last little ‘plot’ made me want to write this so uh
here you go
He can still feel the glass bottle against his fingers as he slowly revives out of his own self-induced drunken stupor.
He can hear, in a far-away, haziness, that there’s a bit of commotion downstairs.
As he comes out of the haze a bit more, he can hear Enjolras growl out something—a growl lacking the typical bite and vigor of the Enjolras that Grantaire knows.
He staggers down the stairs, and his heart falls a little in his chest—along with a strong stab of sympathy that overcomes quite a bit of the drunken fog in Grantaire’s mind.
Enjolras is slumped over his desk, head down…a tremble in his shoulders clearly indicating that the young revolutionary is experiencing a migraine on a level that is clearly much heavier and more painful than even his ‘normal’ ones.
He’s fighting Combeferre, who’s offering him a cup of…something. His brow furrows tightly.
He would deny himself medicine until he simply expired.
Enjolras turns back to his papers, and it’s clear to Grantaire that a wave of painful, sudden nausea takes him.
The next thing Grantaire knows is that he’s there, beside his Apollo, holding a loose fistful of those golden curls in his hand as Enjolras retches. Fantasies and drink all but forgotten, Grantaire finds himself fully focused on Enjolras.
The other Amis carry Enjolras from his chair to a small couch, trying to get him to lay down. Grantaire follows.
Combeferre again tries to offer that cup.
Enjolras refuses once again.
"I…I could massage your neck and head," Grantaire hears himself offering, "Maybe it might help?"
part 2 if you liked part 1?