156(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows :) Means a lot! To avoid confusion: this story takes place early in the morning and the Café would not yet be open (hence the fact that it was deserted). The owner of the Café allows Enjolras and his friends to use the backroom of the Café even when the Café itself is still closed. So there's that :) On to the story!)
"Gavroche!" Grantaire exclaimed as soon as the window gave him view of a small figure moving just outside the front door. He'd recognize the gamin's hair and hat everywhere. "Gavroche! I...we need your help, get in here please!"
Enjolras let out a small moan at the sudden loud noise above him and Grantaire softly squeezed his hand. He stared intently at the door, hoping that Gavroche would just do as he said and come in. He did.
The young child peeked around the door and let out a gasp; shocked at the sight that met him. His big, blue eyes went from Enjolras to Grantaire to the ceiling and then back at Enjolras. All blood slowly drained from his face and his eyes were fixed on the ugly wooden object that was stuck in his leader's right side. He swallowed convulsively a few times and fought hard against the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. He'd seen much in his short life, but never something like this.
"Don't worry, don't worry Gavroche, he...h-he is going to be just fine. But we need your help. I-I need to you to fetch Madame Hucheloup for me, okay? Tell her to come to the Café; she knows we had a meeting here earlier. And then go to Rue de Saint-Antoine. Joly and Combeferre will be there and they need to come back here as soon as they possibly can. Please hurry, Gavroche," Grantaire pressed and he smiled a little when the boy nodded, turned on his heels and darted out the front door.
Grantaire focused his attention back on the younger man beneath him. He looked paler than ever and a small sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. Enjolras suddenly looked so young, so innocent and so vulnerable. It frightened Grantaire. He had never before seen his Apollo in a state like this. As if he would shatter at the lightest touch. The dark haired man tightened his hold on the slender, pale hand and shifted a little so that he could pillow Enjolras' head on his lap.
"See, Enjolras? Everything is going to be okay. Help is coming and you'll be fine. I-I promise," Grantaire said in a shaky voice. He wondered if his promises even held any worth to Enjolras. It wasn't as if he had ever followed them through before. Just half an hour ago he had failed to do what he had promised. But then again, never before had he promised something with so much conviction and faith as he did now. Somehow this promise felt different than all the others.
Enjolras swallowed hard and opened his eyes to slits. He gazed up at Grantaire and just watched him for a bit as if his eyes needed time to focus. "Thank you," he breathed after a few moments and he tried to squeeze Grantaire's hand although he nearly didn't have any strength left. "F-For staying."
Grantaire's heart skipped a beat and he offered Enjolras a wry smile. "You know me...I'll always stay. And I'll always come back. It's hard to get rid of me." He brushed some of Enjolras' golden curls back with a trembling hand; slightly amazed by the fact that his Apollo allowed him to do so. Grantaire used to think it was a gesture only meant for Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but apparently Enjolras' current vulnerable state permitted him, too.
Enjolras watched him for a little while longer, with an expression Grantaire couldn't quite fathom, and then closed his eyes again. He was breathing far too shallow for Grantaire's liking and even though the cynic did not know much of anatomy or medicine, he was pretty sure that a heart wasn't supposed to beat at such a slow rate. Especially not Enjolras' heart which was meant to beat loud and proud with passion and courage. The realization made Grantaire's heart beat all the more faster. Please, please hurry Gavroche.
Within the next five minutes or so the door of the Café opened again to reveal a slightly plump, kind looking woman with rosy cheeks and her dark hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She gasped at the sight in front of her and hurried towards them. "Oh, mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! What happened here?" She exclaimed as she run her small hand across Enjolras' forehead.
Grantaire could've cried actual tears from relief when he saw Madame Hucheloup and realized he was no longer alone. Help was coming. "Madame, thank God you're here. Monsieur Enjolras and I...W-We were upstairs in the backroom arguing and...and Enjolras was pacing and then suddenly there was this loud noise and then the floor gave way and Enjolras fell...and...and well, you can see for yourself the result isn't all that good..."
Grantaire's words came out hurried and jumbled and Madame Hucheloup had to concentrate very hard to hear them all, but the gist wasn't hard to understand. She glanced up at the ceiling and pressed her lips together in disappointment and regret. The wood around the gap was clearly rotten. No wonder it gave way. "Oh dear," she muttered, inspecting the wound on Enjolras' side and turning paler at the sight of it. "Poor boy, is he conscious? Have you sent for a doctor?"
As if he wanted to answer the question himself, Enjolras' eyes fluttered back open and took a moment to focus until they turned to Madame Hucheloup. He tried to smile, but it came a lot closer to a pained grimace. "M-Madame..." He whispered weakly, "I a-apologize for b-breaking your floor...R-rest assured that all costs w-will be mine." A lone tear trickled down his cheek and he winced as every word sent daggers into his broken body.
"Hush my dear boy! That is not something I want you to concern yourself with. My customers will just have to stay downstairs for a while and I'll have the Café closed until you are tucked away in a nice warm bed and I have cleaned this mess," Madame Hucheloup cooed quietly, wiping the tear away. Then she turned to Grantaire and asked again: "Have you sent for a doctor, boy? And did you try to disinfect the wound already?"
Grantaire stared at her for a second. "Y-Yes, Gavroche has gone to get Joly and Combeferre...A-And disinfect? No, I haven't...I don't really have supplies and he didn't want me to leave him alone, so I didn't go search for them..." He gave the younger man beneath him a protective look and bit his lip. Should he have gone looking for them? But what would he be looking for in the first place? He wasn't a doctor. How should he know?
Madame Hucheloup smiled a little, stood up straight and quickly walked into the storeroom where she kept her most expensive drinks and tableware. She came back with a bottle of vodka, some clean cloths and a glass of water, which she gave to Grantaire. "Try to get him to drink some of this. He's going to dehydrate at the rate he is sweating."
After Grantaire had done as she asked – Enjolras gladly gulped the water down – she crouched down beside them, took Grantaire's coat away and poured some of the alcohol on the cloths. Then she took out a knife to cut away pieces of Enjolras' shirt surrounding the wound and very, very gently, she started to dab the injured area with the cloth that was drenched in vodka. Enjolras' eyes snapped open and he let out a miserable moan. He tried to squirm away from Madame Hucheloup – who kept a firm hold – and looked up almost pleadingly to Grantaire, begging him to make her stop.
"Madame…a-are you sure you know what you're doing?" Grantaire asked hesitatingly, but he shut his mouth as soon as the woman gave him a stern and expressive look. "I-It's just that…you're hurting him…" He added quietly when Enjolras let out a small sob.
"Of course this is hurting him, darling, but it is necessary. We don't want an infection on top of this, I think. It is the least we can do until your two doctor friends arrive. Just hold his hand and try to calm him down. I'm almost done…"
Grantaire swallowed thickly and did as he was told. He grasped Enjolras' hand tighter and leaned down to whisper soothing words in his ear. To his surprise, Enjolras actually listened to him and he tried his best to breathe through the pain and relax as much as he could. They stayed like that for a few minutes more – as long as it took for Madame Hucheloup to stop her dabbing – and then a little while longer until Enjolras regained his composure. When the plump lady announced she was going to make a fire – "It is far too chilly in here" – Enjolras gently tugged at Grantaire's hand to bring the cynic closer.
"I a-apologize for hitting y-you," he breathed quietly, only loud enough for Grantaire to hear because he was leaning so far forwards. "I-I should not h-have gotten violent."
It was too much. Grantaire couldn't handle this. It was just too much. Here he sat, on a dirty floor in an old rundown Café with his idol cradled in his arms, hands entwined and Enjolras was showing his human side to him for the very first time. To him. To Grantaire. He was apologizing to him; he was begging him to stay; he was telling him that he didn't want to die. He was putting his faith in Grantaire; believed him when he told him that everything would be alright. And it scared Grantaire more than he would have thought, because he didn't know how to deal with this type of Enjolras. This young, vulnerable boy who looked up at him with these big blue eyes, pleading him to make it okay. It was just too much.
"Hush now, Enjolras," Grantaire mumbled ever so softly right by Enjolras' ear, his dark curls brushing the younger boy's forehead. "I-I deserved it, we both know that. I failed you when you decided to give me a chance and you will never know how sorry I am for it. I blame myself as much as you blame me, so don't apologize. Please, be quiet, we can talk about this later…"
A faint smile ghosted across Enjolras' face. "You did deserve it…", he whispered with a small sigh, "B-But that still didn't give me the right to hit you. P-Please accept my apology, I-I need you to, please. Please, R…"
And suddenly Grantaire understood what Enjolras was trying to do. He needed Grantaire to accept his apology so that he could die with a clear conscience; so he could die in peace. Well, that was just not going to happen. He wasn't going to die. He wasn't allowed to. Not now, not like this. Grantaire gritted his teeth and squeezed Enjolras' hand tighter to emphasize his point. "No I will not accept your apology. Not like this. You are not giving up on me, Enjolras, don't you dare. You can apologize to me when you're in a bed, healing, and then we can have a talk. But I will not clear your conscience, just so that you can give up. Apology not accepted."
Enjolras did his best to glare, but the effect was lost on Grantaire. "'S not fair," he muttered sulkily, but he didn't have the strength to say any more on it.
"Well, tough Apollo. It's not fair to give up on me either, so we're square. Now stop talking and just focus on breathing, alright? Joly and Combeferre will be here soon and they'll fix you right up. Just wait and see. And I'm right here too, I'm not going anywhere."
Enjolras nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of white hot pain washed over him. He'd never been in this much pain in his entire life and if he was honest, he was really sick of dealing with it. But as long as Combeferre would be here soon, then he could hold on a little longer. As long as Grantaire kept squeezing his hand, he could hold on a little longer. As long as the pain wouldn't knock him out, he would hold on a little longer. For himself, for his friends and for his cause.
TBC.
(Shorter chapter this time, but I wanted to wait with bringing Combeferre and Joly to the picture until chapter three, so there's that. Hope you enjoyed this one, please leave a review if you did. Thanks! :))