Miserable Rouge! - A Les Mis AU

Crazy Rolling

Back in the dining room, Thenardier had woken up and was furious. He had instantly bade Montparnasse to come, who was also fed up, and when he found out that Bahorel had punched him in the face, he was jealous of Bahorel.

"I've got to get him back in here," Thenardier said, as Guelemer and Babet cleaned his face. He had been hit by Bahorel's engagement ring from Feuilly, and it had cut him bad. "He's bewitched him with words. Tell him that if the show doesn't end my way and he works for me after the curtain falls, well... let's just say we'll find out if his little Apollo is really an immortal god."

Montparnasse whipped around. "I'm sorry, what did you just say to me? That you're committing murder under my roof that I did not authorize?"

"Yes." Thenardier gestured for Brujon to check his gun and make sure it was ready.

----

Grantaire was running up to his room, trying not to start singing with joy. He was going to leave, finally, go somewhere wonderful, even if it was just an old flat, it would be a castle with Enjolras in it.

He tossed his things into a large bag. Bahorel helped, even though he would miss his old friend. He knew that there lay a world that Granatire could thrive in, more people to act for, more wine to taste--no joke there.

Montparnasse walked in, saying, "Forgive the bluntness, but you need to dump your boyfriend, or else the Duke is going to shoot him."

Grantaire turned around and put his hands on his hips. "You know what? No. All you've done for me is make me believe I'm not worth any more than what people pay me! I'm done."

"Unless you go tomorrow night, that wack job is going to mess everything up," Montparnasse tried to reason.

"Montparnasse, this man loves me even though what I do for a job is strange, jealousy-evoking, and quite frankly probably illegal," Grantaire snapped, "And he's worth everything to me. If you've ever been in love with someone, you'd understand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find Jehan to say goodbye."

Montparnasse looked at the floor. "They left. And I don't think they're coming back to me." His voice was choked, and he was trying to keep a straight face, but his lip was trembling. "Because I'm an awful husband."

"Oh." Grantaire glanced up. "I wish I had known." He looked closer at his face. "Are you crying?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that? I'm sorry I miss the love of my life." Montparnasse brushed his eyes again, then said, "Send Enjolras away."

"You know he'll fight to be with me," Grantaire replied, "He hates the Duke as much as I do."

"And you think I want to have a tea party with that man? He'll fight for you, unless you don't love him." Montparnasse took one look at Grantaire's horrified face and explained, "You're good at acting, that's why I hired you. Make him believe it. Hurt to save him, if you will." He took a shaky breath, then continued, "We're creatures of the underworld, Grantaire. We can't afford to be in love."

He left the room, hands in his pockets, leaving Grantaire in shock. He sat down at the mirror, staring at his own face. The makeup that had been applied earlier was flaking off. Grantaire took a wipe and began cleaning off the mess, uncovering the face he always strove to hide. But Enjolras loved it, he didn't mind it, he even sometimes would ask him if he wanted to clean off the mask when they were together. And he always did. He liked seeing his own face smiling, it looked less ugly to him when that happened. But Enjorlas always seemed to think he was really pretty. He couldn't let that go.

Montparnasse was outside the room, talking to himself. "Another mindless pantomime, I don't even know why I'm alive right now. All I've lived for is Jehan, and this club, now my Flower's been taken away and this whole place is going to trash. But I still have to push on like nothing's happened. The show has to go on."

Grantaire came out of his room, dressed in entirely black, his makeup reapplied, and didn't look at Montparnasse. He walked all the way to Enjolras's room. He had come to a decision.

----

Enjolras heard the door open, he looked up excitedly. He was finally going to run away with a wonderful man, like all of the heroines he had read about in his books.

Grantaire stood in the doorway. "I'm going to stay with the Duke."

"What?" Enjolras said softly, not wanting to believe it. That did not sound like that was supposed to happen.

"After I left you, he promised me everything I could ever want in relationship." Grantaire smiled. Enjolras could feel his heart crumbling. The smile flickered as Grantaire continued, "Including what you couldn't."

"You told me that wasn't important to you," Enjolras managed to say, "and you liked that I didn't want that from you."

"Well, things change," Grantaire replied, "You've never been in love with someone, so you wouldn't understand." He continued, his insides churning.

"Something's wrong here. What are you saying, Grantaire?" Enjolras said, grabbing his arm.

Grantaire was silent for a moment, then said, "I am the courtesan in your story. And I chose the gangster." He stepped out of the room and started walking away, wiping his eyes.

Enjolras was heartbroken, and angry, and confused all at the same time. He didn't know why this was happening. Everything had seemed perfect last night. He now knew what heartbreak felt like, and he just wanted it to end.

He watched Grantaire walk down the stairs, all the way to the stage area. He checked that no one was in the hallway, then closed door and broke down crying. This was crazy, being so deep in love to have the love of his life break his heart to pieces, with no good reason why.

Finally, he left the building, walking around in circles until Joly and Bossuet caught him on his fifth round on their corner. They brought him inside, and five hours walking around in the cold could make someone nearly freeze. He was barely conscious, and pale, tired, and his eyes were red with frozen tears.

They bundled him up in their one bed--they couldn't afford any more--and Musichetta had to force some food into him. The trouple finally got out of him what had happened, and they couldn't believe that Grantaire would do that to him.

"He wouldn't do that," Bossuet said, shaking his head, "He never would drop someone so hard."

"Leave me alone," Enjolras mumbled from the depths of the blankets. So the three of them left him alone for about half an hour, then Musichetta went in to check on him. He hadn't moved.

She sat down on the side of the bed, smoothing the wrinkles. "Things aren't always as they seem." Enjolras shook his head. "Enjolras, you may see me as a poor girl who plays boy roles in the plays, but I know love. He would come in here, telling us all about how pretty your eyes were, how nice his life was now that he had someone who loved him, all of that. Grantaire loves you. I know he loves you."

"Go away," Enjolras groaned. She stayed. "Come on, give me some space." Finally, after a few tries, she left.

Enjolras wanted to shut out everything Musichetta had just told him, but she had filled him with doubt. There was only one way to be perfectly sure that Grantaire was completely finished with him. He had to know, so he decided to go back to the Moulin Rouge one last time.