Grantaire is asleep.
Combeferre slips into the room to set a fresh cup of water and a peanut butter sandwich onto the bedside table.
"Have you ever been to the cliffs?" Enjolras asks, hands tightly gripping the wheel as usual.
Enjolras was a careful driver.
"I came here once when I was 5. Dad took us on one of his day trips. This was before...y'know." Grantaire shrugs, looking out the passenger window.
"I come here all the time. Bet you never knew that." his Apollo speaks with that mischevious sparkle in his blue eyes that Grantaire had fallen in love with over and over again.
"I should've known. You're a closeted nature freak." Grantaire smirks, drumming his fingers nervously as they made their way through the winding hills of the mountain.
"Will you hold me when we get there?"
He remembers the tiny grin on Enjolras' lips and then of course he didn't notice the swerving van because no one did and no one expected it to hurtle down the road at nearly 160 kilos per hour because apparently there was no one around for miles as Enjolras had said and Grantaire trusted Enjolras with his life and
Grantaire jolts awake, sweat soaking through his pajamas and Oh he feels sick to his stomach because he had the dream again.
He dashes to the bathroom and it's not too late, he can still hold himself down, when he keels over and tosses everything up.
Shit. Not again.
No one is awake, and rightly so. It's 4:15 in the morning when Grantaire washes out his mouth and refuses to look at himself in the mirror for the millionth time.
Enjolras is sitting on his bed now, and Grantaire crawls in next to him, like he usually did on days like this.
Grantaire nods and blinks up at his Apollo. His Apollo, with the golden curls and the chiseled jaw. Those sky-blue eyes that shone with tears and crinkled with laughter and were stone cold.
Those eyes that sparkled with mischief as they sped through the winding hills.
And suddenly they were kissing.
Enjolras straddles Grantaire, his flaxen locks falling onto the man's face as he slowly gyrates on top of him, his hands sliding down to knead the muscled flesh of Grantaire's backside. Grantaire's lips travel up Enjolras' neck, gently nipping at the pale, untouched flesh under the man's jawline, and Enjolras lets out a whimper because damn, he remembers that sensitive spot. Grantaire makes it his goal to touch every bit of Enjolras there is, though they just move lazily because everything (at this time) is lazy for Grantaire.
Enjolras' long leg hooks around Grantaire's waist, pulling him in so that their hips could touch and the smaller man just savors the moment, because shit it feels nice to have your Apollo want you as much as you want him.
Grantaire's calloused fingers tangle into Enjolras' curls and their lips brush together.
"It feels nice to have you want me." He murmurs into his Apollo's slightly open mouth.
"It feels nice to hold you." Enjolras murmurs back sleepily, his long torso curling into Grantaire's as they lay facing each other.
"I feel like I'm in a goddamn dream." Grantaire moans, hot breath on his Apollo's porcelain neck.
"Then let's just not wake up, okay?"
Enjolras presses a sweet kiss to Grantaire's lips, slowly pulling away.
"But-" Grantaire protests, reaching his arms up to Enjolras, eager to tug the man back down.
"Maybe later." Enjolras replies vaguely, the hint of a smile on his lips.
He remembers the tiny grin on Enjolras' lips.
With a slight sense of urgency, Grantaire's Apollo glides to the door and slips into the hallway, leaving the door somewhat ajar.
Grantaire cries out, "No!', scrambling to his feet and dashing after Enjolras.
6:00 a.m. Combeferre wakes up to the scream and hurriedly throws his legs over the side of his bed. He doesn't bother to put his glasses on.
Grantaire is lying on the floor of his room in hysterics. Enjolras was there. He was certain of it. They had kissed.
Enjolras had held him.
Combeferre rushes to his friend's side. "What happened? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" He knows Grantaire is fragile. Grantaire has always been fragile, but even more so since the cliffs.
"Wh-where is Enjolras--I need Enjolras!" He cries, trembling in Combeferre's arms.
"Grantaire, you need to go back to b--"
"Where did he go?" Grantaire practically screams, pushing 'Ferre away harshly. Enjolras was here. He was certain of it.
"Grantaire, enough!" Combeferre barks angrily, not wanting to have to go through this again. He doesn't want to break Grantaire any more. The kid is already broken enough, he thought.
"But you had to have seen him--he was your roommate---he...he was in the hallway!" He gasps for air, gesturing madly to the door.
"Enjolras is de-"
"NO!" Grantaire screeches, seething. He knows Enjolras was there. He had to be. "I can't believe you didn't fucking see him, Combeferre! He was here, he walked down the hallway, he was wearing my university sweater." Panting hysterically, he claws at his eyes, to which Combeferre responded by grabbing the man's wrists and pulling him close.
"Shh...Grantaire...you need to rest..."
"I don't! I. Need. Enjolras!" Grantaire bursts into tears, shaking violently. He is even more fragile now.
Combeferre shuts up. Usually it was Courfeyrac who deals with Grantaire, he thinks.
But Courfeyrac was at the cliffs with a couple of friends on holiday.
Better not tell Grantaire.
Grantaire's head reels.
"A-Apollo...where is...Apollo..." He mumbles.
Combeferre silently holds the fragile man in his arms, afraid to break him any more.
And suddenly, Combeferre was Enjolras, holding Grantaire for the last time. Their eyes meet, and Grantaire passes out, knowing he had seen the man.
Just knowing he'd held kissed his Apollo made him a little less fragile.
Just a little.
"Will you hold me when we get there?"
"The smile was not ended when the report resounded."