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As Enjolras had started to notice, Grantaire had some kind of fixation with his heartbeat.
He hadn't quite realized it at first - he didn't exactly see anything strange with the way Grantaire always pillowed his head on his chest whenever they were sitting on the couch, legs tangled while they either watched a movie or simply basked in each other's presence. Then he started noticing how Grantaire would always greet him with a quick kiss and his hand lingering on his chest, or how, whenever he would wrap his arms around his shoulders, his hand would stray toward his pecs or the base of his throat.
Then again, to say he had realized would be quite a stretch. It had been Courfeyrac, because it really couldn't have been anyone but him.
One day they were lazily trading a cigarette on the balcony, knowing it would have been minutes before Combeferre would come home, both complaining about being too slow and risking to get caught, neither of them making any effort to speed things up. After a few moments of comfortable silence, as Enjolras was raising the cigarette to his lips, Courfeyrac had spoken up.
"So, what's up with Grantaire always touching your boobs?"
To say Enjolras had choked on the smoke he was inhaling would be an understatement. He spent about five minutes coughing, unable to stop, simultaneously laughing until tears were pooling in his eyes. "What the fuck, Courf?" He had said in a wheeze.
Courfeyrac was laughing as well. "He always does!"
"How did you even notice something like that?"
"Everyone has. Haven't you?"
"Everyone?" He had asked. Courfeyrac had nodded.
"Ferre too, he told me the other day. He just lacks the tact and the class to confront you about it."
"Ferre lacks no such thing, mind you." Combeferre had slapped both their backs with excessive force, startling them. He had frowned when he saw the cigarette looping between Courfeyrac's fingers.
"Children, what do you think you're doing?" He had snatched it from him, eliciting a noise of protest, before bringing it up to his lips and taking a short drag. Both Enjolras and Courfeyrac had gasped excessively, speaking at the same time.
"Quoque tu, doctor!" Courfeyrac had almost fallen to the ground, dramatically clutching his chest.
"You know smoking kills, don't you?" Enjolras had tried to glare at him, but the glint in his eyes had given him away.
Combeferre had rolled his eyes and put out the cigarette. "Oh hush, both of you. It's been a long day."
Enjolras had furrowed his brow. "You okay?"
Combeferre had nodded, unconvinced, as Courfeyrac ran a soothing hand down his back. "I'll be fine. Now, who's cooking? I'm starving."
In the end, no one had cooked - they had ended up ordering takeout, messily eating on the couch while yelling at a bake-off competition. Halfway through the millionth commercial break, Enjolras had spoken softly.
"Why do you think he does that?"
They had stared at him in utter confusion, blank expressions perfectly mirroring. Enjolras rolled his eyes. "The Grantaire thing."
"Look, maybe he has a thing with your chest hair or your nipples-"
"Good lord, Courfeyrac, you boorish heathen-"
"Ferre, I have no idea what you just said. At least have the decency to insult me in English."
"That was English, how are you so illiterate? Do you even read?" Combeferre asked around a smile, knowing Courfeyrac was well aware of what he had said.
"You know the only thing I read are the grocery lists you write, so if anything, my illiteracy is your fault."
Enjolras had rolled his eyes affectionately and ducked barely in time to dodge the pillow that Combeferre was throwing at Courfeyrac. He had dropped the matter when the show started again, carrying on so late that they had ended up falling asleep like that, curled up on the couch.
When Grantaire had come over the next day to pick him up, Enjolras hadn't missed the way Grantaire's hands lingered on the sides of his neck as the way he kissed him elicited a loud and incredibly inappropriate, Courfeyrac- oh shut it, Ferre cheer from his roommates.
He also started noticing how Grantaire would rest his nose over his pulse point every time they were sitting close enough.
One time, Enjolras was talking animatedly, pacing around the table of the Musain that his friends had occupied to discuss the next protest. As usual, Grantaire was busy sketching on a worn-out notebook. When he saw with the corner of his eye Enjolras approach his seat in his stride, he extended one arm towards him, only half aware of his movements. Too distracted himself to notice what he was doing, Enjolras had mindlessly sat across Grantaire's thighs, still talking even when Grantaire had nuzzled his neck, making his face break into a smile. He only stopped talking when the excited reactions of their friends made him flush - although the color on his cheeks might have been a side effect of hearing and feeling Grantaire's laugh muffled by the crook of his neck.
Every time their hands interlaced, Grantaire's wayward thumb would stroke the inside of Enjolras' wrist, pressing there with a hint of force every now and then.
Whenever they were reveling in each other's bodies, Grantaire would place his forehead on Enjolras' heaving chest, or he'd rest his face in the crook of his neck, falling asleep with Enjolras carding his fingers through his curls.
Every time Enjolras was to deliver one of his speeches in front of raging crowds, as he reviewed his notes and breathed deeply with his back to the protestors, Grantaire would place a hand on his chest and guide his breathing, smiling so wide that Enjolras could feel his chest swell.
Enjolras would guide his breathing just the same whenever Grantaire woke up in the middle of the night, his breathing labored as he thrashed in the sheets, trapped in his nightmares. Enjolras would hold him close to his chest, whispering soothing words and kissing his hair reverently.
No matter where they were or what they were doing, Grantaire always seemed to find comfort in searching for and finding Enjolras' heartbeat, reveling in its cycle for a few moments before smiling adoringly at him and getting back to his tasks.
All things considered, it's no surprise that, as Enjolras laid limp and aching on the cold concrete of the street, surrounded by a whirl of people running to and fro, Grantaire was gripping his wrist almost painfully tight. Enjolras heard the crowd rage, his friends forming a small circle around him to shield him from further violence, police squads flooding the place as the first tears gasses were thrown.
It wasn't supposed to be a violent protest, but then the borderline nazi folks had showed up, agitating the cops.
Enjolras, of course, had been on the frontline when it happened, which is why he was now laying on the ground, his face covered in blood, groaning in pain as Combeferre tried to maneuver his most likely broken leg. Grantaire was holding him in his arms, eyes panicked and filled with tears as he brushed his hair out of his forehead, whispering soothing words that Enjolras couldn't always hear.
"Hey baby, can you hear me? Keep your eyes open, angel, stay with me. Stay awake for me, alright? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, keep your eyes open for me, angel, please-"
The last thing Enjolras remembers doing before falling asleep was taking Grantaire's hand and placing it on his chest.
"I'm fine." He wished he had the strength to say. "I'm here, I'm alive."
As he closed his eyes, he heard Grantaire call out his name, halfway between a prayer and a battle cry.
Enjolras woke up with a start, groaning as a stabbing pain in his leg disturbed what had been a somewhat peaceful slumber.
He tried to sit up and clutch his leg with his eyes still closed, but two strong hands pinned him back to the bed. Before he could open his eyes, he heard a familiar voice speak loudly.
"Shit- he's awake. Courfeyrac, get Combeferre, he's in pain."
He blearily opened his eyes to see Grantaire leaning over him, his hand lightly stroking his hair.
"Hey, baby. How are you feeling?" He handed him a glass of water, which Enjolras took gratefully.
Combeferre and Courfeyrac burst through the door before he could answer, speaking simultaneously.
"Are you in pain?"
"Thank fuck you're awake, how are you?"
He chuckled slightly. "One at a time, please."
Combeferre approached the bed. "Are you in pain?" He repeated. Enjolras nodded. After evaluating his conditions for a few minutes, Combeferre stared at him in silence. Enjolras tilted his head and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Combeferre throwing his arms around him.
"I'm glad you're awake."
Enjolras patted his back lightly, holding him tight before letting go and smiling brightly at him. He turned to Grantaire and spoke up.
"How long was I out?"
Grantaire took a deep breath. "About four days."
Enjolras' eyes widened. "Shit, what did I miss?"
Courfeyrac snorted. "Let's see, Grantaire and I fought for the chair privilege for almost three hours before Combeferre almost threw a new one at me, grumbling about how we could have just asked for a second chair."
"He's not wrong."
Courfeyrac waved his hand dismissively. "Joly attempted to strangle us both with his cane if we didn't go home to get some sleep - spoiler, we didn't, we're currently hiding from him. Plus, the nurses have an ongoing bet on which one of us is your boyfriend, and, unfortunately, some of them have bet on Ferre."
Enjolras rolled his eyes. "That's so stupid - obviously, my boyfriend would be the hottest one out of the three of you."
The three of them spoke at the same time.
"So, definitely Ferre."
"So, definitely Courfeyrac."
"So, definitely not me."
Enjolras momentarily archived the interesting information he had gathered from his roommates' answers - and the look they had shared, which he hadn't missed - to turn his attention to Grantaire.
"Taire, baby, what the fuck."
Grantaire snorted and shrugged sheepishly. "I mean, the competition is pretty strong." He motioned towards Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who feigned flattery.
Enjolras rolled his eyes and extended his hand towards Grantaire, interlacing their fingers and pulling him closer. Grantaire kissed his forehead, a pleased smile spreading across Enjolras' face.
Grantaire pulled back, and Enjolras gazed at him, taking a few moments to bask in his sight before frowning slightly. He raised his hand, placing his hand on Grantaire's cheek and stroking the deep dark circles under his eyes with his thumb, his too-grown stubble prickling at his palm. Grantaire shrugged at Enjolras' worried expression.
"You know I can't sleep without you, angel."
Courfeyrac groaned. "For fuck's sake, stop being so disgusting." He approached the bed, eyeing Enjolras for a second before lightly punching his shoulder.
Enjolras stared at him blankly.
"And that was for...?"
"For almost dying in your boyfriend's arms."
Enjolras snorted. "No need to be this dramatic, Courf."
"I mean it." He said with a stern expression on his face. "You have no idea how worried we were."
Enjolras smiled. "I know, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful." He turned back to Grantaire and smiled brightly at him, taking his hand. "Do you mind getting me my clothes and my shoes? I'd get them myself but, well, I don't know where they are."
Grantaire furrowed his brow, the hint of a grin peeking out of his confused expression. "I get the clothes thing, even if you do look great in a hospital gown," Enjolras rolled his eyes and swatted his arm playfully. "But why would you need your shoes?"
It was Enjolras' turn to furrow his brow. "To go home?"
"You're not going home."
"Yes, I am. Look, I get it, you were worried, I would have been too - hell, I remember when I was. But I'm fine now, and I've been stuck here doing nothing long enough." He turned to Combeferre before Grantaire could respond. "Ferre, how far were you able to go on with the protest while I was out?"
Combeferre frowned. "We all rushed here with you, and we sent the rest of the protestors home - it was too dangerous to stay. Besides, everybody stopped caring about the protest when you lost consciousness." He checked his watch and swore softly, excusing himself out, promising he would be back.
Enjolras stared at him in shock before sighing and running a hand over his eyes. "So you didn't even reach City Hall?"
Courfeyrac spoke tentatively. "Enj, you were passed out on the concrete. Nobody was going to leave you alone at the hospital. We've been taking turns watching over you ever since."
"I mean, I guess I can see why, but I'm fine now, and we already wasted our chance. We need to organize the next rally, so will someone please get my shoes?"
Grantaire had been completely quiet, although his gaze felt heavy on him. "Angel, you have a mild brain concussion, a broken leg, and several broken ribs, some of which almost punctured your lung. You're not going anywhere."
His tone was supposed to leave no room for arguments, Enjolras could tell. Still, he knew that those rules had never applied to him. "Look, it's just like you said when you ended up here - it's part of the job." The lie felt bitter on his tongue.
Grantaire scoffed incredulously. "The whole reason why you get involved in these things is so that people stop thinking and assuming that it is part of the job. I thought you knew better than to lie to me."
Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek, remembering when he had said those exact words many weeks prior. They were laying in bed with their legs tangled and their fingers intertwined, Grantaire stroking his hair and attentively listening as Enjolras explained the reasons and motives behind his fight, speaking softly in a tone so different from the usual. Grantaire was looking at him intently as he rambled on and on, and Enjolras had found himself averting his eyes and ducking his head multiple times, feeling almost small under such a mesmerized and fond gaze he felt most undeserving of. Grantaire had hooked a finger under his chin and raised his head to quickly kiss him. "I love the way you say things," he had whispered, smiling against his lips. Albeit he hated the phrasing of it, there was no other way to describe how he had felt besides saying he felt like he was on top of the world.
"Look," Grantaire's words brought him back to the present as he continued after taking a deep breath. "You're staying here for at least another three days, and when we get home you're not going to a rally, or a protest, or anything that could potentially send you back here for two months - one month if I'm feeling particularly generous."
Enjolras' eyebrows shot up. "So, what, you're controlling me now?"
"Enjolras," Courfeyrac said sternly. His implied warning went ignored. Grantaire's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape in shock.
"No, Enjolras. I'm not fucking controlling you - I never did, I never will, and I've never wanted to. I'm trying to make sure you don't get yourself killed while working twice as hard as normal to prove God knows what to God know who." He exhaled shakily and laughed, running a hand across his face, turning towards the door.
"Taire-" Enjolras started, stopping when Grantaire raised a dismissive hand, leaving the room without looking at him. Enjolras slumped back in his bed as Courfeyrac patted his shoulder in reassurance, an unreadable expression on his face. Enjolras turned his gaze to the floor, avoiding his friend's questioning eyes.
"You do know that-"
"I know."
"Then why-"
"I don't know, Courf. I wasn't fucking thinking, or maybe I was, I don't know." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Look," Courfeyrac started. "I get that your feelings are all over the place right now, but you have to admit that Grantaire's right. You can't keep doing this to yourself, or us, for that matter. I mean, Ferre and I- we were really fucking worried, don't get me wrong, but Grantaire?" Courfeyrac shook his head. "We had to physically drag him out of this room just to make him eat or drink something. You behaved just the same after Grantaire's match, so it was no surprise at all, but you can't blame him for trying to keep you safe. You did the same when he got sent home, didn't you?"
Enjolras sighed. Of course, he had. He had spent almost every minute by Grantaire's side while he was hospitalized, barely eating, hardly ever sleeping. Courfeyrac once physically picked him up from his chair and dragged him to the cafeteria, forcing a sandwich and a bottle of water in his hands, blatantly ignoring his protests and pleas to go back to Grantaire's room.
Every now and then, he would try to get some work done, his eyes always shifting from his laptop to the sleeping figure in the hospital bed, no matter how hard he tried to focus. Even when he had woken up, he had fussed over him until his discharge.
When they had finally gone home, Grantaire hadn't boxed for about a month after Enjolras had insisted, and even now that it had been almost six months, Enjolras was very reluctant whenever Grantaire signed up for new matches. After weeks of bargaining and arguing, he had even managed to convince Grantaire to stop boxing for money, sticking to entertainment purposes only. Truthfully, Enjolras was in no position to judge Grantaire and his behavior, and he knew this well.
"Still," He looked up at him and took a deep breath. "Courf, this is everything I've dedicated my life to, I can't give that up."
"I know." Courfeyrac nodded understandingly. "Believe me, I do. The thing is - he never asked you to."
"He said-"
"He said he wants you to stay off the radar for a few weeks, recover completely and stay safe. How is that controlling?"
Enjolras stayed silent, immediately looking away.
Courfeyrac smiled before sitting down in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. "This is part of your life, and no one can take it from you, no matter who they are to you and how they treat you. But Grantaire? He's part of your life as well, and I won't let you give him up, not like this. He deserves better than that, and so do you. You don't have to fight against him, of all people."
"I don't want to lose him," Enjolras muttered, and Courfeyrac smiled.
"I know," he said. "Which is why this is what you're going to do. You're going back to sleep, you'll reposition where all your fight is directed, and you'll apologize."
Enjolras nodded and furrowed back in the covers, falling asleep after a few moments of replaying the conversation in his head, hoping he had any chance of making things right.
When Enjolras woke up, he turned to his side to find Courfeyrac's chair empty. As he stretched his arms, he caught a figure in the corner of the room.
Grantaire was slumped on his chair, which had been moved as far away as possible from the bed. He seemed asleep, half laying on the chair with his head lolled back over the back of it, his legs stretched out over the floor, and his arms crossed over his chest. Enjolras couldn't hold back a small smile as he took his sweet time staring at him, taking in his relaxed features. His hands twitched, longing to run his fingers through his unruly curls, to trace the line of his nose, to stroke his jaw and neck.
As he debated the pros and cons of getting up and crawling towards the chair, a low voice startled him out of his irrational thoughts, making him flinch slightly.
"Didn't they ever teach you that staring is rude?"
Enjolras glared at him. "I thought you were asleep."
Grantaire opened one eye. "I told you earlier, I don't like sleeping alone."
"That's not quite what you said earlier." Enjolras really should start learning when to bite his tongue.
But then again, it was his brand not to do so.
"Well," Grantaire shrugged. "That's all I'm saying now. How are you feeling?"
Enjolras shrugged as well. "The pain is dull and I'm always tired, even if I just woke up."
"It's understandable." Grantaire nodded. "Combeferre says your conditions are improving, though, so that's a good thing. You hungry?"
Enjolras hesitated. "No, I'm good."
His traitorous body did not seem to agree, and his stomach growled in protest. He didn't miss the way Grantaire was holding back a smile, the corners of his mouth twitching up and down as Enjolras sighed. "I'll be right back." He said, leaving without another word.
Enjolras closed his eyes one more time, basking in the warmth of his bed. He must have fallen asleep for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes again, Grantaire was back in his chair, pretending to read a book - Enjolras could tell he wasn't actually reading from the way his gaze stayed still on the same point, sometimes not-so-subtly straying towards the bed.
Enjolras turned to the side to see a sandwich and a bottle of water on the bedside table, and he almost smiled at how Grantaire had gotten something he liked without having to ask. He took a few bites in silence, occasionally glancing towards an unbothered Grantaire.
"Thank you." He muttered.
Grantaire made a noncommittal noise. "If there's anything you need, let me know." He said, almost as a warning.
Enjolras sighed. "I need you to come closer."
Grantaire didn't move.
"Come closer?" Enjolras was known to rarely ask. Yet, not even the unfamiliar questioning tone made Grantaire move.
Enjolras sighed again. "Please, Taire, won't you come closer?"
Grantaire grumbled, rolling his eyes before reluctantly standing up and moving his chair a few inches closer to the bed.
Not enough to reach and touch him, according to Enjolras, but he was in no position to complain.
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Grantaire holding up his hand, not quite looking at him. "Whatever you're thinking of saying, it can wait until you're out of the hospital. The priority right now is that you're relaxed, I don't want us to argue, not when you're like this. We'll... discuss more when you're home."
"I don't want to discuss." Enjolras quickly said, earning a confused glance from Grantaire, who finally turned to him. "I... I want to apologize."
He expected Grantaire to laugh at him, to ask if he was feeling alright, to comment on how the almighty Apollo has descended among us apologizing humans.
Grantaire did none of the above. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. "Don't you dare apologize out of pity. We're going to solve this like adults - once you're better."
Enjolras stared at him bewildered. "Pity? Look, Taire, can I speak before you jump to conclusions?"
Grantaire reluctantly nodded, staring out the window.
Enjolras sighed. "I'm sorry I demanded to throw myself face-first into potentially dangerous situations without thinking about how it might have affected you. I'm sorry for saying you wanted to control me when you just want to keep me safe." Grantaire was now looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face.
"It's just-" Enjolras took a deep breath and ran a hand over his eyes. "I know how it feels to be in your position, and I should have kept that in mind. I'm so sorry."
Grantaire shook his head, looking away again. "You don't understand," he started. "When you were laying there, all bloody and barely responsive, you did this thing-" he took a sharp breath and looked to him, eyes glistening and voice strained. "I thought you were saying goodbye."
Enjolras gasped, his heart aching at the desperation in Grantaire's eyes.
"Come here, baby," he breathed, barely audible. Still, in less than a second, Grantaire was kneeling on the ground, his head pillowed on his chest and his arms tentatively wrapping around Enjolras, who was stroking his hair.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He kept mumbling, kissing the top of Grantaire's head. He felt him nod.
"I know." He got up and - finally - moved his chair back to where it seemed to belong. Enjolras was quick to grab his hand, caress his shoulders, stroke his jaw, Grantaire reciprocating with just as much affection. After a few moments, he spoke again.
"We still need to talk about this, set some boundaries and ground rules."
Enjolras nodded enthusiastically. Grantaire continued.
"I never meant to make you feel like I'm controlling you, and I need to know how not to overstep."
"So do I," added Enjolras, getting into his debate stance. Grantaire chuckled.
"I meant it that we're not going over this now, angel, you need to rest. We'll talk when you can go back home. Although," Grantaire trailed off, looking away. "There is something that I wanted to ask you."
Enjolras frowned. "What is it?"
Grantaire breathed deeply, and Enjolras stroked his knuckles in reassurance. "Right before you lost consciousness during the protest, you- well, it scared me shitless, but you grabbed my hand and put it on your chest."
Enjolras nodded.
"Why?"
"I didn't mean to scare you," Enjolras started. "I've noticed you tend to do that a lot, it was an instinctive move."
"You noticed, huh?"
"Well," Enjolras chuckled. "It's more like Courfeyrac-"
Grantaire groaned. "I don't even want to know what he said."
"Oh, trust me, you don't." Enjolras smiled when Grantaire laughed.
"What's your theory?" Grantaire asked, raising his eyebrow. Enjolras shrugged.
"Something with my heartbeat, I suppose?"
Grantaire looked away, nodding. "Sometimes I think it's just a dream. But then I reach out to you... It reminds me that this is real, I think."
Enjolras smiled. "You still need reassurance?"
Grantaire scoffed. "Don't mock me," he said, no trace of anger in his voice. "You're not the one scoring way over his league."
Enjolras stared him down. "Fight me."
Grantaire gasped, theatrical and excessive. "That's my line!"
Enjolras laughed. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"
Grantaire faked thinking about it. "Not really? I mean, nothing particularly eventful happened, it's not like the love of my life confessed his feelings before my hospital bed."
Enjolras rolled his eyes and swatted Grantaire's arm, making him laugh. "Maybe it wasn't eventful to you, since you were so calm."
Grantaire snorted. "Yeah, right. I was absolutely relaxed."
"You were."
"Enjolras," Grantaire stared him down. "I thought I was going to pass out. At first, I thought Courfeyrac was mocking me, then I thought that you were, so I tried not getting my hopes up too high." He smiled at the memory. "But then you got so mad that it came almost natural to contradict you."
Enjolras raised his eyebrow. "It's nice to know it felt like a political debate to you."
"You know it's all because of your influence on me, you're the only one you should blame for this."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
No, I don't.
"Oh, believe me, I do."
"Yeah?" Grantaire smiled. "Prove it."
Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, before Grantaire cut him off with a kiss he was possibly too eager to reciprocate.
"See?" Grantaire whispered against his lips, a smile spreading across both of their faces. "I win."
Enjolras flushed. "Only because I let you."
When Grantaire smiled at him, eyes crinkling as he laughed and kissed him again, Enjolras couldn't help but think of how, if that's what losing felt like, he was more than open to the possibility of never winning anything again.