Chapter Text
Let’s play “Guess Why Grantaire Is Exhausted”
A) Hangover
B) Depression
C)Late shift at the Musian
D)Taking care of a child
E)All of the above
Think about your answer, I’ll get back to you on that.
Grantaire didn’t think having a child living with him would be so hard. Okay- she was technically a teenager, but she definitely didn’t act like that.
He had literally never felt more exhausted.
Feuilly has been a great help. He’s been able to get through to her a little bit. Break down her story and her past enough where they can understand what she is and isn’t comfortable with. Visits to Eponine’s have been helping, too. It’s making her more comfortable, giving her some friends.
But what Grantaire can’t help but notice was how pushy he was for his story. He could tell something inside of her itched for his story, his truth.
Vieve is a smart kid, he has to admit. He can’t act like the girl is dumb, or like she doesn’t know how to read people. In fact, that’s probably what she’s the best at. But damn was it getting under his skin.
Everything had been going great that night. Him and Eponine were having fun, drinking behind the counter. The others were there for fun, since they all usually meet on Mondays for official meetings. Then the little street rat showed up and Grantaire’s stupid ass decided he should help her out. He doesn’t even fully know why. Maybe seeing a kid without parents struck a chord.
Yeah…
Too relatable.
But so far, everything was going well. The child was quiet, and in Grantaire’s hurricane of a life, her quiet was welcomed with open arms. When she wasn’t quiet, he was able to figure out bits and pieces of her life from what she told him, Eponine, and Feuilly.
On day 4 Feuilly learned she was eight when she lost her parents. “A car crash.” Feuilly had said, and Grantaire paled a little.
“Are you alright?” Feuilly asked him, his voice softening.
“Yeah.” Grantaire lied easily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Feuilly didn’t buy it. Of course he didn’t. But he didn’t push.
Grantaire was good at lying by now. When you spend your whole life doing something, you learn to perfect it. Just like guitar, just like painting, just like all those little things that Grantaire practiced to perfection. Lies slipped off his tongue effortlessly, with phony smiles of assurance and sarcasm that hid his insecurities.
Anyways, the kid - Vieve. Her name is Vieve. He really should start thinking of her like that - was doing good with him. She looked like she enjoyed visits to Eponine’s, and Eponine enjoyed her.
On day 6 on Eponine’s balcony, while Grantaire was in the middle of getting piss drunk and Eponine smoking, she said something that caught his attention.
“She looks like you, no?” She said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Same hair, same eyes, even same attitude.”
Grantaire rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t have an attitude.”
“Try talking more with her.”
And so he did. Well, has been trying to. He did start to notice the similarities between them, so that’s a start. The long, tangled, and unruly raven hair was probably the most noticeable. Then there was the face shape. Their eyes were similar, although his were a beautiful navy blue and hers a haunting emerald green.
Speaking of green, that’s something they had in common.
Vieve wore green. The first night she stayed at his house she had been wearing a cheap, black leather jacket, a beige zip-up sweater, and a light green undershirt the colour of grass.
Then, on day 8, they went shopping. She was in desperate need of some new clothes.
They went to many stores. One for some shoes, another for cozy and warm pyjamas, and then one for day-to-day outfits. The one that she seemed to love the most was a black hoodie with a pocket on the front, with olive green cargo pants, with multiple pockets.
Vieve seemed to like pockets.
She would shove every possible thing she owned in her pockets, patting them down every so often to make sure everything was still there and intact.
As an artist, pockets were helpful. Keeping a few extra erasers on hand, or having a few pencils of different length on standby was useful.
Grantaire has discovered he also likes pockets.
On day 10 Enjolras decided to contribute more than phone calls about how Grantaire was probably messing everything up. He showed up to Grantaire’s condo with a box for Vieve. When she opened it, there was a phone. A phone. Complete with every member of the ABC’s numbers.
It was about a two year old iPhone, so it definitely wasn’t outrageously out of Enjolras’ price range, although it wasn’t something anyone would’ve expected.
Vieve’s face had lightened up. Literally. Her face was glowing and she gave Enjolras a toothy grin that split her face.
Also, that school thing? Harder than Grantaire - or anyone, for that matter - expected.
Let’s break this down:
Vieve was a runaway. That means she currently has no guardian (well, legally. Technically it was Grantaire). So since she has no legal guardian, she’s technically being kidnapped. And her being tehcnically kidnapped means that they can’t put her into school because no one is legally in charge of her.
Okay, someone is. But the person who is must’ve given Vieve some reason to run.
How the fuck are the ABC going to explain that?
Also, who are they going to tell? Bahorel might know who. Or Bosseut. They both are in law school, so they must know something. Enjolras used to go to law school, and Combeferre might have background knowledge. Grantaire needs to text them all later.
Anyways, the conversation would be… inconvenient. “Hey, we want to put this mentally unstable fourteen-year-old girl into the school system because she ran away from her legal guardians and now we have to look after her. Could you help us out?”
Yeah, no. Grantaire was not about to have that conversation.
He really needed to text Combeferre.
For those still wondering about the question, the answer was E) All of the above.
But let’s fast forward to today, which is day 15.
Currently, Grantaire has just drank himself senseless. So senseless, he’s leading some random man home. The guy wasn’t too bad, appearance wise. Short brown hair that framed his face well. He was tall, light, and handsome.
This was a bad idea, Grantaire knew, but since when has that stopped him?
There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but he can’t pinpoint why. Sure, taking some guy home with him was never ideal, but there’s something else. Some seed of doubt growing.
Fuck it. He was already coming up to his apartment, key in hand.
Him and the man wobbled upstairs, both drunk though Grantaire was much more hammered. His hands shaking, he unlocked the door with a soft click. The man headed inside first, Grantaire following.
Grantaire followed quite ungracefully.
He tripped over some canvas he could’ve sworn he put away a while ago. He landed flat on his back, his head snapping back and hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Before he could even register what was happening, tall, light, and handsome yanked him up and pushed him against the door, slamming it shut and kissing Grantaire roughly.
Oh well. Grantaire kissed him back.
It was a sloppy kiss. Messy and uncoordinated, but Grantaire was too drunk to even care. His hands were in the guys hair and vice versa.
They stumbled into Grantaire’s bedroom, and just as they did, Grantaire was able to spot someone sitting on the couch.
Vieve.
Shit.
So that was the nagging feeling in his mind that was telling him this was wrong. As the door shut, he caught her eye. Wide, filled with an unspoken terror that he could see festering inside her. Grantaire didn’t know why she looked so petrified.
Then the door shut, leaving him with the man. They both started undressing.
___
Vieve stares at the shut door, her eyes wild and her mind elsewhere. It was late, too late for her to be remembering all the little things she’s been desperate to forget.
She didn’t know what to do. Where to go. How to react. Why did Grantaire do this stuff? It was awful. The fact that people enjoyed doing that made her lunch want to march out of her throat.
Vieve didn’t notice her hands shaking, but she could clearly hear her heartbeat in her ears. Oh my goodness why-
“…oh…”
It was then when Vieve started to fully panic. Her heartbeat got quicker and louder in her ears, and she noticed her hands weren’t the only thing shaking, but her whole body was.
She couldn’t sit here. She heard another retched sound of twisted pleasure and suddenly the room was too small. Too suffocating.
She grabbed her backpack, throwing it over her shoulder. Everything hers that was resting on the coffee table was hastily dumped into her pockets as she made a break for the door. She dashed down the stairs, burst out the front door, and sprinted down the street. She didn’t stop, her feet on autopilot. Where were they going? She didn’t even know. She just knew she needed to run away. Away from the terrible sounds and away from the horrific memories that were too fresh.
That - ugh - that sound was like rubbing salt on an open wound.
When she stopped running, she was in front of a building, panting and shaking. Eponine’s place. She took deep breaths and managed to calm herself down.
Vieve checked her phone. It was 1:45 in the morning. She didn’t think Eponine would be up, but she really needed somewhere safe to be.
Grantaire once told her that if she was ever in trouble, for whatever reason, she should go to Eponine’s place. Eponine was a rock, an anchor for anyone and everyone who she cared about.
Vieve used the key Grantaire had given her, opened the door and headed inside. She locked the door and leaned her back against it, finally being able to breathe.
She walked quietly to Eponine’s bedroom, going in and softly shaking her awake.
“Hmm?” Eponine mumbled, half-asleep and eyes half-lidded.
“It’s me. Vieve.” Vieve whispered softly.
That grabs Eponine’s attention, waking a little more and sitting up, looking at her. “What are you doing here?” She whispered.
“Grantaire said that if I ever felt unsafe to come here.”
Eponine gave Vieve a comforting hand squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
“I-“ Vieve stuttered, trying to think. “I just- just didn’t feel.. feel safe there. I thought… thought you’d be okay with me here.”
Eponine gave a nod, saying she was right. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
Vieve stilled, squeezing Eponine’s hand. She knew Eponine didn’t mean it in a bad way, but her stupid mind wouldn’t let her think of it any better. “No. No, I’ll… I can use the couch.”
“Come get me if anything happens, okay?”
“I will.”
Vieve sat down on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and playing with her cross. It was made of gold. It was thin and dainty, with little wavy engravings on it. She thought about the amount of time she had the chance to sell it. She had considered it. But getting rid of one of the last things of her old life scared her, and the guilt would live in the marrow of her bones.
So she prayed. Not often, not scheduled, but she did. She would do it like her mom taught her when she would have a bad dream. Her mother had been Greek, and that meant Vieve grew up with two languages. Of course, finding someone who spoke it was difficult, so she stuck to singing herself to sleep and praying.
She fell asleep with her cross in between her middle and index fingers, her body resting against the back of the couch. A dreamless sleep, but that was better than dreaming.
Vieve woke up to her phone ringing. She couldn’t see the caller ID, but she picked up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Hello?” She asks, her voice quiet and raspy. “This is Vieve.”
“Vieve? This is Grantaire.”
Oh. Great.
“What do you want?”
“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, his voice quiet. “Where did you go?”
“Ponine’s.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Would you want to try and sleep through someone moaning all night?”
There was silence over the phone, and she smirked in victory. She got the motherfucker.
“Come back.” She hears.
“I don’t want to.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Is the man still there?” She asks instead of answering.
“Yeah.” Grantaire confirms. “Why?”
“I don’t wanna be there if someone else is there.”
___
Grantaire didn’t understand this girl.
What’s the problem with someone being there? It’s not like he was actively fucking the guy, so he didn’t see the problem.
“Petite, please come back.” Grantaire says softly. “I don’t want you alone.”
“I’m at Eponine’s. I’m not alone.” Vieve defends.
Grantaire sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair. He has to untangle his hand from his head.
“What’s the problem with the man being here?” Grantaire repeats. He kept his voice soft to show he wouldn’t be judgemental.
“I don’t like strangers.” Vieve says after a long pause over the line. “They’re usually up to no good.”
Grantaire looks over at the guy sleeping peacefully next to him. Too peaceful. He must’ve taken something beforehand.
“I’ll call you when he leaves. Then I’ll be on my way to pick you up. Deal?”
Quiet.
“Okay.”
And the phone beeps three times in his ear, signalling the end of the call. He sighs and puts his phone down, going back to sleep and hoping Vieve is doing the same.
When morning comes, Grantaire waits for the man to leave before throwing on some half decent clothes and leaving his place to head out, his destination Eponine’s condo. He ignores the pounding headache that is the result of his alcohol consumption that night.
He uses his key and goes inside. Everyone is at the counter, eating some toaster waffles. When Grantaire walks in, Eponine is first to greet him. She does so by dragging him into her room and shutting the door so the kids can’t hear anything.
“What the hell?” Eponine whisper-shouts.
“What do you mean what the hell?” Grantaire whisper-shouts back.
“Vieve came here at 2 in the morning!” Eponine exclaimed quietly. “What were you doing that made her want to leave?!”
Grantaire rolled her eyes. “I was out and got drunk. Forgot she was home and brought some dude home with me.”
“R!” She scolds, hitting his arm.
“Ponine!” He mocks, rolling his eyes.
Eponine looks at the door, a thoughtful look in her eyes. She has always been so caring, so kind. She was dealt such shitty life cards and yet have out such kind ones to others.
“Mom, can I go now?” Grantaire whined teasingly, a smile on his face.
A smile grew on Eponine’s face too. “Yes.”
They walked through the door and Grantaire waved a hand over, gesturing for her to go with him. She gave Gavroche, Azelma, and Eponine a hug before leaving with Grantaire.
“Sorry.” Grantaire mumbles as he heads to the bus stop, lighting a cigarette and placing it between his lips.
Vieve was looking at her feet as they went, almost making sure they kept going. “It’s okay, Eponine was fine with me staying.”
“Petite, I’m saying sorry because it’s not okay.” Grantaire tells her softly.
Vieve looks at him. Her eyes - oh gosh those depressing doe eyes. - stared up at him.
His heart always broke when he saw her eyes like that. So full of fear and sorrow. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. They were always there, waiting for a reason to spill over and flood the world.
Grantaire took a drag of his cigarette and put his arm on her shoulder, walking like that. Vieve didn’t pull away.
“You okay with this?” He asks, noticing her stiffening.
She nods. “Yeah. Yeah.” She pauses. “It’s just new, I guess.”
“What’s new?”
“People being nice.” She murmured. “‘Specially guys.”
Grantaire removed his hand from her shoulder, and instead offered her his hand, his gaze softened.
Vieve looked up at him, and as always, her eyes seemed like they would flood over. However, this time it was out of relief.
She took his hand and they made their way back to Grantaire’s place.