Red and Black~~Les Miserables One-Shots

The Cafe Musain

Grantaire sat, as usual, in the back corner of the Cafe Musain, a bottle clutched in his hand, watching the ongoings in the room through clouded eyes, taking in everything but processing nothing.

He saw Jehan at the nearest table, scribbling away with his pen about whatever romantic idea was most recent. Combeferre and Joly were engaged in a lively conversation - the topic of which Grantaire neither knew nor cared to know - while Courfeyrac looked on, seeming lost. Bossuet was cheerfully lamenting his misfortunes to no one in particular, while Feuilly and Bahorel looked seconds away from a brawl over God knows what. Pontmercy sat at the center table looking stupid as usual.

Enjolras had not yet shown up, which was the reason for the hectic scene in the back room of the Musain. Grantaire knew that once he showed up the demeanor of every young man in the room would change drastically.

As though waiting for his cue, the red-clad leader walked into the room at the same time as Grantaire wondered at his being late. As expected, everyone fell silent. 

Enjolras' eyes swept the room, looking directly at each person in turn. When his eyes landed on Grantaire, the drunk could clearly see the disapproval in those bright blue portholes to the sky. Careful not to break eye contact, he raised his bottle to his lips and gulped down three large swallows.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, scowling, and moved to stand at the middle table where Marius was still sitting silently. He proceeded with the normal meeting procedure, opening his mouth and launching into whatever speech he had prepared for the day.

At this point Grantaire as well proceeded as usual; gazing intently at the deity before him, paying attention not to the words and their meanings, but to the way beautiful Apollo's lips shaped to form them; to the passion for the words he was shouting evident in his voice. When addressing a crowd, Enjolras was no longer a mere human, he was the embodiment of the sun and all things great! He surely could never be brought down. And Grantaire fed off this fiery energy which was the only thing which had meaning in his life.

Enjolras' speech eventually ended. Along with it ended Grantaire's excuse to stare at the man. Sighing heavily, he stared down into his drained bottle and contemplated calling for another. It was his second of the evening which he had already finished, although he had not had any alcohol since the day preceding, and had not been thoroughly drunk in over a week.

Sighing again, he raised his head to ask for another bottle, and found someone standing in front of him.

Grantaire did not at first see the face of the person - being in a slouched sitting position his eye was level with the man's chest - but the vivid red coat told him immediately who it was. "To what do I owe this visit from the mighty god Apollo?" he asked, exaggeratedly slurring his words because he knew it would irritate the man in front of him, possibly provoking a reprimanding which would mean the company would last longer.

"You're drunk, Grantaire," came the response in a voice full of disdain, "You are always drunk, and you never pay attention. Oh, yes, I can tell that your mind is elsewhere than the topics which we wish to discuss, and that you are only watching me so as to appear on the contrary. But why, I ask, do you bother to come if you do not wish to assist in our crusade for an improved France? If your desire is not to change the horrible current system, what is?"

"It is you, dear Apollo. You, the sun in my world of shadows." Though his words were serious, Grantaire grinned broadly as he said them.

Enjolras scowled, "Do not call me Apollo. And if I see a bottle in your hand at any point for the rest of the night, I will ask that you do not come back."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

With that, Enjolras turned and walked away to talk to Combeferre, and Grantaire stared into his bottle once more. Heeding Enjolras' words, he set the empty bottle down on the table and turned to stare at the rest of the room, consumed by thoughts of the revolutionary leader.

Though it had not been exactly a friendly conversation, Grantaire found himself quite elated, this being the first time Enjolras had acknowledged him for longer than to tell him, "Put that bottle down." Perhaps Grantaire was getting closer to being taken seriously, something so frequently denied him. That thought might be enough to get him through the rest of the meeting without any alcohol.

His eyes sought and easily found the leader in red. You think I watch you so that it appears as though I am paying attention? Ha! If only you knew...

He let his mind wander for the rest of the meeting, bouncing from thoughts of Enjolras to thoughts of wine to thoughts of painting and back again. He knew that after the initial speech by the leader everything was a series of side conversations between a few people.

He did not order another bottle of wine that night. It was not until midway through the meeting on the following day that he had a single sip of alcohol.

Enjolras noticed this, and smiled to himself.

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A/N: Quite short. Cheesy ending whoops. But hey, I thought some happiness was overdue as everything I write is always so serious.

Is it weird that I find it easiest to write from Grantaire's point of view? 

I had something else to say, but I don't remember. Eh, I'll tell y'all when I remember. Kay, bye.