it had taken three years. Those were the three most difficult years of his life, but he had got through it and managed to move on with his life, everything was going wonderfully… it’s strange to think that in one night that could all fall apart… back to day one. That was bad enough, but the next night was day one as well and this just happened again and again until he stopped telling himself he would stop.
He was aware everyone knew that he was using again but he maintained the pretence, not wanting to talk about any of it and for the most part everyone left him alone, until one night he was finally confronted about it. “what do you want?” he asked.
There was something everyone knew about Grantaire, whether they spoke about it or not, and that was that the scpetic was bad at preserving himself. He would drink and smoke, he could stand to eat a bit more frequently despite the large sizes of the meals he did eat, and it was also known - by at least three of his friends - that drugs had been used on more than one occasion. Not often, but still used. Despite all that, though, the artist loved his friends and he loved living, and the thought of death as an inevitability frightened him whenever he thought on it.
That didn’t stop him from fighting against anything bad that would happen to him. Instead he would welcome it. He didn’t find himself worthy of anything but being told and shown so, however it were conveyed to him.
Lately, the sceptic had allowed it to be conveyed to him via his boyfriend’s - he wasn’t really sure he could call him that, they had sex and he was controlling over the artist in the worst ways, but he wouldn’t call him his boyfriend.. - fists, and words, and whatever else he felt like using.
He was supposed to be at a meeting at the Musain - which was probably over by now - he had even gotten to the door and was about to step out when the man in question stepped in and started yelling at him. For sleeping around - which he hadn’t, not since what had happened the last time he did and he found out. He was in the middle of his hallway still, had been for far too long, with the yelling and the hitting, and Grantaire just wanted to drink himself into a coma to get away from it all. The door was ajar but of course none of his neighbours had deign to even pretend to intervene.
It will be over again soon. It’s only what you deserve, remember, he told himself as another blow hit the side of his face and he fell back against the wall.
Enjolras had no idea how he was able to hide this for so long. Perhaps his friends were just humouring him but even if that was the case he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to deal with all the questions, who’s is it? Are you going to keep it? Are you still using? Perhaps this day was just what he needed to take his mind off of everything.
Enjolras dresses in his usual loose clothing and hurried of to meet everyone. They were going to some amusement park or something, he didn’t really care, he only had a few weeks until the baby was due so this was probably his last chance before everything changed.
Everything was going well. He only went on things he was sure would be safe and it was a good day. That is until one of the rides broke and they were stuck in the tunnel. That’s when he began to feel a horrible sharp pains course through him. This wasn’t going to be good.
Constance let out a long sigh, staring at the pregnancy test she was holding in her hands. The white plastic and its two blue lines, way too bright for her liking, were taunting her shamelessly. However she couldn’t take her blue eyes out of this blatant proof of her stupidity .The prospect of being a mother and raising a child had never crossed her mind. Even when she was a little girl she had never find any interests in playing with inanimate dolls and pretending she was their mom.
She threw the dreadful test against a beige painted wall, relishing the sight of the million pieces on the wooden floor and she pulled her phone out of her dark jeans’ pocket. She tapped on her mobile screen as fast as she could, pervading all the rage which was boiling in her vein into the her threatening words.
[Text] You better stop avoiding me and come here in a heartbeat.
Indeed Constance had already heard the pathetic stories of the foolish girls whom got pregnant after a drunken hookup but she had never thought it might happen to her. She took her pills everyday how could this happen to her ? She glared at the plane belly and brushed against it with her hand.
« I am screwed… » She whispered holding back her salty tears.
“Gah.” Grantaire groaned as he threw his phone down on a table. “Why declassify Pluto? It’s a perfectly good planet. Why be bothered about its orbit and about how big it is. Just because something’s small doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong. Just because something is different doesn’t mean it needs to be reclassified. And what’s with this obsession with labelling things. Why can’t we just leave things as they are?”
An arranged marriage. Grantaire was going into an arranged marriage. He was pacing around the bedroom of his parents house - one he hadn’t been inside for five years, wondering where the fuck this had all come from and why they hadn’t chosen his sister for this. Actually, no, he wouldn’t want this on her either. He didn’t even know they were still a thing.
Grantaire sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, he needed to do this apparently. Apparently it would help his father in some way - not that Grantaire ever wanted to help him with the way he was - but he couldn’t refuse, he depended on his parents even if he was loathe to admit it. He groaned and wished that the guy he was supposed to marry was straight instead of gay. He didn’t even know anything about him. Not even his name.
He would meet him today, he was supposed to be meeting him right now, actually, but Grantaire hadn’t left his room yet. He pulled on his inky curls when there was a knock on his door - his mother entering right after and telling him that his husband to be was waiting in the living room. She looked so hopeful that any thought of running off left the sceptic and he visibly deflated. “Okay,” he relented, walking out past her and down the stairs. Steeling himself before opening the living room door and stepping in.
Combeferre was the eldest son of Poseidon, king of the sea. He was a rather intelligent being and chose to spend much of his time studying man, despite his father’s wishes of course. Unlike the others of his kind, he didn’t really mind if man caught a glimpse of him, he figured that they might be curious and curiousity was the gateway to knowledge..
The merman made his way to the surface once more and settled on a rock close to the shore. He was careful to keep his tail submerged, not due to fear of being discovered, but rather a comfort thing. The day itself wasn’t exactly the most inviting, the sky cast a grey shadow overhead. Combeferre wasn’t surprised that the beach was almost deserted with the exception of a few people walking in the distance.
Enjolras wasn’t supposed to be in system. He wouldn’t be, if his parents hadn’t been stupid to get in a freaking boat that ended up sinking just two years ago. And then his whole life turned around; no family to take care of him, only foster home, then juvie, then foster home again. This was his third so far, and Enjolras was getting tired, but there was no way he was going to get himself emancipated after everything he done. So as his new foster family showed him the room where their kids slept, foster or otherwise, Enjolras didn’t want to get too comfortable. Anyway, he was seventeen, about to get out of there. It was just temporary, before he could get himself free of social workers, and could finally get a job, enroll in community college, do what was right for him.
It was only when their real kid came home (late, for whatever reason) and gave him that look that Enjolras realised how fast he was about to get kicked out. But maybe he had just imagined it. Probably. He sighed, and was told to get himself comfortable, the mother giving the other boy a small lecture as he brushed his teeth, and said boy stripping to his boxers as preparation to get to bed as Enjolras read something he had grabbed from the living room before going to sleep. “I’m Enjolras, in case you’re wondering.” he murmured. Yeah, definitely imagined it.
Enjolras nervously chewed his lip, as if everything wasn’t bad enough for him now he had a baby to deal with he quickly grabbed his phone and called the father, as the phone rang he forced himself to calm down but as soon as he heard his voice he panicked “I’m pregnant!” he blurted out “a- and it’s yours”
Grantaire really loved working on the engine of his own personal self propelling bicycle. He’d designed and built it himself, something he was very proud of. It truly was a beauty even when he was up to his elbows in her parts. He jimmied the chain back into place pulling his arm out of the fine machine.
He wiped his hands on the rag he kept in the back pocket of his pants. They were a bit big for him but Grantaire kept them up with suspenders and a utility belt. Shoving the rag back into their pocket he inspected his beauty of a bike. Some may say she’s not the prettiest or the fastest. But to him their would be no other bike than her.
But now his break was over and he couldn’t spend anymore time admiring the fine craftsmanship of his bike. He had to actually do his job. Don’t get him wrong he loved his job but there was no room for creativity in building prosthetics. Sure the odd person who could afford it would ask him to make it prettier or better than the run mill arm or leg. But it was repair work he was doing something utterly boring.
He pulled his magnifying goggles, another one of his own designs, down and flipped a few of the lenses when he got to his work bench. Pulling the piece towards him Grantaire set to work on recalibrating the mechanisms.
It was late, and Grantaire had just left the Musain during the middle of a meeting after a particularly large blow-out between him and their fearless leader. He was walking down the street, ignoring his phone going off in his pocket, trying to light a cigarette which just wasn’t happening. He looked around briefly, and decided to cut through the alley on his right in an attempt to get home quicker, bumping into someone as he did and dropping the fag on the ground. He looked down at it before up again at the person who caused it to drop, giving him a look.
Since he was a child, Courfeyrac knew exactly who he was.
Or rather, who he had been. As a child he was distant, his thoughts on long past barricades and meetings in the back room of a cafe, even though he didn’t quite understand them he knew. He would wander off, leaving their little house on the edge of Paris, searching, always searching. Doctors were called, psychiatrists, but Courfeyrac never said a word, all he would say is that he was looking for someone. He had dreams, nightmares, of gunshots and the all too real scent of gunpowder, someone calling his name, and by the time he was a teenager he knew every detail, every moment, and his desire to find that missing part of him grew only stronger, he had to find them.
And then, one day, he did.
He found several of them, together, but there right in front of him was the man who walked his dreams, alive, quite alive and well.
But when he turned to look at him, there was no recognition in his eyes
He has no idea how he was talked into this, it seemed completely ridiculous, he didn’t even drink and he was now sat watching… He didn’t know. he had no idea what any of this was for until he was presented with the needle, he shook his head childishly and held his arm out “you do it” he muttered, watching curiously.
Grantaire walked onto the university campus on a Thursday morning ready to drop dead. Or to sleep. Anywhere. On that bike rail for all he cared, he was too tired and more than a little hungover to care where, as long as he could get some rest it was fine by him. But he couldn’t sleep. He had to go to class instead - maybe he could sleep there, he’d think about it, - French History to be exact and it hadn’t even been a class he picked. Enjolras had basically guilt-tripped him into signing up for the class.
In retrospect, yes, he could have just ignored him like he did everything the guy said, but most of the time when it came down to it, Grantaire couldn’t say no, not really. But that of course didn’t mean he would do as he was told without a fight and snarky comments. Plus, it meant he got to see the blond God every lesson, even if he nearly always sat as far away from the cynic as possible(“you’re distracting”). At least he got to ogle from afar - no matter how sad that sounded - that was always a plus.
He entered the class early - Why the fuck am I early? And went to sit down at the back with a cup of coffee in hand. Only a few students littered the rows so far and none of them he knew.
Enjolras was still rather nervous about this, he found it an odd situation to have someone you spend most of the day with and yet it is frowned upon even to speak to them. So when his mother insisted that he must have a personal servant he was not thrilled. He sat nervously in his bed when he heard the light knock on the door “c- come in….” He murmured looking towards the door.
R was just finishing getting ready for senior prom. His mother was insistent he go since it would be the last prom he got to go to and he’d skipped out on the other’s he could’ve gone to.
He’d have much rather spent the night at home drawing but since that wasn’t an option he was taking his camera with him. It may not take good pictures but at least it was able to capture the rough idea of the moment so that he could draw it later. He’s gotten some rather good drawings of the Amis that way.
So camera in pocket, tie on and a small vodka bottle (like the ones you get in hotels) stuffed in each of his socks. He just had to wait for his lift now.