38(Hi guys! Thanks for the support on this story. Means a lot! Hope you like the second chapter, enjoy!)
Combeferre just stood there staring for a minute. He couldn't really believe what he was seeing. Enjolras was in Paris? Just like that? Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't he let Combeferre know that he was coming? What was he doing here at ten thirty? Why was he dressed in nothing more than a sweater when it was raining and cold outside and how on earth did he get that bruise?
Enjolras raised his eyebrows as he watched Combeferre stare at him in surprise. He could imagine his friend wasn't expecting him to show up unannounced at his doorstep this late in the evening, but surely it shouldn't be such a shock to see him? Enjolras frowned and stood a little straighter under the scrutinizing look Combeferre was giving him.
"Combeferre?" He asked again, this time a little more hesitant. Did Combeferre not want him here? Maybe he should've tried to find a way to contact his friend before dropping by out of nowhere. "Ferre, can I come in?"
Combeferre blinked rapidly and scratched his head. It took a second for him to realize that Enjolras was actually speaking to him. He hurriedly stepped aside and nodded his head. "Yes... Yes of course... Enjolras, what are you doing here? What happened? Are you alright?"
Enjolras didn't respond right away but slowly walked passed Combeferre and inside the little apartment. He had only been here once in the past four months and that was just after Combeferre had settled here. He had travelled together with Combeferre's parents and Courfeyrac to bring his best friend the last of his stuff. It hadn't been quite ready back then, Combeferre still had some decorating to do and not everything was unpacked yet, but Enjolras had already felt at home in the two room apartment. And now that he was back here, that feeling had only grown stronger. Enjolras smiled as he looked around. There were three bookcases, stuffed to the fullest with all sorts of books. One large couch, a chair and a television in the corner. The kitchen table was small and could fit three people at most, but only if it would first be cleared of all the papers and notes that were lying around there. What made Enjolras' heart swell most however, was the large frame hanging above the television, in which Courfeyrac and Enjolras had made a collage consisting of various photos of their group of friends. They had given it to Combeferre for his birthday a few months before he would move to Paris... And a few weeks before the awful accident happened. Enjolras' eyes fixed on the photo in the middle which was of the two of them taken on the day that Enjolras turned five years old. They were both wearing a paper crown and were smiling happily at the camera with their arms hooked around each others shoulders. He didn't really remember that day, only that his mother had insisted on taking that picture, while Enjolras and Combeferre didn't want their photo taken at all. He was now glad his mother had stood her ground.
Enjolras shivered and he vaguely wondered if it was just because of the wet clothes or maybe because of the memories that came back to him as he watched the pictures.
"Julien," Combeferre's voice brought Enjolras back to the present and he slowly turned around to face his friend. But Combeferre had already made his way to the younger blond and he placed one hand on the nape of Enjolras' neck and the other on his shoulder. "What happened, mon ami?" He sounded so concerned and Enjolras felt slightly guilty for worrying his friend on what should have been a relaxing Wednesday night for him.
Enjolras looked at Combeferre apologetically and he tried to shrug his shoulders. "D-dad and I... We... W-we had another f-fight and I d-didn't want to stay there any l-longer," Enjolras mumbled through chattering teeth. He was cold, his hair was still dripping rain, his jaw throbbed mercilessly and he was so very tired. He wanted to tell Combeferre why he had come, of course he did, but right now he wanted nothing more than to curl up under a pile of warm blankets and fall asleep.
Combeferre let out a small sigh and gently squeezed the nape of his friend's neck. It wouldn't be the first time that Enjolras had run away from home after a fight, but he usually went to Courfeyrac or Jehan and only send Combeferre a text message about what happened and where he was. Never before had he gone all the way to Paris. For him to do so now, told Combeferre that this time the fighting with his father had gotten out of hand. And then of course there was also that impressive bruise on Enjolras' jaw that seemed to serve as prove. Combeferre swallowed his sudden anger and disappointment towards Monsieur Enjolras and forced himself to focus on his friend first. He gently took him by the shoulders and pushed him towards his tiny bathroom.
"You're freezing," Combeferre said quietly instead of responding to Enjolras' explanation of why he had come to Paris. That could wait. "Come on, you need to get out of those clothes or you'll get sick. Why on earth are you only wearing a hoodie, Julien? It's December, for heaven's sake." He shook his head in quiet frustration and turned on the shower. Then he hurried out of the bathroom only to come back in less than a minute later carrying sweatpants and a shirt. Enjolras was standing in the middle of the tiny room, still in his wet clothes. He looked lost and it hurt Combeferre to see his young friend like that. He placed the clothes, and a towel, on a small cabinet next to the sink and pulled Enjolras in a tight hug. He didn't care that his friend's sodden clothes got him wet as well. Enjolras didn't hug him back, but he did lean towards Combeferre and momentarily hid his face against his older friend's shoulder. "You need to warm up Enjolras," Combeferre said softly as he tightened his hold for a second and then let go again. "Take a shower, put on something dry and then come sit with me on the couch. We can talk about it if you want, but if you'd rather get some sleep first, then that's okay too. One thing at a time, alright. First a shower. I'll be right outside."
Enjolras nodded and managed a small smile. He whispered a silent thanks and waited until Combeferre closed the door behind him. Then he quickly took off his clothes and stepped under the welcome warmth that the shower offered. He very much appreciated it that Combeferre wasn't forcing him to start telling the whole story right away. Then again, his lifelong friend always seemed to understand exactly what Enjolras needed, so it did not come as a surprise.
While Enjolras was in the shower, Combeferre moved back into the kitchen to make his friend a cup of hot streaming tea as well. His own tea was still on the sidetable in front of the couch, probably already getting cold, but the young medical student didn't care. His heart felt heavy with worry and he wanted nothing more than to sit down with Enjolras and hear everything his best friend had to say. Combeferre had no doubt that it was Enjolras' father who was responsible for the bruise on his sons face, but he didn't really understand why that happened. Combeferre knew that ever since the accident, monsieur Enjolras had been losing himself. He had seen it happen and he heard the stories of his friends and parents. The poor man couldn't cope with the loss of his wife and he was consumed by grief. So much so that he didn't have room in his mind to remember that he still had a son who was very much alive and who needed his father desperately even though he was to proud to admit it. Enjolras on the other hand hadn't exactly dealt with his loss much better, but he had his friends, his studies and his extracurricular activities that offered some form of distraction. Both father and son had gone in opposite directions. Monsieur Enjolras found his temporary relief in alcohol, shutting himself off from the world more and more. The company he ran had been placed in the hands of his friend, monsieur de Courfeyrac, just until the poor man got back on his feet, even though no one knew if that was ever going to happen. Enjolras responded to his grief in the exact opposite way and tried to be busy as much as he could. He took extra shifts at the Café, he spent more time on his meetings and even more time on his studies. He was almost always in the company of his friends, just so he didn't have to be alone and he hardly ever spoke about his mother. These different reaction however caused father and son to collide more often than not. They didn't understand each other anymore and the only words spoken between them were formalities or when they got into a fight.
But no matter how awful the fight, one of them would always apologize and they would make up until it all started over again. And though Combeferre was worried about his best friend's home situation, he had always thought that Enjolras was safe. He didn't want to believe that his friend's father had crossed that line and had actually physically hurt his son. It couldn't go on like this, of that Combeferre was sure.
With a deep sigh, he sat down on the couch, turned on the tv and waited for Enjolras to appear from the bathroom. He sipped from his lukewarm tea and let his eyes drift towards the pictures Enjolras was studying earlier. It always calmed him down to see the photos of his good friends. They all brought back happy memories and gave him a warm feeling inside. After ten minutes or so, Combeferre heard the lock of the bathroom door turn and he looked back to see a now comfortably dressed Enjolras standing in the doorway. His hair was a tousled mess, sticking out from all sides. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the ugly mark on his young friend's face.
Combeferre smiled at Enjolras and patted the space next to him. "Come sit. I've made you some tea."
Enjolras smiled back and did as Combeferre told him. He gratefully accepted the woollen blanket his older friend gave him and wrapped himself around it before reaching for his tea. They sat like that in silence for a couple of minutes, both watching the television, but not really seeing what was on. Then Combeferre turned around to face Enjolras.
"Are you still cold?" He asked friendly.
Enjolras shook his head, but unconsciously huddled further in the blanket. "No... The shower helped. So do the tea and the blanket... Thanks 'Ferre." He couldn't help but wince when he spoke the words. Now that the cold wasn't numbing his whole body anymore, the pain in his jaw had intensified and it hurt to speak.
Combeferre nodded and moved a little closer to his friend. He reached out and carefully traced a finger across the bruise. Enjolras hissed and tried to pull away, which only caused Combeferre's concern to up a notch. "That doesn't look good, Julien," he said seriously and he frowned. The skin was hot to the touch and swollen. And if as much as a gentle touch already hurt that much, then Combeferre wouldn't be surprised if they were dealing with something more serious than just a bruise. "If the swelling hasn't gone down tomorrow we're going to see a doctor and have him take some pictures. It might be fractured." Combeferre gently moved his hand to rest on Enjolras' shoulder and opened his mouth hesitatingly. Even though he feared he already knew the answer, he still needed to ask it. Just to be sure. "Julien... Did your father do this? Is that why you came all the way here?"
Enjolras just nodded and let out a defeated sigh. He didn't look at Combeferre and just stared blankly ahead. His eyes were heavy with sleep and he had a hard time keeping them open now that he was sitting comfortably on the couch with a warm blanket wrapped around him. Enjolras realized that Combeferre probably wanted him to elaborate, but it hurt so much to speak and he wasn't exactly looking forward to relive the fight with his father. Just when he opened his mouth to try and give Combeferre what he thought his friend wanted, the medical student stood from the couch and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back he was carrying a glass of water and a box of painkillers. Enjolras gave him a questioning look but before he could say anything, Combeferre spoke.
"I won't deny that I have many questions and I'm anxious to know what on earth happened at home tonight, but I know you're in pain, Julien, and I'm not expecting you to talk right now. And I think it might be better for you not to. Here, take two of these and then I think it would be best for you if you'd try and get some sleep. It's been a long night, no doubt, and you look exhausted."
Enjolras stared at Combeferre for a second and then gave him a thankful smile. He took the pills and the water and followed his friend into the bedroom, that contained a small bed. Enjolras was about to protest when Combeferre pushed him down, but his older friend beat him to it.
"I'm taking the couch tonight. Don't worry, it's big enough and actually quite comfortabel. Just lie down and go to sleep alright? Tomorrow is a new day and then we'll figure it all out. I'll call you in sick for school, so you don't have to worry about that either. You're probably far ahead anyway."
The fact that Enjolras just turned on his side and nodded, worried Combeferre some more. Enjolras hated missing school, even when he was sick, he tried his best to convince everyone that he was well enough to go.
"Good night, mon petit ami," Combeferre said softly as he turned off the light. He heard Enjolras mutter something unintelligible in response and closed the door with a small smile.
Combeferre sat back down on the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. This night had turned out quite different from how he had planned it. He no longer felt like watching his show, so instead he stood and pulled a book from one of the bookcases. He didn't think he would read much after everything that had happened that night, but it might take his mind off things for a little while. It was worth a shot.
He made himself comfortable on the couch, pulled the blanket Enjolras had been wrapped around up to his chin and fished his phone out of his pocket to put it in the charger for the night. When he checked the screen, he saw he had two missed calls and received a message from Courfeyrac no more than fifteen minutes ago. He didn't need to check them to know what they were about, but he did so anyway.
Ferre, something's wrong. Enj and his dad got into a fight again and he left the house, but he's not with me, neither is he with Jehan, your parents or Grantaire. His phone is dead and his dad is freaking out.
Combeferre pulled a hand through his hair and shook his head. Of course his father would freak out. He had probably come back to his senses. He quickly typed back a message to his friend. He's with me, don't worry. Call you tomorrow.
Just when he was about to switch his phone off, the screen lit up again to reveil a caller. Combeferre's heart skipped a beat as a watched the name appearing on the screen. For a second, he wanted to ignore the call but he had too much of a good conscience to let it go unanswered.
"Monsieur Enjolras... What a surprise"
The man on the other side of the phone didn't catch up on Combeferre's sarcasm. He was breathing rapidly and spoke in such a slurred voice that Combeferre had to concentrate to hear every word.
"Etienne? Etienne is that you? I need your help. Julien... Julien and I. We had a fight and I can't find him. I don't know where he is and his.. his phone is broken... I-I can't find him...and he needs to know! H-he needs to know I didn't mean for that to happen. Etienne you need to help me look. I can't lose him, I-I can't..."
TBC.
(Hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you think. Would mean a lot!)