Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grantaire curled up in the chair and arranged himself in a closed-off kind of way. Mostly, it was so that people would assume he was crying, and not approach him, but, in actual fact, it was because short, skinny dreadlocks didn’t hide earbuds particularly well, and he didn’t fancy having them confiscated by a teacher. The only person who he thought of who wouldn’t, was Mr Myriel. Then again, Mr Myriel didn’t exactly count as a teacher, and he would let Grantaire get away with most things, especially if said things were under the guise of helping his mental health. Not that Grantaire cared all that much about his own wellbeing. Weekly visits to this little room became a welcome excuse to skip class, instead of a ‘fix’ for his self-deprecating and self-destructive habits. His parents had forced him to see Myriel, the school’s counsellor, halfway through Year 8, when he had slipped a joke about losing the will to live into a dinner table conversation, giving them a massive fright, and now, almost 10 months later, if they were aware of him missing class hiding away in the office, they’d probably pull him out of school entirely. You couldn’t exactly say it was their fault. Nicolas, his brother, had left home at 18 and disappeared. The next they heard, three Novembers later, he was dead, on the other side of the country. He’d overdosed on painkillers. From that moment on, Grantaire’s parents refused to take their eyes off him. He was going to be their innocent, perfect, healthy, prodigious ONLY son and Nic was to be all but forgotten. It was better that way. For everyone.

The door to Mr Myriel’s three-room office creaked open, and Grantaire looked up sharply. If it was a teacher, he’d be done for. Myriel was in one of the rooms next door, meeting with another student, and as usual, running terribly over schedule, so he couldn’t exactly come to Grantaire’s defence and explain why he was allowed his phone and earbuds out at school in the middle of the day. Luckily, the face that peered round the door did not belong to a teacher. At least, not a teacher Grantaire recognised.

The face belonged to a blond boy, someone Grantaire vaguely recognised. Perhaps they were in the same form? He couldn’t remember his name, but as far as he knew, he was one of the people who went by their surname as a sweeping political statement, and was in debate club or social justice club or something else like that and was possibly out, or possibly not. Grantaire didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he paid attention in form. Despite that, he had a strange reverence for their group, especially for their leader. It was almost an admiration. They cared about lots of issues that were important to Grantaire, like the climate crisis, and history, and land rights, and LGBTQ rights, and other things like that. Not that he’d show it, of course. But still.

Almost in the blink of an eye, the boy had sat down on the chair opposite, and buried his face in his hands. Grantaire made a move to stand up to talk to him, but promptly sat down again, after thinking better of it. People didn’t come to this room for friendly conversation, and judging by the small sobs emanating from the blond’s curled-up frame, he didn’t exactly want company.

“You know,” Grantaire whispered, his voice sounding strangely hoarse, “you can go sit in the room on the right. By yourself. If you want.”
The boy stood up, and strode over to the door, then slipped in, slamming it behind himself, in way a that conveyed he’d rather the two of them hadn’t spoken. Despite his presence being gone, something about the blond lingered in Grantaire’s mind, and he couldn’t shake it.

A few minutes later, My Myriel emerged from the room on the left, ushering a stressed-out looking Year 12 into the hallway.
“Oh! Sebastien! I forgot we had an appointment. Do come in.” Grantaire winced at his first name. Only Nic had called him that. Everyone else – excepting his parents - found it easier to form nicknames from his surname, and ever since Pre-Primary there had been another Sebastien in his classes. Because of that, Myriel was really the only other person who called him by his proper name. It was odd. He was one of the few people in the entire school who actually knew what happened, and yet he still hadn’t noticed the significance of the name. And it wasn’t like Grantaire missed Nic, they were only ever as close as siblings born eight years could be – not very. It didn’t change the fact that things still hurt.

Mr Myriel showed Grantaire into the room on the left, his office. They began each conversation as usual; sincere questions, and forced, single word replies. It wasn’t abnormal, but Grantaire was distracted. It was something about the boy, he knew that for a fact. But besides that, he could not put his finger on it.
“Sebastien. Sebastien! Are you quite alright? You’ve been up in the clouds all afternoon.”
“Yeah… I’m fine. All good. Oh! I uhh, forgot, there was a guy that went into the room next door. Before- ”
Myriel sighed, cutting him off. “Look, I’m not mad. However, you should have told me earlier. You know the premise of that room. It’s not called the Sanctuary for no reason. What was his name?”
“Oh, I don’t know… He’s in my form, blond, kinda tall…”
“I suppose you mean Camille. Well then, I suppose I cannot be annoyed. He won’t talk to me anyway.”
Myriel sighed and shook his head, and then attempted to restart conversation with Grantaire. Not unexpectedly, he failed.
“Look. Sebastien. You’re so out of it. Just go back to class. Please. You are wasting everyone’s time.”
Grantaire got up and silently exhaled with relief. Hurriedly, he left the office and headed to the locker room. Strictly, there was still another 10 minutes until lunchtime, but he didn’t fancy heading back to class, and most of the time, anyone could get away with hiding behind the lockers. It’s not exactly like teachers actually went in there if they could avoid it.

“Hey ‘Taire.”
“Hey ‘Ponine.”
Éponine slid down the wall, and sat down next to Grantaire. He peered over, looking into her lunchbox. As usual, she had the strangest things to eat. An entire carrot, four chocolate chip biscuits and two plain slices of bread.
“Whatcha lookin’ at? You know not to question my food, my parents are hardly going to pack my lunch for me, are they?”
“I suppose not…” Grantaire replied.
“Oh my god, I have to tell you about this, ok?”
He murmured assent, not entirely focused on the conversation.
“Ok, so, my sister has been giving me utter grief at the moment, but anyway during Period 4, she sent me an email saying something along the lines of- ‘Taire! For goodness’ sake! What is going on? Get down from fairyland and actually talk to me.” She sighed in mock annoyance.
“Yep. Sorry. Continue.”
“Ok, and the email was an invite to this club that some of her friends are in or something, it’s got some French name, no idea what it’s actually about, but apparently they’re looking for members and- ‘Taire! Earth calling ‘Taire!”
“Hm?”
“Ugh, what is up with you today? You know what, don’t answer that. I can probably already guess.”
“Ok then. Go ahead.”
“You, Sebastien Grantaire- Oops. Sorry. Anyway, you, Grantaire, have a fat crush on someone. And if I know anything, it’s a guy.”
“What the hell? No- Of course not. Why would I- Look, ok, yes there was in guy in Myriel’s office today, but I didn’t like him, he- Wait… Tell me more about this club.”
Éponine’s eyes lit up. The prospect of Grantaire liking a guy was lost and instantly she went on talking about her sister’s email, and how they were both going to go along to the club (because she wouldn’t go by herself), and how nothing he could say would stop her because a certain someone was in said club.
“Let me guess, that certain someone is Marius Pontmercy.”
“No, of course n- Yes. Ok. Fine, it’s him.”
“Who else is in the club?”
“Oh, you know, most of the people in our form, a couple of Azelma’s friends… Ha! It’s basically our schools GSA if you think about it…” She trailed off, realising her friend had completely lost interest.

However, Grantaire had not lost interest. Maybe he would go to this club… There were two very compelling reasons; the first being that Éponine, his best friend wanted to, and the second being that there was a very high probability he would find out more about the mysterious blond guy, Camille, whom he definitely did not have a crush on.

Chapter Text

It had been more than a full week since Grantaire had decided to go along to the club, yet he hadn’t actually stepped into a meeting. His excitement had been rather short-lived, instead turning in to jittery nerves and sinking regret – partly because he didn’t want to let Éponine down, and mostly because of the mysterious Camille. In his defence, the boy had been stuck on his mind all week, going from distracted reverence and a growing desire to know more to sudden fear. He’d been even more distant in form, feigning important emails and assignments to get out of interacting with people, and avoid possibly making eye contact with the blond or any of his friends. Even Éponine had dropped discussion of the club and – in her words – his ‘lovesick attitude’, after being given a five-minute lecture by Grantaire on the facts that ‘firstly, he was 14 and therefore not old enough and did not have time for a relationship, and secondly, a social justice club run by a bunch of highschoolers was not going to make any real difference, even if they did care about important things’ and that was reason enough to never talk about it ever again.

Alas, Tuesday came. And with Tuesday came club meetings.

In all honesty, it was a very convenient afternoon for the meetings to be held. Concert band rehearsals started at four, and school finished at quarter past three, which gave him 45 minutes to kill. And of course, the meetings had to start at half past. It was just his luck.

“‘Taire! Hurry up! Are we going to this club or not?”
Grantaire turned around, slammed his locker shut and slung his bag on his back aggressively, pointedly ignoring his best friend.
“Oh come off it! I know you’re annoyed, and you don’t want to go, but you did promise me… And last week you came up with some rubbish headache excuse, so I had to hide in the library and wait for Gav to finish playing his flute clarinet thing-”
“Saxophone.”
“No. One. Cares. And then I had to wait for Azelma to finish dance collective rehearsals, because she insists we all walk home together, and I couldn’t even go to the club because you weren’t there.”
“‘Ponine, I may be your best friend, and I certainly don’t hate you, and I don’t want to fight and I definitely don’t want us to be separated ever, but you’ll be 15 in less than three months, you basically are your own parent, since your actual ones are incapable, please just-”
“Grow up? Honestly ‘Taire, I’m more mature than I let on. Let me be fun at school. I very well could go to that club on my own, I’m not goddamn co-dependent or something. But like you, sometimes I get scared, ok? So just please, please come with me.”
“Ok, ok. I’m sorry.”
He grabbed his instrument case off the top of his locker and ran to join Éponine, who had already began walking in the corridor, while simultaneously regretting all off his life decisions that had led up to this moment.

Slightly out of breath, Grantaire finally caught up with her halfway to the canteen.
“Good to see you finally made up your mind,” Éponine teased. She looked down, noticing the case in his hand and let out a peal of laughter. “Ha! Well, you know what they say, there’s a first time for everything!”
“Oh shut up.” He elbowed her playfully and rolled his eyes, “I’ve only forgotten my instrument three times this term, ok? It’s not that bad.”
“Yeah right. Three times in seven weeks you’ve forgotten your trombone. To that I say good job!”
“Girl, oh my god. It’s a trumpet. Please learn what instruments are called,” he replied, in a way that was sort of sarcastic but mostly snarky. Éponine stuck her tongue and rolled her eyes, prompting Grantaire to shake his head, feigning annoyance. They were back to their old, friendly ways, the little argument before having been all but forgotten.

The pair finally got to the canteen five minutes later, and then they had to turn back without buying anything, because it was almost half past, and both of them agreed it wasn’t good form to turn up late to a meeting, especially when it was their first time going.

Luckily for them, they were just on time, if not a minute early.

Grantaire timidly opened the door and made a beeline for the back corner. Perhaps if he did that, everyone – especially the mysterious boy – would ignore him, and he would only have to sit in the meeting as moral support for Éponine. He didn’t even understand why Éponine had wanted to come in the first place. Yes, her sister had sent her an email, but when did she give a hoot about what her sister said? And yes, the guy she liked was in the club, but as far as he could tell, she’d never actually admit her feelings, let alone actually talk to the boy. He just wished he could ignore everyone here, and that four o’clock would come quickly, so that he could get out of a decidedly awful social situation. With luck, he wouldn’t even have to see the blond today. However, the universe had other ideas about what was going to happen.

Within two minutes of him sitting down, Grantaire had already been approached and greeted by three people, and given a little ‘welcome to our club’ spiel by two. He actually recognised most of the faces in the room, Éponine was right to say that the club consisted mainly of people in their form. And judging by the number and variety of pride pins on blazers and backpacks, this club was almost the school’s GSA. Not that he was one to judge. Grantaire wasn’t exactly straight himself.

The din of voices hushed in the room, causing him to look up. Grantaire almost immediately regretted it. The cause of the sudden silence was no one else but the mysterious Camille, the one person who he’d been avoiding the entire week prior. He made a move to get up and leave, but Éponine’s hand rested on his, forcing him to stay in the room, and yet reassuring him that all would be well.

“Right. Welcome to the sixth official meeting of Les Amis. As you can probably tell, we have two new members today, so we will begin our agenda with a few introductions.” Grantaire was surprised about how confident the blond sounded as he spoke. Some would say he was enraptured by the other’s speech, as well as a multitude of other things. Now he wasn’t crying in the counsellor’s office, he held himself tall, and he seemed almost angelic in the way he went about things. Higher than everyone else, pretentious, yet not, simultaneously. A thought entered his mind, but he was quick to swat it away. No one, especially not him, could ever like Grantaire.

As the meeting went on, he was forced out of his corner. The introductions began only a few minutes later, with someone that Grantaire recognised to be on the swimming team, or the athletics team or maybe both, but whoever he was, he didn’t really look like the kind of person who would be in a social justice club of all things. And yet he was there, laughing with everyone else.
“I’m Bahorel. Or Alex. Whatever you want, I’m not fussed,” the boy said. The conversation moved on to the next person, a girl with dark, frizzy hair that Grantaire didn’t recognise.
“Hi! Grantaire and Éponine right? I’m Musichetta, but you can probably make up a nickname, it’s a bit of a mouthful!” She greeted the pair cheerfully, and Grantaire had almost instantly took a liking to her. She sounded so bubbly and happy, and would probably want to be friends with him, and everyone else.

The next person he definitely recognised. He was bald, and they’d often seen each other in the corridor, both with a note for the nurse (or in Grantaire’s case, Myriel). Despite this, he couldn’t quite remember his name.
“Sacha Lesgles. Or Sacha. Or Lesgles. Or Bossuet, as these guys call me,” He gestured wildly around the room, accidentally hitting Musichetta in the face. He instantly apologized profusely, and at Grantaire’s confused reaction to his name he replied, “Oh, Bossuet means bald. For obvious reasons, haha!”

The next person the conversation moved to, on Bossuet’s right, was taking up two chairs, one for him and one for his leg. Grantaire also recognized him. He’d seen the boy many times when he’d walked past the nurse’s office, but he didn’t look like the type of person who’d skip class, leading him to wonder what the other boy was doing there.
“I’m Joly. Nathaniel Joly. You could call me Nathan, but Joly’s better.” He caught Grantaire’s glance at his leg, which was in a knee brace. “Respectfully, I’m going to have to ask you not to question my leg, ok?”
“Oh, ok. Sorry.”
Joly smiled, and shook his head, in a way that seemed to convey that it was all fine, and that there was no need for apologies.

The conversation moved on, to the person on Joly’s right. Grantaire only vaguely recognized him until he introduced himself.
“I’m Gabriel Feuilly. Both of my names aren’t the easiest to say so, take your pick!” Feuilly paused, lingering on the other boy’s face. “Wait, your name’s Sebastien right?”
“No. Grantaire. Please don’t call me… that.”
“Oh, of course, sorry. But I’m very sure you went to my primary school, am I right?”
“I… Maybe? It’s been a while, I can’t say I remember.”
Now he thought about it though, he did remember Feuilly from primary school. Especially from Harmony Day, when he always brought delicious and exotic food from his home country to share at the annual school picnic. Where it was from though, he couldn’t put a finger on it. Definitely something central European, maybe Polish? Geography had never been Grantaire’s strong point.

The thing is, Grantaire didn't quite understand what all the fuss was about these introductions. Pretty much all of the club's members were in the same form - his - so he knew of all of them. He didn't really know them though, form to him was really just a time to do absolutely nothing and focus on no one but himself.

The next person was someone Grantaire had seen before, this time not in the nurse’s office, but Myriel’s. The book on their lap caught his attention, it was a lovely looking hardcover, and it looked expensive but well-loved. The other thing that caught his attention was their hair. It was dusty brown, and slightly longer than their shoulders, and intricately braided with rainbow-coloured ribbons and native flowers, like paper daisies. He wondered how they hadn’t been given a demerit for uniform violation yet. Hair that long had to be tied up.
“Hi! I’m Jean Prouvaire, but I prefer Jehan. They/them, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, but um… may I ask what you’re reading?”
“Oh, well, I’d hazard a guess you haven’t read it, and won’t ever, but it’s called ‘A Treasury of Poems’. It’s awfully good. The hardcover edition is amazing.”
“Jehan, shut up about books, the guy probably doesn’t want to hear it.” The girl on his right elbowed him playfully and smiled warmly at Grantaire. He’d definitely seen her before; she looked like one of Azelma’s friends. A cornflake, no doubt, but she did seem nice.
“I’m Cosette Laurent, but Cosette’s my middle name. You could say it’s a bit of a Dear Evan Hansen situation. The name. Not ‘my fake best friend killed himself and now I have to lie to everyone’ situation. My first name’s Euphrasie, my dad was a bit… ugh. Glad they’re divorced.”
“Cosette, you can’t come at me for rabbiting on about books, not when you’re going to rabbit on about names all day long.”
“Sorry if that bored you Grantaire, Jehan’s right.”
“Oh no, not at all, I like books and your name is certainly an interesting story. It’s ok.”

The person on Cosette’s right was next, and judging from the way Éponine suddenly looked down, this was her certain someone. Marius Pontmercy, if Grantaire remembered correctly. His introduction all but confirmed it.
“Hi, I’m um… Marius Pontmercy.”
“Sorry about him. He’s a bit… awkward.”
“Hey!” Marius cried out, “Courf’s not wrong though…”
“Yes well… I’m Courfeyrac. Dominque Courfeyrac.” He mimed putting on sunglasses, in a James Bond-esque way. Grantaire just nodded. In the ten minutes he’d been there, he’d already learnt that sometimes it was best not to question what was going on.

The second-last person to introduce himself seemed sort of familiar, but in an ‘I’ve never actually spoken to you, just seen your face and heard your name’ kind of familiar.
“I’m Étienne Combeferre. Actually, just Combeferre.”
Now he thought about it, the name did actually ring a bell. He was the smartest person in their year or something, and the name on everyone’s lips when they got a test back. He recognized the glasses as well, the other boy had gotten Dux of Year 8 last year, and awards at every second assembly, he wasn’t hard to miss.

Finally, it was the last person’s turn. Grantaire swallowed. It was definitely him; he would recognize the blond curls anywhere. He checked his watch, but unluckily, he still had to sit through 15 more minutes of the meeting before band started.
“Hello, and welcome, I’m Enjolras. No first names. And now I’ll begin with giving you two, Grantaire and Éponine, a bit of an introduction to our club.”

As Enjolras continued to talk about their causes and values and all of that, Grantaire began to tune out, until something roused him from his reverie.
“If you were wondering about our name, we’ve named ourselves after a student revolutionary group from the 1832 June Rebellion, in France, as we thought it would be fitting, seeing as we are students too.”
Almost instinctively, Grantaire shook his head. They were wrong about at least one thing there.
“Do you have something to say?”
“Yes actually, I do.”
“Ok then, go ahead.”
“You’re wrong about the name.”
This caused a flurry of whispers to go around the room, and Enjolras to frown.
“I’m sorry, we’re what?”
“You heard me, you’re wrong about the name. Les Amis de l’ABC is actually fictional. It’s from Hugo’s Les Misérables. I should know. I read it over the summer. I think the name you’re actually looking for is the Society for the Rights of Man.”
“I- I don’t think that would be suitable in this context, in fact it’d be rather misogynistic. So of course, we couldn’t have done that. After all, that would very much go against our cause, in which we stri-”
“About that, do you honestly think that an after-school club comprised solely of 13, 14 and 15 year old kids is actually going to do anything?”
“I-”
“Exactly.”

Hushed whispers darted across the room. Grantaire only caught snippets, but as far as he could tell they were along the lines of how he had managed to render their ever-eloquent leader speechless, how cynical he was being, how he had actually read the book – that was notably Jehan – and why he’d came if he didn’t care or believe in anything. He secretly reveled in this. Ordinarily, whispers about him would have sent him into a fit of self-loathing, but today this made him feel a tiny bit accomplished.

Suddenly, silence fell as Enjolras regained his composure and went to speak again.
“Very well. If that’s what you think, then by all means. It wouldn’t do to discriminate against others based on their thoughts. But I must say, if you’re going to debate everything I do, I’d rather you leave.”
“Happy to oblige. Oh, and would you look at the time! Band rehearsals start in five minutes, I’d best be off. Can’t promise I won’t be back.”

Grantaire sauntered out, only pausing to grab his belongings. Someone inquired what instrument he played, and to that he gave only one word, not wanting to give any of them his time or effort.
“Trumpet.”

In the relative safety of the corridor, he pulled his phone out of his pocket just as a message flashed across the screen.

🥧 Epienine 🥧

3:57 PM, Tuesday 14^th March 2023

why’d u have to be so antagonistic and snarky

they weren’t that bad

He wasn’t going to reply. For starters, he was already going to be late to band, and secondly, he was too annoyed at her for dragging him there, even if some people were nice.

Grantaire got to the theatre three minutes late, just as the director was halfway through tuning.
“Ok. I need a C from the trumpets, seconds and then firsts. Yep, that’s great. No! Stop. Way too sharp. Ok that’s better, thank you. Oh, hang on, just a bit too flat there. Right, that’s better. Ok finally Gra- Don’t tell me he’s sick again. He’s the section leader! Hones-”
“Sorry I’m late sir.”
The director sighed, “Well? Hurry up. We’re all waiting.”

Grantaire hardly got through the hour-long rehearsal. He just wanted to go home, away from the overbearing presence of other people. All he could hope now was that no one had filmed the interaction at the club meeting. As much as he enjoyed showing up Enjolras, the guy he’d decided he hated a day after meeting him, he very much wanted to avoid his friends, with the sense that they were loyal, and would stand up for the blond. He also wanted to avoid Éponine, even if she was his best friend, as she had texted him about 15 times in the past hour, all of which he left on delivered. She was probably mad at him, and he didn’t want her to be, so he left it. He didn’t even want to go to school tomorrow, because going to school meant going to form, and going to form meant facing most of the Les Amis members. He could possibly suddenly decide to join Montparnasse’s group, but that might not be the best idea, considering the only word to describe them was ‘interesting’. Better yet, he could potentially hide in Myriel’s office until first period, that would work, but then again, there was a very high likelihood that any of the people he was trying to avoid were in his classes. Yes, it would be better if he just didn’t go to school, feigned illness and just stayed at home to wallow in self-pity. Hell, it wasn’t even like he even thought anyone would miss him! Perhaps he could just disappear of the face of the earth entirely… That was the easiest thing to do for sure.

Chapter Text

Grantaire didn’t like mornings. Actually, that was very much of an understatement. Grantaire hated mornings. Especially when nothing went to plan.

For starters, it was Wednesday. That meant he had to go to form first period and face everyone from the club. Secondly, he’d overslept his alarm, and subsequently yelled at his mum when she’d come to wake him up. Naturally, she’d gotten mad, and refused to buy any of his headache excuses, so he was forced out the door and off to school, still very much asleep and unprepared for what was to come.

Grantaire trudged down the corridor, the music playing in his ears on full volume so he didn’t have to think. He could just block out everything – and everyone – he didn’t want to face. In fact, it was so distracting that when he got to his locker, he didn’t even notice Éponine standing there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling one of his earbud’s out, and shoving it in her own ear. “Oh good, that’s an improvement from your weird classical stuff.”
He turned around and gave her a very pointed look.
“No. I’m the one the should be sorry, I messed up, I shouldn’t have ghosted you, or yelled at everyone and- And I was a rude, egotistical, unlikeable, disappointing, idio-”
“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re a lot smarter than you – or anyone else for that matter – give yourself credit for. I’m the one who should be sorry, I shouldn’t have dragged you there, I knew you didn’t want to go, but I-”
“No. I- I did. Well, I do. But I suppose they won’t let me back after that. It’s not like I could just saunter in, after having ridiculed their whole thing. It just wouldn’t- I couldn’t- I don’t think- I mean I-”
“Breathe ‘Taire. Let’s just accept that we’re both partly at fault here. But I assure you, they probably will want you back. At least a few of them, for sure. Also, you’re stuttering and blurring your words. What’s up?”
“Nothing. No, no, no, no, I- Not at all. I’m not. I’m fine, pr- pr- pr-”
“Promise? And yes, you are. Dude, I have ears.” She rolled her eyes jokingly. “Right, hurry up. The bell just went.”
Grantaire lingered over his locker, hastily grabbing his laptop and books. He shut his locker, but kept staring at it, like he expected it to suddenly turn translucent or something.
“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in his face, “Come on, are we going to form or not? Hah, we don’t really have a choice, do we? Miss Laurent’s nice, but not nice enough to let us skip. Let’s go.”
Grantaire shook his head, suddenly aware of how his stomach was churning.
“What happened to us not having a choice? We’re going to form.”
He shook his head again, the building nerves filling him with nausea. Perhaps he could just fake an upset stomach and go home.
“I don’t- I’m not going. They all hate me! They, they, they- They do! Plus, I’m too stressed about it because now I feel like I’m going to be sick. I’m going to Myriel’s office. Or the nurse. Or-”
Éponine yanked his wrist, dragging him off in the direction of their form room.

They ground to a halt in front of the door, Grantaire’s feet refusing to carry him any further.
“Oh. My. Goodness. Grow a spine and walk in. They don’t hate you.”
“Yeah, they do. Especially Enjolras. And he’s the only one that matt-” He clamped his hand over his mouth, realising the gravity of what he just said. Luckily, Éponine was already inside, well out of earshot and engaged in animated conversation with Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly and rather surprisingly, Enjolras.

Mentally sighing, he walked in, but faltered. If he sat by himself, someone would take pity on him, and strike up an awkward conversation. If he sat with Éponine, he’d be forced to face her and Enjolras. If he sat with one of the other people from the club, he’d either be ignored, ridiculed or- Well, he didn’t know. But he was sure it wouldn’t be good. The only option left was Montparnasse. That was… Not a bad idea, but not a good one either. The two of them had history, but Grantaire’s mum wouldn’t let them be friends, because he was a bad influence or something like that. Both of them had gone their separate ways, and found new friends. Montparnasse’s could only be described as ‘interesting’. If he remembered correctly, their surnames were something like Claquesous, Brujon and Babet, but he wasn’t sure. Sucking in a breath, he wandered over.

“Monty.”
“Maaate, no,” he drawled, every vowel significantly longer than it needed to be. “I’m not going by some nickname just so you don’t have to feel like the little-itty-bitty-odd-one-out. It’s Louis now.”
Grantaire bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something uncalled for. The other boy’s teasing, sneering tone was already getting on his nerves. He sighed. Montparnasse was just- ugh. Too much for him to deal with. But instead of just walking away, like he should have, Grantaire cut back with an ill-advised retort.

“Oh, ok. I’m guessing you want to be called Lulu now, huh?” If looks could kill, he’d be dead. Montparnasse’s face flushed red, and he narrowed his eyes a second later, clearly trying to feign anger, after being obviously taken aback.
“Oi, nah! I’m not gay or something!”
Grantaire held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you lost your sense of humour when we stopped being friends.” He swallowed, the other’s stunned silence letting him know he’d gone too far. Or perhaps he hadn’t, Montparnasse having opened his mouth to speak again.
“Go to hell. I still have a sense of humour, you’re just lame, you f-”
“I see. Resorting to slurs now?” Grantaire desperately tried to grab hold of his composure, but it was slipping away, tears already stinging in the corners of his eyes.
“Awwww. Poor baby. Go on, cry. Pity Laurent’s running late, and you don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend or any other friends to stick up for you, fa-”
“Please. If you mess with him, you mess with us.” Someone stepped in between the pair, and someone else put their hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. He blinked, surprised. He couldn’t think of someone in their form who would be sticking up for him. It was logical that someone would, after all, the Amis club seemed to be full of people like him.

When he finally looked up, he saw who’d come to his aid. Bahorel was berating Montparnasse in the most threatening way possible, and Jehan, Éponine and Feuilly were crowded around him.
“Hey ‘Taire. It’s alright. Just breathe, you’re ok. It’s all going to be alright, see?”
“I- Thanks ‘Ponine. I’m- I’ll be fine, ok?”
“Ok.”
He wiped his eyes, and went to sit at his desk, this time next to his best friend.

By then, everyone had noticed the disturbance, but they were soon distracted by Miss Laurent hurrying into the room.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late, meetings and all that. Right, good morning!”
A haphazard chorus of ‘good morning, Miss Laurent’ returned her greeting. She shook her head in mock annoyance. “I’ve told you so many times 9L, please, call me Miss Fantine. Ok, very well, I have a sort of exciting announcement to make today! Your camp is in a couple of weeks, one and a half in fact, and so we just need to go over some details and groups and such and such.” This was followed by a resounding groan from the majority of the form. Camp was always the worst week on the school calendar. “As you all know, the year’s year nine camp will be for ten days, in Hakea Valley. You will be camping in tents for the entire time, and as such, we need to form groups now. However, you can only be with people from our form, as we are staying forms for our overall activity groups. You must have two to three people to a tent, and boys are required to go with boys and girls with girls. I’m sorry, I understand you have other friends, and I do want you all to have your way, but I can’t change policy. Please let me know your groups by the end of form today. Alright, that’s me done, get yourselves ready for the day, go do what you need…”

Grantaire tuned the rest of her spiel out, the pit of nerves returning in his stomach. He could already see the groups forming in the room. He had no one to go with. As pairs and trios went up to Miss Fantine to register their tent, he slunk back in to his corner and shoved his earbuds in, hoping that no one would notice him, and he could get out of this quicker. Unluckily for him, someone did.

Someone came over and tapped Grantaire on his shoulder. He took his ear buds out, and turned to face the person.
“I thought you hated me. What are you doing here Enjolras?”
“I don’t hate you, as such. I think it’s more that I find you a pain, because you just walk in to my club and criticise everything about it.”
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry. But still, what do you want?”
“Are you usually this oblivious? Because if you haven’t already noticed, we’re forming groups for camp, and you’re the only other person who doesn’t have one.”

That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Enjolras was the leader of his club! Surely, he had friends.  So why was he alone?
“Um… are you very sure you want to spend ten days in a tent with me?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are with Marius, Joly and Bossuet are together, and then Jehan, Bahorel and Feuilly are a group. And it’s not like you could be asked to go with Louis and Jules, or Pierre and Thomas.”
“I- Ok. Ok. Fine, I will.”
“Right, cool, I’ll go tell the teacher.”

Grantaire nodded, but he wasn’t listening anymore. His thoughts were spiralling, crazy and out of control. He knew he hated mornings, but this was an all-time low. He wanted – no, needed – to go home. He couldn’t stay at school like this, he wasn’t focusing, he was losing control on his mind, spiralling. All he could think about being stuck with Enjolras for 10 days. Why, why did this have to happen? They were only going to antagonise each other, get in to fights. It would be hell. It was going to be anyway, it was camp. But this would be worse. Way worse. He couldn’t do this. They hated each other, and Grantaire was practically terrified of the blond. But he knew he couldn’t change anything now. No, he would just have to stick with it, and grow a spine at the same time. He shouldn’t be scared of people in his own year. Maybe, he should take a leaf out of Myriel’s book. Adopt a positive mindset for once. Yes, not all clouds have a silver lining – but not all of them will bring rain. Maybe camp wouldn’t be that bad. Then again, those were famous last words.

Chapter Text

Grantaire’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it and went back to staring at the ceiling. Camp was catching up to him, and packing was a reality he didn’t want to face.

Two minutes later it buzzed again, and he ignored it again. It’s not like it could be something super important.

An hour had passed, and yet he had still done nothing. He just laid there, picking at his face, staring at the ceiling, sketching flowers on his hand. Then, his phone buzzed, three times in quick succession. Grantaire ignored it. His entire body felt like an empty pit, and nothing he did helped. It was almost like he could feel the anxiety growing bigger and consuming his entire consciousness, slipping him into a trance-like state.

Out of the blue, his phone rang, forcing him out of his slump. He picked it up, slightly surprised to see who was calling.
“Hey… ‘Taire?”
He heard a small sniffle on the other end of the line.
“‘Ponine? What’s wrong? Are you ok?”
“Yeah… I just… Need you to come over, now.”
“Ok, ok.  Want me to bring anyth-”
Grantaire broke off. She had already hung up. He could feel the panic rising in his chest. His best friend wasn’t the type of person to ask for help, let alone cry. She’d always had to be the strong one for her four siblings, and the fact that she needed him, well, that was enough to really stress him out. Something must be terribly wrong.

Out of breath, he ran up the porch to her door and rang the bell.  She opened it, her eyes rimmed red.
“‘Ponine? What’s up, why’d you call? Are you ok? Why are you crying?”
“You didn’t answer my text.  I need your help. Well… Not your help, so to speak. Just… you.”
“Ha! What’s this? A proposition of love?”
“No, idiot.  Just come inside.”

Grantaire had been to Éponine’s house many times before, but he still never really felt comfortable there. Then again, neither did she. She always seemed a little more on-edge at home. They walked all the way down the hallway to her bedroom. It was just big enough for a bed, dresser, desk and shelves, with a little rectangular rug in the middle. She’d had all the furniture since primary school, and as a result there were random marks of textas and crayons and collections of stickers that looked like blooming mold over the wood. She lay down on the bed and sighed.
“It’s just us today.”
“Why? Where are all your siblings?”
“Gav is at the sports park, hopefully with his friends, and not doing something sketchy, the twins are on a playdate, Azelma’s at work and… my parents are gone. They have been for three days.”
“Damn… Three days? Are you guys alright?” He ran his hand through his hair.
“For now. But…  We’re going on camp tomorrow. If they don’t come back, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She sobbed a little and hugged the pillow.
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Come on, let’s think about it. Heavens, what would Myriel say?”
“Nothing, because if he knew anything about this he’d report me to social services, and.. and… and somehow that would be a hell of a lot worse, ok?”
“Right, sorry. But y’know what I meant right?”
“Well duh. I know I’m probably overthinking just a little, I have prepared for this, there’s prepped food in the freezer, I cleaned the house yesterday, we’ve split up our wages, me and Azelma, Gav has my phone… It’s just…”
“What? It’s just what?”
“They can’t take care of themselves… I mean, I don’t trust Gav to actually look after the twins. He’d probably end up, I don’t know…” She buried her head in his shoulder. Grantaire flinched a little at the touch. Intimacy was strange between the two of them. They’d been friends for what felt forever, or the start of kindy, and they were mostly comfortable with each other, but they were both closed off in their own kind of ways, and physical touch was almost a sore spot.

They lay like that for another hour at least. Just two friends, in peaceful silence, doing not particularly much. Eventually, the light outside started to grow dim. Azelma and Gavroche had both come home, and the doorbell was going to ring soon with the twins due to be back from their playdate any minute now. Grantaire’s phone buzzed in his pocket again, rousing the pair from their quiet state.
“Oh, sorry, it’s my mum, I better go, see you tomo-” His jaw dropped.
“What’s wrong?”
“No- nothing, I just, w- w-” He sighed.
“Go on, spit it out.”
“Why in the world would Enjolras text me? Éponine, you didn’t give him my number, did you?”
She shook her head, “Show me.”

~Camille Enjolras

2:28 PM, Sunday 26^th March 2023

Hi Grantaire. It’s Enjolras.
I was just wondering whether you were bringing a watch with an alarm to camp. Sorry.

“Ha ha! He acts like you, so many unnecessary apologies. But also, ew, why does he text like it’s an email? He literally sounds terrified of you!”
“That’s beside the point, idiot. I gotta go, it’s six, and my mum wants me home.”
“Bye. Call me later if you can.”

Hurriedly, Grantaire ran home, uneager to leave his mum on a bad note if he wasn’t going to see her again for the best part of the next fortnight.

For the majority of the time his evening was mostly uneventful, just the usual dinner and mindlessly scrolling on his phone, until Éponine called.

“They’re not back yet… I don’t know what to do… ‘Taire, please. I-” She sobbed down the phone.
“Hey, it’s ok. Just talk to me, do you think they’ll come later?”
“I’m not sure… It’s late, it’s half eight now.”
“That hasn’t stopped them before, ok? It’s going to be alright.” He swallowed, hoping that it was true. There was something about the way she was acting, it almost seemed like there was more to it than her parents’ usual neglect. And more to it on her end.
“I know that they don’t give two hoots about me, they don’t care at all… But, they used to, and they still care about the twins, they need to come back, they need to...”
“I know, I know. Just breathe, ok? Relax, we can probably sort something out. Your grandparents are over-east right, but don’t you have an aunt here? She could help.”
“Yeah… But it’s such short notice, I don’t want to be a burden on her, she doesn’t have kids, but she still has a life… And, and she hates my parents! She always makes a point of spitting out their names, Helena and Sacha, like they’re a bad taste.”
“Well… You do too. And surely that’s a good thing. Uh, considering the circumstances that is.”
“Ok. Ok. You’ve got a good point. I’ll call her now… I’ll let you know if my parents decide to show their faces or not.”
“Ok. Keep on it, everything will sort itself out eventually, ok? It’ll all work out.”
“Ok. Bye. Oh, and ‘Taire? Thanks for everything, where would I be without you?”
Grantaire smiled at this and hung up, but his thoughts were far from her comment.

Exhausted, he lay down and shut his eyes, in the hope that looking calm would make him feel calm. Fat chance. In actuality, his mind was racing. Firstly, Éponine. He could not get it out of her head. Of course, her concern was natural and to be expected, but very odd. While duh, she did care for her siblings, they were a resourceful bunch, they’d had to be! But then again, something must have happened for this sudden onslaught of worry to be justified. Everything had to be justified with Éponine. Secondly, camp. It was tomorrow. Tomorrow! Of course it was tomorrow. He was hardly ready, not that it mattered though, because he’d be shipped off regardless, and likely barred from coming home, even if he was bawling is eyes out – which he hoped not to be, but then again, camp had a tendency to make him drop his mask, especially if he got sick. He could become a very emotionally vulnerable person if the conditions were right. And finally, Enjolras. Actually, that was mostly the second reason too. Why did he agree to sharing a tent with him? Grantaire cursed at his foolishness. The blonde picture of perfection that acted just a tiny bit too high-and-mighty for his liking was stuck with, and no amount of exponential crises were going to fix that.

And so Grantaire let himself sink away in to sleep, away from the future, away from tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Grantaire lifted his face from his mum’s shoulder.
“Bye… Love you Mum. See you next Wednesday.”
“Love you too Seb. I’ll miss you. But, camp is a good experience, you better enjoy it.”
“I won’t.”
She sighed and handed him his severely overstuffed duffle bag and waved goodbye as he walked over to the growing crowd of Year 9s, most of whom were acting like they hadn’t seen their friends in months even though it had been less than two days.

Éponine waved him over from a more secluded spot under a gum tree, a few metres away from their group’s meeting point.
“How’s things?”
She frowned, “Whaddya think? My parents still haven’t showed up, but Erin – my aunt – says she’ll phone the school as soon as they do, so they can ‘let me know’, ‘get the weight off my shoulders’ et cetera, et cetera. I tried to tell her she shouldn’t worry and not to bother herself with me – with them. I only really care about my siblings. Not those idiots. I’m trying not to think about it, ok? Camp’s more important.”
“Ok. Sorry. Sit next to me on the bus?”
She nodded.

About half an hour later, all 120-something teenagers and their bags had been loaded on to three buses and they drove away. The rest of the almost four-hour trip was mostly uneventful, except for randoms bouts of shout-singing and people trying to get photos of their friends asleep and games of ‘I Spy’ with the entire bus involved.

Halfway through this chaos, the convoy stopped at a park. Everyone always said it was ironic as to how large the park was, compared to how small the little town it belonged to was. Well, the extent to which it was ironic was unknown, or if in fact it actually was ironic at all. Regardless of that, everyone got off the buses and sat on the grass, eating the last nice, private-school-parent-packed snack they would get for the next week and a half. Possibly also the tastiest and most well prepared. Food made in Trangeas and woks with a bunch of semi-random ingredients isn’t the best, and it isn’t improved when it’s made by a bunch of somewhat homesick teenagers.

Grantaire gently tore the top half off his hot cross bun and handed it to Éponine. It was like a little ritual, him giving her the food he didn’t want. His parents went out of the way to make sure he was healthy and had more than enough food to eat and hers gave her more ‘bare necessities,’ if she was lucky enough to have them make her food at all.  Plus, he didn’t really like the not-icing on the top of hot cross buns anyway.

Once they were done, the pair joined the queue for their respective bathrooms, along with what was essentially the rest of their year, which meant a rather long wait. And unfortunately, Grantaire had to spend his long wait standing behind his favourite person – Enjolras. And staring at his hair.

His blond curls were so pretty though, even the brunette couldn’t deny it. If Enjolras had been any other 15-year-old, he would have turned it in to a mullet – ew. Except he didn’t, because he was Enjolras. Or maybe because they went to a private school, and it wasn’t allowed. Maybe if he did grow a mullet, Grantaire would like it. Not that he could ever imagine liking anything the blond did. In fact, he was shocked Éponine had even considered that he could be crushing on Enjolras. To be fair, at the time, Grantaire didn’t irrationally hate him, he only started doing that after the club meeting because he was tired, and annoyed, and jealous because the blond was just so… Well, some would say perfect. Besides, the brunette was someone who suffered from ‘reciprocal feelings.’ If he thought Enjolras hated him, then he could only hate him back, regardless of if the other assured him that there were no such feelings on their part.

“Hey! Are you going to go in, or what?”
Grantaire was snapped out of his thoughts by the person behind him in the queue. He recognised the other boy, but had they ever held a conversation? No.
“We’re all waiting, Camille came out like a solid minute ago.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“All good. You ok?”
“Yep. I’m fine. Thanks.”
Heavens. Why won’t people just leave him alone?

By about one o’clock, all the buses had made it to Hakea Valley, and as soon as they stepped off, the majority of the year group had started complaining. They were genuine concerns really, like toilets and showers and food, but privileged complaints at heart.
“Aaand right about now is when you can tell which kids have been spoiled their whole lives,” Éponine quipped. “Some of them probably thought that the two nights out of four they had to spend in a tent in Year 8 was the worst thing that could happen to them.”
Grantaire murmured his assent.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, come on now, what’s wrong with you today?”
“I feel like absolute rubbish, and I don’t want to be here. So. Just about everything is wrong with me today.”
“Oh. It’s ok. We’ll get through it together. I don’t want to be here either.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”

The pair sat down on a log at the campsite with the rest of their group, and prepared for the briefing, which, in all honesty, neither of them would pay attention to.
“Hey everyone! I’m Sam, or Samantha, and I’ll be your group leader. However, I just need to let you know now that there was a little error assigning the group leaders, so you might get a new leader tomorrow or the day after, but I promise you they are lovely, and you’ll still enjoy camp even with someone different. Now, let’s go over a few ground rules. Well, I don’t want to call them rules…  They’re not all really rules, don’t worry. Anyway, first thing. If anything is wrong, please come and tell us, me and Miss Laurent, we’re here to help.”

At that, Grantaire zoned out. He had absolutely zero interest in the rules-not-rules. Not that he wanted to break them per se, he just didn’t care and didn’t feel like listening. He also didn’t really want to pay attention to the customary icebreakers. These people were in his form, and he’d already had to listen to them introduce themselves multiple times before. It just seemed pointless to him.

“Hey, Grantaire? Do you want to go set up our tent? Everyone is getting up to go do that, and you’re just… Sitting there. Come on.”
“Ok. How about over there?” He replied, gesturing to an empty spot at the end of the line of tents.
“Sure. I’m assuming you know how to put the tent up; I mean we had to do it for the last two years, haha.”
“Yeah, I do.”
The pair continued to set it up in a very tense silence, only broken by occasional instructions from either of them. Once that was done, Grantaire began to unpack his bag and set up his things on his side of the tent – the right side of course, he was a little particular about things. However, the brunette didn’t get very far before he gave up. Like most things that day, he didn’t feel like doing it. He just laid on his sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. His throat was starting to feel scratchy, and his head was starting to hurt. It had not been 12 hours since this ‘adventure’ had started, and yet he was ready to give up.

Chapter Text

The pale morning sunlight filtered through the walls of the tent. With it came the chirp and buzz of insects, and despite dawn being less than an hour ago, a raucous chorus of birds had already started up. Grantaire lifted his head to look at his watch. Great. It was not even six. With a slightly over dramatic thump, he lay back down. Suddenly, Enjolras rolled over in his sleeping bag. Damn it. He’d woken the blond. Well, wasn’t that just the right way to start off the very first morning of camp.

Slowly, the weak morning light grew stronger and the rest of the world began to grow louder. His classmates in the tents around them began rustling around and whispering to each other, even though it was still rather early. Grantaire reluctantly pulled himself up and sat in his sleeping bag for a few moments, soaking up the calm before what was sure to be a storm.

He used this time in the quiet to sit and reflect, something that on a regular day he would certainly not do. They say that the sun waits for no one, and perhaps in his case it was true, after all, being woken up not long after dawn was a testament to the sun’s power. This, however, left him with some extra time on his hands, which he decided to fill with one of Myriel’s ‘strategies,’ taking stock of himself. With every breath, he mentally journeyed through every physical part of his body. How his head hurt, and how his throat seemed to scrape every time he thought about talking, and how his nose was starting to feel a little stuffy, just enough so that every so often he would have to sniff a little. As well as taking a physical account of himself, he also took a mental account of himself. How he was feeling about camp - anxious, apprehensive and desperate for it to be over - but also how he felt about himself, if he felt he was well or not, or ok or not. The former definitely not, but at least the answer to the latter had more of a chance of being yes.

With his little exercise done, he took a sip of water to ground himself and take him out of his head for a little bit. Suddenly bored, he flicked his eyes over the other side of the tent, where the blond lay. His curls cascaded over his makeshift pillow, the rich golden colour almost glowing in the filtered sunlight. To the brunet, it looked almost like a halo, or like the god Apollo himself. Quickly, he looked away. His eyes had lingered too long, the other boy surely could feel his gaze boring into his back.

As if to prove that point, Enjolras sat up beside him, and he too picked up his water bottle. Caught unawares, the brunet shuffled away, unable to make eye contact with the boy sitting next to him.

“Um, Grantaire, I need to get changed, would you mind-”

“Oh… yep, of course, sorry, I’ll just uh- you know…” Hurriedly, Grantaire slid out of his sleeping bag. In his haste, he  fumbled with the zipper, and it caught on the fabric of the tent.

“Oh my god, sorry, I’ll get out of your hair,” he profusely apologised.

Meanwhile, Enjolras still sat there with a quizzical look on his face. He let out a little peal of breathy laughter.

“I never said you needed to leave, I was just going to ask you to turn around, idiot!”

“Oh. Sorry…” Grantaire flushed beet red, and pretended to busy himself with tidying up his side of the tent.

“Stop apologising,” the blond said, with a slight roll of his eyes. “It’s ok. And besides,” he paused, contemplating his next sentence, “the more you say something, the less meaning it has.”

A few minutes later, the pair were both dressed, and somewhat ready to face the world. But alas, there was still the matter of the stuck zip. 

“Do you want me to help with that?” Enjolras asked, upon seeing that Grantaire was already trying - and failing - at freeing the zipper.

“Uh… Nope. I’m all good,” he replied through his teeth, with a fake, cheery smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t be difficult! Just let me help you.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

The blond reached for the fabric of the tent. At the same time, the other boy reached for the zip. At some point in between, their hands brushed over each other. Grantaire felt the burn rise in his cheeks.

“Oh my god, sorry!” He yelped and turned away.

“Um- I literally just touched your hand. It’s not that big of a deal, heavens.” Enjolras rolled his eyes subtly and went back to fixing the zip.

“There. All fixed and no harm done. Now if you’ve recovered yourself from whatever happened then, we should go get breakfast, ok?”

“Ok. Sorry.”

Breakfast was a simple affair on camp, mostly consisting of generic cereals, Corn Thins, Vegemite, honey, and powdered milk, the last of which Grantaire would not be having. In truth, he didn’t actually know if he liked it or not, it was more the idea that he just didn’t agree with. Milk that was dried and you could then rehydrate? No thank you.

After spreading a Corn Thin with honey, he went to sit down on a log with Éponine.

“Is that all you're going to eat? I didn’t even think you liked honey.”

“No good morning?” He joked, despite feeling like doing the exact opposite. “Yes, it is all I’m going to eat, please don’t have a go at me, and no, I don’t like honey, but I’m hoping it’ll help my sore throat and a hit of sugar will make me feel less- you know.”

“Like death warmed up? You look miserable,” Éponine finished, a hint of seriousness in her playful tone.

“I’m sorry ‘Ponine, but I’m not in the mood for it this morning.”

“Oh,” she replied, the cheery lilt all but gone at the brunet’s honest and humourless reply. “Sorry. I-”

“It’s alright. Have you heard anything regarding the situation yet?”

“No. And please don’t call it that, ok?”

“Of course, sorry.”

The pair finished the rest of their meal in silence, the little moment of tension still hanging in the air between them.

The higher the sun rose in the sky, the sicker Grantaire began to feel. The day’s activity was a bushwalk to Hugo Bay in the morning, and then games and lunch on the beach once they got there. Even though it was the middle of autumn, the weather was still rather warm. It did make sense though. The Noongar season of Bunuru was almost over, and it was the hottest part of the year. It certainly didn’t help that after only a meagre kilometre of walking the landscape went from tall, lucious and shady Karri trees to scant shrubland and sand dunes. The sun beat down and its blindingly white light reflected off the sand, worsening his headache. He’d almost finished half a bottle of water, and yet his throat was still dry and scratchy, and he could hardly breathe due to his blocked nose. Heavens, he just wanted to  go home.

Finally, the group reached Hugo Bay and had lunch, and Grantaire was now sitting on the beach, staring at the others in the water, blinking back tears. The heat and the sun and everyone’s persistent chatter were wearing thin on him, and it didn’t help that a cold had its grips on him. He closed his eyes slowly and sighed, like a long blink, hoping it would act as a reset and fix most of his problems. It didn’t.

Éponine came and sat down next to him on the sand.

“Hey, what’s up?” She kept her voice quiet, sensing his discomfort.
“Everything,” he moaned.  “The heat, and the- the sun, and everyone talking, and all this sand, and the fact that my body is basically rebelling against me.” A tear slid down his face and he sniffed at it. Why was he crying? He needed to stop crying. Stop crying!

“Oh, ‘Taire… It’s ok.” She scooted closer to him, but he leaned away. “Sorry…”

“S’alright.” He blinked back tears, his wet lashes proving he’d already cried too much.
“Hey, it’s going to be ok. We can just sit if you like, no one’s going to force you to play capture the flag if you don’t want to. Remember what Sam said? It’s ‘Challenge by Choice,’ if you don't want to do one of the non-necessary activities, you don’t have to.”

“I- I wasn’t listening to her speech.” He whispered. Éponine shook her head, but didn’t go as far as saying anything.

The pair sat in silence, both of them occasionally breaking it with a comment on something, most likely the game in front of them, or whatever antics everyone else was getting up to. A good quarter of an hour later, Musichetta - who was in the other form, their ‘sibling’ group - came and sat down with them.

“Hi guys, is it ok if I sit with you? Running around on the sand is super exhausting, haha!”

“Yeah, sure. Just maybe give him some space.” Éponine tilted her head to her left, where Grantaire was sitting.

“Oh, it’s ok, I- I don’t mind if you…” He answered, trailing off at his best friend's pointed look. “Um, yep. What she said.” How did she know him better than he knew himself?

It turned out Musichetta was indeed the lovely, bubbly, cheerful person she had come across as in the meeting. The three talked sparingly for a little while. She was obviously trying to be nice, but Grantaire just wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate. He tried, of course, but he just didn’t feel like talking to people, or really listening either. However, one thing he did notice as the conversation progressed, was that Éponine became more and more quiet, and removed, until eventually, she just sat there. It was odd, especially for her.
“Sorry, Musichetta, thanks for talking to us, really, but I really need to talk to Ep, just us two. I’ll be back, I promise, I just need to-”
“Oh yeah, it’s ok, go ahead, I don’t mind. Whatever you guys need,” she smiled warmly.
“Thanks, really.” Turning to the other girl, he whispered, “Come on… Let’s get up and go somewhere quieter.”

The pair got up, and wandered to a section of the beach a little further away from the rest of the group.
“Hey, what’s up? You ok?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?”

“Yes, really.”
“Well. If you’re ever feeling not-so-fine, then please tell me, ok? We’re best friends, I want to look out for you.” He looked her in the eyes, his stare steely and serious. But behind it, there was a friendly warmth and a genuine sense of care.

She couldn’t meet his gaze and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry ‘Taire, I’m just worried. About you, and about Gav and the twins, and hell, even a bit about my parents. If they get into legal trouble, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us!” she sobbed, tears pooling in her eyes. “My grandparents are literally paying for my schooling because they felt sorry for us. If my parent’s get arrested, they’ll-” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by Grantaire pulling her into a gentle hug. He wasn’t very comfortable with doing it, and he knew she probably wasn’t too, but sometimes, a hug was just what the doctor ordered.

As suddenly as he had reached out, he had pulled away.

“Sorry. I’m sick, I shouldn’t have-”
“No, don’t apologise.” She reached out and hugged him back. “It’s ok. We both needed that.”

At around half past three in the afternoon everyone had loaded on to the small buses to take them back to camp. Grantaire, still not feeling up to being fully in the constant chatter of the rest of the group, sat by himself. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the rest of the world washing by him like ripples in water. But it was still quite warm on the bus, and the fabric of the seats was awfully scratchy and everyone else just would not shut up!

The person sitting behind him gently tapped him on his shoulder.
“Hey, Grantaire?” It was Enjolras. Why did it have to be Enjolras? “Are you ok? I saw you sitting on the beach and I just wondered-”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” Bluntly, he cut the blond off. Now was just not the time, and plus, he failed to believe that Enjolras actually cared how he was at all. He was sure that the other boy hated him. It wasn’t hard, hating Grantaire. Even he hated himself.

The brunet trudged up the path to the campsite, a few paces behind Éponine. Tears began to well up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He didn’t even know why he was crying. Other than the sense of impending doom and everything all just feeling too much, of course. But he needed to stop crying! Other people had it worse than him, hell, his best friend had it worse than him. And poor Joly, how could be expected to bushwalk with his leg? He really needed to ‘man up’, and just get over it.

Half a minute later, they reached the campsite. Having almost completely given up, Grantaire went and sat on a log stool alone. He buried his face in his hands, and tried to breathe, to ground himself, but he just couldn’t.

“Hey, you’re Sébastien, right? What’s up? Are we all good over here?”

He looked up to see Sam, the group leader, crouched on the ground in front of him. “Yep, I’m ok,” he replied, trying to get himself to smile. Unluckily for him however, a tear snuck out of his eye and slid down his face.
“Hmmm… Ok, I see. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly alright to feel a little bit homesick at times. Why don’t we go back to our tent and have a little chat with our friends, mhm?”

“Yep, sure,” The brunet forced the words out, talking through gritted teeth. If he could, he’d have said the exact opposite. He desperately wanted to roll his eyes or talk back to her, but that was surely forbidden. Nothing she said was really even any use! While he was sick, he was definitely not homesick and going back to his tent and talking to Enjolras was certainly not going to help. 

“Oh, hey Grantaire. Are you sure you’re fine?” The blond probed as soon as he entered the tent.
“Yes! For heaven's sake, I’m fine!” Grantaire snapped, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.
“Ok then. I’m going to see Courf and Ferre.”
“Great!” The brunet tried to yell after him, but the rest of his words were swallowed up. Dejected, he flopped down onto his sleeping bag and for the first time today, he let the tears fall freely. Part of him knew that some of them were from earlier, when he was so hopelessly overwhelmed. But some of them were from now. He hated feeling sick, he really didn’t want to be on camp for any longer, he felt a little guilty about snapping at Enjolras, the blond didn’t deserve it, and truthfully, he probably was still a little overwhelmed. The brunet took a deep yet shaky breath, but he still couldn’t stop crying. It was getting irrational.

Someone outside walked up to his tent. Actually, judging by the sound of the footprints, it was two people. If Enjolras had ratted him out, he would not be happy.
“Hey Sebastien?” He winced, he was going to have to get used to that name more. “It’s Miss Laurent and Éponine here, could you please open up your tent?”

Frantically, he tried to gather himself and wipe the tears off his cheeks. Shakily, unzipped the zipper.
“Are you ok?”
“I- Honestly, I don’t think so.”
She crouched in the dirt in front of the makeshift door.

“Ok, that’s alright. Éponine told me you were quite overwhelmed on the beach, what’s been going on?”
He bowed his head and mumbled, “I don’t know… I just haven’t been feeling great on camp at all, and sometimes, I get overwhelmed and anxious for seemingly no reason. It happened last year too. I just don’t want to be here anymore…”

“I understand, our form can get a bit loud sometimes, can’t they, haha!”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Can you take a few deep breaths?”

Grantaire nodded and did as she said.

“Good, are you feeling better?”

No. It wasn’t that simple. But he couldn’t just say that, could he? “A little.”

“Ok, they’re starting on dinner now, do you want to have a little rest by yourself?”

He nodded again.

“We’ll leave you to it. But, before I go, would you like me to let your tent partner know how you’re-”

“No, please don’t,” he interjected firmly, cutting her off. “ Please don’t tell him.”
“Very well, if you’re sure…”

The brunet was alone again, yet he knew that this relative calm and solitude would be over soon, and he would have to go out and face everyone. It definitely wasn’t going to get any easier, but tomorrow was a new day. With luck, he wasn’t going to feel as sick, and he might be able to function like a normal human being. Perhaps he would enjoy camp, or maybe even make friends with Enjolras. But deep down, he knew that there was hardly a chance of the latter happening, and even less of the former. He was just going to have to resign himself to his fate.

Chapter Text

It had rained overnight. When Grantaire woke up, the ground around the tent was damp, and so were his shoes and bag, which he had conveniently left outside of the tent. But despite the resounding dampness of the environment, the sun was shining and the air was pleasant. The clouds that had begun to loom over them at dinner the previous night had dispersed. It was well and truly a new day. The brunet knew he had to take that in his stride. If the world outside said that today was a refresh, then he would too. But alas, as he plodded up the hill towards the day’s activity, he couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t going to happen.

“All right everyone! Welcome to low ropes, my name’s Charlie and I will be your instructor for this morning. Low ropes is all about teamwork, and as you can see, you and the rest of your group will be making your way around this course in the quickest time possible.” He gestured wildly to the zigzag of metal ropes and trees that surrounded the clearing. This was followed by a resounding chorus of groans. The man’s cheery smile faltered a little but he kept on reciting his spiel brightly.

“What if I just… Like fell with my arm outstretched?” Grantaire whispered to Eponine.

“Why would you do that? Do you want us to lose or something?”

“To break my arm, silly. If I do that, maybe they’ll let me go home.”

She sighed and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t be an idiot. I know you feel really sick, and I know you want to go home, but that isn’t the way to do it, ok?”

He nodded. “I know, but like really… What if I did? I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

With a huff, she flicked his arm with her finger. “Don’t be silly, once it’s over, you’ll regret not enjoying yourself.” Éponine paused, and at Grantaire’s pointed look, she continued, “I know, I know, it’s rich coming from me. While I can’t say I’d like to be at home with full truth, I can say that we both need to get through it and just- I dunno. Get over it,”  she shrugged.

“Sure,” he replied bluntly. 

Luckily, or unluckily, he made it to lunchtime without injuring himself, although the same couldn’t be said for Bossuet. He had fallen backwards off the wire and into the dirt, and somehow at the same time, had gotten a bee sting in the back of his arm. However, Marius was his spotter, and instead of actually doing his job, he stood about an extra two metres away from where he should have been, in an effort to not have to touch anyone, which was problematic at best. The bruise on his back was certainly not going to be fun. Especially not in a couple of days when they’d be abseiling and hiking with proper packs.

Grantaire skipped out on lunch that day. He shouldn’t have and he knew it, he’d hardly eaten at breakfast, but he just really didn’t feel like it. Camp food struggled to appeal to his appetite, and well, there were a multitude of different reasons why he ate less when on camp. He was well aware that it was bad. But oddly, it helped him cope. It was one of the few things he could control. Éponine also wasn’t there to encourage him to look after himself. After their discussion at low ropes, she’d been distant, choosing to spend time with her sister, and Cosette, instead of him. Which was fine. She’s her own person. So instead, he sat away from everyone else, alone, just his despondent self.

“Hey, you good?” 

He looked up from where he was sitting to see Jehan’s smiling face staring down at him, a half-eaten, overfilled wrap in their hand.

“Yeah… I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Oh, no, nothing much, I just wanted to say hi. You looked a little… lonely? I guess. And you didn’t get any lunch…”

They plonked themself down on the log beside him.

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little… Under the weather, per se. Have you drunk any water?”

He sighed, sick of the probing and needless fussing. Whatever happened, he was going to have to be fine. But alas, he didn’t really have the energy to shut sweet Jehan down.

“Ish. Just a cold. And…” he trailed off. “Well, I really hate camp. But hate is a-”

“Strong word and all that. I know. I get it. I’m not exactly a fan of being on camp either,” they chuckled softly. Jehan went to say something, but they paused, rethought it, and didn’t continue the conversation further. The pair sat next to each other in silence for the following quarter of an hour, until the rest of the group was ready to move on.

The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, helped along by the exhilarating high ropes course. Admittedly, Grantaire had gotten stuck on one of the suspended tyres, but thanks to Bahorel’s extremely energetic coaching he managed to get across safely. 

Surprisingly, both he and Éponine had started to enjoy themselves. She had hung out with Azelma and Cosette all day, and the trio had already become firm friends. Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel came and ate lunch with Grantaire, and then invited him into their high ropes team, which, while it was a sweet gesture, made him feel a bit like a fourth wheel to their already close-knit friendship. Regardless, it was nice to have a few more people who he could talk to, his best friend was becoming slowly more distant. Not that she could be blamed, he’d wager she was constantly shadowed by the stress and anxiety of what was going on in her life, and didn’t need his sickness and his irrational gripes weighing on her mind. He didn’t want to be a burden. Everyone was struggling in their own private ways. Everyone had it much worse than he did. He couldn’t just press his problems on them. It wouldn’t be fair.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Grantaire awoke early to an anxious, twisted pit in his stomach. They were starting on Expedition today with the canoe journey, leaving Basecamp and its assurance that if something went wrong, there was always someone who could help. And who knew what would happen in the middle of the bush? Feral cats, snakes, spiders… What if he got sicker? He was feeling better, but anything could happen. And the dirt! He was already so dirty, but if he couldn’t cope with it now, well how was he going to cope with it next year?

Restless, he tried to force himself to lie still, so as not to disturb Enjolras beside him. The more he lay in the deafening silence, the more he spiralled and the more stressed he became. Tears welled in his eyes, and rolled down his cheeks, leaving itchy silver trails in their wake.

Someone tapped him gently on the shoulder.
“Grantaire?”
Oh no, oh no, oh no. Why did Enjolras have to see him like this? He’d specifically turned over so the blond wouldn’t notice him.
“Grantaire?” The other boy asked again. “Are you ok?”
He sat up and turned to face him.
“Yes. I’m fine,” he whispered hoarsely.
But Enjolras did not take that as an answer. Instead, he held his hand out.
“What?”
“I know how weird this sounds, but hold my hand.”
Reluctantly, he placed his hand in the blond’s.
“Ok. What’s wrong?”
Grantaire averted his gaze and dropped Enjolras hand.
“Nothing. I’m just- stressed.”
The other boy said nothing in reply, just looked at him, as though boring his gaze deeper into his chest would warrant him an answer. The silence grew like a weed between the pair.
“Sorry I- I don’t know what you want. Right now, I just need to get dressed and have breakfast, thanks,” he interjected, his voice laced with fake pleasantness.
“I’m just trying to be kind, Grantaire. I can tell something’s wrong. I can see you’ve been crying.”
The brunet threw his beanie on the floor.
“I have had enough of this act, Enjolras! Why are you pretending you care about me? Just- just stop trying to be friends and stop pretending you don’t- you don’t hate me. Just please leave me alone. I- I-” he sighed, fresh tears forming on his eyelashes. “I’m sorry, but I’m fine.”
Enjolras went to snap a retort, but paused and thought better of it. “Very well then. But uh… maybe if you don’t want people to have concern for you, don’t make it look like you’ve crying.”
Grantaire rolled his eyes, yet stayed silent. He wanted to snap back, and it took severe restraint not to. The oh-so-perfect, Mr high-and-mighty, radiant blond god of a teenage boy had been on his nerves for weeks now. He had had enough. Or perhaps he just needed to get over it, and actually talk to Enjolras. But surely, it was a lot easier to be annoyed than to be friends with the person he was slightly obsessed with, for want of a better word.

He avoided the ‘fallen Apollo’ for the rest of the morning. Yet to his surprise, it went both ways. The blond didn’t even try to force conversation when they took down the tent and packed their things. But strangely, now Enjolras ignored him, Grantaire didn’t feel all that glad about it.

He sat in the canoe, staring dejectedly into the murky depths of the river. It had been a chilly, grey morning and after the sun had made an appearance at lunch, it was shaping up to be a chilly, grey afternoon. A brisk breeze whipped across the water and towering trees stood guard on the bank, casting colossal shadows that never saw the warmth of the sun. Grantaire shivered. He’d been oddly cold all morning, wrapped up in a fleece and thermals, when some of his classmates were donning board shorts in preparation for the river. But he would be fine. It could all be chalked down to good old anxiety, and even if he was running a low-grade fever - which was certainly not out of the question - no one would help him, not even Miss Laurent. She’d said she’d give him a Panadol yesterday morning, after Tuesday afternoon’s events, but she’d either forgotten, or had been told she couldn’t by Sam. Despite Sam’s cheery demeanour at the start, she’d really changed for the worse as the week went on. But some things, well, they just had to be pushed through.

It was quiet out on the river. The water absorbed most of people’s quiet chatter, so all you could hear was the gentle splash and ripple of the paddle. Though midday had passed an hour or so ago, it still felt like an early morning. The sun glistened as it hit the water, and birds still chirped their little chorus of songs. Occasionally, a car or a caravan would pass over the bridge a couple of hundred metres ahead, but other than that, their convoy of canoes was the only visible sign of human life around. They were truly alone in the wilderness.

Grantaire paddled along slowly, trying to avoid the unavoidable ache in his shoulders that he would get in the evening. For some unknown reason, he’d been paired with Miss Laurent for today’s leg of the journey. It wasn’t bad, per se. She was a really lovely person. He felt awful that he didn’t really have the energy to reciprocate her kindness and conversation. Heaven knows she had enough to deal with over the next week and a half.

By the time they reached the new campsite, lined the canoes up on the shore and pitched the tents, the light was already beginning to dim. The sun was sending scrolls of red, orange and purple snaking across the dusky blue sky, almost as a way of compensating for its waning warmth. With the lofty karri trees towering all around, it made for the perfect shot. If only Grantaire had his camera.

Miss Laurent walked over to where he was standing, still enraptured by the sunset.
“Hey, Grantaire, are you ok?” She interjected.
He paused, contemplating. “Yeah. I am.” He broke into a small smile, but it was a true smile. Because for the first time this week, he could answer that question truthfully. For once, he did feel ok.
“Oh, well that’s good. I was just wondering if you would like to be in charge of the recipe for dinner. We’re making freeze dried chicken curry!”
The brunet swallowed. He didn’t exactly want to. It involved a lot of ordering people around and telling them what to do, and honestly, he didn’t have quite enough energy to do that right now. Alas, he didn’t have the heart to refuse.
“Sure. Why not? It’ll be fun.”

It was, to an extent. Everyone laughed and chatted amongst themselves, a low buzz of activity in their hidden spot in the bush. It almost seemed surreal. For once, people listened to Grantaire. He almost felt important, like he actually had a reason to be there, not just because he was required to. The only people who ignored him, or rolled their eyes when he talked were predictably Montparnasse and his little ‘gang’. When we walked over to hand them their portion of rice to cook, Brujon and Babet - sorry, Pierre and Thomas - ignored him, pretending not to notice that he was standing right in front of them. So for that, he dumped the bag on the floor, and then flipped the four of them off.

“Oi you!” Claquesous yelled accusingly.
“Just leave it Jules. Don’t give him any attention. He’s such a-”
Grantaire walked away before he could hear what insults Montparnasse had to throw at him. For once, he didn’t feel bad, and he didn’t need anyone to ruin it for him.