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Pursuit: June, 1829
Around ten-o'clock on a warm June evening, Combeferre says something quietly to Enjolras and gives him a brief, warm smile before departing with Courfeyrac. Due to a variety of circumstances -- illness, imagined illness, lethargy, and obligations to family -- the meeting ends when they go, for the quorum has dissolved. Grantaire had been observing the meeting with his normal aloof aplomb, but when Combeferre leaves he stands, stretches in a loose-limbed drunken way, and says, "Let me walk you home, mon ami." He must be addressing Enjolras, because there is no one else left in the back room, but he does not quite look at the target of his invitation.
Enjolras looks up at him warily. "No, thank you."
"Ah, come now. You don't have to walk alone, if you let me." Grantaire clucks his tongue. "And you can lecture me, as we go, if you like."
"I don't want to lecture you." Enjolras stands, sighing slightly, and pushes in his chair.
"Then keep me company." Grantaire opens the door and holds it with a surfeit of ceremony. "I shan't abandon you."
Enjolras puts a hand on the door as though to negate any attempt at courtesy. "I don't need company. Good night."
"Then would m'sieur walk me home?" Grantaire stumbles against the door. "He may be all right, alone in the world, but I do poorly at finding my own door at noon -- if I were ever awake and about at noon, and I don't see why anyone would be, with Helios glaring quite like you are and an increased risk of actually going to classes, God forbid. In any case, metaphorically I could walk right past my own door, left to my own devices. Reach a hand out to me, Julien, to the downtrodden masses -- personified in me, for Bossuet stepped on my toe earlier and I've got a bit of a limp coming on -- and help me home."
Enjolras eyes him. "I have to get home, soon."
"Whatever for?" Grantaire smiles at him. To say that it is a lazy smile would understate the case. "You've no one waiting, n'est-ce pas, and no classes tomorrow. Nothing to do but take a nice walk in the evening, do a good deed by making sure I don't walk to Calais and end up in Scotland."
"All right," exasperated. "All right."
Grantaire straightens up and walks into the street. It's anyone's guess how he managed to get rolling drunk by ten-o'clock, but he has apparently done it. "And once you've reminded me where I live, perhaps I can help you figure out the fastest way for you to get home. If you want, of course -- but it's all trivial, isn't it, all crossroads and alleyways and shadows. One bed's as good as another if you're asleep."
"Mm." Enjolras walks as briskly as possible, given that he's following.
Grantaire turns abruptly into an alley that may or may not be a shortcut, and stops talking quite so loudly. "After all, if you've fallen asleep, even the company's immaterial. Just Morpheus drawing you pictures and all."
Enjolras tucks his hands in his pockets. "I suppose so," distantly.
Grantaire stops walking and half-turns to look at Enjolras. "By God, mon ami, you're pretty."
Enjolras stiffens. "Really," he says frostily. "Thank you for pointing that out."
Grantaire reaches up and takes hold of his shoulder. "It's a pity Audric abandoned you like that, mon ami. Truly -- I don't know what he was thinking."
Enjolras steps back, out from under his hand. "Audric does me the courtesy of considering that I can look after myself. Are you going, or must I find your way for you?"
"God knows what kind of trouble you could get into, all alone," Grantaire continues, speaking softly and entirely ignoring anything Enjolras has said. He takes another step forward, closing the distance between them again. "You're entirely too charming to wander home by yourself. Poor Julien -- poor, generous Julien." Grantaire reaches up and touches his cheek. "Are all your friends tired of you, now?"
Enjolras goes white, and pushes his hand away. "Well?"
"You're always welcome," Grantaire says, and reaches toward him again. "I'd never, never turn you away, God, mon ami, I don't see how they could be so cruel to you. Come home with me." He catches hold of Enjolras' sleeve.
"What are you-- stop that." Enjolras jerks away. "For God's sake."
"Oh?" Grantaire frowns. "And why would you refuse me -- now, when I'm being magnanimous--" he stumbles only a little over the syllables "--and when I mean well? When they've all gone off with their light-of-loves, leaving you behind? You don't have to be lonely, Julien, not for a moment. Come with me; let me be kind to you."
"Don't be ridiculous," with a slight tremor. "Go home, sleep it off, I don't have time for this--"
"Of course you do." Grantaire takes another step toward him, so that they are nearly touching. "Nothing else to do, no one else to see. You can come home with me, and no one will be the wiser. Let me kiss you, mon chéri."
Enjolras backs away again, but now he's against the wall. "Stop it." His voice is brittle with disgust. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but stop this. Take yourself elsewhere."
Grantaire puts a hand on his shoulder. "God, you're young. Do you have to go with all of them? Is that your law, your liberté incarnate, that when they ask -- your beautiful friends, but none as breathtaking as you -- that you must go with them? It's maddening to watch, you know, the way you all flirt when you forget I'm there. The way you'll leave with one or the other -- not so bad, if it's just Audric, but -- how can you go with Aimery who will turn you out in a moment? How can you ignore me? I would never do that to you."
Enjolras knocks his hand away again, trembling a little. "Stop it. Get out of my way."
"You don't treasure loyalty?" Grantaire doesn't back up. "I would treat you so well, Julien. You deserve wonderful things, devotion -- and I could be devoted to you, though you'll laugh to hear it. I could sing the praises of your Republic for days if only you wanted me to, if only you'd smile at me -- if only you'd hold me a moment, instead of turning to your will-o'-the-wisp friends for a moment's pleasure. I could give you more than that."
Enjolras colors. "Get out of my way." He tries to sidestep, scowling.
"Damn you." Grantaire frowns at him, and moves to block him from leaving. His homeliness is abruptly hideous; his bulk -- for though he is short, he is wide, and not all of it is fat -- is menacing. "You can play with all the rest of them, is that it, but you won't spare a moment for me? You'll waste your time with boys who don't give a damn about you, who want your politics or your body but never your heart -- damn you, Julien. Don't turn away from me. Aren't you listening to me? I could give you what you need. I could love you, not like your feckless boy who leaves you in the cold for some lascivious friend, but endlessly, without glancing away from you for a moment."
Enjolras chokes on a breath. "Just-- stop it. Shut up, go away, let me alone, God! just let me alone!" In a stray gleam of lamplight from the street, his face is childlike and frightened.
"You don't need to be alone." Grantaire touches his cheek with gentle fingers. Enjolras tries to twist away, but Grantaire kisses him and puts an arm around his waist to pull him close, pinning his right arm by his side and taking a firm hold on his left wrist. Enjolras makes a noise that might have been meant to be a yell and tries to push him away.
"Let me go, damn you!"
Grantaire frowns, then embraces Enjolras again. "You don't have to fight me," he says softly. "Let me love you, Julien --"
"Get away from me--" Enjolras wrenches against his hold with the strength of panic. "God!"
"Why the hell are you turning me down?" Grantaire takes hold of his shoulder. "If you were thinking for half a moment, you wouldn't. I must be the only person in this goddamned city you've never slept with -- and I'm the only one who would love you the way you deserve. How foolish are you? Why are you being prudish now, of all nights?"
"That's enough, Grantaire!" The rebuke echoes off the walls of the alleyway, and though Enjolras has not moved, there is, abruptly, nothing of the terrified boy in his look or in his voice. "If you were thinking at all, you would know how disgraceful you are at this moment. Now take your hands off me, and get out of my way."
Grantaire pales and backs away a step. "Julien -- you needn't yell, mon ami. Mon chéri. Please --"
Enjolras slips out of his reach. "Be quiet. Go home. And you needn't come back tomorrow night, or at all, until you've come to your senses. Good night."
"Julien -- I meant well. All of it. Please, don't be upset -- I don't mean to make you upset. Don't shout at me." Grantaire has ceased to be threatening and become abject. "Don't be angry."
Enjolras draws a deep breath. "If you go home now, I won't be."
"I'm sorry." Grantaire's shoulders slump. "I should have known." He turns away and begins trudging up the alley.
Enjolras stands still, watching him out of sight and listening to his footsteps recede; then he buries his face in his hands, shaking. It is a minute or two before he calms enough to start, rather swiftly, toward home.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The next day is a Sunday. Audric arrives home at about eleven in the morning, his clothes a little rumpled, but then, they usually are. He whistles a bright tune as he climbs the stairs and opens the door. "Good morning, Julien." Julien is sitting quietly, leaning on the desk, looking as if he hasn't had much more than an hour's sleep. "Audric." Audric blinks and looks a great deal less cheerful. "What's wrong? I'm sorry." "Nothing's-- wrong. Now. Did you sleep well?" This last might be sardonic, but it's difficult to tell from his wavering tone. Audric frowns. "What happened?" "Who said anything happened?" "You're confusing me." Audric pulls up a chair and sits down next to Julien. "What was wrong?" "Grantaire." The name comes out flat and blunt; but then, of a sudden, Julien is shaking, vehement. "We can't have him here! Audric, do you hear me? We can't. He pays attention. I can't have it. He listens, you said to be careful!" "All right." Audric touches his shoulder. "All right, beloved. We'll get him to go away, somehow." Julien jerks away. "He wouldn't listen to me," incoherently. "I told him-- he kept-- he thought-- I--" Audric blinks. "What, love?" "I told him to let me alone, and he wouldn't let me alone, and I--" "What do you mean?" softly. "I told him no," Julien says as if Audric had suggested otherwise. "And he just kept going on, and he wouldn't let me go. I had to shout at him. He doesn't understand anything." Audric has gone pale. "Did he hurt you? God, love, I'm sorry --" "What?" It takes a moment for Julien's eyes to focus on him. "Hurt me? No. Only-- kept pawing at me--" He twitches slightly, and falls silent, seeming to collect himself somewhat. "God." Audric makes a move to embrace him, then stops. "I'm sorry." But Julien completes the embrace, clinging to him. "I love you." In a whisper, as though he's ashamed of the words. "And I love you," more confidently. "I'm so sorry. I should have been with you." Audric strokes his hair. "I -- I don't know what to say." "Do you see now?" Julien says into his shoulder, in a small, dry voice. "He listens. He knows too much and not enough." "I see. Come sit on the bed with me, would you?" Julien takes in a breath, and lets it out slowly. Then he nods. Audric lets him go, stands, and offers him a hand up. "You look exhausted, love." Julien gets up quietly. "I don't know. I slept for a while." Audric embraces him again for a moment. "It couldn't have been a long while." "I don't remember." Julien leans against him, passive. "Perhaps you should try to go back to sleep," rubbing his shoulders. "Will you stay with me?" It is the sort of tone Julien has from time to time, too innocent to be accusatory, too trustful to be plaintive, too matter-of-fact to be childish. "I missed you, last night..." "Of course." Audric kisses him lightly. "I wouldn't leave you if I knew you needed me." "All right." Julien relaxes, returning the kiss gravely. "Julien --" Audric frowns and embraces him. "I'm sorry I left." Julien strokes his shoulder with the benign absent-mindedness of the overtired. "If I'd minded, I'd have said." Audric kisses his cheek and lets him go in order to sit on the bed. "I should have been with you. Surely he wouldn't have --" Julien settles beside him. "Shh. I love you." "As I love you." Audric kicks off his shoes. "You should probably try to sleep, chéri." "All right." Audric touches his hair. "Do you want me to go to bed with you?" Julien hugs him again, tightly. "If you want to." "I would love to." Audric kisses his cheek.
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