Chapter Text
Grantaire wasn't able to spend a lot of time with the others that week. On Saturday he had to stand in for another dancer who lightly sprained his ankle and was supposed to rest for that day.
That also meant he wasn’t there to see Éponine leave for her date with Combeferre and, when he came home, was so exhausted that he – even though he tried very hard not to – fell asleep before she came home again.
(With any other guy, Grantaire would have been wide awake, always ready to get her out. But really, this was Combeferre.)
He was treated to the details over a late breakfast on Sunday.
Apparently, Combeferre was better at dates than him taking such a long time and his gentleness would let you to suspect. They saw a play that Éponine had mentioned once and after that they went to a little French place. They discussed the play, the food. They talked about why they had chosen the profession they had. They talked about anything, they talked about everything. Apparently, they talked until the place closed.
“He makes me see the world with different eyes. You know, he sees beauty in so many things…” She looked into her tea with a fond smile Grantaire wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.
“And was he a gentlemen or do I have to steal the rapier from probs and challenge him to a duel?”
“Idiot.” Éponine grinned, “you know how polite he is…”
“Soooo?”
“He walked me home and we kissed good-night.”
Grantaire made a ‘whoooop’ sound and hugged her across the table which earned him a fond slap around the head.
The unofficial family show would be on Friday. He knew that their friends were really excited to see him and Éponine dance. Bossuet kept asking questions and on Wednesday he got a message from Feuilly asking if they were supposed to dress up. He loved their enthusiasm.
After the day at the café, he had seen Enjolras only once. They had a quick lunch together on Tuesday after rehearsal and meetings. Enjolras had given him a quick hug as a good-bye, telling him how much he was looking forward to Friday. After that, Grantaire basically floated through the day.
Friday arrived and Grantaire felt more nervous than on opening night.
He headed to work around 3pm. Warm up, stretching, talking with the others, a few revisions of the fight scene with Michel, who danced Mercutio.
The show started at 7.00 pm.
They had told the others they could meet them at the stage door at five-thirty, if they had the time, for a quick chat beforehand.
Éponine was wearing her coat and Grantaire a very big, thick wool jumper because outside it was freezing and they had to keep warm, keep the muscles and sinews soft.
Outside were Combeferre, Marius and Cosette, Joly and Musichetta, and Enjolras. The others were on their way, having to work longer.
Loud greetings welcomed the two dancers and they all huddled together behind the stage door inside (even if that wasn't really allowed, but what the hell).
“We are so excited! I listened to the music at work today and I think I’m going to cry. It’s so beautiful.” Cosette was beaming.
“Is that you’re costume?” Marius looked at Grantaire with wide eyes.
“What?” asked Grantaire, confused.
“The jumper and Éponine in the coat?” Marius pointed at him.
“No!” Grantaire laughed “It’s just cold as hell. I mean the tights are costume but under the jumper is the actual burgundy waistcoat of the Capulets.”
He pulled his jumper up a bit to show them.
“Nice butt, R.” Joly said with a dirty grin.
“Thanks. I work hard for it” Grantaire winked.
From the general direction of Enjolras and Combeferre came a strangle noise.
Grantaire turned to see Enjolras quickly averting his eyes and focusing on Éponine instead, who was currently showing Cosette and Musichetta her dress.
“We are getting something to eat after this, right? A late evening visit to a pizza place or something?” Joly asked.
“Sure! We’ll need some time, but if you go to the bar at the top floor and tell the black-haired woman behind the counter – her name is Floreal – that you are our friends she’ll give you something to drink. We will meet you there.” Éponine said and then looked at her phone. “R, we have to go. Everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight! See you on the other side.”
Marius, Cosette, Joly and Musichetta walked out but Combeferre stayed and gave Éponine a quick kiss and whispered something into her ear. She smiled and nodded.
Combeferre gave Grantaire a pat on the shoulder and went as well.
Grantaire turned and then saw that Enjolras was still standing next to the door.
“Hey, you look smart.”
Enjolras blinked, confused, then: “Oh, thanks. I came directly from work. I had to appear in court today.”
“It went alright?” Grantaire felt like something was a bit off about Enjolras, he looked – nervous?
“Yeah, it was a success. Listen, um,” he took a step towards Grantaire. “I wanted to – “
but here they were interrupted by a gong. The signal for the dancers to gather for last minute instruction and pre-show pep talk.
Enjolras pulled his hand through his hair.
“Never mind it can wait. Just,” here he stepped even closer and put his hand on Grantaire’s arm, “I am very much looking forward to seeing you dance, R. I am always looking forward to see you.”
His hand slipped down his arm and squeezed his hand, holding it for a few short seconds. Then Enjolras gave him one last smile, turned, and left.
Grantaire stared at the slowly closing door, his hand still feeling Enjolras soft fingers.
‘What in the name of the Gods…’Grantaire started to walk down the corridor.
Enjolras had sounded so soft, so sincere.
What had he meant? What…?
Oh.
Grantaire halted abruptly, his heart beating fast.
Could it really be? Could this mean what he thinks it does? What he hoped for? Was this Enjolras way of telling him…
‘No, come on, R. Why should he…’
Grantaire’s legs started to work again, bringing him to the rehearsal room.
His thoughts were racing. They jumped around his head, doing pirouettes.
But – and this was a very new feeling for him – although his mind was basically doing back-flips going over those few sentences Enjolras just said, he didn’t feel panicky. There was no real bad feeling in all of it. Rather, it was? What?
Hopefulness?
‘Oh hell, when did I become an optimist?’
Some things of what was happening inside must have shown on his face, because Éponine looked at him with critical eyes when he (as the last one) joined the group. He shook his head a little, indicating that he was fine.
He was only listening half-hearted. Mind going back to the way Enjolras hand had felt, the look in his eyes and that soft, soft smile on his lips.
One hour till curtain time. All went to do their make-up or doing last minute warm-ups. The usual before-show hectic.
“Okay, spill. What’s up? You look like you’re high.” Éponine pulled him into an empty dressing room.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he blushed a bit but tried to look nonchalant.
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
“Enjolras. He was still there when I left. So it must be him. What did he say?”
Grantaire squirmed a bit but knew there was no way he could not tell Éponine.
“I, um, this will sound stupid. But he said something that makes me think that he might possibly - you know - like me.” For emphasis he underlined the word like with a hand gesture. Oh god, he felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush.
“Did he, now?” Éponine raised a quizzical eyebrow. Her total lack of surprise made Grantaire pause. He focussed her with a stern look.
“Okay what did Combeferre tell you? Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Do you talk about this when you aren’t gazing lovingly in each other’s eyes?”
Grantaire felt like he might explode. Because, what the hell, Éponine?
“Nope. Not my thing to tell. But, R, don’t think too much about it now. You have to perform in an hour. And if you have a good feeling about this, keep it that way. It will work out.”
‘That’, Grantaire thought, ‘is a very weird thing to say.’
“Hey, when did you become so terrible at giving advice?”
“I am amazing at giving advice.”
“Right now, you really are not.”
She hit his arm, “Hey, I said it will work out”
“Yeah and what’s that supposed to mean?”
“See, I was very critical about this thing at the very beginning, right? But now, after seeing you two interact, I am not. Not so much, anyway. I can only guess what’s happening in you funny brain and I just want to tell you: right now, don’t worry about it. It will work out.”
“You just repeated what you said before!” His voice squeaked a bit. “And what do you mean ‘after seeing us interact’? Époniiiiiiine!”
But Éponine just let out a long breath, a very exasperate look on her face.
“Go, get ready to dazzle them all with your dancing. I have to put make-up on. You too, by the way. Come on.” With that she walked out on him.
And although, this had not been the talk he wanted – or expected – it actually added to the strange glowing feeling in his chest.
With a lot of effort, he concentrated on his make-up, the last stretching and warm-ups. But when the bell rang for the first time, his mind pushed all the thoughts of Enjolras to the back. This – the bell ringing, the orchestra tuning their instruments for the last time, the distant shuffle of hundreds of feet in the auditorium – they were the sounds that made him focus. Focus on what’s ahead, on steps, on movement, on the beauty of the dance.
When the bell rang for the third time, they gathered in the wings of the stage.
The orchestra played the first notes of Prokofiev’s music.
During the performance, Grantaire didn’t pay attention to the audience. He never did. Or rather, he didn’t pay attention to single members of the audience. The audience as a whole was always at the edge of his field of vision.
He danced good. Very good. He managed to make the jumps look even more effortless, to bring more strength to his play. It may have been his best performance of Tybalt yet.
After he “died”, which happens before intermission, and went off stage Le Gros gave him an approving nod.
Then he had the chance to watch the audience from the wings. He could see his friends – sitting halfway up the stalls – and their reaction to what happened on stage. He saw Combeferre watch Éponine, he could see Cosette and Marius cry, he could see the way Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta held hands. He could see Bahorel putting his arm around Feuilly.
And he saw Enjolras. He saw the way his eyes seemed to shine in the dim light of the auditorium, he could see him moving a bit to the music, closing his eyes from time to time. He could see him furtively wiping his eyes when Juliet found Romeo dead at her side.
The last notes of the music still lingered in the air but the silence that followed lasted only a second – then the audience erupted in applause.
Curtain-call.
They came on stage in pairs and in trios. He went out with Murat, who danced the Lord, and Toby, who danced the priest. He bowed; his eyes fixed on Enjolras.
Enjolras was beaming. A flush on his face, a smile so bright Grantaire could only smile back, wide and happy.
Lastly, the whole compagnie stood on stage, clapping as well, waiting for Le Gros to make his quick appearance.
Then it was over. He hugged Éponine and they went to get ready to join their friends.
Grantaire had stretched the kinks out of his legs during second half and just needed to take a shower. Éponine had to do the whole cool-down thing but she was quick.
They reached the bar at the top floor of the theatre some 60 minutes after the performance had ended. L’Amis greeted them with whistles, applause, cheers, and gathered them in an enormous group hug. Much to the amusement of the few last guest still being there.
R slipped behind the bar counter to Floreal. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and, with a wink, a bottle of champagne.
“A little surprise. Some dude ordered three in advance, but they only managed to drink two during intermission. I saved this one for you.”
“You are an actual angel. Thank you!”
He took a tablet with glasses and the bottle and walked back to the group.
“Well I want to hear your opinions – but first: Champagne!”
More cheers. Everyone got a little glass – to many friends and sadly no magnum bottle – but they all laughed and toasted to the two dancers.
Even Grantaire allowed himself the delight that is very good champagne.
He caught Enjolras eyes, who was smiling at him. He started to make his way over but he was interrupted by Bahorel and Feuilly who had disturbingly specific questions about his dance belt.
“Guys, let’s move this outside. I booked a table at Angelo’s for 12pm. We should get going” Musichetta shouted over their heads. Everyone started moving, coats already picked up from the cloakroom. Angelo’s wasn’t that far away so they walked.
First, Grantaire was walking next to Cosette who asked him about the costume choices. Then he found himself at the back of the group, next to Enjolras.
“Hey” He smiled at him. “So, how did you find your first ballet?”
“It was wonderful. It really was. It’s impressive how the depth and the emotions of something as word-heavy and powerful as a Shakespeare play can be portrait by music and body-movement alone.”
“That’s the magic.” Grantaire nodded.
“You are amazing. I mean, I have no expertise, but just seeing the energy radiating off of you, I can tell you are a very talented dancer. It was beautiful.”
Grantaire thought back to that one time weeks ago when Enjolras had said something about him being a good dancer. They had only met 24 hours earlier. Everything about it felt different this time. There was no look of determination, no tone in Enjolras voice like he knew more than Grantaire. This time he said it with enthusiasm and warmth.
(But maybe, back then, Grantaire had judged everything from a different perspective.)
“Thank you”
They walked slower, falling a bit behind.
“I am glad you could be there, tonight.”
Enjolras looked at him, the darkness and the streetlights playing with his profile. A golden curl peeking out from under his hat. He looked thoughtful.
He stopped.
“Grantaire,” it sounded like a question. Grantaire looked up, only now realising that Enjolras was a few centimetres taller than him. He looked unsure.
“After we talked about…you know, our misunderstanding, you said no more lies or evading topics, do you remember?”
As if Grantaire could forget that Monday; he nodded, suddenly nervous.
“I feel like I am evading a topic, though. I am trying to live my life as honest as possible. Talk about things that matter, being up-front about problems and change what needs to be changed. I am good at that. At work, in court, with L’Amis.”
Enjolras looked at the sky, frowning.
“I’m not sure I can follow?” Grantaire was a bit confused as in which direction this conversation was going.
“I haven’t been honest with you”
Oh.
“Ever since Ferre told me that Joly and he met you at the coffee shop and you and Ép became their friends I was intrigued. Intrigued by what the others told me about you. That you – as Courf said – had a sharp mind, a sharper tongue, and a heart of gold. I wanted to be your friend. Then I met you –“
was he blushing or was it the ice-cold November night?
“ – and I liked you. And after the fight, how you reacted and how I got to know you all over again – better, more profound – actually made me like you even more.”
He took a step closer to Grantaire, searching his face. Grantaire felt like gravity intensified and he was anchored on this spot in exactly this moment in time – nothing moved.
“Enjolras, what…” his voice was barely a whisper.
“I lied. Not so much that I told a lie, more like I haven’t been honest. You are funny, intelligent, kind, thoughtful and – honestly – hot as hell. I want to know your opinion on everything, I want to see you try to suppress a grin every time Marius says something stupid during meetings, I want to eat waffles with you on Sunday morning, I want to hear you talk about ballet, I want to argue about stuff with you and I want to make you laugh. I want to see you dance again. I lied, R. I don’t want to be your friend. I want so much more…”
Now it was like gravity decided to stop working, Grantaire felt like he was floating.
Enjolras took a breath, having rushed the last words. His face was open, honest, and vulnerable. Grantaire had so many things he wanted to say, but his mind was unable to form words. He knew he had to say something because there was already something new in Enjolras eyes, an insecurity he’d never seen before.
He reached out, taking Enjolras cold hand. He smiled and was met with a little smile by the other. Then, very carefully – to give Enjolras time to respond – he took the last step to close the distance between them. His other hand found the lapel of Enjolras coat and pulled him closer. He looked into those impossibly blue eyes and then, he kissed him.
Enjolras leaned into it. His hand cupped Grantaire’s cheek and the other, on the small of his back, pulled him in.
After a few seconds Grantaire broke the kiss, keeping his face close to Enjolras.
“So you think I’m hot?” he murmured.
He could feel, rather than see, Enjolras grin.
“That’s what you take from this?”
Grantaire shrugged, a smile spreading across his face.
“I thought so the moment I saw you at Jehan’s and honestly, seeing you almost naked wasn’t that bad, either.”
Grantaire laughed but was silenced by another kiss, this time more passionate, nothing like the almost shy first kiss.
Grantaire wanted to keep kissing Enjolras forever but he forced himself to end the kiss, looking Enjolras in the eyes.
“I want to spend my Sunday afternoons with you, I want to hear your sarcastic comments on everything, I want to hear you play the violin, I want you to tell me your ideas, I want to wake up next to you, I want to go to Brussels with you so you can introduce me to your favourite waffle place, I want to argue with you and make you laugh, too. I want to be your friend and so much more.”
With everything he said he could see him light up more.
“And, right now, I want to grab some pizza with you and our friends and enjoy this probably unhealthy amount of happiness I’m feeling.”
Enjolras took his hand.
“Well, let’s go then.”
Sometimes the universe seems to be a cheeky bitch, because sometimes it gets bored and plays with the feelings of the humans on earth. It does that out of good-will. But even though it is so very old and has seen so much it cannot really estimate the consequence of its actions. I think in the middle of the universe is love, but that doesn’t mean it understands that feeling – or the emotions of the humans. So sometimes it decides to meddle with the lives of people one would – at the first glance – not think capable of loving each other. And you would think: No, don’t do that, they will crash and burn and suffer. But the universe likes to take a risk. And it really loves to see everything work out fine.
What I am trying to say is this: sometimes the working method of the universe seems to be unreasonable but love seldom grows out of reason.