Chapter 16

The weeks were lonely, and maybe it was exactly like Grantaire needed. Solitude, a pub to hit at midnight. A few drunk conversations he would barely remember the day after. But maybe it wasn’t like he needed. Maybe it wasn’t anything like he needed.

He felt more lonely every day, thought about Enjolras and their conversations more and more. It felt like he was suffocating every day a bit more.

It was another night at the bar. He was yet again as drunk as possible. Maybe it hadn’t just been alcohol tonight. It was easier to forget he wasn’t breathing, than to feel how his lungs just didn’t fill anymore.

The door of the bar opened once again. It was a busy night, with a lot of regulars walking in and out. There were quite a few ships in harbor at the moment so there were a lot of people in town. It wasn’t unusual for loud, laughing groups to enter, just like it happened now.

Grantaire left his barstool to leave using the back door. It was too crowded in there. He didn’t want to hear his own thoughts, but the louder it seemed to be outside him, the louder they seemed to scream. Slowly he just walked the secluded streets. There was no one outside, not on the back alleys. There were a lot of pirates in this town, after all. Nobody would leave the mainstreet if it wasn’t necessary.

The moon was almost full, filling the alleys with light. Grantaire didn’t look where he walked. He just knew that standing still would give his thoughts time to creep up to him. He crossed the corner, almost running, and walked right into someone else.

“Keep your eyes open,” he spit out. It had definitely been his own fault.

“Grantaire?” Oh god, the voice was so, so familiar. And when he looked up, he saw those golden hair light up by the moon. Those piercing eyes, those fucking perfect lips.

Even almost two months after seeing him for the last time, Enjolras still knew how to take his goddamn breath away.

“No, you’re not here,” he mumbled. The first weeks he had imagined he had seen those curls somewhere in the crowd. It had never been Enjolras of course. Enjolras was on the sea, and right now he wasn’t even sure Enjolras actually existed. Maybe he was just an invention of his own brain.

“You’re not real. You’re somewhere far.” He turned around. His own thoughts had followed him, and every day he had been more wondering whether he was going insane. Right now he knew the answer. He was definitely not sane.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. God, even that touch felt so familiar. He craved that touch so much. He needed it so much.

“Grantaire,” that voice said once again. “It is real. We’ve just arrived. Your boss told us you were probably at the pub. The others are there now.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No, because real you doesn’t talk to me.” For the real Enjolras Grantaire had merely been a pain in the ass, a nothing. Not this person whose hand was still on his shoulder, who talked like he had wanted to find Grantaire.

“Real you doesn’t care about where I am, or what I’ve been up to. Real you doesn’t even want to look at me. You’re looking at me and talking to me. You can’t be you.”

He had ended up sitting on a barrel. Looking at Enjolras took all the strength he had. He could not use his legs anymore. He could not breathe anymore. (But he hadn’t been able to breathe in a long, long time).

Enjolras knelt down next to him. See, it wasn't real Enjolras. Real Enjolras would kneel down for no one, especially not for someone like Grantaire.

"Grantaire," Enjolras repeated. God, to hear his name out of that mouth. He would almost forget it wasn’t real. He just wanted to hear it again.

"I've always been looking for you. I've always been looking out for you, even if you didn’t see it. Perhaps even if you didn't need me to. But you've never been alone and this has never been more real."

He took Grantaire's hand in his own. Grantaire could feel the calluses, made by a life of hard work. It was something his own imagination could have never made.

"You are real," he said.

Enjolras smiled. God, tha fucking smile. Grantaire had almost forgotten what it felt like. (No, he had definitely not). "Yes," he said. "I am real."

"But why are you looking for me?" Éponine he could understand. Joly he could understand. But Enjolras? He was merely a nothing for him, right? Just another person freed from the devastating grip of the government.

"Because you are one of us, Grantaire, whether you choose to sail with us or not." A little bit of disappointment. Just a part of the crew, important to some people there perhaps, but nothing more than a simple errand boy for the captain.

"Because you’re the only one who shouts at me, who tells me I'm an idiot."

"No, you have Combeferre for that. He's the one who keeps you in check. He's the first mate, it is his job to look after the crew and make sure you do that too."

Enjolras laughed. "And he is great. I wouldn’t survive a day without him at my side. But he's not like you. I never need to think about my words when I'm around him." Yeah, and they were back at their earlier discussion. How the captain seemed to not know what to say to Grantaire. How Grantaire just didn't know how to react, just wanted to wipe that smile off his face but at the same time store that smile inside his mind forever.

"Why did you leave?" Grantaire had told many people the days before not joining them on the Mussain. He had talked about wanting to have a choice. Needing some time on his own. Needing some time to think.

None of it had been a lie. But the main reason was sitting right in front of him, barely aware that Grantaire could only think of that feeling of his lips on Enjolras'.

"Because I screwed up," he said. He had screwed up, by becoming invested in the captain at all. By letting his walls down, by the way even the captain's annoyance had felt so good, because it had been his attention.

Even bad attention was attention.

"I screwed up and it seemed like it didn’t even matter to you." Awkwardness had been better than this… this nothing.

"You didn’t screw up, Grantaire. "

"I didn’t? Well, you certainly didn't want to talk to me, so what's the goddamn difference?"

"It's not that I didn't want to talk to you." Well, Enjolras certainly had had a strange way of showing it then. Never looking at him, never seeing him. Always busy talking to someone else.

“But when you kissed me…”

“I made a mistake, okay? You didn’t want it and I should never have kissed you.” He knew that. He knew he should have never kissed Enjolras. It would have been easier to be around Enjolras, because then at least he didn't need to pretend nothing had happened, when it certainly had. Then he didn’t need to pretend it didn’t feel like a kick in the stomach, every time he saw Enjolras. Every time he was reminded how little he mattered to the golden haired god, when Enjolras even couldn’t act like something had happened. Awkwardness would have been better. It would have been a confirmation at least something had happened.

Yes, it had been a major mistake, and Grantaire was the one paying for it.

“No, it wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I wanted it so badly, and that scared me. I couldn’t want it, I wasn’t supposed to want it. So it was easier to pretend like it never happened, like I really needed to plan the next raid.”

Grantaire had no words, no answer but disbelief. A man as divine as Enjolras couldn’t want such a simple thing as this. It wasn't how the world was supposed to be. People like Grantaire were supposed to pine for people like Enjolras. People like Enjolras were not supposed to even acknowledge Grantaire's existence, let alone want something from him.

Enjolras sighed. "See? So if someone here screwed up, it wasn’t you Grantaire. It is me."

Grantaire scoffed. "And yet you're not the giant mess here." Enjolras definitely didn’t look like the mess Grantaire had become. He didn’t look like his only way to sleep at night had become the alcohol. He looked more fine than ever.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But if it makes you feel better: I’m pretty sure I've been a mess too lately. It’s just easier to focus on saving others than to admit that."

He felt silent for a while, and Grantaire didn’t know how to react. Perfect, godlike Enjolras with his ego and his confidence, he couldn't be a mess. Not like other mortals would.

"The moment I saw you on the ship, your sheer confidence, not wanting to give up even being drastically outnumbered, you caught my attention. And when that captain wanted to hurt you, I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t let you stay with the others who joined me, because who knew if they wanted to hurt you? You… you caught my attention like no one else did, and that shouldn’t have happened. I should not be so aware of your presence, so I just kept going on. It's easier to not be aware of my surroundings while focussing on something else. And yet you kept drawing my attention."

"What a relief it must have been that I left the Mussain then," Grantaire said. Enjolras almost made it sound like it was Grantaire’s fault. (It probably was, Grantaire just didn't know it yet).

Enjolras shook his head. "I thought so too. I had expected it to be easy, when you were no longer there to bug me. To annoy me with every word you said, with every time I needed to think about my words and still ended up saying the wrong thing. But it wasn’t. You not being there was even worse than you being there."

"But why? Why does it matter to you whether I’m there or not?"

Enjolras pressed his lips on Grantaire's as answer.