38(One moment you lack inspiration for months and then suddenly your head is flowing with ideas. I couldn't leave this unwritten, so I decided to put it on paper and throw it on here to see what you think!)
Enjolras shivered as the cold winter weather tried it's best to creep its way into his bones. He was standing here on the platform for nearly an hour now, waiting for the train that would take him to Paris. It was only six in the evening, but it was already dark out and Enjolras mentally kicked himself for forgetting to grab his coat when he left his father's house. But he had left in such a hurry; he had wanted to get out of the house as fast as possible. Remembering to dress warmly was nowhere on his mind. He shivered again and he tried to hide away further in his hoodie.
He was never going back. Never. He had had enough and he couldn't take it anymore. Enjolras clenched his jaw and buried his hands deep in his pockets. He hated his father. He hated him. And yet he still loved him so much. They had been always been so close. Until the accident. Until it all changed. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't cry. He had shed enough tears in the past six months and he was sick of it.
He could still hear his father's words that the man had shouted after him when he ran out of the house. His hands still shook from the adrenaline with which he had thrown his phone against the wall of his bedroom in an attempt to deal with the rage that ran through his body. He regretted that decision now of course, because it left him on his way to Paris without a phone and therefore he couldn't contact anyone about where he was or where he was going.
Not that it really mattered. He knew where he was going and he knew that he'd be welcome there. He hadn't seen his best friend in weeks now, but they contacted each other daily and he knew Combeferre's door was always open for him. Even if he couldn't let him know that he was coming. Of course, it would've been a lot easier if he'd just gone to Courfeyrac or Jehan instead, since they lived in the same town as he did and their door was always open to him, but staying here meant that it was just as easy for his father to find him and he really didn't want to have anything to do with the man right now. Combeferre had moved to Paris at the end of the summer to study medicine and Enjolras still wasn't used to the fact that he couldn't just drop by his friend's house anymore. Now he'd first have to make a four hour trip to see him. But after the fight he'd just been in with his father, Enjolras had to get out. He had to see Combeferre and he wanted to be as far away from this town as possible.
So he had ran towards the train station, bought a ticket to the first train to Paris with the little money he had with him and now waited for the train to arrive. He had pulled the hood of his sweater over his head and tried to keep his face hidden as much as possible. His father had hit him pretty hard and Enjolras would be surprised if there wasn't an impressive bruise decorating his jaw. Luckily it was dark out and now one seemed to pay attention to the young teenager standing alone in the cold without as much as a jacket.
When you leave this house, you're never coming back! You hear me, Julien? You're never coming back!
His father's words echoed in his head and he closed his eyes. It wouldn't be the first time the man had made such a threat. This wasn't their first fight nor was it the first time that Enjolras had left the house head over heels. He would usually be stalked by phone calls and text messages from his father within two hours or so, but that wouldn't be an option now, because Enjolras didn't have his phone anymore. And he was glad for it, because he was never coming back. Never before had one of their fights gotten so out of hand as it had tonight and Enjolras was fed up with it all. He didn't care if his father was sorry. He didn't care if he apologized and he didn't care if he begged him to come back home. He wouldn't. Never.
The young man let out a relieved sigh when the train finally arrived. Only a few more hours and he'd be with his friend. Despite his bad mood, he allowed himself to feel a little excited. He was looking forward to seeing Combeferre again. It had been such a long time. He knew Combeferre's Christmas break would soon start, so maybe they could even spend a little time in Paris together before Combeferre wanted to come back home to his parents.
He stepped inside and took a seat. It was warm in the train and crowded. Enjolras soon found himself drift off to sleep to the soft murmuring of the people around him.
Combeferre jumped up from the couch at the sound of the kettle whistling. It had been a long, stressful day and he really needed some time to relax. He'd only come home an hour ago, way past dinnertime, after spending the whole afternoon and part of the evening in the library with Joly studying for their exams. He'd grabbed a greasy sandwich on his way home and was now looking forward to watch a few episodes of his favorite show while enjoying a hot cup of tea. He'd send a message to Enjolras earlier that evening to update his younger friend on his day and ask him how he was doing, but he hadn't got anything in return yet. Of course, that wasn't all that surprising. Once Enjolras was busy with his studies, he hardly had eye for anything else. And knowing the young blond, Enjolras could easily work his way well into the night.
But Combeferre couldn't help but feel a little worried. Things hadn't been going all too well for his friend at home lately and the fact that Combeferre wasn't in the neighborhood anymore didn't make it easier for Enjolras. Six months ago, he and his mother had gotten into a car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver and Enjolras' mother had died on the spot. Enjolras however, was severely injured and was brought to the hospital. He didn't wake up a week later, when the funeral had already taken place and it was up to Combeferre to break the news to his friend, since his father was a complete wreck and hardly showed up at the hospital at all.
Of course, Enjolras was devastated. He and his mother had been really close and the poor boy hadn't even been able to say his final goodbye's. Combeferre had known his friend all his life, but never had he seen him break down like this. It was heartbreaking and it still hurt to think about it. What made it even worse, was that the loss of his mother had pushed Enjolras and his father apart. Neither one of them wanted to speak of their grief. They hardly spoke at all and after only a few weeks, Enjolras' father tried to drown his grief in alcohol. He drank more and more and he and Enjolras got in a fight every other day. No one would've ever believed it if they were told that father and son had been really close only six months ago. It had been extremely hard on Enjolras when Combeferre left for Paris that summer, only two months after the accident. Of course the young blond was happy for his best friend, but Combeferre knew he felt abandoned, despite the best efforts of their other friends who were still in high school with Enjolras. Combeferre made sure he contacted Enjolras every day to see how he was doing, but it wasn't the same and the medical student knew his friend didn't always open up the way he did when they were together. He'd only been back home two times after leaving and both times he was only there for a weekend. He couldn't wait for his Christmas break to start so that he'd finally be able to visit his hometown for two whole weeks.
Combeferre prepared his tea and set it down on the table in front of the couch. He then moved to close the drapes and made a face as he watched the rain come pouring down. He prayed the weather would be better soon. It had been raining pretty much nonstop the past few days and Combeferre was sick of arriving at school soaking wet. It was a miracle he had not fallen ill yet.
Just as he was about to curl up on the couch and enjoy the remainder of his evening, there was a soft knock on the door. Combeferre frowned. He didn't expect anyone and besides, who would come to his tiny apartment at ten thirty in the evening anyway? With a deep sigh, he pushed himself off the couch and walked towards the front door. The sight that met him when he opened up momentarily took his breath away.
Right there in front of him was his young friend. He was shivering violently and his clothes were completely sodden. The hair that was buried under his hood was plastered to his face and he looked positively miserable. But what shocked Combeferre the most were the deep blue – almost black – bruise on Enjolras' jaw and the defeated look in his friend's eyes.
"Hi 'Ferre… C-Can I stay with you for a while?"
TBC.
(Hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you think)