Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You sure you don’t need help shifting anything?”

Grantaire looked up from the last of his packing to find his flatmates peering over at him – Will’s head sticking out from behind the fridge door, and Dan a few steps from his side, a pile of snacks balanced expertly in his arms. Grantaire was going to miss them – the little rituals they had built up as a household of dinner times and movie nights and crashing on the couch.

He aimed for a smile, but it fell flat. “Yeah, I’m all good – all the furniture is sticking around with you guys anyway, so I haven’t got too much to clear out anyway.”

Will and Dan tried to smile back at him – strained, uncomfortable expressions. Grantaire snorted. It was all such bullshit. Pretending like the three of them weren’t aware of the enormous elephant in the room.

Dan shifted side to side on his feet. “I’m really sorry how it’s all worked out. If there were room for you…if we could afford to help…”

Grantaire cut him off quickly. “Don’t be silly. I’ll find somewhere soon enough.”

None of them said anything. They didn’t need to. Everyone was painfully aware of the nightmare that was the rental market. Grantaire did not hold much hope that he, of all people, on his income, would be a popular choice of tenant in the hoards applying. From the looks on their faces, Dan and Will shared his lack of faith. Grantaire smiled at them – a real smile this time – and turned back to his packing. This would be temporary. It had to be.

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The household had been a place of stability for Grantaire until the email arrived. A $300 rent increase. Even split between three people, it was not something he could afford. Will and Dan had been upset when he broke the news that he couldn’t renew the lease with them, but a new flatmate had been quickly arranged – ready to move in as soon as Grantaire had packed and cleaned his room.

He tried not to be bitter – to think of this new person laying on the couch Grantaire had hauled off the side of the road, having a laugh with Dan while Will fiddled with the ancient television set they had scooped up from a garage sale. His early adult years were embedded in that house and now it would be someone else’s.

They’d only been given a week’s notice of increased rent – illegal, yes, but the housemates had rationalized that they weren’t in a position to fight back. They either take the new amount, or all three of them could end up on the street. Will and Dan could pay the amount by the skin of their teeth – although it meant cutting back on their grocery budgets. But for Grantaire it had been an unmeetable amount. And so here he was.

The week leading up to this new tenancy had been a whirlwind of rental applications and answering ads for housemates, all while packing away the belongings he would be taking with him. No one had gotten back to him. Or if they had, it was to say that someone else had already been selected.

His tenancy was up and Grantaire pulled out of the driveway, hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel. He tried not to let his eyes settle on the haphazard boxes cramming every available space in his car. Rather, Grantaire tried to focus on the task at hand. He had a few hours to kill before the ABC meeting – time enough for him to have a drive around looking for a place that would offer rest for the night ahead.

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The search had not been as fruitful as Grantaire had hoped it would be. It seemed that every motel and backpackers was booked up for the night – and upon further inquiry, would be booked up for the rest of the week at least. It made sense. It was the tail end of the summer months and tourism was still at a high. His search coming to and end for the night, Grantaire had slipped into the air-conditioned café space and steeled himself for the arrival of the rest of the ABC. He would discreetly ask during the meeting if anyone had a couch he could crash on for a night or two while he sorted himself. There was bound to be something.

Within half an hour, the café was packed with his fellow ABC members, and the meeting was underway.

The Friends of the ABC was an initiative started by Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac in their second year of uni, and it had stuck around, even as they had moved into later years of their degrees and had began graduating. It was based in community support and local matters of social justice. Their activities ranged from protests to building packs for the homeless to advising (unofficially) people on their best course of legal action if their rights were being stepped on.

Grantaire had only joined because of Joly and Bossuet. He’d met them both in a first year English literature unit – one that they’d all taken as an elective – and they had immediately adopted him as one of them – dragging him along to a meeting immediately after class. There he had met the others and been immediately taken in. It was there he had met…

Enjolras was standing before the group, gesturing at a graph on his laptop and conducting his usual lecture. The friends were a huge part of why he showed up to these meetings, but Enjolras was another. He was like a god – eyes fiery and passionate as he spoke to even the small group congregated before him. Grantaire had loved him since the second he met him.

As the meeting began to wind down, Grantaire let his mind wander. He needed to make a move and quick – before everyone decided their plans for the night. He thought of his available options. Feuilly and Eponine and Bahorel were out – they all shared a tiny flat that barely fit the three of them. Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta were in the same boat – the three of them all living in a one bedroom with a bed that took up almost the entire space. Marius had just moved in with Cosette, and Grantaire was not particularly close with either party – the whole thing would be just too awkward. There was, of course, Jehan, but they hadn’t showed up to the meeting, too busy finishing an assignment. If all else failed, perhaps Grantaire could send them a text. That left Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras. The three of them shared a large flat with a spare bedroom. It would be the perfect place.

But asking for a place to sleep meant that Enjolras would have to know he was…without a home. Could he really face the judgement? Could he really afford to lower himself in the other’s eyes even more? He drew a shaky breath. Him and Enjolras were always at each other’s throats, but the man would never judge him for something like this.

Finishing off the dregs of his beer, Grantaire stood up and made his way across the room on shaky legs – his heart racing within his chest. He could do this. He had to do this. He needed a place to sleep and he was sure if he asked they would offer it to him. He locked eyes with Combeferre, only a meter or two in front of him now. Combeferre seemed to read something in his face – Grantaire figured he was probably doing a pretty shit job of hiding his emotions.

“Combeferre, I was wondering if –“

Grantaire tripped over his feet as he moved forward – nerves making him suddenly clumsy. The firm support of Combeferre appeared at his side, catching and steadying him with lightning fast reflexes. Enjolras glanced up from his place a couple of chairs away and scowled.

“Are you drunk already, R? Do you plan on just having other people carry you through life?”

The words were as if a bucket of water had been thrown over Grantaire and he was suddenly feeling much more sober than he had moments ago. He could see Enjolras’ face bunching up in regret – words hastily spoken and not thought through. Grantaire didn’t care. Trying not to let it show how badly he had been affected, he let out a little snort.

“What a sentiment to come from the man who is dedicating his life to helping those in need.”

Any regret in Enjolras’ face vanished.

“Well, they aren’t putting themselves in their bad situations.”

Grantaire stood silent a few moments, eyes wide and staring deep into Enjolras. Then, he turned and scurried to the exit.

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The room he left was frozen still and silent for a few beats before it seemingly burst into life. The group rounded on Enjolras who seemed stunned by his own words. Various cries rang out - Bahorel loudest amongst them as they ripped into their leader for his cruel words.

Combeferre murmured softly to the man. "That was poorly done, Enj. He's been out of sorts all night and seemed on the brink of asking me for help."

Enjolras withered away even further at the words but Combeferre refused to let himself feel regret. Casting one last disappointed glance at his best friend, Combeferre turned and hurried after his retreating friend.

He caught up with Grantaire just outside the building – latching onto his wrist to prevent him from leaving. Grantaire yanked futilely a few times before giving up – Combeferre was considerably taller and stronger than Grantaire, and that advantage became obvious now.

“Are you alright?”

Grantaire huffed in response, wiping away a few errant tears, but Combeferre did nothing more than raise his eyebrow before continuing.

“Just…it was unfair of him to say that, and it was untrue. Your are my friend and I wouldn’t for a single second consider it to be a waste of energy or your fault if you needed my support. Please remember that.”

Grantaire stared at the man numbly, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Combeferre was a friend, of course he was. But he knew that he was not a close friend to the man. He’d claim to want to help because he’s a good person, but Enjolras was right – he got himself into this. It would only be a matter of time before Combeferre, or Joly, or Bahorel or any of them inside the cafe, would get frustrated at him and want him off their couches and out of their lives.

Weakly, he mumbled out a response. “Thanks, Combeferre, if I ever need help I’ll let you know.”

He pulled his wrist from the man’s now slack grip and scurried away. With his back turned, he did not see the desperate look on the other man’s face. Combeferre waited until Grantaire was out of sight, then turned and made his way towards the train station. He didn’t think he could go back inside and pretend to be anything but worried sick for his friend.

A few hundred meters down the road, Grantaire slid into his car. The outside heat clung to him – a heavy layer of humidity that embraced him and made sweat bead up. The weather was meant to have shifted – this time of year was usually rain – but this year the seasons were yet to properly turn. The heat of summer was endless.

Grantaire sat in the driver’s seat, hands trembling and eyes blinking away tears. Idiot. He thought. Fucking idiot. Whatever solution there was to his situation, it would have to be found alone. He’d already lost his house, lost his roommates, lost his furniture. He would not make the mistake of doing anything that would jeopardize his friendships either. He tried for a calming breath but it came out as more of a sob.

The drive to his destination was blessedly brief. A mere fifteen minutes and a dangerously sharp turn-off brought him to a red dirt road and a series of signs that led him to the entrance to the caravan park. He booked himself in in record time – in a daze as he filled in the paperwork. A week’s stay. Hopefully that would be all he needed.

The sight was small and unpowered – the only one left for the night. But it was big enough to fit his car and a few of the boxes he had cleared out from the backseats to give himself space for the night, and that was all he needed. He twisted his body to try and find a more comfortable position, and his eyes caught on something laying on top of the boxes in his passenger seat.

It was a large black bag with a scrap of paper taped to it. Scrawled across the paper was a brief note in scratchy handwriting – Dan’s.

Hopefully you’ll just need this for holidays. Please keep in touch.

Inside the black bag was a tent – the one Grantaire had given to Will for Christmas a few years back. Rubbing his hand roughly over his eyes, he slumped in the seat, trying his best to settle in for the night ahead. He drifted off, one hand still settled on the tent.

Chapter Text

Grantaire rolled his shoulders back, wincing at the clicking his joints made at the movement. His shift at the Musain had been a long one. Only meant to be five hours in the evening, it had become a twelve hour day thanks to Eponine begging him to cover her daytime shift. It had been a busy day but Grantaire was hardly going to refuse work – anything that made his pay checks look better for prospective landlords. Now, at 10pm, his shift was at an end and he had slid around to the customer side of the counter to begin working on the essay for his art history class. He squinted at the screen, the words of the journal article all blurring together through his haze of exhaustion.

It had been two weeks since Grantaire had moved out of the share house and into the caravan park, and it was taking a toll on his body. His days and nights were filled with the long hours of working and studying, and any moments of sleep he found were interrupted by the aching cold that was starting to pervade the air, and the rough surface of the ground – separated from his body by only a few thin layers of the tent and blankets. For the first few nights, he had slept in his car to stave off the cold, but he had quickly given up on those efforts. His car was tiny and barely kept the heat out more than the tent. For now, he had to content himself with shivering awake before the magpies had even begun their morning callings.

And now this essay. He had done his best to work on it across the past week but couldn’t bring himself to focus. It all seemed dwarfed by his daily life. And now here he was. Three thousand words and due in twenty-four hours.

His phone dinged. An email from the campgrounds. A rejection of his attempt to extend his stay at the site. He was expected to remove his property from the campsite by 11am. A weight settled in the pit of his stomach.

A body slipped into the chair beside him.

“Hey, R. Can we talk?”

Grantaire tore his gaze from the screen to look at the blond man who had sunk into the chair. Enjolras smiled back – an awkward upturn of his lips which showed just how uncomfortable he was. Grantaire stared blankly for a few beats before nodding – his brain fighting against itself to cut through his panic and exhaustion. Enjolras’ lips turned downward at the hesitation.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want –“

“No!” Grantaire cut across him. “No, sorry, I’ve just been feeling a bit distracted. What can I do for you?”

Enjolras gave him a searching look.

“I really am sorry for how I spoke to you the other day. You’ve been…distant. From me, which is understandable, but from everyone else too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I don’t even know why I said it.”

Grantaire twists his face into a wry smile. “Ah, don’t sweat it, Apollo. You can’t be perfect 24/7.”

“No, let’s not brush it aside. I said something awful and I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

Enjolras was staring at him intently. Grantaire squirmed underneath his gaze, dropping his eyes. Unsure what to say, he floundered for a few seconds, then simply nodded. Enjolras seemed to take that as an adequate enough reply – a broad grin spreading across his lips. It lit up his face, bringing a boyish glow to his cheeks.

“Great! Good!” He was fidgeting with his hands, seemingly unsure what to do with himself. “I – you can say no! But I saw you working on an essay. I’ve got lots to do tonight – I’m working on a grant proposal for the next Les Amis project. Did you want to – I mean, I would like it – did you want to come over to mine? To work on our stuff together?”

Grantaire’s amusement cut through his exhaustion. “Gee, Apollo, you’re not being held at gunpoint are you? Ferre isn’t forcing you to ask me?”

The blonde scowled, though there was not much heat behind it. “Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t call me that.”

Grantaire let out a small laugh – just a huff of air – and stood, gathering up his laptop and messenger bag. Enjolras bounced to his feet and headed for the door, glancing back every few paces to ensure that the other man was still following him.

The warmth and comfort of Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment was like a hug, wrapping around Grantaire the second he stepped through the door. It was only the first cold snap of the winter, but it seemed to the dark-haired man that he had never been warm before in his life.

He watched Enjolras dumbly, too caught off guard by the warmth and by the cozy image that Enjolras portrayed – pottering and preparing tea in his casual clothes.
“Why are you still standing there? Take a seat – I’ll make you a hot drink. It’s been so freezing recently, I swear I could barely feel my hands on the drive over.”

Grantaire so rarely got to see this side of Enjolras. The softer side – the generous friend who was loyal to a fault. He let it wash over him – this love and care – as he was ushered to the couch.

Sinking into the soft material of the throw blanket, he let out a deep sigh. He wanted nothing more than to curl into the material and never get up again – to let the exhaustion at the edges of his vision take over his body and drift into a sleep.

But he had an essay due and not enough time for sleep.

Blinking away the exhaustion, he slipped from the couch to the carpeted floor, and pulled his laptop out. Enjolras set down two mugs of hot chocolate and wordlessly joined him on the ground, resting his own laptop on the coffee table.

The two fell into their silent work with ease. The pressure of studying alongside Enjolras kept Grantaire from getting off track – the silent intensity by which the other man approached his work ensuring that Grantaire would not dream of pausing his work. Not until the other man did.

They worked this way for the next few hours – their work taking them past midnight. At one point, Combeferre emerged from his bedroom to retrieve a cup of tea and some biscuits – eying the silent pair with interest.

The essay was not his best, but at last, it was done. As Grantaire hit submit, it was as though the previous hours all caught up with him, his eyes slipping shut and his shoulders slumping. A faint touch on his shoulder made him blurrily look up. Enjolras was crouched beside him.

“Did you want to crash here? It’s probably too late for you to head home.”

Grantaire’s body wanted nothing more than for him to agree. To sink into the couch and not open his eyes for the next ten hours. But he has work again in a mere few hours – opening the Musain for the morning coffee rush – and camping equipment that he needed to pick up from the site before work. And he had living arrangements to sort. And he shouldn’t get used to this much comfort. This much warmth. He knew that Enjolras hadn’t fully meant what he said about Grantaire putting himself in this situation. That he hadn’t intended to hurt him. But he was right – Grantaire shouldn’t be relying on his friends and their endless generosity. His hands faintly trembled as he ran them over his eyes – the overwhelming feeling of it all dangerously close to taking over. Swallowing thickly, he shook his head.

“No, I think I’d better go.”

Enjolras looked on the brink of objecting – brows knitted in the way they always did when Grantaire said something he didn’t like. Grantaire rushed to stop any objections.

“Thanks for having me over, Apollo. I’ll catch you around.”

Grabbing up his bag, Grantaire made a beeline for the door. Behind him, Enjolras blinked, objections dying in his throat.

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you, Ferre, something is wrong with Grantaire!” Enjolras was pacing, the force of his steps pressing tracks into the carpet under his feet. Combeferre, sitting on the couch in front of the agitated blond, sighed.

“I did try telling you when-”

“He’s acting weird!” Enjolras cut his friend off, speaking as if he had not heard the interjection. “He barely speaks during our meetings, barely speaks at all! He doesn’t look like he’s sleeping or like he’s eating well, and he’s always either working or studying! No going out drinking with the others, he’s dropped his social sports, nothing! Something is beyond wrong and I will be fixing it.”

Combeferre frowned at his friend. Nothing Enjolras was saying was wrong, and his stomach panged with anxiety about their curly-haired friend. Though the two rarely spent time together on their own, Combeferre had always had a great affinity for Grantaire, immediately drawn by his snarky humour and razor wit and generous heart. He knew that Enjolras felt similarly, though that usually came off in more combative ways. The past month of watching the softness of Grantaire’s body drop away to an unnatural leanness, the exhaustion lines on his face grow deeper, the light and humour recede, had been unbearable. But at every turn that their group had attempted to reach out to him, they had been rebuffed. He was, he claimed, just focused on passing his classes and saving money, and that was all they could get from him.

A tension ran through the Friends of the ABC at the shared knowledge that their friend was clearly struggling but refusing help, but Combeferre secretly, and perhaps a little selfishly, felt that he and Enjolras were feeling this even more acutely. Both men had a great need to help those around them, and both had set their sights on Grantaire as a loved one in need of help. Their inability to get the truth from him was taking a toll.

“Enjolras, I know all of this. We’ve talked about all of this. It doesn’t help anything if we don’t know what’s wrong with him!”

The determination in the blond only seemed to grow, and a scowl overwhelmed his featured. “Then it’s time for us to try again. It’s 11pm now which means it’s nearly the end of R’s shift. Let’s head to the Musain and see if we can get him speaking.” Without waiting for a response, Enjolras stormed back to his bedroom, grabbing his keys and wallet.

An unimpressed Combeferre followed him, not bothering to change from his blue flannel pajama bottoms.

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Enjolras let out a frustrated sigh. His and Combeferre’s attempt to talk with Grantaire had not been a success. By the time they had arrived, Grantaire had finished his work for the night and was working his way through a burger and chips – devouring the meal as if he had never eaten before. The man’s rapid weight loss had been a cause of concern for all, his figure thinning out to smaller than any of them had seen him before. Paired with his clear lack of sleep, the dark-haired man looked gaunt.

But he still refused to speak.

Enjolras was not one for subtlety. As soon as he had seen Grantaire perched in a booth, he had marched across the room to take a seat opposite him. Combeferre had followed his lead, trailing at a more sedate pace and seating himself in the space next to Grantaire. He had taken a few more mouthfuls of food in before acknowledging their presence, nodding at the two.

"You need to tell us what's wrong with you."

Grantaire choked on his next bite of food, causing Combeferre to rub his back firmly and cast a reproachful gaze back to the blond.

"What Enjolras means to say is that we're growing more concerned about you as the days go on. Your behaviour - your appearance - it's like you're not our R anymore. We're worried and we want to help." Grantaire flushed at Combeferre's soft words, ashamed at the thought of how much he had let his appearance go.

Enjolras picked up where Combeferre had left off. "We don't know what's going on, but we can see how much it's effecting you. You've seen what the ABC can do, R, you know that whatever is going on is something we can surely fix! I don't know why you don't just tell us!" There was a plaintive tone to his voice, but Grantaire refused to let it convince him.

"I'm fine. I've told you before, I've just got a lot of hours at work at the moment, and mid-semester assignments are overwhelming me."

"So get Chetta to reduce your hours! Give some to Eponine! And you've been off since before semester even kicked off! Please, R, tell me what's going on!"

Grantaire's eyes prickled with tears, his hazy mind overwhelmed by the steady and supportive presence that his friends brought. He would not break now - he wouldn't let Enjolras know just how badly he had fucked everything up - just how pathetic he was.

"For fuck's sake! There is nothing wrong with me, leave me the fuck alone!"

The words burst out of him - an explosion of desperation contorted into rage. Enjolras startled - eyes wide and mouth slack. Combeferre had not even flinched, hand remaining steady on his back. The blond seemed unsure what to say, mouth opening and closing several times as he decided.

"Okay. Okay, R, we hear you. I'm sorry that we're pushing you and I'm sorry that we don't believe you, but we'll leave it for now. But I need you to know that we care about you, and that you can count on us for anything."

Enjolras pushed away from the booth, and, red-faced, with the beginnings of tears in his eyes, scurried from the room. Moments later, Combeferre followed, but not before squeezing Grantaire's shoulder in reassurance.

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Grantaire wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Every spare moment of his time was spent applying for share-houses and rentals or lining up at inspections alongside dozens of others. All came to nothing. A part of him wondered what his previous landlord was saying when contacted as a reference. The pair had hardly been close – the rent increase and prior history of Thenardier stomping on their rights had seen to that. He didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him, and it would be just like him to spin a tale of Grantaire as a reckless young man, a terrible person to lease a property to.

The list of rejections was growing longer and the nights were growing colder, filling Grantaire with a new type of desperation. Ever since his first week at the caravan park, Grantaire had taken to sleeping in his car, parking around various carparks and parks each night. He had tried to park down near the beach quite early into this period, but had been quickly scared away. That night, he had woken to banging sounds, and had looked up to see a man punching at his window, trying to break his way through. In a sleep-deprived haze of panic, Grantaire had shakily started his car and driven off, leaving the man shouting behind him.

Everything was beginning to catch up with Grantaire. Each day that he woke, he felt that less and less of himself was alive. His body was constantly chilled, even when inside the cozy environment of the Musain. His stomach constantly panged with hunger, even when Musichetta or Eponine slid a plate of food over to him at the end of a shift. Even the tastiest warmest most fulling food tasted like ash - a sick feeling spreading within him. Some days, he would awake, numb and exhausted, and wonder if he was dying.

It was days like that when he grew closest to telling his friends what was wrong - to asking them if he could crash on their couches for a bit. But a stronger force held him back - a force that begged him to not lower himself even further in the eyes of his friends. He would work his way through this. It would just be a bit longer.

A figure took a seat opposite Grantaire in the booth - sitting in the spot that had previously been taken by Enjolras. Blinking, it took the dark-haired man a second to recognise the cheery face of Courfeyrac, with its ever present smile.

“Is now a good time?”

Grantaire managed a smile. “It’s always a good time to get to speak to you, Courf.”

His friend laughed, winking. “Flirtation will get you far in life, dear friend. In that spirit, I have a request for you, and I will flirt as much as I need for you to agree.”
Grantaire nodded, on edge. He didn’t need anyone else tonight trying to trap him into opening up about everything. It was unbearable enough that Combeferre and Enjolras had tried. Unaware of his friend’s internal struggle, Courfeyrac continued.

“You may remember that Jehan and I are taking a little trip down south for a bit. I was originally going to entrust my plants and my cat to the care of Enjolras and Combeferre. But I’ve remembered that, frankly, neither can be trusted to keep something else alive. So my request is can you please stay over at our flat while I’m away for the next two weeks so you can look after my plants and little Coffee? And also can I pleeeeease borrow your flatmate’s tent? I literally don’t know anyone else that has one.”

Grantaire scrutinised his friend closely. Courfeyrac did nothing but give his best puppy dog expression, begging Grantaire to accept. Was this an attempt to sneakily get him to accept his friend's help? Had he figured out what was going on? But no, Courfeyrac was many things, but secretive was not one of them. If he had figured out that Grantaire was homeless (a word he still refused to accept), then he would have dragged the man into his flat kicking and screaming.

The offer was tempting. It would mean warmth as they approached the coldest time of the year. It would mean not having to rely on university showers, grimy places clearly not often used. It would mean he could have food that wasn't already prepared or the pub meals and pastries that work provided. He could eat fresh.

Grantaire found himself nodding before he even realised he was doing it - the temptation of comfort and security outweighing the dread of having to return to his current lifestyle at the end of the two weeks. It outweighed even the potential awkwardness of sharing a living space with Combeferre and Enjolras for a fortnight, especially after this last encounter, where Enjolras's desperate words and Combeferre's hand on his back were seared into his mind.

Courfeyrac grinned at his friend and Grantaire, for the first time in weeks, grinned back.