Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grantaire looked at his watch and sighed. This was not the first time it happened, but still it stung a little.

Enjolras had been working on a new case for a few weeks. A big one as he explained, although Grantaire was yet to hear him call a case anything but “big”. True to himself, he had gone all in and dived deep into his work barely stopping for anything else. This, combined with Grantaire approaching exposition and the hectic studio hours that came with it, meant that even though they lived together, they had barely saw each other’s in the last month or so.
Their daily interactions could be resumed to a quick good-morning kiss before leaving, few words exchanged over coffee, a sweet hand brushing passing by and, on Wednesday, coming home together from their weekly reunion at the Musain. On the rare occasions they managed to catch each other at home for more than a minute, they were generally so exhausted that they just went to sleep cuddling.
And ok that was nice, but Grantaire was really starting to miss his boyfriend. Truth be told, he was tired of waking up alone and eating dinner by himself. He had put the last touch on his final painting for the exposition last week and he still had barely caught sight of Enjolras. When they had started dating, Grantaire knew that this was part of the deal. He knew first hand what Enjolras relation to his work was, having witnessed it for years during les Amis meeting. He also knew better than to try to change his boyfriend or to get between him and his work. That had caused enough fights in the beginning of their relationship, one of them so bad that their friends still referred to it as “Waterloo”. But now, three years into it, they had a good balance, and that was largely thanks to Enjolras efforts.

Maybe that’s why Grantaire felt so disappointed tonight, because this entire thing felt like a major setback.

Two days ago, they had been walking back from the Musain, and Enjolras had been talking about the next protest they were planning while Grantaire was pointing out every flaw he could think of, which he had already done during the meeting. They had argued back and forth until they had arrived at their front door. Grantaire had been in the middle of a passionate diatribe when his boyfriend had cut him with a kiss.

“I miss you” he had said right after.
“Yeah miss you too” Grantaire had answered going for another kiss.
“Friday 8 pm, you, me diner.”
“But I thought you wanted to work on your case ?”
“That can wait.”
They had not talked about it more after, but the date had been added to the big calendar on their fridge when Grantaire woke up the next morning. He had even scribbled a little heart above it.

Which brings us to tonight.
Knowing Enjolras would be at work the entire day, Grantaire had took upon himself to prepare everything. He had cooked his boyfriend’s favourite pasta dish and had even bought some nice brioche at the little bakery next to their flat, knowing how much Enjolras loved it. When 8pm had come and Enjolras hadn’t, Grantaire hadn’t been to surprised, punctuality had never been Enjolras strong suit. But as time went on without any words from his boyfriend, he had started to get an unpleasant feeling of déjà vu.

Now, as the numbers on his watch indicated “9 pm”, the feeling had settled and morphed into disappointment. Some bitchy voice in his brain told him he should have seen it coming and even though he shushed it, the ache in his heart didn’t disappear. He checked his phone once more but still no text from Enjolras despite the numerous ones he had sent. That, in his experience, could only meant one thing: the lawyer was so engulfed in his work that he had let his phone on silent and forgotten in on the corner of his desk.
Grantaire looked at the know cold pasta he had left on the stove, then at his watch once more and let his head fall on the table with a grunt. He really wanted a drink right now. He stayed like that until his phone buzzed next to his head.

“Finally ! Enj, I’m gonna kill you, I swear.” he mumbled grabbing the device as fast as he could. His excitement was short-lived as instead of the lengthy apology he expected from his boyfriend, he was met with a short text from Joly.

Hey doing anything tonight?

This, coming from his friend could meant one of two things: either he wanted to watch crappy television and eat ice cream, or he was sure he was dying and wanted help checking his symptoms to find what incurable disease he had caught this time.
Both options seemed nicer than waiting home alone, knowing his boyfriend had forgotten him, but Grantaire still hesitated before answering. Even though, it was highly unlikely, some part of him still expected Enjolras to burst in with a good excuse explaining why he was so late. He could almost hear Eponine make fun of him for thinking that but she was not there so he still waited another five minutes before grabbing his phone again.

Nope, not a thing. The response came almost immediately.
We want to catch up on Bake off with Chetta and Bossuet but we can’t do that without you! You in?
Grantaire smiled. So, first option it was. He resisted the desire to look at his watch once more before answering.
I’m bringing the ice creams. I’ll be there in 10.

His decision made, Grantaire open the freezer, grabbed the two ice cream tubs than were always in there and started putting on his shoes. He was taking his coat off the rack when his eyes felt on the table that was still set, waiting for the diner that never came. The idea of cleaning everything up before leaving went through his mind but he could not bring himself to do so. It felt like truly admitting it wouldn’t happen and although that was true, it hurt too much. Instead, he took his phone once more and fired a quick text at his boyfriend.
I’m going to Joly’s, don’t wait for me.
Then, before he could change his mind, he left. The walk between their flat and the one Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet shared was only five minutes, so Grantaire didn’t bother going back up to grab an umbrella when he saw how much it was raining, he just sped up. Despite his best efforts, his brain couldn’t stop thinking about Enjolras and what had just happened as he was crossing the road. He was so caught up in his thoughts than he didn’t saw the car before it was too late.
The rest happened like in a movie.
Time seemed to slow down. Grantaire saw the car approaching inexorably and he just had time to turn his head before the vehicle hit him, sending him flying in the middle of the street.
“Shit, the ice cream is ruined.”, was his last thought before it all went dark.

Chapter Text

Enjolras knew he tended to lose track of time when he was doing something he was passionate about. Once when he was six, his parents had called the police because he had disappeared from the park. Turns out he had found a pond and stood there watching at the toads and tadpole for literal hours, unaware of the worry he had caused. When the officer had found him, and his parents had hug him tight shaking and crying he hadn’t really understood what the fuss was about. By the time he was a teenager, he used to get so caught up in his books or schoolwork’s that it wasn’t unusual for him to pull an all-nighter without realising it.
Growing up, Enjolras tried to become more self-aware, and even though he had gotten better similar events continued to occur regularly throughout his life. Nowadays there were only three things that he was passionate enough about to cause this: his work, les Amis and Grantaire. And currently it was the first one that was on his mind.
A month ago, or so, he had been contacted by a group of tenants that were all living in the same social housing. The building was owned by some rich asshole, and he had just served all of them eviction notice on fallacious pretexts leaving a dozen of families with very little time to find a solution or alternative. This case being very time sensitive, Enjolras has thrown himself in it with everything he had. The hearing was next week, and the lawyer needed to make sure that everything was ready for the big day.

That’s why he was currently at his desk rereading every testimony he had gathered. He had no idea of how much time had passed, but he had switched his desk light on at some point and he vaguely remembered Courfeyrac dropping by to say goodbye. So, to say he was surprised to hear the same Courf yell his name was an understatement. Before he could even react, his friend burst into his office still yelling, Jehan close behind.
“You bastard! You are alive?”
“Yes?” Enjolras answered tentatively, pretty confused what was happening.
“Then pick up the damn phone!”
“We’ve been calling you for hours!” Jehan added on a similar tone.
“Whose we? My phone was on silent mode.”, the lawyer explained pointing at his phone on the edge of his desk and still not understanding why he was being yelled at. It’s not like it was the first time he was unreachable while working late. But this explanation wasn’t apparently good enough for Courfeyrac who took a step closer and shouted angrily:
“Everyone! And all this time you were seating at your desk with the damn thing right next to you! You could’ve been dead on a ditch or hit by a car!”
Suddenly his eyes went wide, he stopped himself like his anger had drained out and sent a worried look to Jehan who had turned very pale. For the first time since their loud irruption in his office, Enjolas took in the dishevelled looks of his friends. Under his jacket, Courf was wearing what was clearly his pyjamas and Jehan had curlers in their hair, like they had been getting ready for bed. But what really, made Enjolras heart’s beat faster was the look on their face. They both looked like they had been fighting tears.

Slowly he pushed his chair back, and, tension building in him, he asked, his voice trembling a little:
“Why was everyone trying to reach me?”
Courf looked at him silent tears welling up but suddenly at lost for words and turned to Jehan who couldn’t bring themselves to talk either. Briefly, Enjolras missed when they were yelling at him.
“Jehan, Courf why was everyone trying to reach me?”, he repeated anxiously.
There was a pause, during which he felt like his heart was going to explode, and then finally, Courf talked, his voice shaking helplessly:
“It’s Grantaire he got hit by a car walking to Joly’s. He is at the hospital and… it’s not good.”

All at once, Enjolras felt like he was underwater. Everything seemed dull and he couldn’t breathe properly and he flet like he never could again, but that didn’t matter because the only thing that mattered right now was Grantaire. He barely registered Jehan and Courf talking to him, all he heard was his own broken voice repeating like a prayer:
“I… I need to go… I need to see him.”

The journey to the hospital passed like a blur. Even though he was unresponsive, Jehan and Courf kept talking to him. If he had been able to focus, he would have understood that it was as much to reassure themselves than him but right now he couldn’t. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. Grantaire.
Images from the last time he saw his boyfriend flooded his brain, unsolicited. It was this morning, just before leaving to work. Grantaire had insisted on getting up, even though it was way too early and had followed him to the door to give him a goodbye kiss. He had looked so cute with his unruly curls, sleep etched all over his face, but what Enjolras remembered most was his smile. He had seemed so happy and carefree then.
Shaking his head, Enjolras forced the thoughts out of his mind. He couldn’t, not right now, he needed to focus. And just so, because Courf was finally parking. Enjolras barely waited for the car to fully stopped, before he bolted out of it, running toward the building as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Hi, I’m looking for Charles Grantaire, he was hit by a car earlier tonight and brought in here.”, he yelled as soon as he arrived at the front desk.
The tired-looking nurse that was behind it, gave him a very un-impressed look.
“I’m sorry but you need to wait your turn,” she told him pointing at the line of waiting people he had just got passed without even seeing.
“But I need to see him.”, he pleaded.
Usually, people found it kind of hard to say no to Enjolras. He had what could be described (not by him) as a radiating presence that tended to command the room, even when he didn’t intend too. But this nurse seemed immune to his “Apollo charm”, as Grantaire would put it, because she only answered: “And I need you to sit down”.
Courf and Jehan finally caught up with him as he insisted once more.
“You don’t understand I…”
“Enjolras!” interrupted a familiar voice.
He looked up to find than Combeferre, wearing his scrubs and white jacket, had just appeared behind the now very-annoyed nurse. He must have been on call when it happened, still probably was, and Enjolras had rarely been happier to see him.
“It’s alright I know them; I’ll take care of it.”, their doctor friend told his coworker.

Quickly, he gestured them to follow him and after a little walking in some busy hallways they arrived at a waiting area. One quick look around told Enjolras that all their friends were here, and they all jumped to their feet at their arrival. He immediately got engulfed in a bone crushing hug from Joly and Bossuet who both looked like they had been crying as well. But he didn’t had time to process any of that, because as they released him a furious Eponine stood before him.

“Where were you?” she yelled.
“At work…”, he started, but she didn’t let him finish. Hands curling into fist, she took a step closer.
“At work! You’ve got to be kidding me! I…”
“Ponine, stop.” Cosette interrupted her gently. The other girl was nowhere near done, that was clear, but she still let Cosette grab her hand and guide her next to Marius, eyes still shooting dagger at Enjolras who hadn’t moved an inch. He probably should have been shaken by that, or felt grateful for her intervention, but the truth was that he had barely felt a thing since Courf and Jehan had delivered the news, so he focused right back on Ferre who still stood next to him.

“What happened, where is he?”
He could see the hesitation in his best friend eyes, as he looked around tentatively. “Don’t you want to sit down?” the doctor finally tried.
“No, I want someone in this fucking hospital to tell me where Grantaire is and if he is okay !!”, Enjolras, all but yelled, his feelings finally starting to crack the façade.
Combeferre, raised his hands calmly, then closed his eyes, pinching the bridges of his nose quickly before launching into his explanation.
“Ok. He got hit by a car that was going too fast at a crossroad. Thankfully the driver didn’t run away, he called for help immediately. Grantaire arrived here with two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a bad concussion. He is currently in surgery to fix his wrist.”
“How long?”,
“It should be less than an hour now. I’ll go check and tell you right away.”
“So, he’s going to be alright?” was all he managed to say, his voice choking up on the words.
The look Combeferre gave him made his heart skip a beat. He almost didn’t want him to answer but he did anyway.
“Enj, he was unconscious when he arrived, and he never wake up. We’ll have to see after the surgery, but it could be bad.”

Those final words echoed in Enjolras mind as something finally reconnected in his brain. He was no longer underwater, he was drowning. Every emotion he had kept at bay for almost an hour came rushing back, taking his breath away. It’s only when he felt something wet on his cheek, that he realized he was crying.

Chapter Text

Courfeyrac was by his side in an instant, and putting his hand on his shoulder, he gently guided Enjolras to the empty chair next to Feuilly. For a moment nobody dared to speak, the silence in the waiting room only broke by his soft sobs, until Bahorel jumped to his feet.
“Waiting like is driving me crazy I’m going to get us drinks, who wants something?”
He took everyone requests, mostly coffee to deal with what they all could feel would be a very long night (except for Marius who couldn’t handle coffee and had learned it the hard way) and was about to leave in direction of the machine when Jehan got up.
“I’m going with you; you’ll need help with the cups. Oh, and before I forget”, they rummaged trough their giant crochet tote bag (handmade of course) for a moment, then stood in front of Enjolras. “Here, I grabbed it when we left” they said gently.
It wasn’t until he saw it in his friend’s hand than Enjolras became aware of the fact that he had left his office without his phone. He had been in such a rush, that he hadn’t even thought about it. In fact, he hadn’t even grabbed his coat he realised now. Trying to force a thankful smile on his lips, Enjolras took the device and Jehan left with Bahorel.
For the first time in almost ten hours, he looked at the screen. Courfeyrac had not lied. The first thing Enjolras saw was the dozens of missed calls from all his friends and his heart sank a little. If Courf and Jehan hadn’t come, he would still be in his office not knowing that his boyfriend was hurt, just because he just couldn’t look at his damn phone. Eponine was right to be mad at him.
Scrolling through his notifications he quickly saw Grantaire’s name, and his eyes prickled with tears again. Courfeyrac used to make fun of him for having his boyfriend saved in his phone as just “Grantaire” so the later had took upon himself to add a small green heart, that made Enjolras roll his eyes every time he saw it. Now he stood there, looking at the little heart for a while, finger trembling before finally opening their chat.

12 unread messages

10:05 am: “Have a good day at work. I can’t wait for tonight. Love you.”
12:30 am: “I’m running by the store to grab some things for diner do you need anything?”
2:12 pm: “By the way we still need to find a gift for Joly’s birthday!”
7:55 pm: “Everything’s ready. The only missing thing is you xx.”
8:10 pm: “Running a little late?”
8:20 pm: “Pastas are getting cold…”
8:30 pm: “Enj, is everything alright?”
8:45 pm: “Please tell me you didn’t forget about tonight.”
8:50 pm: “I tried to call you six times pick up the phone you asshole.”
9:00 pm: “So you really forgot…”
9:05pm: “You know what? I’m not even mad just disappointed, I guess. “
9:10 pm: “I’m going to Joly’s, don’t wait for me.”

With each text his grip on the phone got a little tighter, and by the time he got to the last one he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. They had diner plans. Short memories flashed before his eyes. Making plan after the meeting Wednesday, writing the date on the calendar the next day, Grantaire’s smile this morning when he had kissed him goodbye, and he sucked in a sharp breath. That’s when the realisation hit.
Unable to stay still another minute, Enjolras got up so suddenly he startled Feuilly, and started to pace in front of the chairs. For a moment, his friends exchanged worried glances debating if they should say something or not, but it was only when Bahorel and Jehan got back with everyone drinks and Enjolras didn’t stop, that Courf decided to intervene.

“Enj, don’t you want to sit done? There is coffee for you too.”
“Can’t.” he answered angrily not slowing down his pace.
“Why?”
“Because Courfeyrac, I’m the worst boyfriend ever!”
“Well, that’s for sure.” Eponine snickered her voice not nearly as angry as before.
“You’re here now that’s all that mattered.” Cosette answered gently, believing he was referring to his late arrival.
“Yeah, and the worst is a bit excessive, let’s say you have room for improvement.” Bahorel tried jokingly. Usually, Enjolras took ribbing like this with good grace, as he was rather self-aware of his shortcomings as a partner, but this time he didn’t laugh. Instead, he finally stopped walking and turned to stare at his friends who all fell silent under his glare.
“No, you don’t understand, it’s all my fault!”
His voice was so loud that he echoed in the now quiet room, but Enjolras didn’t care. Once again, his friends exchanged concerned looks.
“What do you mean Enj?” Bossuet asked gently.
“We…” his voice broke down; he brought his hand to his face and closed his eyes for a second before he spoke up again “We had a date planned tonight. We haven’t been able to spend time together lately and R was really excited about it, he made diner and I… I forgot.”

His declaration was met with stunned silence and unable to deal with his friend’s judgment in addition to his own, Enjolras resumed pacing.
“Ok, so it was not your best moment as a boyfriend, but that doesn’t make you responsible.”, Feuilly finally said.
Enjolras stopped once more and looked at him bewildered. He was even more surprised when he saw his friends agreeing. How could they not see it?
“Yes, it does!” he shouted again. And before any of them could argue he added “If I had been there, he wouldn’t have been out, and he would never had been hit by a car.”

Saying it out loud made the matter even worse, and he felt his legs shaking but he refused to sit. Instead, he looked at his watch. Combeferre’s hour was almost up, and he still wasn’t back, that must mean something was wrong. Maybe there had been complications during the operation or even worse…
“It’s still not your fault, you weren’t the one driving the car.”, Marius said stopping his spiralling.
“But I’m the one who put him here.” Enjolras insisted, his voice small.
“Then, by logic I’m as guilty as you.” They all turned to Joly who had just spoken. Seating between Chetta and Bossuet he was robbing his knee anxiously. “I’m the one who invited him.”
“No of course you’re not…”, Enjolras started shaking his head, but the doctor stopped him. “Yes, I know that, but you need to understand that neither are you.”
“It’s different, because if I had been there…”
“He could have had a heart attack.” Interrupted Jehan.
“Or he could have fall down the stair and broke his neck.”, added Courf, slowly getting up to get to Enjolras.
“The point is: things happen, stop thinking you’re the centre of everything”, Eponine said sharply before he could answer.
For the first time that evening, Enjolras let out a little laugh at the same time as Courfeyrac engulfed him in a hug. And just as he was starting to feel calmer Ferre came back.

Immediately letting go of his friend, he turned to the doctor who had an indecipherable look on his face. The rest of the group got up and soon everyone was circling him, anxiously waiting for an update.
“The operation went well, he’s going to have a cast for six weeks, but he should regain full mobility. They’re bringing him to his room just now.”
“So, what now?” Enjolras pressed him urgently.
“We have to wait for him to wake up.”
“Can we go see him?”
“Not all at once but yes.”

A few minutes later, Enjolras was sitting by Grantaire bedside. Combeferre had led him there but had gone back to wait with their friends to give him privacy. For the moment, the only thing he could think about was how fragile his boyfriend looked in this bed. They were cuts and bruises on every visible part of him and he was almost as pale as the cast on his injured wrist, but what got Enjolras the most was the silence.
Grantaire was not a discreet person. When he moved around, he was always making a noise of some sort and he even sometimes talked in his sleep. That had driven Enjolras mad at the beginning of their relationship but now he had gotten accustomed to it, and it felt weird to see him so lifeless. Weird and wrong. So wrong.
“R, I’m so sorry” he blurted, putting his head in his hands as guilt overflowed him once more. “I’m so sorry I forgot about diner. When you wake up, I promise I’ll make it up to you. We could go away for a weekend, I have so many days I need to take, and it’s been way too long since we took a vacation just the two of us and…
He stopped for breath and looked up. Tears started to well in his eyes again. “But for that you need to wake up.” He stopped again fully crying this time. “Please, you must wake-up. Hear that? I said please. That’s how much I need you to come back to me, R.”

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. That’s the first thing Grantaire noted as his senses slowly came back to him. He hadn’t felt like shit this bad in a long time so he must really had gotten overboard last night. At least he thought, because as of now his foggy brain couldn’t supply him with any memories that could explain his state. To be fair, it wasn’t the first time and probably not the last either.
But something didn’t feel quite right. By now he fancied himself an expert of waking up hangover and that didn’t normally come with a piercing pain on his side or a weird stiffness in the wrist. The headache was on point though. In fact, his entire body felt like a giant bruise, and he didn’t particularly want to find out why.
Decided to sleep this hangover out, Grantaire kept his eyes closed and tried to shush his brain until he became aware of an annoying beeping noise next to his head. He tried to lift his left arm to shut the damn alarm clock on his phone and hissed in pain. Ok something definitely wasn’t right.
As much as he didn’t want to, he slowly opened his eyes, closing them almost immediately as the light blinded him. Oh right, he must have forgotten to shut the blinds again. Except than when he cautiously opened his eyes, the artist discovered that he wasn’t in his small student’s room like he had expected. In fact, he was greeted by the white and yellowish walls of what could only be an hospital.
Well shit, he must really have fucked up this time.

As he slowly took in his surroundings, Grantaire caught sight of the white cast that covered his left wrist. That was one mystery solved. At least it wasn’t his right one, he thought while continuing his inspection. The source of the annoying noise he had heard appeared to be a big machine on his left and as he tried to straighten up, ignoring the pain, the beeping intensified.
That seemed to be bad, because a second later the door to his room flied open and a thirty something doctor with a worried look came in. When his eyes fell on Grantaire alert and awake, he lit up so suddenly that the artist feared he had him confused with another patient. There was no way that someone was that happy to see him. But it was his name that came out of the stranger mouth as he rushed to his side.

“Grantaire you’re awake! You scared us for a moment here!”
“Uh sorry I guess.” he answered his voice weirdly hoarse.
The doctor immediately handed him a cup of water that he accepted gratefully as he sat by the bed.
“How do you feel?” he asked when Grantaire was finished.
“Like someone run over me.”
He had excepted the doctor to scoff and tell him to be serious or to be warn about the danger of drinking to much, but instead his answer drew a small laugh out of the man.
“Yeah, that’s accurate.”

Ok this time R was really confused. That must have shown on his face, because the doctor regained his seriousness and asked gently: “Do you remember what happened?”
Once again, the artist racked his brain, but he only managed to conjure confused memories of the past days. It was getting frustrating.
“If I’m honest not really.” He finally said.
“That’s alright, that was to be expected actually, you had a pretty nasty concussion.” The doctor, who was yet to introduce himself, got up and grabbed the sheet at the foot of his bed. “Ok let me walk you through it. You got hit by a car on Friday night as you were going to Joly’s, you broke your left wrist and a couple of ribs, and you hit your head pretty hard.”

So that was why everything hurt. Who would have thought getting concussed was so much like being hangover? It was a first for Grantaire, unlike the broken ribs which he had already suffered from boxing. But then getting hit by a car was also a first for him and judging by the way he felt he wasn’t really keen on repeating the process.
The artist tried to piece all the information he had together. He still didn’t remember making plans with Joly but they spend a lot of Friday night’s together so that seemed rather believable. On the way over there he had gotten hit by a car hard enough to make him loss consciousness and there he was in the hospital. The doctor’s words when he had entered the room came back to him and he frowned, before asking:
“How long was I out?”
The doctor, who had put his information sheet back, flinched visibly and turned to face him. “Two days. Like I told you, you really scared us. I’m glad you’re back, R.” he said gently putting his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder.

Since his arrival he had wondered if there wasn’t some sort of confusion as the doctor kept acted overtly friendly, when the artist had never seen the man before. At first, he had put it on good besides manners but now Grantaire was truly lost. How on earth did this random doctor knew his nickname? And who was that “us” that he kept referring to? But before Grantaire could confront him, he spoke again, unaware of the turmoil he had cause in the other man mind.

“Oh! I have to text everyone! God, Enjolras is going to be so mad… He didn’t want to leave your side, but Courf and I managed to convince him to go home to change and sleep a little. You know how stubborn he gets.”
He gave him a knowing smile before grabbing his phone and to his own surprise Grantaire nodded. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but it was in great part because he didn’t have the heart to tell the guy that he didn’t understand a thing he was saying. Not while he looked so happy. He could always break the news to him later. Before he could change his mind or regret his decision, the doctor walked to the door, phone still in hand.
“Listen I have to go, but I’ll come back soon, I promise. Joly his probably going to stop by when he is done with his consults, and I paged your doctor.” The stranger paused for a bit and a big smile spread on his lips: “It’s really good see you awake R.”
And with that he left, leaving Grantaire with more questions than answers.

For a moment he tried to understand what just happened without success, so he paused to gather his thoughts. He was currently in the hospital after being run over by a car. He had spent two days in a coma and some nice doctor who knew Joly was under the impression they knew each other, but no matter how hard Grantaire racked his brains, he was certain he had never met this man in his life… Maybe Joly had talked about him? Yes, that was it. In fact, it was the only plausible explanation! That probably wasn’t true, but this solution was enough for his tired brain especially while pain was getting more and more intense as his body was fully waking up, starting with a head splitting headache.

That said, he was more than relieved to see a new doctor arrive in his room. This one didn’t even act like they were friends, which was a small relief. She simply asked a few questions about how he felt, and more importantly she showed him how to access the pain meds. After a quick review of his injuries, she left saying she would check on him later, just as Grantaire high on morphine started to doze off.

He was awakened, what felt like only a moment later, when his door opened again, and a literal Greek God entered his room. There were no other words to describe the man that had just entered the room with his soft traits, golden curls and his overwhelming presence. Immediately, Grantaire felt the urge to draw him, already knowing he wouldn’t be able to capture his likelihood perfectly on paper but convinced he had to try. Before he could even finish that thought, the god was next to him and a moment later he was kissing him.
The artist was so shocked that he didn’t move a muscle. He might even have stopped breathing altogether. Thankfully, the god quickly let go of his lips, and Grantaire lungs suddenly remembered how to work. This was put in great peril by the fact that the god’s hand lingered on his cheek, gently stroking his cheekbone and sending a thousand shivers down his spine.

“I’m so sorry R” he whispered, forcing Grantaire to focus back on what was happening. He didn’t know what the man had done or why he felt the urge to apologised to him, but as his eyes fell on his beautiful face riddled with sorrow, he decided it didn’t matter. He would have agreed to anything to make that look disappeared. Who could be mad at this man anyway he wondered as the god sat next to him, taking his uninjured hand in his own. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Their eyes met and Grantaire momentarily forgot that the man was a stranger. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with such a loving look and he just wanted to get lost his gaze. For a second, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling like in the rays of the sun god, before averting his eyes. He hated to break the moment, knowing he would probably never experience something like that again, but his conscience, in a rare moment of lucidity, told him he had to. So, cursing himself, he finally opened his mouth.
“I’m glad to see you too, believe me! But who are you again?”
The blond god shot him a glare that made him want to disappear altogether.
“Grantaire it’s not funny, I know I messed up, but I was really worried!”
“I swear I’m not kidding! I can assure you, I would remember ever meeting you.”

The stranger let go of his hand as if he had been struck by lightning and Grantaire couldn’t help but morn the loss of his touch, as the other man asked, voice slightly trembling: “You … you don’t know who I am?”
“No but I would love to.”

He tried to wink, but the god didn’t laugh, quite the opposite in fact. His face turned so pale that R got worried for a second. That’s the moment Joly and the doctor from earlier chose to arrive. When they saw the look on the other man face their smiled immediately dropped.
“Enj, what’s going on?” the stranger asked as the same time Grantaire said: “Oh hey Joly, and hello again doctor… uh I don’t think I caught your name earlier?”
And for the second time today he felt sorry he had opened his mouth when he saw their shocked reactions.

Chapter Text

From then things escalated. The two men that had just arrived went to fetch Grantaire’s doctor immediately, while the god (who was apparently called Enj), stayed by his side completely silent. Thankfully they weren’t alone long enough for it to become more awkward than it was already, as Joly and his friend soon came back explaining the situation to a confused doctor. They then left again, but not before assuring their friend that they wouldn’t be far. And even though this whole thing was pretty messed up, R couldn’t help but feel relieved when Enj/the god didn’t follow them.

“Ok I just need you to answer a few questions.”, his doctor started as she wiped up a small flashlight that she pointed to his eyes. Beginning to feel overwhelmed, the artist simply nodded which she took as an invitation to begin her interrogation.
“What’s your full name?”
“Charles Nicolas Grantaire. But I go by Grantaire or just R.”
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital, but I don’t know which one.”
She nodded and he started to relax a little. If all the questions were this easy, he might fare better than he originally thought.
“How old are you?” she pursued.
“23.”

The gasp Enj let out was so loud that R turned his head fast enough for his headache to return viciously. For the first time since the doctor’s arrival, the man on his right looked at him, all colours drained from his face and hands flexing helplessly. Confused, the artist turned back to his doctor but the look on her face wasn’t particularly reassuring. And he understood why when she opened her mouth again to say: “I’m sorry M. Grantaire, you are 31.”

With everything that had happened since he had woken up, Grantaire couldn’t say that he hadn’t seen something like that coming, but the announcement still hit him like a bombshell. He felt all the air leaving his lungs, as his vision blurred. Until then it was more like a lingering bad feeling he had tried to ignore. Now it felt way too real, but he still couldn’t quite believe it.
It just couldn’t be… 8 years gone? His hands started shaking, but before R could regain control over them, Enj’s hand landed over his and he squeezed firmly. Just like before his touch felt familiar and calming. Soon enough the tremor subdued but he didn’t let go, anchoring himself to the stranger like his life depended on it.

“Do you know the man next to you?” the doctor next asked, after leaving him a little time to process.
Once again, Grantaire’s eyes fell on the god who looked at him expectantly, and he really tried to focus. It felt like walking in a deserted land covered in fog. There was something there, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t see it or reach it. The other man must have felt it because before R even opened his mouth, his eyes started to well and he quickly averted them, as a wave of guilt coursed through the artist.
“I think his name his Enj or something, but apart from that I have nothing, sorry.” he finally said with a sigh.
“It’s Enjolras actually.”

It was the first time he had talked since Grantaire had told him he didn’t knew him. His voice was loud and clear, but R could have sworn he heard a small tremor in it. He couldn’t help but mutter the name back. It felt strange and familiar in a way that was impossible to explain but no memories came. Still refusing to meet his eyes, Enjolras turned to the doctor.

“What’s happening to him?”. This time a little desperation had filtered through his tone and for the hundredth time Grantaire wondered why this man seemed so worried about him.
“He appears to be suffering from retrograde amnesia. It can happen when the brain suffers a big trauma like in this case.” She explained it like it was the most natural thing in the world and the artist couldn’t help but scoff.
“So, what I hit my head so hard that I forgot the past 8 years of my life?”. That felt a little exaggerated.
“Basically yes. We’ll have to do more exams to confirm everything else is fine. Usually, it’s temporary and memories come back on their own.”
“Usually?”

The cry had escaped him, and he felt Enjolras’ fingers flex on his as he asked: “How much time does it take?”.
The doctor shrugged and gave them a supportive smile: “It’s not an exact science; brains are a complicated things and everyone heals at their own pace.”
“Well, that’s reassuring” R snickered, his headache now fully back and pressing on his temple. He wanted to rub them to calm it but that would have meant letting go of Enjolras’ hand and he wasn’t quite ready to do that.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you better news, M. Grantaire. We’ll take you for a head scan as soon as possible and I’ll come back as soon as I have the results. Try to rest”.
And with that she left.

Once again, he and Enjolras, were left alone and silence fell on the room. After what felt like an eternity – R had time to count the ceiling tiles twice - the blond man finally turned his gaze on the bed. That’s when he realized his hand was still on Grantaire’s, and much to the other sorrow, he took it away.
“Sorry force of habit. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable; it must be hard enough as it is.” he said scratching his head.
The artist tried to ignore how much he already missed his touch to focus on the real matter at hand. Even though he didn’t really want to know the answer he had to ask.
“So, you and I we’re …
“Friends” he added as the same time Enjolras said: “Together. Yes.”

And yes, there had been clues, like the kiss and the hand holding, but Grantaire was still taken aback. He couldn’t, for the life of him, comprehend how someone like Enjolras could be with someone like him. Not that he was particularly ugly, on his good days he could even recognised that he was somewhat attractive, but the man next to him was way out of his league. Worse than that, he seemed like the type of guy that had his life in order. He probably had a well-paid boring desk job, a big apartment and surely never wondered if he would be able to be pay the bills or woke up hangover several times a week. He was about to point all those contradictions to Enjolras, but the other man looked at him like he had fallen on his head again.
“R, I kissed you.”
“We could have been really good friends?” Grantaire tried but that only seemed to annoy Enjolras even more.
“I don’t usually kiss my friends on the mouth.” He paused, his eyes falling on his hands that had started to play with the hem of R’s sheet and after a second, he added, voice weaker:
“You really don’t remember me, at all?”
Grantaire’s heart sank a little at the idea of telling him no once more, but before he could, Enjolras, shook his head and looked up to him before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I know you already said you didn’t, it’s just…. We’ve been together for almost four years so I’m having a hard time processing.”

That was the final straw. This couldn’t be true, it was all a giant canular, and Eponine was going to jump out soon to yell “Got you!”. Or maybe this entire thing was just a big nightmare, and he would wake up soon? Not that dating Enjolras would be a nightmare, but R didn’t do serious relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but they required work and implication, and he barely survived as it was. Sure, eight years was a long time, but he couldn’t phantom his life changing that much, that’s why he couldn’t help but ask:
“You’re sure?”
The look Enjolras gave him made him instantly regret even uttering those words, while another part of him wanted to paint the fire in the eyes. It was almost like he had insulted him, although he didn’t understand how. Grantaire was saved from his fury by the arrival of a nurse that came to take him to his head scan. Enjolras stayed silent the entire time the artist was wheeled out, but he could feel his gaze on him.
When he returned the blond man wasn’t there anymore, but Grantaire wasn’t really surprised. He must have decided that he had better things to do that to wait for his loser boyfriend to remember him. Between the pain and all the emotions of the day he barely had time to think about it before he fell asleep.

———————

Grantaire came back hours later to voices whispering next to his bed. To his relief his headache had almost disappeared, and he almost felt operational again. Well, if you forgot about the cast on his wrist and the amnesia of course. He kept his eyes closed for a second, trying once again to trigger his memory to no avail. When he finally opened them, frustration getting the better of him, he found Enjolras, Joly and the doctor whose name he still didn’t know, huddled at the foot of his bed. His surprise at the sight of the blond man was quickly replaced by concern when he took in his appearance. Enjolras looked visibly worse for wear, his beautiful hairs tousled in every direction, and his eyes puffy and red. The artist wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Joly saw he was awake and the three of them stopped talking to turn in his direction.

“Hey, look who’s back! How are you feeling?”
“A little better I guess.” Grantaire shrugged. The pain was still there but it was a little dull at the moment, not doubt thanks to another dose of painkillers.
“That’s good!” Joly exclaimed with one of his trademark smiles. Next to him, Enjolras straightened out and quickly tried to flatten his hair before getting closer.
“Your doctor just left; everything looks normal on the scan.”
His eyes were avoidant, and he looked like he rather be anywhere else, but R tried to ignore it “So, now what?”
“You just have to wait. In most case the memory comes back gradually.” The unnamed doctor suddenly stopped in the middle of his answer and adjusted his glasses. “Oh, sorry I just realised I never reintroduced myself, I’m Combeferre, we’ve been friends for almost seven years now. You beat me on Words with friends almost daily.”

Grantaire shook the hand he had extended and tried to imagine how this man could fit in his life as once again no memory came to mind. “Nice to re meet you I guess”, was all he managed, but to his credit Ferre didn’t seem offended. He simply nodded and took a step back as Joly waved at the artist.
“Apparently you remember me, but I probably changed a bit!”
For the first time since he had woken up R, really looked at Joly. It was clear now that this was not the man he had left, what felt like only a day ago. He had the same auburn hair and the same brown eyes, but the lines of his face were different, a little sharper maybe. His smile hadn’t change though, and with everything that had happened it was the most comforting thing Grantaire has seen in a while. He couldn’t help but smile in return.
“You look good!”
“I am thanks! And you will be too! Oh, and before you ask, you’re going to be discharged tomorrow, they want to keep an eye on you tonight but then you’re going home.”

The artist looked around and sighed, not feeling particularly excited about going back to his tiny studio. “I can’t say I’m mad about leaving, but this room is almost an improvement from my place.”
“You don’t live there anymore. We bought a place together 2 years ago.” Enjolras offered, his voice almost a whisper.
Once again, Grantaire felt dizzy. He had bought a flat with someone. Slowly the realisation that he had probably forgotten many more milestones in his life settled in and suddenly he really needed a drink. Thankfully, sensing the change in his mood and before he could dwell on the idea, Combeferre stepped in.

“The others really wanted to come but given the circumstances, we convinced them it would be better to wait after you went home.”
This effectively distracted the artist who frowned, “The others?”, the room was already rather full in his opinion.
“Yes, your friends.”

The Grantaire from eight years ago only had two persons he called his friends. One was Joly and the other was Eponine, his best friend since high school who he really hoped was still in his life. That was all. But apparently, the Grantaire from now, had an entire group of people worried about him, in addition of a new home and a hot boyfriend. It felt too good to be true, each new information about his life making R feel more and more overwhelmed. He really, really wanted a drink right now.
The trio stayed and talked with him for another hour. Grantaire had hundreds of questions, but he settled on getting reacquainted with Joly and Ferre. There had been enough revelations for the day. That’s how he learned that after completing his training Joly was now a real doctor, who was still very much hypochondriac – he had already advised him several times to thoroughly disinfect everything he’ll brought home from the hospital — and that he was really happy with his boyfriend Bossuet and his girlfriend Musichetta. His eyes lit up so much when he talked about those two that R couldn’t wait to meet them. Ferre was more reserved, but he seemed very nice, nonetheless. He quickly filled Grantaire in on what had happened in the world in the last eight years and shared a few anecdotes about him.

When it was finally time for them to leave, R realised Enjolras had barely said a thing. Sitting back, he had merely confirmed or denied his friends' stories in a few words. After the explosion of this morning, it was weird to see him so quiet. Still, as the blond man got to the door, the artist could feel his eyes lingered on him. He thought he might say something but, in the end, he left without a word, and Grantaire felt a weird pinch in his chest.

Chapter Text

The next day found Grantaire, changed in the clothes Enjolras had brought him, in his doctor office. All his tests’ results came back good, so the hospital was finally letting him go. As she was giving him her last recommendations, he couldn’t help but be distracted by the men on his right. Compared to yesterday he seemed to have regain his composure, but Grantaire could see his hand twitching regularly while he was listening to the doctor. They had exchanged a few polite words when he had arrived but nothing more. But who could blame him? What do you say to your boyfriend of four years who doesn’t even remember you?

As his thoughts wandered, R started to play with the hem of his hoodie. When Enjolras had handed him his clothes he had been relieved to discover that at least his style hadn’t change too much. There were even paint stains on the sweatpants and for a moment that had made him forget how stressed he was about going home with Enjolras. Not that he had particularly liked his hospital stay but this next step felt way stranger.

Grantaire was brought out of his reverie by the mention of his name, and a pressing touch on his uninjured arm. His doctor had gotten up and was looking at him. Pretending he had been following the discussion he nodded in return, which was apparently what was expected of him because she smiled. They shook hand and she ushered them out of her office, with the promise of seeing each other’s again in six weeks to remove his cast. Then, after signing a few more forms, R found himself alone with Enjolras in his car.

The ride home was silent, save from the news channel Enjolras had put on the radio, and Grantaire was grateful for that. As much as he was downplaying it, his body still hurt everywhere, and the vibrations of the car were doing a number on his broken ribs. In addition, he didn’t know if he was ready for the serious talk they were bound to have about the whole forgetting-about-his-serious-partner-of-four-year-thing and this little respite was more than welcome.

It was short lived, as soon enough, Enjolras parked in front of a building and a few minutes later they were standing in a flat that seemed way too nice to be R’s. He looked around in disbelief, taking in the neat kitchen, the small but well laid out living room and the corridor obviously leading to more rooms. Suddenly, his gaze fell on Enjolras, who had taken a step back and was watching him.

“Welcome home.” he said softly when their eyes met.

And for the first time since he had woken up, the other man truly smiled at him. It felt like catching the first ray of sun after a storm, and Grantaire instantly knew that this smile was his favourite sight in the world. He also really wanted to kiss him. The moment stretched between them, until Enjolras, cheeks slightly pink, looked away and cleared his throat.

“The decoration is mostly yours, since I apparently have no taste or so you told me repeatedly. The bathroom, our room and our home office are this way.” he added pointing to the corridor.

“We have a home office?” Grantaire asked in disbelief. When his boyfriend nodded in answer, he couldn’t help but say: “Well you must be loaded! I never could afford this.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say (again), because Enjolras’ expression shifted into a mixed of annoyance and sadness. The tension that had slightly alleviated fell back on them at full force.

“You are not a broke student anymore R. In fact, you are a well-respected artist, and you frequently sell pieces at galleries amongst other things.”

Grantaire didn’t know what part of that sentence was the hardest to believe so he settled for the main information.
“I’m a what?”
“An artist. You mostly paint, but you sometimes explore with other mediums. Your sketchbooks and portfolios should be in the office.” He paused for a moment, apparently debating something and after a few seconds he added: “You actually painted this, it’s my favourite.”

And with that he pointed to a painting that was hanging above the TV and that Grantaire hadn’t seen. As he got closer, he was met with a side view of a 19th century Paris’ street, displaying some beautiful buildings and a few passersby. The work on the light gave it an almost ethereal feeling but to R it mostly felt weird. He definitely recognised his style, but it had clearly evolved in the last eight years. His eyes caught on the small R calligraphed in the bottom right corner and a bittersweet smile drew on his lips. Art had always been his home, his shelter and even that felt strange now.
Grantaire could have watch the painting for hours, studying each brushstroke, each detail but something else Enjolras had said caught up to him.

“Wait people actually pay to buy by work?” he asked finally turning away from his work to look at his boyfriend.

Enjolras who had stayed a few steps behind him, not wanting to disturb him, came closer. His eyes skimmed over the painting with a soft smile before falling back on R.

“Yes, like I said you’re quite successful.” He explained gently. “Some of your work is actually exposed in a nearby gallery at the moment, we could stop by later if you want.”

Once again it felt like someone had extracted Grantaire’s wildest dream from his brain and made it true. It seemed way too perfect to be real. Realistically speaking, he knew he was good, his teachers at uni even told him so, but there was a line between being good and making it, and he never thought he’d cross it. Too much investment. What really stung with this one, was that it didn’t feel like his accomplishment. It should have been his biggest pride, but he wasn’t really the one who had done it. The more he looked at his signature at the bottom of the canvas, the more he felt like an imposter. The itch to drink came back and he stretched his fingers in the air painfully.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you remember.” Enjolras finally said, breaking the silence.
Grantaire let out a humourless laugh. “It’s not your fault and you heard the doctor, there nothing we can do, just wait.”

Next to him the blond man visibly flinched and before R could add anything he turn away and walked back to the entryway.

“Ferre helped me make a timeline of everything you’ve missed; we can look at it later and I’ll try to answer to all your questions. But first I’m going to go grab your prescription. Make yourself at home.”

“You don’t have work to do?”

Grantaire’s words had escaped his mouth before he could even think about it. What he really wanted to say was Please stay, and he held back a sigh of relief when Enjolras let go of the handle to look at him. “I didn’t even ask, what do you do for a living?” R quickly asked.

“I’m a lawyer, I work with our friends Courfeyrac and Marius. And I took days off.” Enjolras explained, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A lawyer. Which meant he probably had a million important things to do instead of running errands for an amnesiac artist. And although it felt nice having him there, even with the weird tension still between them, it didn’t seem fair. In fact, this entire situation was pretty unfair to him, but Grantaire felt like he was too nice to point it out. So, he did it for him.

“You don’t have too, you know.”

Enjolras frowned and the artist had to fight the urge to cross the distance separating them to smooth out the line on his forehead.

“Do what?” he asked.
“Take care of me like that.” R added gesturing between them.
“R…” Enjolras started, taking a step in his direction, but before he could continue, Grantaire cut him off. He needed to say it now and the sooner the better, so they both could move on. And maybe if he did it now before some memories came back it would be less painful. Like removing a band aid.
“In fact, if you wanted to leave me, I’d totally understand, it’ll be okay. This whole situation is a giant mess, you don’t need that.”

He tried to sound nonchalant, but he didn’t think he did a very good job at it. In front of him Enjolras froze. For a second, he was so still that he looked like one of those old marble statues Grantaire loved to draw. When he moved again, he was buzzing with the righteous fury the artist had witnessed at the hospital and as he locked eyes with him, R might have forgotten how to breath.

“It wouldn’t be okay at all. Yes, right now, it’s a little complicated, but I don’t run from complications I deal with them. And even though it’s a “giant mess” as you put it, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”

Enjolras had spoken very slowly, enunciation each word carefully as to ensure his message was clear and there was so much conviction in his voice that, to his own surprise, Grantaire had no choice but to believe him.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say under the fire of those blue eyes.
“Good. I won’t be long.”

And without another word he left, door slamming behind him.