The Things That Make you Happy (e/R)

Things that Make you Happy

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm back. So this is my next fanfic. It's mostly Enjoltaire, but just so you know, there will probably be hints of Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta, Marius/Cosette and maybe Bahorel/Feuilly or Jehan/Montparnasse. That's just the way I ship. Lastly, please read at own risk, there will be blood and/or violence. *sigh* That's it! Enjoly and tell me what you think. :) (hehe, see what I did there?)

Just another day.
This day probably just as depressing as yesterday and as it probably will be tomorrow.
Grantaire was leaning against the wall outside the classroom with his hands in his hoody pockets, waiting for the door to open. He wasn't the only one. Several people were standing too close to him in his opinion, but he didn't say anything. Mr. Geller was already inside, preparing the lesson. Grantaire didn't like history, he preferred art or music, most of those people they usually talked about didn't even exist anymore and Grantaire just didn't agree with their standards. And on top of all that, he was always alone. None of his friends had chosen history and he wished he didn't have to take it. He wished he didn't have a history teacher as a mother who insisted that Grantaire took the subject.

Finally, the bell rung him out of his thoughts and everyone rushed inside to get the best table. A red backpack almost hit his face, the boy didn't seem to notice it, though. Grantaire knew who's bag it was. Enjolras was a young man with a rich family, that was one of the two things Grantaire knew about him. That, and that he was very.. Passionate. The kid was always defending even his smallest idea and the whole world could know about what he had to say. Grantaire admired that about him, but he couldn't remember one time he even talked to the other boy.

When everybody had rushed inside, Grantaire decided it was safe enough for him to calmly walk into the classroom and seat himself in the back of the class, like he always was. There were layers of character in where you were seated in those classrooms. The ones in front of the room always spoke up to the teachers and had deep discussions, like Enjolras and his two best friends. In the middle sat the kids who never really paid attention and were always chatting and giggling with each other. And lastly, there were the ones in the back, alone. Like him.

Mr. Geller started the lesson by clapping his hands together.
"Hello students, hopefully you had a lovely weekend."

That was about the only thing Grantaire heard before he zoned his teacher out. He did that a lot. It was nothing personal, but that way he could draw on his notes and stare out of the window. Grantaire was that one kid in class who didn't need to pay attention or study hard to get high grades.

He vaguely heard something about the French Revolution and what happened after that and saw Enjolras stand up. "Sir, I forgot my book in my locket, may I get it?" Mr. Geller nodded irritated. "Be back in less than two minutes." And with that, Enjolras was out of the classroom. Grantaire saw his two friends, (Combeferre and Courfeyrac, he remembered) whisper to each other when the third friend had left.

The lesson continued and he had now drawn a guitar on his piece of paper. What he didn't see, was his teacher watching from behind as he did so. At least until he heard an obvious, loud cough. "What do you think you're doing?" Grantaire turned his head to face the teacher.
"I think I'm doing history but I'm at school to learn so my thoughts are not always right. What am I doing, mr. Geller?" He asked, trying to talk his way out of detention.

"This is the ninth time I'm catching you do this in three weeks, Grantaire."

"I know."

He couldn't really say anything else, so he bowed his head. His teacher just sighed and pointed at the door. "Just get out now." He said, but quickly changed his mind. "Or even better, and after you've done that you can come back in, get Enjolras back from those lockers, he's been gone for hours!" Mr. Geller still sounded irritated, so Grantaire decided to just go with it and not explain that the classes were no longer than one hour per lesson.