(Hi guys! Took a while, but here's the next chapter. From now on, perspectives will be mostly Enjolras and Grantaire. Hope you like it and I'll try to update sooner)

Grantaire couldn't speak. He couldn't move and he couldn't breathe. Why did he come here again? Who told him this was a good idea? He tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat and watched how Enjolras' face went from shocked to angry to downright outraged.

"What the hell are you doing here, Grantaire," the blonde man said again. His voice low, but trembling with barely controlled emotion. It sent shivers down Grantaire's spine and he wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee the apartment. Run as hard and as far away as possible. What was he thinking? What was he doing here?

Enjolras pushed himself up from the bed and walked towards him. So very slowly. Until he was only inches away from Grantaire. They could feel each other's breath on their skin and Grantaire couldn't help but think about the times where that brought excitement to his heart. Now it only brought fear and regret.

"How dare you come here, R…" Enjolras whispered after a while. His eyes were closed and his voice broke somewhere in the middle. He didn't sound angry anymore, just incredibly sad, which hurt even more. "Why are you here?"

Grantaire opened his mouth but realized he really had nothing to say. What was there to say? Well, he could apologize, of course. But he had already done that and it didn't seem like that was what Enjolras was waiting for at the moment. It would sound so empty, so insufficient. I'm sorry… No, that wasn't good enough.

Enjolras uttered a soft sigh. It sounded tired, so very tired, and defeated. He stepped away from Grantaire and dragged a trembling hand across his face. When he opened his eyes, they were filled with tears and Grantaire wished he still had the privilege to kiss them away. "I don't want to talk to you."

The words were mumbled so quietly Grantaire had to strain his ears to hear. He watched the younger man stumble back to his bed and sink down on the mattress. Courfeyrac hadn't been lying. Enjolras really looked a mess. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his hair was tousled and greasy and the usual fire in his eyes was nowhere to be found. His friend looked utterly miserable, Grantaire had never seen him in a state like this. It was painful to watch, though Grantaire doubted he looked any better.

He bit his lip and stared at the floor. Should he just leave? Enjolras had not told him to but it was probably still better if he did. His feet seemed to have other plans, however, as they slowly walked him towards the bed. He missed Enjolras' surprised glance and sat down as well, though he kept a good distance from the blonde.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, both thinking of something to say and both failing. Enjolras had shifted up the bed until his back was resting against the headrest. His knees were pulled up and his head turned away from Grantaire, jaw clenched. Grantaire couldn't determine if it was because he was angry, or because he was trying to keep himself from crying. He hoped it was the first.

"I… I can go… I mean, if you want me to, I'll go…" Grantaire whispered finally after what felt like half an hour. "I just… God, E… I just had to see you, I guess…"

He heard Enjolras huff through his nose and bit his lip when it started quivering. Again he wondered what he was doing here. Why had he come? It was clear enough that Enjolras wanted nothing to do with him. Grantaire nodded to himself and stood from the bed. He tried to walk as steady as he could, but his knees kept buckling under the tremendous weight that lay on his shoulders. When he was almost at the door, Enjolras spoke again.

"I hate you, Grantaire."

Grantaire froze in his steps and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not going to cry. He deserved this, no matter how much it hurt to hear Enjolras say that. He took a trembling breath and reached out to turn the doorknob. Enough was enough. He had to get out. He never should've come.

"And I hate that I love you so much…"

A sudden sob tore its way out of Grantaire's throat. He turned around, tears spilling from his eyes and watched Enjolras shake his head. The blonde man was staring out of the window, a few silent tears sliding down his cheeks. To anyone else, he would look perfectly calm, but Grantaire knew better. He noticed the clenched fists, the small hitch in his breathing, the icy stare. Within seconds, he moved back to the bed, climbed atop of it and buried his head in the crook of Enjolras' neck. He didn't care that his friend was probably going to shove him away. He didn't care that he didn't have any right to seek comfort from Enjolras. He didn't care that this was probably the worst idea ever.

He just cried. He sobbed. He begged. He apologized. Over and over again.

And Enjolras didn't shove him away, didn't yell, didn't even blink at the sudden outburst. In fact, he didn't make any move. He just sat there, head still turned away, hands still clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't respond to Grantaire's breakdown in any way.

Except for his trembling bottom lip. It was the only thing that showed how much effort it took Enjolras to keep himself from falling apart in Grantaire's arms.

TBC.

(Hope you liked it, please let me know? Thanks!)