sweater weather

32: i miss you

(trigger warning: suicide, self-harm)

he misses grantaire the most when it's christmas.

grantaire adored christmas. it was the only time of the year that enjolras could get an honest smile out of him, and for that, it was enjolras' favorite time as well.

grantaire's death almost doesn't seem real to enjolras, even though it was nearly five years ago, when they were both young and free. it all seems like a trick.

enjolras can still recall the day where he found the suicide note in their apartment. he thought it was some sick joke.

"grantaire, it's not funny," he called out. "where are you? we need to talk."

he almost tripped over grantaire's still body, lying on their kitchen floor in an almost peaceful state.

"grantaire!" he exclaimed once again before his foot brushed aginst grantaire's arm. eyes growing wide, he dropped down beside him. there was an empty container of pills in his pale hand, and enjolras knew that he was dead with just a look at the empty parcel, but he couldn't bring himself to accept that. there had to be some way that he was still alive.

now, he glances out the window and watches the city streets below him. snow is falling and christmas music is playing and everybody else is so damn happy. it makes him sick to his stomach. how can they be so happy? they're all so naive.

he can hear eponine, his sister, calling his name from the kitchen, worried. she's been visiting him often lately, saying that she's concerned him. enjolras knows that the girl means well, but it's useless. why can't she just go away? why can't they all go away? there's no saving him.

eponine's light footsteps resound in his ears, and salty, bitter tears fill his eyes as he grips grantaire's journal in his hand. he's been wanting to read it for so long. there must be answers somewhere in its contents. but he can't bring himself to. it feels like an invasion of the dead man's privacy.

eponine enters the room, and she looks nice. her black hair is curled, and she's wearing a stunning red dress that he knows cosette lent her.

"you look nice, 'ponine," he says softly - gently. he's never been anything but gentle with his little sister.

she smiles, glad that he's up to talking. "thank you." there's a pregnant pause, where most would interject that he looked nice as well, but he really didn't. he had been so gorgeous once, and it was sad that his beauty was gone, with a mere trace of it lingering.

"are you ready to go to courf's?" she asks softly, even though, with a cursory glance at his messy attire and crooked glasses, she is sure that he is not.

"i . . . i can't go, 'ponine," he responds quietly. "you know that."

eponine is blunt with him. "why not? it's not like you have anywhere else to go."

enjolras sighs, and lies that he feels ill. eponine has no tolerance for ill people, unless it's marius or cosette, so she advises him to sleep and take medication and leaves for courfeyrac's house.

enjolras watches as she goes, her hips swaying and every step that she makes confident. his sister has always been self-assured. he was once like that as well, but grantaire's death has changed him.

he wipes at his teary eyes and faces another terrible christmas.