And The Sun Will Rise (ExR Fanfic)

Chapter 14

Song for this chapter: Art of Dying- I Will Follow (not as ominous as it sounds!)

Despite his grand pledges, it took Enjolras another three days before he plucked up the courage to talk to Grantaire. Three days of obsessively reading the poem until he had memorised every line, of lying awake at night trying to come up with the perfect words to apologise, three days of longing and terror and constantly cycling back and forth between hope and despair. In fact, he might never have gotten his act together at all if he hadn't received a gentle nudge-or rather, a kick in the butt- from the most unexpected of places.

It arrived in the form of a phone call while he was trying to distract himself from the whole Grantaire situation by working on a Politics essay. Figuring it was Courf telling him to get dinner started, he picked up without looking at the display and said "Yes?"
"Listen up, douchebag, I've got news for you" he heard Éponine's unmistakeable voice on the other end.
"What the hell, 'Ponine?!" Enjolras exclaimed, almost dropping the phone.
She ignored him and went on "I don't even know why I'm telling you this, because believe me, I still hate your guts, but here it is: 'Taire's getting discharged from hospital today. Right now, in fact. So, get your ass over there this minute and tell him you're sorry. Got me?"
"I-"
"Nope. Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. I'm only giving you this chance because Courf and Gav managed to convince me you're genuinely sorry for what you did. Don't make me regret it, okay?"
"Okay" Enjolras said, surrendering. He knew there was no point in arguing with Éponine when she was like this- and to be honest, he was itching to see Grantaire again, even if the idea absolutely terrified him as well.
"A final word of advice: Don't fuck it up this time."

Then, the line went dead and Enjolras stared at his phone in disbelief for a second before leaping up from his chair and yanking on the first pair of shoes he could find. As he stormed out the front door, he almost collided with Courf who was just coming up the stairs.
"Whoa, Enj, where's the fire?"
"No time to explain! I'm on the way to salvage my love life!" Enjolras called over his shoulder as he charged down the stairs two at a time.
"Good luck!" Courf called after him. "And by the way, those are my hallowed Docs you're wearing, so for the love of God, be careful with them!"

Enjolras ran all the way to the hospital, not caring how many people he collided with as he shoved his way along the crowded pavements. He knew that if he stopped for even a second to think about what the hell he was doing, he'd never go through with it. Ten minutes later, he arrived outside the imposing entrance of the Hôpital Hotel-Dieu, breathless and sweaty. Without so much as glancing at the fancy columns and archways of the old building, he barrelled straight through the doors and skidded to a stop in front of the reception desk. The young nurse behind it barely looked up from her magazine, probably being used to these kinds of dramatic entrances.
"Yes?" she asked in a bored voice.
"I'm-looking for- a patient" Enjolras panted. "Lucien Grantaire."
With all the speed of a catatonic snail, the nurse typed the name into her computer and Enjolras wanted to shake her to make her hurry up. But eventually, she found what she was looking for and said in the same flat tone "5th floor, Room 506. The lifts are that way."
"Thank you."

On the achingly slow way up-was the entire space-time continuum conspiring against him today?- the nerves in Enjolras's stomach turned from butterflies into full-on warplanes. He'd never been so afraid of anything in his life, not even his father. But he knew he needed to do this. Even if Grantaire told him to fuck off after all this, he at least had to try. At long last, the lift doors opened with a chirpy 'ding' and Enjolras made his way down a long corridor which reeked of that typical hospital smell: disinfectant and misery. At the entrance to the ward, however, he was stopped by a plump middle-aged nurse with a clipboard in her hand.
"Visiting hours are over for today, Monsieur. I'm afraid I can't let you through."
"I'm here to pick someone up, actually. Lucien Grantaire. He's getting discharged today."
"Oh... well, is he expecting you?"
"Yes" Enjolras lied and then, he barged straight past the nurse and walked purposefully towards Room 506, which was right at the end of the hallway. Outside the door, he stood still for a second, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer in his head. Dear God or Buddha or whatever deity deals with lovesick idiots like me, please don't let me mess this up. Then, he took a deep breath and knocked.