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ferret-not-microwave · 3 years

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Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 3).

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.

[Also, OMG I didn't think people would like these posts so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thaaaank you to all who gave the cutest hashtags, y'all are so encouraging!]

[Also, I'm sorry I just posted on R and Eponine today. :'(

Just have a lot on my mind. I'll write on JBM tomorrow, promise.]

Grantaire:

• He. Is. Not. Weak. Seriously, he could really do without those people who think he's a broken mess who loses absolutely every bit of self respect when he sees Enjolras. Just because Enj had shut him up with harsh words on like one occasion does not mean that he lets Enj or anyone walk all over him on a regular basis. He is NOT a doormat, not by a long shot.

• He could also REALLY do without those people with massive saviour complexes who swoop in to save him from the big, bad world. He accepts tons of help and love from the Amis, but will not accept any kind of pity service, damnit (and they know it). And it takes a lot of strength to plow through alcohol addiction to sobriety.

• He is pretty much a guardian angel in bars because of his history with addiction. He knows how much drink can a person take, and which drink they should avoid. With Bahorel, he hovers around the rest of them, snatching away glasses when the lightweights get too drunk, and replacing them with glasses of water. That he can box also comes handy. Sometimes. Heh.

• Not every point he says to oppose Enj is a cynical barb. And they don't always have screaming matches in the Musain. There have been many days of trading constructive criticism, because R has a lot of first-hand experience about the city. R usually knows the fine line between Enj getting combative and Enj getting hurt/frustrated, and has learnt not to say something so cynical that he crosses the line.

• Like everyone else, R is also learning. He is working on his prejudices, realises that some his past jokes were insensitive, sometimes even sexist or ableist, and actively corrects himself and others around him.

• Further, their relationship did not start with a dramatic makeout session mid-argument. Because both of them are on the way to being mature adults who know that aggressively displaying sexual tension is not the best way to start a relationship.

• It is not just Enj he's generally cynical to. He's cynical, that's it. And he does enjoy arguments with the others, where there's mutual exchange of knowledge, because he does not ever believe that the rest just parrot what Enj has to say. He has captured everyone's argument face in his sketchbook: Ferre waving his hands about, Courf's eyes widened mid-rant, Feuilly's eyes narrowed with a brief, brusque comment, Jehan's smiling like a cat who got the cream when their argument hits home, Bahorel thumping the desk in jovial agreement, Marius processing what he's hearing. He kinda likes Les Amis L'ABC too, not just the people there.

• While there are rough days when his self esteem runs sub-zero, there are days when he is super happy with himself. These are not exactly blink-and -miss either. The Amis cherishes his beaming smile when he defeats Ferre on Trivia Night, sings beautifully on Karaoke Night, paints an AMAZING picture of all the Amis in a protest and shows it off to all of them, cooks a meal which JBM raves about, and, on one memorable occasion, makes a V important point in a meeting that leaves Enj starry-eyed. There are things he hides from them because he's too shy and doubtful, but they are decreasing.

• There are days when he goes into a house-cleaning spree. Like the scrubbing tables-dusting-throwing out piles of trash-cleaning corners with q tips-kind of spree. Which leaves him so exhausted that he can't get out of bed the day after. So yeah, his place isn't always shabby.

Eponine:

• She is tough. She is blunt, and to the point. But she is not rude without reason, just to be edgy or something. And definitely doesn't throw around idle threats. Most of the Amis find her very pleasant, actually. She gives a small smile to everyone, cracks dry jokes, lobs scrunched-up balls of paper from across the room and fights with Courf for the caramel popcorn bucket. She doesn't yell to make a point, but speaks it aloud with a lazy drawl while fiddling with a rubber band ("Bull", she says, eloquently enough). To new people, she is just that shy and suspicious, so she doesn't really talk.

• The thing she wants the most is to feel safe. Hence she is often quiet, suspicious and moody. She feels really upset if people think she's horrible (or a "bitch", like she sometimes hears random people say about her) just because she cannot trust people enough to be all smiles and rainbows, even though she wants to be. She also feels really vulnerable, and is always scared that people wil leave her or hurt her once they know that she panics and cries a lot. She feels safe with the Amis, and many a times you'll find her as a sniffling burrito on someone's couch. THIS DOESN'T MEAN SHE'S WEAK, THIS MEANS SHE HAS A LOT OF SHIT GOING AND NEEDS RELEASE. -_-

• Her preference for dark clothes started because dark clothes seemed easier to maintain. She needed lesser amounts of detergent, and could stretch it out for longer before the inevitable laundry walk. She had actually asked Jehan for goth fashion tips to liven things up, and they had provided her optimal options (like dark lipstick). Still, she doesn't wear fishnets everyday, and just saves them for "special occasions".

• She is one of R's best friends. But no, she is not his personal babysitter. She doesn't go chasing everyone who she thinks has hurt him immediately, neither does she always haul him around when he's down in the dumps. She usually gives him sound advice, checks on him whenever she gets breaks between shifts, and if she cannot help, sends an Ami or two along.

• Her go-to way of showing disappointment in anyone is to send them a voice message stating exactly how they have fucked up (in an ice cold voice) and giving them the silent treatment until they fix things or apologize. Only once did she go nuclear on someone, no one wants to talk about it.

• Ep is a big sap. She does not really conceal her love of heart-shaped Valentine cards, pink roses and candles. Don't forget that she grew up in fair comfort tilll her preteen years, and she had exposure to much sappy media. While the Amis were surprised initially, she makes them take it in stride. She gets a strawberry cake every birthday, complete with pink balloons et al. (organised by Courf). She dreams of going to Disneyland.

• In the face of danger (men following her on the streets or something), her first response is flight, not fight. She knows that fighting can often make things worse, and cannot afford frequent trips to the ER. She can fight, though. She just doesn't want to until absolutely necessary, for self-preservation. She's brilliant at amateur first aid.

#les amis #les miserables #les mis #les miz #grantaire #eponine #modern au #both of them are sweet beans #love them both #ferret's freshly microwaved post

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transrevolutions · 3 years

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exr with 15 and/or 18? :)

don't feel pressured though

15: I’m not going to let you do this to me anymore // 18: I would have taken a bullet for you

“What the fuck.”

Enjolras is making toast, because that’s really all he can bring himself to do these days- or he was making toast before his dead boyfriend appeared in the middle of his kitchen.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Grantaire- the ghost- whatever it is- said quietly, in what his idea of a placating tone apparently is.

“Why the fuck are you in my kitchen?” Enjolras’s brain had gone full-on autopilot, and that’s a good thing because otherwise he was pretty sure he’d pass out.

“Shit, are you, like, mad? Because I- um, sorry? Bad time?”

“You aren’t real. I’m not going to let you do this to me anymore,” he said, more to himself than the thing in his kitchen. He thought he was over the stupid fucking hallucinations, he’d seen the therapist even though he hated the therapist, he’d taken the pills, it had been over a month! Things were supposed to be improving!

“What the hell do you mean, I’m not real?”

“Because,” growled Enjolras, gritting his teeth, “You died a month and 18 days ago and ghosts don’t exist.”

“Oh yeah, about that, I owe Combeferre money. Give him my paypal or something.”

“No. What the fuck am I supposed to say to him?”

The ghost rolled its eyes in mock surrender. “I feel like you don’t want me here.”

Dammit, Enjolras, he thought. Get it the fuck together.

“No, I want the real Grantaire back. Not this... hallucination bullshit.”

“You really think... you really think I’m not real.”

Enjolras leaned his head against the wall. “Obviously. Listen, I’m going to take a fucking nap and you’ll be gone, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response. He was done with whatever game this was. He buried his head under the pillow and pulled the blankets over him. He still was not used to being the only one in a bed sized for two.

“Enjolras?”

Enjolras woke with a start. Had Combeferre or Courfeyrac come over? Had he even given them the key?

Grantaire- the ghost- stood awkwardly in the corner, looking like he’d been caught red-handed doing something wrong.

“The fuck?”

“It’s five in the evening. You slept the entire morning and most of the afternoon.”

“No, I mean why- can you just-” Enjolras screamed in frustration, a deep guttural noise that probably scared the cat into hiding under the sink. “If you really are Grantaire, why- why are you here?”

“Honestly I don’t have a fucking clue. I remember dying, sort of. Like, I remember the hospital and you were really upset? And then everything kind of... blanked. And then I woke up except I didn’t. Does that make sense?”

“No. Continue.”

“Anyways, I was pretty fucking confused,” Grantaire said, shrugging. “And Jehan told me not to try and contact you yet because it would make it worse for you. Grief processing or something.”

“Wait, did you just say Jehan talked to you?!”

“Yeah. It was probably shit advice, but I didn’t want to risk it.” Enjolras shoved the Jehan-talking-to-ghosts revelation in the back of his mind, because he just could not deal with that right now.

“Then why are you here now?” Enjolras couldn’t believe that he was doing this, having a conversation with the hallucination/ghost of his boyfriend. This wasn’t normal activity, at least in his opinion.

“Because I just gave up, okay? I couldn’t take it, seeing you beat the ever-loving hell out of yourself. And so I thought, screw the healthy grieving process, I’m going to talk to you. And. Well. Apologize too, I guess.”

“Apologize?” he asked numbly.

“You see, I promised- I promised you I’d do all this shit. Marry you, quit drinking, help you make your flyers, fix the stove boiler, all of that. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you down like this, okay?”

“Grantaire,” whispered Enjolras, half-hysterical. “You- you died and then now you’re here fucking apologizing to me for all of that? I- I should be the one apologizing to you! I should never have let you go to that stupid party by yourself just because I had work, I should’ve- I don’t know, I should’ve done better! I would’ve taken that bullet for you, you know that?”

“Please don’t take a bullet for me, Apollo. I’d argue with you but I don’t think either of us want to have a debate right now,” he said bluntly. “So can we just... it cancels out, right? You’re sorry. I’m sorry. Can we... not fight right now? Please?” The tremor in Grantaire’s voice shoved a crack through Enjolras’s heart, and he shoved his face into the pillow, sobbing.

“Enjolras?”

“Grantaire... Grantaire, why did you have to leave?”

“I’m sorry. I’m... this is the best I can do.”

“Can you hold me?” Enjolras whimpered, not sure if ghosts could touch people or, really, anything anymore. He’d never been so unsure in his life.

“’Course I can,” Grantaire soothed, and Enjolras felt a light, cool pressure settle around him. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Please don’t disappear...” Enjolras didn’t think he would be able to handle Grantaire coming back only to leave again.

“Oh, no. I won’t go. Not until you’re here with me and then we can go together. I promise. And I can visit those theatre shows and art galleries without paying, isn’t that neat?”

“That’s illegal, Grantaire.”

“They’re all run by capitalist pigs anywhere. But like, half-price dates, am I right?”

“How on earth are we going to make this work?” Enjolras asked, feeling a stab that was simultaneously hope and disappointed. “I mean, I’m gonna keep getting older, and a million other things. I don’t want it to change.”

The cool feeling moved closer and tighter. “We’ll figure it out. It’s gonna be different but we’ll figure it out. If you want to, I mean. I understand if you want to move on from me, or date someone else.”

“Grantaire, even if you didn’t come back, I’d never date someone else, honestly. It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Ah, I forgot. You aren’t the flighty summer love type.”

“Obviously.”

“Look at me, Enjolras,” Grantaire said suddenly. Enjolras turned around in the bed to face Grantaire, who was translucent with only the faintest traces of color. His eyes though, were much the same. “I love you. And this isn’t going to change that. I promise.”

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coolrobotsupremacist · 4 years

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Modern Les Mis AU this. Modern Les Mis AU that. Star Wars Les Mis AU when

!!!!!!!!! Not soon enough

The scales have fallen from my eyes, my whole world changed in just one flash of light, Star Wars is the logical place to go for a les mis AU and I can't believe I didn't see it before now. The existence of destiny, the importance and possibility of redemption, heroic doomed rebels, DEmOCraCy.

Weird mix of headcanons and plot? Below.

Jean Valjean as a kind young Jedi trying to keep order in the galaxy even as the Clone Wars escalate. He works himself to the home because he knows that in addition to defending the republic he is also keeping the galaxy safe for his family though he hasn't seen them since he was a child. Order 66 happens and he flees back to his family but is devastated to find them missing, presumed dead. The trauma of war was for nothing and he flees, falling to the darkside and living as an outlaw from both the newly formed Empire. A massive bounty on his head because he's one of the last Jedi known to be alive. Valjean gives into his worst impulses and lives from day to day doing whatever he needs to do to survive and evade the Empire. He stops thinking about the innocent people who might get hurt along the way until one day he comes across a Jedi temple and out pops Myriel.

Big redemption time.

Myriel fixes him up with a new identity and valjean sets out again a slightly less broken man.

Javert is a Bounty Hunter who, unlike most other bounty hunters, refuses to deal with criminals and only chases bounties put out by the Empire. He wears what looks suspiciously like a reclaimed Stormtrooper armour and everyone is too afraid to ask( isn't the point of this job that we DON'T have to wear uniforms)

Fantine meets Tholomyès on Coruscant and when he abandons her she decides to go off world to find work and a new, safe home for her and Cosette.

Cosette is kidnapped by the Thenardiers who are at the height of their power and influence as a family that controls a fleet of pirate spaceships and are on the lookout for force sensitive children to mould into a private army of force users. Fantine, desperate to get her back, turns to the most dangerous and lucrative profession she can find and becomes a bounty hunter in order to raise enough money to hire a team of mercenaries to save Cosette. She ends up teaming up for a bounty with Javert, who wants her help infiltrating a mining station because he suspects something fishy is going on as it's not turning the profit it should be, this just turns out to be its workers being paid a fair wage but Javert is vindicated because, gasp, guess who owns the station?

Hijinks ensue but Valjean eventually agrees to be taken in because he hears why Fantine needs the money and as he's already been exposed as an outlaw he knows he can't do any more good at the station. Fantine shoves Javert down a rubbish shoot and brings in Valjean herself, taking all of the bounty. Then she immediately breaks him out again and they go and rescue Cosette.

Cool battle ensues pew pew pew smash SMASH BOOM. They rescue most of the children and find them good homes all over the galaxy then flee with Cosette to one of the few Jedi temples left. Knowing Star Wars that temple is probably on a desert planet. Thenardiers pirate empire is essentially crippled and he is left with only a few of his child soldiers. He swears vengeance.

Years later Marius is a Prince of a planet with a suitably keysmashy name Snarfan-5? Snarfan-5. With his grandfather as regent Marius trusts that the right thing to do is agree to the demands of the Empire, until he finds out that his Father was a Mandalorian who didn't abandon him but was killed when the Empire attempted genocide in all the Mandalorians. Marius buys a helmet which he vows to never take off until he restores Madalore to its former glory, and starts to reclaim his roots which he's fairly sure have something to do with being good at fighting? He'll figure it out as he goes. Hopefully he can find this Thenardier guy who once saved his father's life.

Then he runs away to join the rebellion.

Enjolras was a Padawan before the republic fell who escaped Order 66, he never got to finish his training and accepts that the Jedi Order had a lot wrong with it but that didnt stop him from internalising all that stuff about the only acceptable love being vague love for people as a whole. He only used his force abilities when absolutely necessary: he considers it an unfair advantage.

Combeferre is fascinated by the force as it's both a proven scientific phenomena and a religion? Wild. When he was a child he wanted to work as a diplomat travelling from planet to planet, solving problems peacefully. Part of him hopes that if enough systems band together, they can force the Empire to yield peacefully.

Coufeyrac doesn't need the force to let you feel the love hes primarily a pilot and picks up Marius on a supply run. Not in the least bit force sensitive, cheerfully so.

Feuilly used to work in a workshop that made cybernetic limbs. He taught himself how to use the force without really understanding until later how unheard of it was. His long-term goal is to rebuild the Jedi without all the toxic feeling repression. He's most fluent in droid because he grew up around them and he really hates how people often treat droids as expendable machinery.

Prouvaire knows about force ghosts, we all know what he's doing with his time.

Joly has taken 345 vaccines for diseases which aren't transmissible to humans but better to be safe than sorry, right? He's always excited to go to a new planet because it means he can research local diseases/medicine.

Bossuet has been accidentally shoved out of 345 airlocks.

Grantaire is technically a darksider. He was a Padawan at the same time as Enjolras but struggles to live by the Jedi code, and was pretty easily seduced to the dark side as a result but he made an even worse Sith than he did a Jedi because he couldn't jam with the cruelty and sadism. Upon realising that the Sith were actually philosophically evil instead of just really liking the aesthetic he sort of sheepishly slips out the back door. The lesson he took from this is that there is no right way to wield power: you either become ineffectual monks or megalomaniac sadists so the only option is to give up. He eventually nominally joins the resistance and he keeps having horrible force visions about all his friends dying which he trys to drown out with copious amounts of alcohol(it never works).

Bahorel is a Wookie. I don't think that requires further explanation.

Marius settles in with them although he learns to keep his mouth shut about the glorious old days of the Mandalorian empire.

Thenardier tried to train his few remaining child soldiers by throwing sharp objects at them. Long story short Eponine still can't use the force and only has one ear but she is very good at dodging things. Gavroche escaped on his own and is basically a 13 year old Han Solo. He stole a novelty yacht in the shape of an elephant, despite this hugely distinctive ship he has never been gotten close to bring caught. Has close ties with the resistance.

Cosette is taught at Fantines insistence how to use the force and blast people to hell and back, she learns these skills pretty well but more importantly Cosette is given more love that any one person needs so she grows up to be exactly as kind and loving as she is in canon. Valjean is secretly delighted to have a Padawan but also scared that he's going to pass his icky Sith germs onto Cosette. Blasters are Fantines speciality; she teaches Cosette to shoot first. They are eventually honest about their pasts with Cosette, mostly because it would be dangerous not to be. Cosette makes the decision to leave dispute the danger not wanting to live in hiding for the rest of her life.

There's a prophesy about a chosen one and everyone keeps mistakenly assigning it to Enjolras but it's very very clearly about Cosette

#Les Miserables #les mis #Fantine #hell yeah she lived #cosette fauchelevent #Marius Pontmercy #Jean Valjean #javert #enjolras #les amis #grantaire

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hms-chill · 5 years

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(Not a) Hugger

Summary: It's been a few years since Grantaire was hugged. Or cuddled. Or touched for any length of time.Which is fine. Really.

Except that it isn't fine, and he would very much like to be hugged, but the only thing worse than being touch-starved would be seeming needy.

OR: Grantaire communicate with your friends god damn it

Trigger warning for the mention of an eating disorder. Grantaire's mostly better, but it's mentioned a few times, as is past abuse.

Grantaire can't remember the last time he was hugged. It was probably in high school, as part of one of the big group hugs that always followed successful soccer games the one year he played, so it's been about seven or eight years. Which is fine; he just doesn't think about it. He doesn't think about it when Cosette comes into the Musain for a meeting and hugs everyone, even Enjolras, who gives in and hugs her back, and they both look more relaxed when they separate. He doesn't think about it when she gives anyone going up for a speech a hug, and they relax enough to stay put together. When he gives a speech at a rally, just to get one of those hugs and gets instead a squeeze on the arm, he doesn't think about the fact that it's been years since anyone hugged him.

When he's at a movie night with Joly, Bossuet, and Munchetta, he doesn't think about how much he wants a hug. They'll pile onto each other, cuddling close, but that's fine. Grantaire gets the popcorn to himself, and he doesn't feel left out. He most certainly doesn't think about how much he'd like a hug when Combeferre mentions the effects of touch starvation in a meeting about prison injustice. He talks about it as a cruel and unusual effect of isolation, and Grantaire tries his hardest not to think about how his irritability and insomnia sound a lot like the evils Combeferre is upset about. He knows how it feels to be isolated, and he recognizes the feeling of being alone in a room full of people who claim to love him (and likely do, despite his infinite failures). But that's fine. He can live with all that. He just doesn't think about it.

Except that he does think about it, almost every day. He thinks about it a lot on bad days, when the eating disorder he thought he kicked out a few years ago rears its ugly head to remind him that no one would ever want to touch his body. On even worse days, he thinks about it when he hears his father's voice telling him that no one would ever touch him unless they wanted to hurt him. On the worst days, he wraps himself tightly in a blanket and pretends that's the same thing as a hug, or at least a good enough replacement. It never is, but he can pretend.

In his better moments, his rational brain reminds him that he could ask someone for a hug, but he can never bring himself to do it. If Cosette hugs everyone but him, there must be a reason, and it has to be that there is something wrong with him (the voice of the eating disorder points to the spare tire around his middle that's developed since it ruined his metabolism). If Joly cuddles with Bossuet and Munchetta all the time, it's because they're dating, and Grantaire can't disrupt their relationship any more than he already does. If Courfeyrac hugs everyone else, it's clearly only because he and Grantaire have the world's best secret handshake, and it would be a pity to miss even a single opportunity to use it. Besides, he can't impose on any of his friends. Asking them to hug him would make them uncomfortable, so he doesn't say anything, and if things get worse, he pretends not to notice.

The worst part is that he's not sure why. If he knew why his friends don't hug him, despite the fact that they all hug each other, it might be easier. 'You smell', 'I don't want to', or even just 'bad vibes' would be easier to deal with than the options his shit brain gives him. But he doesn't know, and if he asks anyone, they'll know he's upset by it and everything will be ruined. They'll either hug him out of necessity or continue to ignore him, and he's not sure which would be worse.

It all boils over after a movie night turned sleepover at Combeferre's. Grantaire wakes up before his friends to see nearly all of them cuddling someone. Feuilly's head is on Bahorel's chest, and Jehan is held under his arm. Joly is sandwiched between his partners. Enjolras is holding Combeferre's arm while Courfeyrac hugs his boyfriend from behind. Even Marius, who never wants a partner and is usually not a cuddler, is snuggled up with them, his back pressed against Courfeyrac's. Eponine and Cosette are cuddled close, Gavroche clinging to Eponine's back like a spider monkey. But Grantaire, despite being very available for cuddles, is left out of every single pile. He puts on his shoes and slips out the door. He can't do this. He can't watch from the outside as all his friends love each other; it might destroy him.

Joly finds him later, in his own apartment, sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at a dark TV screen. His hair is still damp and sweaty from the hardest run of his life, his breakfast sits untouched on the coffee table, and he's not sure if the salt on his face is from sweat or dried tears. He'd like to blame the tears on the wind, but it's a still day.

Joly sits beside him on the couch, then reaches over to squeeze his hand. That tiny touch is nearly enough for Grantaire to break down again.

"We missed you when we woke up this morning. Bossuet thought maybe you'd come back for your bag, but he had to work, so I brought it over. Do you want to talk?"

Grantaire shakes his head. It would be so easy to lean over and flop into Joly's lap. Just a simple fall, and he'd be touching his friend, and things would be, if not okay, so much better than the pressing loneliness he's used to. But he can't. Joly doesn't hug him, and there must be a reason, and he can't make his friend uncomfortable.

"Alright, well, I just wanted to let you know that we missed you. We love you, R. Do... do you mind if I stay for a bit? It looks like it's going to rain, and that means the bus will be crowded, and we both know people don't respect the handicapped seats nearly enough for me to want to deal with them right now."

"Please do. You can turn something on if you want. Sorry I smell." I'm sorry you're trapped with someone like me. I'm sorry for being a disgrace of a person. I'm sorry you worried. I'm sorry you have to know me. I'm sorry.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. How do you feel about Bake off?"

"It's not a great food day. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for; I'm glad you told me. I'm proud of you. How about Too Cute instead?"

"That sounds good."

"Perfect."

Joly loads an episode called "Super Pups: Pint Sized", his hand never leaving Grantaire's. They watch quietly, the sounds of rain starting to fall outside complementing the show's bouncy soundtrack. But "Super Pups" autoplays into a kitten episode, and when it opens on a shot of the kittens piled up together, Grantaire feels the icy grip around his insides tighten. He swallows hard, then takes a deep breath and tells Joly he's going to the bathroom. He finds a discarded flannel there to muffle the tears he's been trying his best to ignore.

A few minutes later, there's a soft knock on the door.

"R? Can I help, Love?"

"I'm fine." His voice doesn't sound like his. He's made Joly get up and come find him, and he's made Joly worry again, and he's done everything wrong. This is why his friends don't like him enough to touch him.

"I... I want to help you, R, I do. Please know that. I'm sorry for holding your hand; I know you don't like to be touched. That was--"

Grantaire cuts him off by throwing the door open. Joly stumbles back in surprise, catching himself on the wall of the hallway.

"You... you think I don't like to be touched?"

"I know you don't. I'm sorry."

"Don't... no, don't be sorry. I loved that. It... it's not you holding my hand that made me cry, I promise."

"But you hate being touched. Bossuet tried to hug you once and you flinched so hard you tripped over a couch."

The memory floods in: Grantaire, freshly at college on an art scholarship and still trying to believe that no one here wanted to hurt him, clinging to his one shot at a life away from his father. Bossuet, who'd taken two gap years and was bigger than Grantaire by a sizeable amount, coming toward him after a game night in the lounge with an arm raised in a position that Grantaire only knew as one of anger. Grantaire stumbling back, cowering, falling onto one of the lounge couches, and excusing himself to go hide under a blanket in the room he shared with Joly.

"That's... that's not... I thought he was going to hit me. I... He was so big, and so much stronger than I was, and I was just starting therapy and still trying to make myself eat a full meal sometimes instead of just going hungry, and if he'd wanted to hurt me I couldn't have stopped him. You remember how tiny I was; he could have snapped me in half, and after my dad, I wasn't at a point where I trusted him not to want to. I thought everyone hated me, and that they'd all want to hurt me, and that's what was scary. It wasn't about the hug. It was never about the hug."

"So you don't hate hugs?"

"You... you don't hug me because you thought I didn't like them?"

"We told the others, too. When we first dragged you to a meeting, Chetta told the group chat you didn't like hugs so that no one would scare you off. But you don't mind?"

"Not... ot at all. I mean, it's been... it's been a long time, but I don't think I mind hugs at all."

Joly comes back across the hallway slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal, and he wraps his arms around Grantaire and squeezes. Grantaire lets out a sob as his own arms come up to hold Joly close.

"I love you. I've got you. I'm sorry," Joly says softly, letting them sink to the floor together. "I love you, and I'll give you as many hugs as you want from now until forever."

Grantaire's not sure how long they stay there, in a pile outside his bathroom while he cries and Joly promises not to let go. It's at least until the sobs stop, but that's really no measure of time at all. When he's pulled himself together a bit, Joly pulls back just a touch and reaches up to cup his face, but Grantaire pulls back on instinct. Someone's hand near his face has never been a good thing. Joly pulls his hand away and squeezes Grantaire's arm instead.

"So your face isn't a place you're comfortable with me touching. I'm sorry. I should have asked. But I... R, I'm sorry about this, but my leg doesn't like being on the floor very much. Is it okay if we move this hug to the couch?"

Grantaire nods, trying his best not to be embarrassed of his flinch. Or his tears. Or the fact that he'd just broken down completely at a simple hug from a friend. There are a lot of things for him to be embarrassed of from the last hour, ever since Joly found him staring at a blank TV.

"Is it okay if I take your hand?" Joly asks, and Grantaire nods, so Joly holds his hand and leads the way to the couch. Too Cute is paused on the image of a kitten wobbling across a blanket.

"I'm going to go make some popcorn, and then I'm going to come back and cuddle the hell out of you while you eat it for breakfast," Joly says. "If you want to, when I get back, we... we could do something called green-yellow-red that Cosette taught me. It'll help us make sure we're both comfortable while we're cuddling, so for example, today, I'm... my chest and arms are green, and so's my back and shoulders, really anything from the waist up. So go for it with hugs there. My face I'm going to say yellow, and same with my hips and my good leg, so just ask and I'll let you know in the moment. My bad leg's red, so I'd rather you didn't touch it. Oh, and the top of my head is green. Does that make sense?"

Grantaire nods, doing his best to remember. He can't mess this up. If he ruins cuddling with Joly now, he might never get a second chance.

"And it's alright if you make a mistake; I can let you know if I'm ever uncomfortable. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me on purpose; you'd never hurt anyone. Is it alright if I kiss the top of your head?"

"It's... it's nasty. I haven't been great at showering recently, and I went for a run."

"I don't mind, but do you?"

Grantaire thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. A few weeks ago, Cosette had taught everyone a game she used in consent workshops where they practiced saying yes or no, and she'd pushed them to make the choice in that moment however they felt. Grantaire is trying his hardest to make her proud.

Joly brings over a blanket and presses a kiss to the top of Grantaire's greasy, sweaty head before disappearing into the kitchen. As he hears popcorn start to pop, Grantaire takes stock of his body, trying to decide if it would help or hurt to have Joly cuddle the parts of it he (especially) hates. He's got some semblance of an answer by the time the popcorn's done, and he gives Joly an assessment that includes a green 'spare tire' (a phrase that makes Joly frown) and a red face. Joly repeats Grantaire's requests, asking about parts he forgot and referring to the spare tire as a stomach, which is probably the kindest thing anyone's called it since it developed. Then he hands Grantaire the popcorn and cuddles up next to him, stealing pieces from the bowl and always keeping at least one arm firmly around Grantaire.

When Bossuet gets off work, he joins them with pizza, and they play green-yellow-red again before Bossuet joins their pile. If Grantaire has the best nap he's had in years with Joly's arms around his waist and Bossuet's chin on his head, well, he tries not to envy Munchetta when he wakes up.

The next time he sees Cosette, she asks if she can hug him, beaming. He agrees, and she holds him so close and so tightly that he forgets to see his body as a disgusting mass of fat and acne for the rest of the day. She tells him he gives wonderful hugs, and he tells her that that quote will be his next tattoo. It makes her laugh, and he can't help but grin back. He and Courfeyrac add a hug to the end of their elaborate handshake, one that involves Grantaire supporting most of Courf's weight and not caring at all. His body may not be as thin as it once was, but now it can lift his friends in the air, which is clearly a good trade. At the next rally, when Joly's leg gets sore and Bossuet has already slipped twice, Grantaire pulls his friend onto his back. Joly's arms wrap around Grantaire's neck, and Grantaire becomes the hottest mobility aide at the protest.

In short, the floodgates are open. Once it's established that Grantaire enjoys hugs, he starts getting them regularly, and he eventually starts giving them, too. He starts spending evenings squished into a chair with Joly, often with the other man in his lap and occasionally with Jehan, Chetta, Bossuet, or a combination of the three leaning against him. He carries Joly when his leg gets bad or Gavroche when he's too short to see or exhausted but too proud to admit it. He hugs Eponine, something he hasn't done since puberty, and she nearly cries telling him how proud of him she is. He does cry, and that sets her off, and Gavroche finds them crying and brings them a carton of ice cream and two spoons and leaves them be.

He hugs Enjolras last. Enjolras isn't a hugger. Even after spending most of his life with Courfeyrac, he'll lean into hugs good-naturedly, but he won't initiate. Between that lack of initiation and Grantaire's overwhelming self-doubt, it's really a miracle that they hug at all. It finally happens at Courfeyrac's birthday party, and he maintains that it is the best gift he could ever get. Enjolras has just gotten into his top choice for law school, and he doesn't want to upstage Courf, but he's so excited he has to tell someone, and Grantaire is nearby. And Grantaire is thrilled, and he's so excited that hugging Enjolras feels like the most natural thing in the world. That, of course, tips their friends off to something major, which ends up stealing the moment for a bit as Grantaire and Enjolras find themselves in the middle of a giant group hug. But when Grantaire looks up to see Enjolras's grin, everything feels just right.

On AO3

Notes:

You know when you're just minding your own business, then suddenly your brain goes "hey, when was Grantaire hugged last?" and you have a mild crisis about your beautiful touch-starved son? Yeah. - To make things worse, I like to think of physical touch as one of Grantaire's main love languages, so he's just been casually not believing his friends love him for like seven years. - The consent games mentioned are ones we've done for the play I'm working on! Green-Yellow-Red is pretty explained, but for the other (yes/no), you all stand in a circle. You say someone else's name, and they say either 'yes' or 'no'. If they say 'yes', you walk to stand by them and it's their turn. If they say 'no', you ask someone else. It's super simple but I love it and think it's super important.

#cuddling #grantaire #i love my son #hugging #grantaire deserves a hug #Les Miserables #les mis fic #les mis #joly #my other son #they're all my sons/daughters/nb children #consentual cuddling

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ijustreallylovezebras · 6 years

Text

Misconceptions

Pairing: Courfeyrac x Reader

Summary: The reader is Enjolras’ sister and the rest of Les Amis look on her as another sister to the group but Courfeyrac always acts oddly around her

Requested: Yes! By the same lovely anon!

“I’m just saying, you’re an awful influence on my sister! The two of you, actually,“ Enjolras says to Bahorel and his boyfriend, Grantaire as I take a sip from the bottle of wine that Grantaire had given me earlier that evening.

“I don’t know what you mean,“ they say together, both of them sounding outraged.

“Grantaire, you’re going to turn her into an alcoholic,“ he says, scowling at the guy who shakes his head.

“No chance of that, she’s your sister, right?“

“But we don’t encourage it, even if it doesn’t happen!“ Enjolras exclaims and Grantaire just shrugs.

“I can’t see your point but I’ll nod, because it makes you easier to bear,“ Grantaire informs my brother, patting him on his head.

“And what about you, Bahorel?“ Enjolras asks, facing the man who feigns an insulted look.

“Moi?“ The response makes Joly laugh into his pipe and Grantaire chuckles at the reaction.

“You taught her how to fire a gun!“ Enjolras says, throwing his hands up in the air, which makes me laugh. “You taught her how to fight!”

Bahorel just rolls his eyes at my brother. “Oh, okay, I see how it is. She can fight in a revolution but she can’t learn basic self-defence!” Bahorel shouts. “Yes! That makes perfect sense!” He claps sarcastically and everyone laughs.

“You’re ridiculous, Bahorel!” Enjolras groans. “You’re on my side right?” He asks, turning to face Combeferre, Feuilly and Courfeyrac.

“Sure,“ Feuilly says as Combeferre nods but Courfeyrac just shrugs and turns away from the conversation.

Enjolras and I walk into the back room of the Musain together, me with a basket filled with sewing tools and half-finished rosettes. When we enter everyone is already there, waiting on us and they all turn to look at my brother and I.

“Sorry we’re late. Y/N had to pick up some more fabric,“

“For the rosettes that you asked me to make,“ I point out and Enjolras just shoves me, shooting me a smile.

I smile back and take a seat between Bahorel and Courfeyrac.

“Hey,“ I greet them both and Bahorel responds with his usual happy ‘good afternoon‘, whereas Courfeyrac just gives me a stiff nod and stands up, walking over to Combeferre and engaging him in conversation. Combeferre shoots me a confused look over his head and I just shrug and look down at my lap, a slight frown on my face.

I pick up my sewing needle and sigh, threading it a little sadly.

“Wanna hand?“ Feuilly asks, sitting down in the seat that Courfeyrac had just vacated.

“Do you know how to sew?“ I ask, the corner of my mouth tugging up into a slight smile.

“I mean how hard can it be?“ He asks, picking up one of the half-sewn rosettes. I cock an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “You look a lot like your brother like that,” he informs me with a cheeky smile.

“Feuilly and I can just help cut up the fabric,“ Bahorel cuts in, taking the ream of deep blue fabric from my basket along with a sharp pair of scissors.

“Yeah, that’s probably safer for everyone,“ I agree, taking the rosette from Feuilly and giving him the white fabric and he sticks his tongue out at me.

Enjolras and I walk quickly down the street.

“You gotta stay safe this time, Y/N/N, the guys get seriously worried every time you come to one of these things,“ Enjolras says as we get closer to the rally.

“That’s why Bahorel taught me to fight,“ I tell him and he just sighs at me, exasperated.

“You’re annoying,“

“Runs in the family, Enji,“

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in ages!“ Gavroche’s little voice pipes up as he runs in front of Enjolras and I on the street.

“Gav!“ I grin and he hugs my waist. “You need a place to stay tonight? Enjolras can sleep on the floor,”

“Really?”

“Anything for our favourite little gamin,” I tell him and he grabs my hand as the three of us walk.

“Thanks for just renting out my bed, Y/N/N,”

“I didn’t rent it out. If I rented it, we’d be paid. I’m just giving it away. It’s not like you sleep anyway,” Enjolras rolls his eyes at me and seems to spot Combeferre in the crowd of people.

“Hey, Gav, you’ll look after Y/N right?” He says distractedly and Gavroche nods delightedly, pulling me by the hand through the masses of people around us.

He finds Courfeyrac, who’s holding a wad of fliers, and starts to tug at his jacket. “Hey Gav,” he chirps, without even looking at the kid, but there’s already a grin on his face.

“Hey Courf! We can rally with you, right?“ He says, grinning up at the man.

“Ye-“ Courfeyrac turns around and cuts himself off, “Y/N,“ he says, giving me a stiff nod.

“Hi Courfeyrac,“ I reply, smiling unsurely.

“We can, right?“ Gavroche interrupts but Courfeyrac shakes his head.

“Not today, Gav, I need to hand out fliers today,“ Courfeyrac says and his face drops a little at Gavroche’s disappointed expression.

“Oh, okay,“

“C’mon, Gav, lets go and find the others,“ I say, placing my hand gently on his head.

“I saw Bahorel earlier! He wasn’t doing anything!“ And he starts running through the crowds again, dragging me along behind him.

I stretch for the book at the top shelf but my fingers can only just brush the spine before I have to fall back onto the flat of my feet. I sigh and put my hands on my hips, looking up at the book. I look down the aisle and see Courfeyrac reading a book in his hands.

I walk over tentatively and touch his shoulder. He whips around in surprise.

“Y/N?“ He questions and I smile brightly at him.

“That’s my name! Hey, I can’t reach a book, could you get it down for me?“ I ask and Courfeyrac studies my face for a moment.

“Sorry. I’m kind of busy right now,“ he tells me, holding up his book. “Go and find Ferre or Enj. They’ll help.“

“Oh... okay then,“ I say, slightly put out. I feel my shoulders slump in defeat as I trail down the isle to find the other two guys I had come to the library with.

As I was looking down at the floor, I wasn’t looking where I was going and bumped into someone. I looked up into the grinning face of Bahorel.

“What are you doing here?“ I ask the guy, feeling my smile return to my face at just the sight of this brother-like figure.

“Well, I believe that you tend to come to the library to find books, or am I in the wrong place?“ He asks rhetorically and I slap his arm lightly.

“Well, since I found you, can you get a book down for me?“ I ask and he laughs.

“Aw, you’re so short,“ he coos, slinging his arm around me as I lead him towards the bookcase. “Why didn’t you just ask Courf?“ He asks, nodding towards the man who was still stood in the same place.

“I did. He said no,“ Bahorel fetches my book, a frown on his face.

“Did he give a reason?“

“Said he was busy,“

“WHY DOES HE HATE ME?“ I shout at my brother, feeling angry tears come to my eyes in frustration. The meeting had just ended and all the guys had left with the exception of Enjolras who was watching me in sympathy as I fought off tears.

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N/N,“ Enjolras says, half standing from his seat.

“Then why does he constantly blow me off, do you notice his immediate mood change whenever I walk into a room?“ I ask him, tugging at my hair. “What did I do, Enji?“ I ask, my voice cracks and the tears slip over.

“You did nothing,“ he tells me and he strides over, hugging me tightly into his chest as I cry. He brushes the tangles out of my loose hair and rocks me backwards and forwards.

“I don’t want Courfeyrac to hate me,“ I say sniffling.

“I don’t hate you,“ I turn and look at the curly haired boy who’s standing in the doorway in a mild state of shock.

“Could’ve fooled me,“ I force a laugh at the boy who flinches a little.

“Give him a chance to speak, Y/N,“ Enjolras says, “I’ll be downstairs, okay?“ He edges past the two of us and leaves the room.

“I don’t hate you,“ Courfeyrac repeats his statement from earlier.

“Then why did you keep on blowing me off? Leaving when I sat down at tables? Refusing to take down a book? Like, c’mon, Courfeyrac, stop pretending.“ I plead, pressing a hand to my eyes in an attempt to stop my tears again.

“I just-” He stops himself from completing his sentence and runs his hand through his curly brown hair in distress.

“You just what?“ I ask and he looks up to meet my tear-filled eyes.

“I just, I really like you, okay?“ He says and I stare at him, stricken.

“You what?“ I whisper and he takes a tentative step forwards, giving a half smile.

“I really like you, but you’re Enjolras’ sister and I didn’t know what to do,“

“Didn’t it ever occur to you that I could like you back?“ I ask him, stepping towards him. Courfeyrac smiles a little, reaching his hand forward to wipe away a stray tear.

“Enjolras would kill me,“ he tells me and I shrug.

“When have either of us cared about what Enj thinks?“ I ask him, a smile growing on my face. He laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re ridiculous,“ he tells me, pulling me closer.

“You really couldn’t have thought of a worse way of telling me though,“ I tell him, putting my arms loosely around his waist.

“I was just scared that you’d reject me or Enjolras would kill me or both,“ Courfeyrac admits and I smile at him.

“You’re cute,“ I tell him and he leans down to kiss my nose.

Before he can go back up I tangle my hands in his curly hair and pull him down to make his lips meet mine.

“I think you missed,“ I tell him as we pull away to breathe and he starts to chuckle at me, kissing me again.

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY AGAIN, I HAD TO REWRITE IT BECAUSE IT DELETED

#les miserables #les amis de l'abc #les miserables fanfiction #courfeyrac #courfeyrac x reader #courfeyrac imagine #courfeyrac imagines #enjolras #enjolras sister #bahorel #combeferre #jehan #jean prouvaire #joly #bosseut #lesgle #grantaire

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wilwywaylan · 7 years

Text

Not broken

Day four of Feuilly week ! And siince it’s Asexuality Awareness Week, well.... Kinda wrote itself (not it didn’t, I had to kick it along).

Modern AU, Feuilly-centric, 1638 words

Also on AO3 !

For the longest time, attraction had been for Feuilly the greatest riddle of all. He could understand part of it, of course, knew that it was divided into different categories. Like how he could spend hours just watching the way the hair of the person sitting opposing him in the train fell around their faces, or hands moving gracefully around. Sometimes, he sketched them out, to remember them. Sometimes, he just watched. That was aesthetic attraction. Or like the first time Montparnasse was brought into his foster family, ad he decided immediatly that he wanted to be close to that strange, sullen boy with dark brown eyes and the blackest hair he'd ever seen. That was platonic attraction. That, he could feel, very well.

Romantic attraction, he did feel, a lot. Not to say that he was a fickle heart, but he didn't need much to develop a crush on someone. Of course, he didn't call them "crushes". He didn't call them anyone because he didn't tell anyone, just harboring this delicious heart-clenching sensation, spending sleepless nights after sleepless nights building fantasies of a perfect life with his beloved. He rarely declared his feelings. First, because he tended to fall for boys more than for girls. The first time he had tried to confess to a boy, said boy had made fun of him in front of the whole school, breaking his heart. And he quickly learned that those kinds of affection could be very badly received, not to mention leading to a beating. Second, because he didn't want to get his feelings hurt too much. He didn't look that good, he didn't have all those qualities other people seemed to have, so why would people choose him ? So he kept quiet, cultivating his little crushes in silence until they either went away on his own or developped into something stronger than kept him awake at night and filled his stomach with delicious butterflies.

As for sexual attraction.... Almost as soon as he learnt about sex, Feuilly had wondered if there wasn't something wrong with him. Because surely, he was missing something. Be it a cue, an information, or some more important part of something, maybe himself ? That could explain how he didn't feel attracted to people around him, no one. Oh, he still fell in love, but when he heard other people refer to someone as "sexy", it didn't hold any meaning for him. He first figured that he had a "type", a very precise one, and the one they were talking about simply didn't fit that type. But after a long type, he finally realized that no one fit the type. He could recognize that someone had beautiful legs, nice-looking muscles, a gorgeous face, hands that he wanted to hold. But it didn't ring any bell for him. He liked to look at them, wanted to draw them, wanted to date them even, but never did he feel that pinch, that drive to get them to bed. He did, once or twice, because he was curious, and it felt good, but still, something was lacking.

And the years trickled by, one by one. And still, no one came by . To be fair, Feuilly was quite busy. He had taken two jobs to be able to live on his own, and with the commute, he often didn't have any time for himself. He met people, sometimes, at work, or the rare times he went out to drink some coffee. He dated a few, he even had sex with them, which was good or average, depended. He convinced himself that what he felt was accurate enough, it was enough. He didn't really mean anything else in his life.

But still, sometimes, he felt like something was missing. Like he had something, in his brain, that had been switched off permanently. Was it a sickness ? Was it maybe linked to a memory he had repressed ? Was it trauma ? Bad experience ? Who knew ? He felt anxious, sometimes, when the idea that, maybe, something happened, something that was hidden in a corner of his mind, something he wasn't aware of. And that small secret was poisoning him. Surely it was bad, right ? Since everyone seemed to feel sexual attraction to the extent that it was present everywhere, in books, movies, advertisment even, it was important and ever present. And for Feuilly not to feel it, it meant that something was probably wrong. He didn't pay too much attention to it, at least when he could avoid it. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, it all came back, and it scared him. It scared him a lot.

Until that evening, where a coworker of his dragged him to a meeting, arguing that he would certainly meet a lot of fascinating people with very interesting ideas ("and maybe the love of your life !" was added with a nudge and a wink). Feuilly half-expected some kind of organized meeting, with an orator, maybe a conference of some sorts ? There was an orator, a blond man standing on a table and talking about equality and freedom. But there were people throwing around jokes too, someone who looked very bored by what was happening and was alternating between sketching something and needling the orator, a calm-looking man who calmed the conversation from time to time... Finally, the orator stepped down from his stand, and the crowd broke in several little groups. Feuilly made his way to the table where the blond man was sitting, with the calm-looking man and another one with glitter in his hair. When he stopped near them, they glanced at him in perfect unisson. He introduced himself, half-expecting a lukewarm welcome or a few generic polite words. Instead, they seemed delighted to see him. The glittery one pushed a free chair and invited him to sit, and the blond one immediatly asked for his opinion on their latest subject at hand. And soon, they were engrossed in their conversation.

Feuilly went back to the meetings. His schedule was always hectic, but he did his best to make some time. Les Amis de l'ABC, especially their core, were a lively bunch, very friendly, and they welcomed him as one of their own immediatly. Enjolras looked up to him, Combeferre always asked for his advice, Jehan discussed litterature with him, Eponine made fun of him (in a brotherly way of course). He sometimes sat with Grantaire and they sketched the others, and Bahorel loved mock-wrestling with him. He felt at ease with them, they respected him and never judged him for his stances and ideas.

That evening, he was sitting with Enjolras after the meeting. Both were tired at the end of that long journey, and they were just chatting, waiting for the others to finish their own discussions. To be fair, Feuilly was stalling a bit, enjoying the atmosphere despite his brain being clouded by fatigue. It was probably that fog that made him finally spill the beans about what he felt. He didn't want to burden Enjolras, he didn't even mean to, and he couldn't even say what the conversation was about, but suddenly, he was talking about everything he'd ever felt on the subject. And Enjolras, instead of laughing at him, or worse, telling him that he was a lost cause and should check in at the nearest psychiatric ward, just nodded and said :

- Yes, I know what you mean. I'm like that too.

It was only thanks to the chair under him that Feuilly didn't sprawl on the floor. He looked at Enjolras with widening eyes, and managed to stammer :

- You w-what ? You t-too ?

- Yes. I mean, I've been in your shoes. I've gone through the same questionning. And let me tell you, you're not broken.

Feuily didn't think he'd ever hear those words one day. Not that they would hit so hard. Tears sprang from his eyes, and before he could stop it, he was crying, hiding his face in his hands. It was too hard to stand straight, too hard even to stay upright, and he laid his head on the table, still weeping. There weren't dramatic sobs, or huge tears. Just the calm ones that came with the relief to know that he wasn't broken, and there wasn't anything wrong with you. Enjolras was stroking his hair, in a calming manner. He didn't try to stop him from crying, and Feuilly was grateful for that.

After a few minutes, he calmed down enough to sit straight again. He wiped his face (Enjolras politely looked away), then, when his voice felt solid enough again, apologized :

- I'm sorry, I didn't...

- Don't be, Enjolras interrupted. I know how it feels.

- So... I'm not.... there's nothing wrong with not feeling that kind of attraction ?

- Nothing wrong.

The blond was smiling, a brilliant smile that Feuilly couldn't help but answer to.

- It simply means that you are asexual, the blond explained.

- Asexual ?

- Yes. It means you're not sexually attracted to other people. It's as valid as an orientation as any other. There's a whole lot of possibilities, that are included in the asexuality spectrum. Like, for example...

Feuilly listened to Enjolras' explainations about asexuality, demisexuality, and all those other terms he never heard of and now wanted to know more about. He felt well, happy and... home, in a way. There was a warm feeling in his stomach, that he would remember later, the kind of warm comfort only reassurace could bring. The reassurance to know, after all these years, that he was not broken, that there was nothing wrong with him. He was asexual, and that was normal. He was normal.

#les miserables #feuilly #feuilly week #personnal stuff too #a bit

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throughthefumes · 7 years

Text

a clouded mind and a heavy heart i

Enjolras went to work that day. He forced himself to his feet, took a shower, and went to work. And the next, and every day in the following week after Grantaire left. He forced himself to carry on as normal. This had been his doing. He’d decided he couldn’t be with Grantaire anymore, he’d decided they should take a break and be apart and risk being without him for the rest of his life. Enjolras didn’t deserve to break down and run off this time.

The first few days were the hardest. He felt as though he’d been in some terrible car accident, every inch of his body bruised or broken and every step made the ache that much worse. Every odd and end he found that Grantaire left behind - a toothbrush, a stained t-shirt, an old blanket he’d brought from his attic apartment - felt like a finger pushing into his wounds.

He tossed Grantaire’s things into a box and shoved them in the back of the closet.

After a while, though, the pain dulled and Enjolras could move around more, could have more than just coffee for meals, could catch more than just an hour or two of sleep in the night. He worked a little more efficiently, though working didn’t quite have the same power that it used to.

He missed the days where he could work for hours straight without a single distraction, but he couldn’t go very long without thinking about Grantaire.

He thought he was doing pretty well, leaving him alone. Enjolras couldn’t count the number of texts he’d started and deleted, the calls he’d nearly made, to tell Grantaire he’d made a mistake and beg him to come home. He didn’t deserve that, not after what Enjolras had done to him. To them.

So it was a moment of weakness that drove Enjolras to act irrationally; a moment fueled by lack of sleep and probably protein, too. He got up from the sofa, where he’d slept the past week, pulled on the nearest set of clothes, and next he knew he was standing out in the garden at Grantaire’s parents’ house, tossing rocks up at his window.

Grantaire had scarcely left his old bedroom at his parents’ house, since he’d arrived a week ago. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat, couldn’t move, could scarcely breathe. He kept waiting for the agony to end, to ebb away, to dull just a little, but it never did. He was continuously struck by the fact that this was his life now; this was all he had left, this tiny room and an armful of boxes of junk and a cat who couldn’t seem to settle in a home that wasn’t hers. Ant spent most of her time following Abi around now. He knew, if he got up, if he went out, he would drink, and if he drank, he stood no chance of ever being any part of Enjolras’ life again. He didn’t even know if he wanted to be anymore, if it was worth this heartache, but he had nothing else to focus on or achieve. This was all he could do, this staying put.

He thought he was imagining the tapping at the window at first. Even when it grew so irritating it had to be real, he didn’t respond to it. He didn’t want to know, didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and rolled over and curled up tighter and waited for it to stop.

It was Abi who responded to it. Her bedroom was right next to Grantaire’s and the noise had awoken her. She glared out of the window and, realising who it was, threw a hoodie and a pair of boots on and stormed downstairs - quietly, so as not to disturb her brother or her parents.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at Enjolras, flinging open the front door.

Enjolras leapt when the door swung open, dropping the rocks in his hand and taking a few extra steps back when he realized who’d come out of it.

“Oh, I… uh… Hey, Abi,” he said lamely.

Abi stared at him. “That is not an answer,” she whispered, carefully pushing the door to behind her and venturing out down the front path. “It is the middle of the night, Enjolras.”

“Je sais,” Enjolras said, regarding her cautiously. She could probably take him if she wanted to. “I know it is, I just… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Abi scowled at him, crossing her arms. “Well, you did. What do you want?”

Enjolras swallowed. He wanted more than he could ever have or deserved to ask for.

“I just wanted to see him.”

“Why?”

Enjolras faltered. He didn’t know how much Abi knew, but he supposed she would be this protective no matter what.

“I miss him,” he said softly.

“That’s your own fault,” Abi said, her scowl deepening. “You can’t just come here to see him to make yourself feel better and then, quoi? You’ll leave him again? Just the same way? Without changing anything? It won’t help him.”

“It wasn’t easy for me to make that decision, Abi,” Enjolras said, more defensively than he intended. “And I didn’t just leave him. We agreed to take a break. He agreed.”

“I know it wasn’t his idea,” Abi snapped. “I’ve never seen him so miserable and you made that decision and now you need to deal with the consequences like a grown man. If you want to see him, you text him and arrange to meet up. You don’t spring yourself on him in the middle of the night, with no warning and no plan.”

That stung. It took a lot for Enjolras not to lash out at her, especially now the ache in his chest had returned and his eyes itched from sleep deprivation.

“What did he tell you?”

“He hasn’t told me anything,” Abi replied. “He’s hardly said a word all week. But it’s pretty obvious the two of you have broken up.”

“He’s drinking again,” Enjolras said. “I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but he doesn’t want to quit and I don’t know how to help him.”

“So you broke up with him? Great idea. Very helpful.”

Enjolras groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “It’s not that simple, Abi. We haven’t been us, ca va? We’re not… can I just see him? Please?”

Abi softened slightly. “What are you going to say to him?”

“Je ne sais pas,” Enjolras admitted. “That I love him. I miss him. That I’m still here; I haven’t left him, ca va? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I just don’t have the answers for us right now.”

“How is that going to help him, ah, Enjolras?” Abi said, but her tone was softer now. “How is that going to help you? Aren't you better off just moving on?”

Enjolras was at a loss for words. She was right, and he didn’t want to accept it.

“I can’t just leave it like this,” he said, wiping hastily at an escaped tear. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

After a moment, Abi reached out and caught hold of Enjolras’ hand. She gave him a little tug toward the house.

“Come on,” she said. “I’m going to make you a hot chocolate.”

Enjolras took a few surprised steps forward but stopped just as abruptly as Abi had reached for him.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re in bed,” Abi said, giving Enjolras’ hand another more insistent tug. “Come on, it’s cold out here. They’re heavy sleepers anyway.”

Enjolras hesitated, glancing back up at Grantaire’s window, before following Abi inside.

Abi pulled him through the hallway and into the kitchen, moving unerringly in the dark. It was only once she’d closed the door behind them that she let go of him and switched on the light. She put the kettle on to boil and grabbed two mugs and then leaned back against the counter, scrutinising Enjolras.

“So, you’re not doing too great either, ah?”

Enjolras stood awkwardly a few feet away from her, outside of swinging distance. His arms were crossed protectively over his chest and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes; he felt small under her gaze.

“Non, not really.”

“But you still think it’s a good idea to… to be broken up?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Abi pulled a face. “Oui, c’est difficile,” she said. She looked at him for a moment longer. “Maybe you just need to give it more time, ah? I worry that… that if you speak to him now, you’ll both just reopen up wounds that haven’t even had time to heal over yet. But if you left it a little while longer… Maybe texted him first… Maybe it would be easier for both of you?”

“We’re supposed to be together,” Enjolras said, moving to steady himself against the countertop. “There’s just so much that’s gotten in the way, and I’m afraid if I just leave it, he won’t come back.”

Abi pressed her lips together, turning away to make the hot chocolate. She slid Enjolras’ mug to him across the countertop, cradling her own between her hands.

“If you’re worried he won’t come back, maybe you should never have let him go in the first place,” he said softly.

Enjolras held the mug between his hands but didn’t sip from it, taking small comfort in its warmth.

“My parents drew up a prenuptial agreement for us,” he said, staring down at his drink. “I didn’t want to sign it, and he did. So even if it wasn’t about the drinking, we still couldn’t get past that.”

“You would have,” Abi said.

Enjolras looked up at her, frowning. “You don’t know that. You don’t know how long we’ve been fighting over it.”

“I know Rémi,” Abi countered.

“So do I.”

“Then you should know he would never let anything so stupid stop you from getting married.”

“But it did,” Enjolras said, mindful of keeping his voice down. “I said I wouldn’t sign, he said he wouldn’t marry me without it.”

“But that’s not why you broke up,” Abi said. “So, if you hadn’t broken up, you’d still be arguing about that, sure, but you’d still be intending to get married at some point.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, instead taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He didn’t know if Abi was right or not; she hadn’t been there the past few months. But something about her words rang true to Enjolras and he felt unsettled by it, scared by it. He may have really put the first nail in the coffin.

“I guess not.”

Abi was quiet for a moment as she sipped her hot chocolate, watching Enjolras over her mug.

“I’ll go and wake him up, if you like,” she said finally.

Enjolras hesitated. Abi made a convincing argument on why he should just go, but, dieu, he missed Grantaire so much. But who was to even say that Grantaire would want to see him? And, really, what could he say.

“I should go,” he said quietly.

Abi’s face fell. She looked down. “Want to know what I’d do?”

Enjolras finally looked at her. “What?”

She looked back up at him. “Wait a few days. Take care of yourself - really, truly. And then text him. Ask if you can call or even drop by, if you want to. Don’t make it about what’s happened; treat him like a friend, not an ex-boyfriend, because that’s what you want to be for the time being, oui? You said you want him to know that you haven’t left him.” She shrugged. “That’s how you do that.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. It may not have been what he wanted to hear, but it’s what he needed to hear. Abi made sense, and he could use as much sense as possible with as cloudy as his judgement was.

“Merci,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I just showed up like this.”

“It’s okay,” Abi said, shaking her head. “Any time, ca va? You have my number, oui?” She pulled a face. “I’d tell you to crash on the sofa tonight, mais…”

“Non, non, I’ll go,” Enjolras said, placing his unfinished mug on the counter. His face had begun to flush as he realize just how embarrassing his actions had been.

“Don’t… can you keep this between us? He doesn’t need to know I was here.”

Abi nodded, though she fully intended to tell Grantaire exactly what had happened and everything Enjolras had said, just as soon as he was stable enough to hear it.

“He’ll like hearing from you,” she offered.

Enjolras breathed a laugh. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “But thanks.”

Abi smiled at him. “Of course,” she said. “You’ll be alright getting home, oui? I can call a taxi?”

“Non, I’ll take the train back, merci,” Enjolras said, taking a step for the door. “I’ll, ah… I’ll see myself out.”

Abi jumped up. “No way!” she said, grabbing hold of his hand again. “Come on - quietly.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened slightly. “I’m not trying to sneak upstairs,” he said quietly, but allowed her to lead him back out anyway.

“I know that,” she whispered. She released him at the front door, looking up at him with genuinely worried eyes. “Take care, ca va?”

Enjolras nodded, and his eyes stung at the realization that he hadn’t just given up on Grantaire but on a chance to be part of a family that genuinely cared about him the way his own never had.

“You, too.” He turned from her quickly and headed back.

#marbleloverofliberty #a clouded mind

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