And The Sun Will Rise (ExR Fanfic)

Chapter 17

I wrote this one at a friend's request, so if you like it, you can thank her for insisting I add this chapter.

Song for this chapter: Calum Scott-Biblical

The thing about 'romantic artist's garrets in Paris' that everyone always failed to mention was just how bloody freezing they got in winter. Enjolras was woken by the chattering of his own teeth and he instinctively rolled over to try and find some warmth from Grantaire. But the bed beside him was empty, his boyfriend having already left for his morning shift at the café. The extra blanket he'd piled on top of Enjolras before leaving did little to chase the chill from his bones, even if it did hold Grantaire's familiar forest smell. Enjolras inhaled it deep into his lungs for a moment, then reluctantly climbed out of bed, which only made him feel even colder. Still shivering, he'd just stepped through the living room door when he stubbed his toe on a pile of books, cursing under his breath. Ever since Grantaire had moved in six months ago, they were everywhere, turning the flat into a veritable minefield. You couldn't move without banging into them and causing a bookquake. But annoying as the stacks might be, they were also kind of endearing, because they held so many memories of evenings snuggled together on the couch while Grantaire read aloud from the latest printed treasure he'd found. That was something Enjolras never got sick of-nor would he ever tire of finding the little traces of his boyfriend all over the flat. It wasn't just the books or the clothes in Grantaire's half of the wardrobe, which were still almost exclusively black. It was also the herbs growing on the windowsills and the smell of trees that pervaded every room and the hair ties that kept appearing down the back of the sofa. Most of all, it was the wall in the living room which they'd turned into an enormous collage of photographs, like a timeline of their lives.

There was the picture they'd taken that day on the steps of Shakespeare and Co. nestled alongside Enjolras's graduation picture-God, he'd looked ridiculous in that cap and gown, but Grantaire had kissed him, anyway-, photos of Grantaire with Éponine and Gavroche at the Musain, the one of him and his grand-mère, one of Enjolras with Courf, Celeste and Amélie, one of all of the Amis at their most recent protest (thankfully sans fights with the police this time) and right at the top, there was Enjolras's favourite picture. Éponine had secretly snapped it on the day Grantaire had first moved in and it showed him and Enjolras asleep on the carpet amongst empty cardboard boxes, so wrapped up in each other that they were just a gigantic tangle of limbs and dark hair mixed with blond. Just looking at it filled Enjolras with so much warmth that he forgot about his shivers and the pain still throbbing in his toes. Even after all this time, he couldn't believe his luck that this was really his life.

Smiling to himself, he limped into the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine. While he was waiting for it to heat up, his eyes fell on a yellow Post-it on the counter, wedged between Grantaire's dog-eared recipe book and his container of pills. Enjolras's smile broadened as he took in the familiar neat handwriting.
Morning, my gorgeous boyfriend. I'm sorry I couldn't stay to keep you warm... believe me, I wanted to.
Feeling all warm and melty on the inside, Enjolras picked up his phone from the kitchen table and called Grantaire. He answered only moments later.
"Enj? Everything okay with you? You don't usually call me at work."
"I'm fine. Apart from the fact that I think I broke my toe on one of your wretched books."
"If you can walk to the kitchen for your phone, you probably didn't" Grantaire said with a smile in his voice.
"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for the note. It improved my morning by at least thirty percent."
"Only thirty?"
"Well, I have to admit I was expecting something slightly more poetic from you."
"In my defence, it was early. And also, I need to conserve my poetic skills for tonight."
"Are you nervous?" Enjolras asked.
"Nervous? I'm fucking terrified. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to let someone with social anxiety read poetry in front of an audience?"
"You'll be great" Enjolras tried to reassure him. "And I'll be there to hold your hand if needed."
"I wish you could hold my hand right now."
"I can come to the café if you want me to" Enjolras offered.
"No, you can't afford to miss class. That master's thesis isn't going to write itself."
"Yes, but I care about you way more than I do about that stupid thesis."
"Why, thank you. No, but seriously, I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Now put the phone down and hurry up or you'll be late for uni."