. ]

I thought that was my "niche".

It is. But— A maid? Really? Fuck.

[ He pushes a hand through his own hair, scratching his scruffy chin as he contemplates and looks at the other man. His abysmal housekeeping argument isn’t much now. Stupid, handsome, rich man who he loves— ]

Okay. I... Yeah. I hate this place. Hated it since Céline moved out. But I’ll leave when you get sick of me; just let me know.

Yeah, there was this one time she visited during midterms and--actually it doesn't matter, don't worry about it.

[ Enjolras blinks twice as he registers Grantaire's consent, not really expecting to get it with so little argument. ]

Oh. Great. Who's Celine...? And I doubt that will happen. We've made it through all this, after all. I think I can still handle your sarcasm in an enclosed space.

➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

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