kernow | ➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[ 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.

Roommate. Éponine’s friend. She moved abroad for a girl. I... can’t afford rent without her and this place sucked but I took what I could afford.

[ He steps into the breathing space his partner and looks up at him, fingers touching his sides. ]

But this close?

And you were planning on telling me no?

[ Enjolras straightens as Grantaire enters his space, feeling a little warm under the collar. He slips his hands to rest on Grantaire's waist, meeting his eyes. ]

Yeah, I think I could do this close.

Ugh, you call my bluffs now. No fun.

[ Kissing him, he smirks and kisses his jaw before pulling back. ]

Can we go to that Vietnamese place now? I’ll eat your bean sprouts while I size you up.

[He smiles into the kiss, double-checking his pocket for his metro pass as he waits for Grantaire to grab his coat and whatever else he needs for tonight, the next week, forever, etc. ]

That sounds great. I can help you draft the severance letter later, not sure if you're month to month or not? But we can talk over dinner. After all, we've got time.

➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

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