Chapter Text
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“Today is a new day. Let's forget what happened yesterday and start afresh, yeah?” Combeferre spoke to the entirety of Les Amis, setting up the table ready for the debate.
Enjolras opened his eyes, expecting everyone to be looking at him for an explanation about what occurred yesterday at school and an explanation as to why he was not at school today but found that they were not, which made him smile internally.
“Tonight’s discussion centres around capital punishment, so, who wants to kick us off?” Courfeyrac invited.
“I will – if nobody else wants to.” Jehan smiled.
“Of course.”
“Well, I think that it is acceptable but only for the worst cases.” He began. “Because there are some horrific people out there, who do horrific crimes. And I think that they deserve to be trialled and – if found guilty – then I think the death penalty is the only valid punishment.”
“For what crimes?” Joly asked.
“Um – sexual assaults and such. Murder too.”
“Okay but – what if they’re innocent?” Marius’ turn.
“Only kill the guilty ones.”
“Do we ever know if someone is really guilty?” Combeferre next.
“Are you all against it then?” Jehan asked.
“No.” Joly and Marius responded.
“Neither.” Combeferre said. “I am neutral.”
“Just playing Devil’s advocate.”
Grantaire sat and listened more intently than he had ever done so before. This topic was very controversial, and he found it interesting. Given his past, he had a lot of opinions on the subject matter, but he would never speak them aloud.
“What about you then, Courf?” Joly asked.
“I do not really know.” He replied. “I am with ‘Ferre in this, I do not really have an opinion on the matter.”
“I did not say that.”
“No but I am also neutral.”
Grantaire had noticed that both Combeferre and Courfeyrac frequently held the same opinions. He found it interesting whenever they did. It was quite special.
“Enj?”
“It is an interesting subject.” Enjolras said. “I think that it is fair.”
“Why?” Grantaire asked. He received no response. Enjolras remained silent.
“How come?” ‘Ferre asked.
“If you can take another’s life then you should be punished for it. I agree with Jehan. It is a tough punishment, granted, but I believe that it is the constitutional right to punish someone for taking somebody else’s life.” Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows. For someone so passionate about the Government and their abuse of power, he was confused as to why Enjolras would entrust them with such a big decision. “But I would not want the Government to have the decision.” There it was. “It should be up to the people and the republic.”
"But if a man is unable to take the life of another without it being deemed illegal, then what gives the establishment the power to do so to the accused." Grantaire muttered, drawing Enjolras' attention away from his two friends at last, grinning in a nonchalant way and standing up on the table.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you say you would allow the people and the republic to have the power but – would it not be the establishment that carries out the final deed? Or would you allow the people to do that too?” He had never spoke in a debate before and he had no idea what had come over himself, but he was vomiting words and hoping for the best. “And if the people did it then why are they deemed innocent, but the accused is sentenced to death?”
Enjolras stood in silence, his eyes blinking wildly.
“Oh my word.” ‘Ferre said, his mouth falling agape.
"The meaning of a punishment is to deter people away from committing an offence again. If that person is killed for their crime, then there is no retribution to be had." Grantaire's voice was not serious, he noted, purposefully. He said it in such an effortless manner, bewildering everyone in the room. Grantaire was never smart, they had all conclusively agreed on that. But today he was, and it was off putting. Enjolras, now pale in tone, swallowed hard. His mind was racing in desperation to draw back an intelligent response, but he had struck nothing of the sort. This was unplanned - it was not supposed to occur like this. Nobody was supposed to break off from the intended script and it was overwhelming. He dropped his arms to his side, sighing and biting his lip. "There is no way that I have won this argument." Grantaire said. "There must be some flaw in what I've just said." He hiccupped, laughing. But Enjolras just stared at the floor, unable to say anything in return. "Come on - bite back." Grantaire felt his heart twinge as he looked around at his friends' faces: each one of them was shocked by his outburst.
Grantaire had said it in jest at first - his words were not planned or well-thought through, they were a joke to see what Enjolras would say in response. And now he felt nauseous at the idea that he had actually made the leader in red speechless.
"I - oh, come on." Grantaire threw his arms in the air. "This is terrifying. There has to be a flaw to what I said - it's me."
"No, you made a valid point." Courfeyrac said, his mouth agape. "And you've rendered Enj speechless in return. Well done."
Enjolras did not move his gaze, his eyes still pointing to the floor as he tried to conceptualise what was happening. The thoughts in his mind were not making sense and he was unable to understand what they meant; his entire body was shaking, and his stomach was churning, with his chest aching at the thought of being so powerless in an argument. He looked up, at last, and blinked before running out of the room - his emotions taking over before he could understand.
Grantaire swallowed harsher than he had ever done so before, his heart aching.
"What did I do?" He asked, almost inaudible. It was not a question – more so a complaint to himself. He was an idiot.
"Oh, nothing." Combeferre said. "He just gets like this when he is not always right - always has." He shrugged it off, turning his attention to Combeferre, who was also unphased by the situation.
Grantaire, on the other hand, could not remove the frightened and hurt expression of Enjolras from his mind. He put his bottle down and wandered aimlessly out of the door, scanning the near vicinity for the blonde-haired man that his heart yearned for.
Enjolras sat beside the lake, his eyes closed as he leant against the cold wall. He rocked backwards and forwards, his hands flapping and attempted to regain control of his feelings.
"Can I sit down?" Grantaire asked. Before he could finish, Enjolras jumped up, his eyes alert at the unexpected sound of the other boy's tone. Enjolras did not respond, his mind was racing about too much. Grantaire fell silent, sitting down beside the blonde and watching as he twiddled his thumbs, rocking his body back and forth. He noticed that tears were flowing from his eyes again and he shook his head, frustrated at himself for allowing his own insecurities to upset Enjolras once again.
Enjolras sniffled, trying his best to stifle his pain. But it just made it worse and he let out a painful scream, throwing his hand to his face and slapping the top of his head. Grantaire’s head bolted to him when he heard the slap and he jumped up, straddling Enjolras and pulling his hand away from his forehead.
“Please do not harm yourself.” Grantaire pleaded – his voice straining. “Please. You are worth so much more than that.”
Enjolras threw his arms around Grantaire, holding him almost a little too tight. Grantaire was not sure if he could not breathe because of the hug or because he was so in shock at the sudden movement.
“I am sorry.” Enjolras said, taking the other boy by even more surprise. He never apologised. Ever. “I am sorry.” He repeated. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.”
“Stop apologising.” Grantaire said, rubbing Enjolras’ back.
Enjolras – the man averse to all touch and human interaction – felt a tingle simmer through his spine at the touch of Grantaire, melting into the feeling. His heart was beating as his blood forced its way around his veins, he grinned to himself and closed his eyes – his tears stopping.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever before Grantaire pulled away. Upon doing so, Enjolras grabbed his hand – interlinking their fingers with one another, which – again – took Grantaire by surprise. The smell of Enjolras’ familiar scent lingered in Grantaire’s nose. Although he knew the interaction was not romantic, he had butterflies.
“I am sorry.” Enjolras said again.
"Do – do you ever think about why you feel the way that you do?" Grantaire asked, his voice small against the wind that was blowing through their hair. Enjolras tilted his head in response, his eyes narrowing. Grantaire shuffled, the uncomfortable nature of the conversation taking its toll on his expression.
Enjolras' mind was racing, his thoughts incoherent.
"I do not know what you mean." He stammered slightly.
"It does not matter.” Grantaire said. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
“Um – my music.” Enjolras responded, blushing.
“Okay.” He grabbed Enjolras’ phone and allowed the blonde to type in the PIN before opening up ‘Spotify’ and playing the only playlist on there.
“Thank you.” Enjolras said, his fingers still interlocked with Grantaire’s as he fell and rested his head in his lap. Grantaire had no idea what was happening but he was not complaining.
“I think you might be autistic.” Grantaire said, blurting out.
Enjolras sat up quickly, and Grantaire scorned himself internally for letting it slip when Enjolras had just got comfortable.
“Why?” He asked.
“Um – a lot of reasons.”
“List them.”
“Your inability to touch people, for one.” He looked down at their interlocked hands. Enjolras pulled his hand away and started to rock back and forth, biting his lip. “And that – that rocking that you do.” He said. “And because you are more passionate than anyone – that – that is called a hyperfixation – or a special interest if it’s a bit more permanent. And also, you like things your way. Does any of this sound wrong?”
“Why do you know so much about autism?”
“I researched it the other day – after your meltdown.”
“Meltdown?”
“That is what it is called, yes.” Grantaire said.
“You researched that, for me?” Enjolras asked, his heart fluttering for a reason he could not explain.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I – um – care about you.”
“Why?”
“This is – that is not something that I want to talk about.”
“Why?” Enjolras asked, without really thinking. His eyes, as always, were not connected to Grantaire’s – whose, in turn, were – as always – attached to Enjolras’ deep blue eyes.
Grantaire smiled, lightly.
“Has anyone ever mentioned autism to you before?”
Enjolras shuffled in his seat, his body tingling under the pressure. Nobody had ever asked him about this before.
“I am autistic.” Enjolras told him, quietly. He tried his hardest to stifle the pain in his voice as he said the word.
“Oh.” Grantaire said. “You are diagnosed?”
“Yes. Nobody has ever noticed before. I – I thought I did well at hiding it.”
“Why do you feel as though you have to hide it?” Grantaire squeaked, almost offended but fully aware that he should not have to be. “It is who you are.”
Enjolras drew back then, his throat closing up on him. He faced away, turning his body away from the man that had been nothing but kind to him.
“You would not understand.”
“Try me.”
“No.”
Enjolras rested his chin onto his knees, which were bent and wrapped underneath his slender arms. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, his throat hoarse as he attempted not to cry.
“You would not understand.” Enjolras repeated himself, his voice wavering. Grantaire sighed, accepting that Enjolras was not going to tell him anything – he had no reason to. He was a nobody.
“Why?” He spoke in jest.
“Because you have nobody that believes in you.”
Grantaire’s smile dropped from his face. It was not meant in a malicious way, he knew deep down, but it still stung like hell to hear from someone that he admired so deeply.
“Nobody is expecting anything of you.” He continued.
“Who is expecting things of you?” He asked.
Enjolras turned to him, his eyes stinging with tears. He could not tell in Grantaire was joking or not now and he tilted his head, attempting to read him. His eyes – for the first time since they met – met Grantaire’s and stared into him intensely.
“Everyone.” His voice broke.
Grantaire felt his heart ache, reaching a hand-out to catch Enjolras’ tears. He noticed that the other boy did not flinch as he usually did with his other friends, he simply succumbed to the touch and sobbed some more. He had never thought about the amount of pressure that Enjolras was under.
Enjolras pulled away.
“I wish I had your life.” He said it with a genuine tone, his eyes still meeting Grantaire’s.
“You have no idea what it is like to be me.” Grantaire’s voice cracked, his face dropping as he stared at the blonde student in front of him. “You really think of me as nothing.”
Enjolras took one glance at the man in front of him and winced; he had never seen someone look so broken before. Grantaire’s eyes were glazed over, his chin stiff and his stature tense. He went to speak but found that no words formed in his throat. Enjolras had been in situations where he was left alone with an emotionally vulnerable person before, and he had always promised himself never to allow himself to be put in that situation again because it made him uncomfortable. He, however, knew that he was not uncomfortable because he felt so deeply for the person in front of him but – instead – because he did not understand how anyone could ever allow themselves to be this completely broken in front of another human being.
Enjolras had felt like this before, he suspected. He knew what it was like to be so upset that you are unable to control it anymore and he knew that – in those situations of weakness – he had to escape from the situation. He had been told his whole life that feeling those things were wrong.
For Enjolras, though, he struggled. He did not know how to tell the difference between the different labels for emotions and he struggled immensely with the comprehension of this. He was an intelligent man, he knew that, but he did not know how to tell the difference between what he was feeling: he could not place whether he was feeling ecstatic, happy, or just simply overjoyed – nor did he ever know if he was upset, depressed or just anxious.
For the first time in his life, he kind of understood. He held his hand out to Grantaire and placed it upon the smaller man’s shoulder, pulling him ever so slightly into a hug.
“Not nothing, no.” Enjolras responded.
“Then what?”
“Everything.” He said, with no emotion in his tone now.
Grantaire sniggered.
“Sure, you do. Everything what? Everything that is wrong with the world, huh?” It was laced with sarcasm, his eyes rolling.
“Yes.” Enjolras said. Grantaire felt his chest ache once again. “Everything that is wrong with my world.”
“Right.” Grantaire expected it. Of course, he did. Enjolras had always hated him. He got on his nerves. He was not passionate; he was not driven and he was certainly not intelligent – he was a fool for having any form of hope that the ‘everything’ really meant what he wanted it to.
“Because I do not understand you.” Enjolras whispered, his voice mousy and cracking. “I do not understand what it is that you make me feel.” He continued, making Grantaire sob a little more internally. “You make my stomach turn.”
“Nice. I make my own stomach churn. Trust me.”
“No – not – not like that.”
Grantaire turned to him again, his mouth agape and his eyebrows falling. He had never been angry at Enjolras before, but this was irritating him. He had been nice. He had tried so hard to make sure he felt okay about who he was – about his autism. And this was what he got back?
“I mean – you make me feel sick but not because you disgrace me or because of – anything negative.”
Then Grantaire’s expression softened; a look a glazed confusion befalling him.
“You make me feel things that I cannot explain.”
“Like what?”
“I do not want to–“
“I will not force you to talk about it then.”
“Thank you.” Enjolras had never had anyone respect his boundaries before and it felt strange. He, once again and as usual, could not explain how it made him feel – it was like a fuzzy feeling. He smiled towards Grantaire but dropped it once he noticed the other man was not smiling back. Grantaire’s eyes looked sad, and his cheeks were pale. “Your voice makes my heartbeat faster than it ever has before. Your smile, it makes me want to smile and your art – it makes me feel inspired.”
Grantaire was rendered speechless, his eyes averting to the floor in the same fashion as Enjolras’ usually did. Everything that Enjolras had just explained rang true with him too – only he felt that Enjolras was a very worthy recipient for this and him not so much.
“I do not understand why and – and that makes me feel worse.”
Suddenly, the ducks that were swimming so delicately in the lake began to kick their legs ferociously in the water, beginning to quack louder and louder by the minute. Enjolras placed his hands to his ears, his legs folding up to his chin and his body rocking slightly. Grantaire felt his eyebrows raise, his heart beating quicker than he had ever felt it beat before. He had read about this – it was an over-stimulation. Enjolras was opening up to him in a way that he had never done with another person before and that was bound to be difficult, autistic, or not. And the loud, unpredictable sounds of the birds was surely not helping the situation.
In response, he shuffled a little closer to him and grabbed his mobile phone. He opened his music app and played a song that he knew Enjolras liked, because he had heard him telling Combeferre about it one time – John Farnham’s ‘You’re the Voice’. At the time, Grantaire had laughed at the irony of Enjolras liking a romantic song and making it a staple of political power and standing up and talking about world issues but he completely understood it now. It was never a love ballad. Grantaire just perceived it to be because he loves Enjolras and hoped for it to be.
As the song began to play, Grantaire observed how Enjolras’ body language relaxed a little – his arms falling from his ears as he melted into the familiar sound of his favourite song. He turned to Grantaire, his eyes watering a little. He mouthed ‘thank you’, before laying back into the grass and running his fingers through the lawn as a method of stimulation.
“The sky looks beautiful at this time of evening.” He spoke in a monotone voice.
Grantaire nodded, not taking his eyes away from the other boy – not even to look up at the sky that he was referring to. The blonde closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.
“Thank you for coming to check on me.” He chatted. “And for not judging me for my flaws.”
“Flaws-“ The word did not fit Enjolras, and Grantaire had repeated it in shock.
“Yes.” Enjolras nodded, his eyes still closed so not to look at the other man.
“Autism is not a flaw, Apollo.”
“It is a disappointing trait of my personality.” Enjolras echoed back, as if he had heard it be told to him in the past.
“Who told you that?” Grantaire’s voice broke slightly.
Enjolras fell silent, biting his lips.
“Your parents-“ Grantaire felt his heart snap. He had always imagined Enjolras to have a very privileged upbringing with parents that loved and cherished him, and believed in everything that he did – and in Enjolras and his ability to fight for what he believed in. But it was in this moment that Grantaire realised just how wrong he was about it. When he had first met Enjolras, he had thought him to be a pompous mother’s boy, who was doing everything that he could to live up to his mother’s standards even though he would get the inheritance anyway. He had thought of him as a spoilt, arrogant, and rude son of rich parents with a large estate.
While he was right about the ‘rich parents with a large estate’ aspect of the novel he had drawn of Enjolras’ life – he was completely off the mark about everything else.
Enjolras was a disappointment to his parents just as Grantaire was to his. Only, Enjolras did not deserve to be labelled as such.
“Enj, your parents are ableist and ignorant if they think your autistic traits are a weakness.”
Enjolras shuffled uncomfortably.
“I mean it, Enjolras.”
Grantaire felt his eyes begin to fill with tears, his hands shaking slightly. He was looking at Enjolras in the same light that he always did, only he felt so much pain and heartache. He often did feel his heart breaking when he looked at Enjolras because he had always suspected that he was not good enough for him; he had always thought of himself as a someone that did not deserve the love of Enjolras.
But now, he saw that Enjolras deserved more love than anyone. He always knew that Enjolras was worthy of his love, but he had always thought of himself as a worthless giver of that love.
“They never deserved you.”
Enjolras heard the break in his voice and bit his lip, yearning to stop this.
“They never fucking deserved you.”
“Rene-“ Enjolras blinked, slightly confused as to why Grantaire was so upset by this. It was Enjolras that had been let down by his parents. It was Enjolras that was constantly told that his traits were a weakness. Why was Grantaire so upset by this revelation? “It is okay, really.”
“How is it okay?”
Enjolras blinked, his eyes looking up at the sun. Grantaire, in turn, was staring at Enjolras – his sun.
“Because I am here with you.” Enjolras said, nonchalantly.
Grantaire felt his breathing hitch, his chest yearning to hold Enjolras but knowing he could not.
“Me?”
“Yes – you.”
“But I am a nobody-“
“Do not say that.” Enjolras turned to face him, kneeling in front of the smaller boy and meeting the gaze of his blue eyes. He lifted his hand up, reluctantly at first, and placed it upon Grantaire’s pale cheek – feeling how cold his frost-bitten skin felt. He smiled a little, controlling his breath and leaning toward his face, placing his forehead against Grantaire’s. The brunette froze in his seat, his spine tingling as he appreciated the touch of the blonde. His brain was unable to comprehend exactly what was happening, but his body relaxed as the endorphins released into his bloodstream. This was his dream; to have Enjolras look at him with such content, it was the topic of all of his dreams. As sad as it may sound, this was everything he ever wanted – just to feel an ounce of the appreciation he felt for Enjolras. He had settled for the fact that him loving the younger boy would have to be enough, he had found comfort in that fact long ago. But this contrast the one thing he had always thought he was sure of.
Grantaire did not know anything of love, but he knew that there was no way that Enjolras could love him. Or so he thought. He thought he was sure of that. It was the one thing that made sense. But now that was in jeopardy and he was not upset about it. Not at all.
“You are someone to me.” Enjolras spoke, with sincerity lacing within his tone. “You always have been.”
“You do not need to lie-“
Enjolras moved closer towards Grantaire, his hand falling upon his and his eyes welling.
“I am not lying.” He said, his voice sounding somewhat hurt at the accusation. Grantaire wanted to hit himself for accusing someone so pure of something so horrid but he just could not believe it. “I just have a hard time – expressing my emotions. For – for obvious reasons.”
“Obvious?” Grantaire tilted his head.
“Yes.” He said. “Obvious.” He was staring at Grantaire intently, which made the smaller man’s heart flutter. “Autism – you said it yourself.”
“Oh – right, yeah.” Grantaire nodded. “Sorry – I am a little distracted by the whole you confessing that you actually share my feelings for you thing.”
Enjolras let out a small laugh, his eyes welling.
“What now?”
“Can we – can we go back to my flat?” Enjolras asked. “Together.”
Grantaire nodded, not wanting to argue.
“Of course – whatever you want.”
“And – and will you be my boyfriend?” Enjolras asked, looking directly into Grantaire’s eyes for the first time.
The smaller boy felt as though he needed to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming and imagining this – this was all he ever wanted and it was all coming true. He could feel his own eyes starting to well.
“Of course.” He said again, unable to think of anything else to say. He waited for the invitation from the other boy, not wanting to cross any borders so soon, and leant forward to plant a light kiss on his lips. Enjolras’ lips were as soft as Grantaire had imagined, his eyes closing so he could live in the moment. “Come on – let’s get back before Courfeyrac comes looking for us.”
Enjolras laughed.
***