Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grantaire died on a Wednesday.

Or at least,  that's what it felt like.

There was a plane crash and a phone call and a woman saying how very sorry she was, and that the doctors had done all they could but they were gone, all of them.

His family was his world, his universe, the very blood in his veins. They were in every breath he took and every smile he flashed. Mami was in his cooking, papi in his eyes, Leo in his laugh, Isabella in his art. They were life itself, big and loud and vibrant and fairly obnoxious—they were is, now and will be.

Now, they were was, when and should’ve been. He barely registered the phone slipping from his fingers and his legs giving out onto the cold kitchen floor. He never even got to say goodbye. The one on the phone this morning didn't count, that was more of an "I'll see you soon", not the kind of goodbye that sits heavy in your throat and makes you choke on your words. Not the kind of goodbye that's too final to smile through with a well timed joke and wink.

Of course it happened on a Wednesday , the thought flashed dimly in his mind i fucking hate Wednesdays.

Distantly Grantaire wondered if he should cancel his art showing. It seemed insignificant now. All those months of stress and fighting off the encroaching burnout, they didn't matter anymore. Not when no one was there to be proud of him anymore.

He stayed there for a while, treading the water of grief for as long as he could, holding off the drowning because that’s when it became real. As soon as he started mourning? That’s when they're really gone. But in this liminal state of shuddering breaths and pain shut off behind a dam, he was able to exist in a world with his family for a stolen five minutes more.

He took two bottles of his best wine from the cupboard—they were meant for family special occasions, but what occasions were there going to be anymore? Funerals and death anniversaries. Birthdays soaked in tears and scotch. 

He stumbled into the sitting room and began to bury his grief under red wine.

It wasn’t healthy. He knew that. He should call someone, anyone . But who was there to call? What friends did he have to tell and then cry to? The group of junkies and smokers that let him sit at their table to study? Grantaire had no real friends, and now, he had no family either.

Thousands of miles away Enjolras was sat at his desk, puzzling over a crossword instead of writing his politics essay and laughing at his roommate Courfeyrac’s attempts to pirouette. Courf was almost certainly doing it for Combeferre (their other roommate)’s attention. Most things were these days, since Courf developed his not-so-secret-small-crush on Combeferre. They were insufferable, it would be disgusting if it wasn't so reluctantly endearing. Enjolras shook his head fondly. He loved his friends

He was happy for once - content.

Enjolras was, for the first time in his life, living , not just surviving. He dressed how he wanted and cut his hair over the bathroom sink. He went to parties and then protests the next day. Funny how when you cut off everyone you ever knew, being unashamedly yourself becomes infinitely easier. Or perhaps that was just because everyone Enjolras had known before only loved him in terms and conditions. It was different now. Courfeyrac and Combeferre were different. He hadn’t given a single thought to Grantaire in over a year, or about their messy-almost-could-have-been-but-was-never- going-to-work relationship.

Enjolras had no particular feelings about Wednesdays, he had always been rather neutral on the matter.

Chapter Text

Grantaire wakes an hour before his alarm, heart rattling and hands shaking, head filled with flames and smoke and screaming.
I’m alive he thinks
   I’m alive
      I’m Alive
         I’m alive and he is, against all odds, Grantaire is alive.
He rolls out of bed with the thought on his mind. He brushes his teeth. I’m alive he butters his toast im alive and dresses I’m alive.

A year ago Grantaire never would have—never could have—imagined himself reassuring himself with the fact his heart was still stubbornly beating in his chest, but then again Grantaire a year ago would never believe you if you told him he would end up an art teacher.

Grantaire a year ago thought he was going to die and was glad of it.

But Grantaire a year ago didn't die and here he is now, about to start his new job.

Today is his first day and he is most certainly not worried anyone who told you that is a filthy liar (because he isn't worried, he’s petrified) (not that he’d ever admit that though).

His outfit is smart—Mami would be proud—but it’s still Grantaire enough that he can breathe; jeans and a belt, paired with a bright patterned shirt, its red, Enjolras’ favourite colour.

It shouldn't mean something to him that his shirt is his high school ex’s favourite colour, but it does anyway.

Its not even as if Enjolras was his first or last relationship, Grantaire has had plenty of partners before and after him but it seems enjolras has buried himself in between the cracks of Grantaire’s skull, into his mind and is here to stay, and for the life of him Grantaire cannot figure out why (because he already knows why) (he still loves him)

He wears his sister’s leather bracelet under his shirt cuff. He wants—needs—a piece of family with him today.

Grantaire touches the picture on his bedside table briefly; it was the last time they were all together, him, Isabella, Leo and his Mami and Papi, there he was squished between his siblings all grinning goofily as their parents rolled their eyes at their antics - wish me luck guys

He swallows back the tears that threaten to fall, god he misses them. Huffing out a shaky breath, he smiles and leaves the room to grab his phone and wallet. they'd be proud of me he doesn't have to make himself believe it, he knows they would be, Leo always said he’d end up working with kids.

He's about to step out of the door to his flat when he pauses and darts back in to retrieve a scarf. Its green, worn and fraying.

He supposes it cant hurt to have a piece of Enjolras with him as well.

His phone pings while waiting for the lift, it’s eponine. He would say eponine is his best friend, but shes more than that, shes his sister.

She found him one night, passed out In front of a bar, blackout drunk to dull the pain and took pity on him, taking him home and ensuring he didn't choke on his own spit or anything else humiliating, and they’ve stuck together ever since.
her little brother Gavroche have become family in the time since he lost his own.

Grantaire last year would’ve hated that he found family in the After, and he smiles, like it or not he’s come a long way since last year.

Ep 👻: Its your first day right?
You: Yeah wish me luck 💀
Ep 👻: No
You:???
Ep 👻:You don’t need it
You: Awwww thanks ep 💕
Ep 👻: Shut up.

He laughs, and shakes his head fondly, stepping into the elevator.

You:Love you ep
Ep👻: Love you too asshole
You’ll do great
Just don’t traumatise any kids
You: Ill do my best

If he’s being honest with himself, Grantaire is terrified to walk into that classroom of 27 11-12 year olds, but Grantaire is rarely honest with himself so he tells himself he’s going to be fine and thats he’s good with kids.

That much is true at least, he was always brilliant with the kids he’d help enjolras babysit. He’d get them to bed easily and early after a story and then he and Enj would be alone to…… no, he shakes his head to rid himself from the image of those blue eyes.

Its all too easy to lose himself in thoughts of Enjolras and he cant afford to do that—not today.

Chapter Text

Combeferre drains his coffee and grimaces, he never likes coffee unless his best friend Courfeyrac makes it for him.
He’d tried to make it exactly how he’d seen Courf do it but its no use, it tastes crappy and he wont get good coffee until courf is back from his holiday with his girlfriend.

There is jealousy, hot and aching in his chest but he doesn’t quite understand why.

He sighs and banishes all thoughts of his best friend, his best friend’s girlfriends and his best friend’s coffee making abilities from his mind and steps out of the staff room into the corridor.

Theres a new art teacher joining today he remembers, though he cant quite recall which year’s form he’d be taking…. Maybe year 7? He muses, reception needs a new teacher after the Mr Johnson….. issue.

God what a fiasco, he still doesn’t know how the school managed to hire that awful man.

He’ll probably need showing around, ill go find him he decides after a second, and begins to make his way down to the key stage three classrooms.

The kids don't come in till quarter to nine, combeferre has time to kill before he needs to be back at his desk in the year six room.

He passes bright displays of students’ work and school trips, colourful posters with regulation tips and club advertisements and smiles wistfully, he would’ve loved his school to be like this.

The thought is only amplified as he passes the school’s pastoral department. God, what he would have given for a place like that to go when he was overwhelmed, back then the only safe place was a locked bathroom cubicle, and even then…

A voice yanks him from his thoughts and back to reality and he blinks. Standing in front of Combeferre is a dark haired man staring at him,

“You okay?” The man asks, slightly concerned.

combeferre coughs, “yes, quite, sorry, could you just repeat what you said?”

The man laughs “I’m the new teacher, the one for Year 7? And i’m lost, and also grantaire.. my name is i mean, I’m grantaire and I’m lost” he—Grantaire apparently—rubs his face and sighs “can you tell I’m nervous?”

Combeferre chuckles and smiles “i was just looking for you actually, i figured you might want showing around, follow me”
Grantaire sighs in what seems to be relief

“thanks, uhh”

“Combeferre” he supplies

Grantaire grins “thanks combeferre, you’re a life saver”

As they walk, Combeferre discovers that Grantaire is the school’s new art teacher, and that he aspired to be a professional artist when he was young, but dropped out of art school, he also found out that Grantaire did not like discussing his family—combeferre had asked if he had any siblings and the man had immediately clammed up and changed the subject—but did like talking about philosophical and morals; or rather, arguing about them.

Grantaire is very good at arguing Combeferre finds, thought its less arguing and more debate, the man has a way of agreeing with your statement while making it seem utterly incorrect in every sense, and then supplying his own opinion backed with mythology inspired metaphors while you were floundering in the sea of your own confused thoughts.

Yes, Combeferre thinks, i do believe that we will be friends.

He says as much to Grantaire, and smiles at how his face lights up.

They reach Grantaire’s assigned form room and part after a small dance of thank yous and its no problems and ill see you at breaks.

Combeferre cannot wait to talk with Grantaire again, Enjolras would love him he thinks he’s always looking for a good debate and Grantaire is great conversation and he smiles.

Grantaire will fit right in.

Chapter Text

Enjolras does not enjoy Mondays.

They require him to wake far too early after letting the weekend lull him into a false sense of security, built of lie ins and sleep. To say that he is not a morning person is an understatement. But, he got up and went to work anyway, with the promise of coffee and seeing Combeferre.

He and Combeferre had met in sixth form after Enjolras had moved schools (the move had nothing to do with his breakup with Grantaire nothing at all he doesn’t even care about Grantaire the very notion is preposterous, if anything he hates his ex boyfriend with burning conviction).

The first day of the year is always the worst, with more social interaction than he’s had all summer, and less sleep.

Its the latter that bothers him the most, he enjoys being able to sleep. He wont be able to as soon, as he starts working, not because the work in itself takes too long, but because he has to make sure everything he does is perfect; which means late night and early mornings to ensure he finishes everything to the best degree possible.

He does not have control issues, do not listen to Courfeyrac.

And so Enjolras survives off of four to five hours sleep a night, copious amounts of coffee and seeing his best friends.

Well, friend.

 Courf is away with his girlfriend leaving only him and Combeferre for the first day of school. Asshole he thinks, but its fond, it always is with Courf, no one can ever seem to stay mad at him for too long; Combeferre especially.

Oh god, Combeferre Enjolras realises, he’s going to be in such a bad mood, he wont have had a good coffee, and he’ll be jealous.

Enjolras loves his friends, but courf and ferre have been obviously disgustingly hopeless for each other for as long as he can remember, but they’re too damn oblivious to realise.

Its been hell.

He cant even mock Ferre for it because he’ll make a comment along the lines of “what about that ex boyfriend you never gor over?” which is ABSURD and UNREASONABLE he does not have any feelings for that man at all, he dislikes Grantaire intensely and does not understand why Courfeyrac and Combeferre insist on bringing it up

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, at least he doesn’t have a class till third period.

He brightens at that, actually, he’s teaching his favourite topic this term: the french revolution. The kids are great too, he’s just tired and under-caffeinated and is that Combeferre with the new teacher-?

He stands and moves towards the window in his room to peer out, Enjolras isn’t nosy, he’s curious—not that there’s much of a difference with him. But he has a reason this time, the last art teacher was…… the last art teacher was not a nice man, and Enjolras refuses to let his students endure that again.

This man looks nice though, from what little he can see from the small window, he has kind eyes, big and green and earnest Grantaire’s looked like that Combeferre leaves the New Teacher at his classroom, which Enjolras—for no particular reason—notes is just across the corridor from his.

He pops his head around the door

“Ferre, got time to talk before the kids come in?” And combeferre smiles, Enjolras likes Combeferre’s smile, it reminds him of what a mothers should be like

“yeah, i have a few minutes enj”

Enjolras loves his best friend.

”was that the new teacher?” He asks, and no, his ears are not red why would you even think that

”your ears have gone red Enj” combeffere remarks with a smirk

well. Shit.

”no they havent”

”they have too”

”they have not”

”whatever enjolras” and Combeferre is still smirking “i have to go, but i’ll see you at break yeah?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively “and ~grantaire will be there~” 

Combeferre laughs as Enjolras’ heart freezes in his chest

“w-who?”

Combeferre rolls his eyes

“the new teacher, who else?”

it cant be his that grantaire, it cant be, there’s other grantaire’s out there surely? Yes, that’ll be it its just someone with the same name, not him, its not him

Hhe cleared his throat and looks at combeferre unimpressed “leave they eyebrow suggestiveness to Courf, Combeferre, you look insane”

and combeferre laughs “i’ll see you at break Enj, have a good morning”

Yes, Enjolras loves his best friend.

Chapter Text

Grantaire really hadn’t meant to fall asleep in history, honestly, but the topic was dull and the teacher was duller still and so he found himself nodding off to the white noise of the feudal system analysis. However, Mr Grayson didn’t appreciate Grantaire’s flawless reasoning which is how he found himself slouched in his usual chair in the detention room.

There was shouting outside, outraged, filled with righteous fury if you will, and a girl stalks into the room, glowering and cursing under her breath “First time in detention?” Grantaire laughs, and then the girl looks up.

Grantaire never believed in love at first sight, that was for princesses and fairy tales, and he was neither, but those eyes….. He wanted to paint them…. It wasn't love, but it was something at first sight.

“Hardly, but it is not my fault this school is full of bigots and misogynists” the girl replies, and there is fury rolling off of her tongue in waves “And you? I take it this isn’t your first either”

Grantaire laughs again “Hardly”

“Are you here because of the obvious social injustices and prejudices displayed every day at this hellhole of a school?”

“Uhhhh.. I fell asleep in history” The girl looks him up and down, and Grantaire tenses, he felt laid bare as she stared at him, like she could see right through every wall and mask he had built around him.

“Oh.” she says, and sits down with her back to him and he is cold without her silent scrutiny, he had been burning without even noticing.

Grantaire grins, a challenge, perfect, he was just starting to get bored. He scribbles down a note and a doodle, balls it up and flicks it to the girl's desk, hitting her arm. The effect is immediate, she whirls around and god those eyes, boring into his. She stands and suddenly she is in front of him, glowering, and Grantaire smiles, he may not know how to please and charm people, but he can at least get their attention.

“What was that for” she demands, and he shrugs,

“I wanted to get your attention” he says, and the girl’s glare only deepens and despite himself Grantaire cannot help but feel naked under her piercing gaze, he expects a cutting remark, a poetic backhand leaving blood running down his cheek and him relishing the clarity, finally back to what he is used to, but instead she says

“Why”

“What” if their conversation is a tilting plain, Grantaire is clinging on for dear life as this girl flings him around with a single word

“I asked why” there is a steel in the girl’s voice that hadn’t been there before. Well 'taire, you've fucked this one up already he thinks.

“How’d you get detention Apollo” the name slips out before he can stop it, but you can hardly blame him, not when this girl is scowling at him with Rapunzel golden hair and bloody cerulean eyes and radiating noble caused wrath, how could he not compare her to the sun? He was an art and philosophy student after all.

“Apollo?”

“Yeah, Apollo, Greek and roman sun god, you know, massive golden chariot rides across the sky dragging that massive ball of fire across the sky? That Apollo, but that’s not what i asked, how’d you get detention”

The girl frowns again but this time with confusing instead of irritation, Grantaire does not know which he prefers, but at least she's concentrating on him, he might be smoking under her attention, igniting with every passing second, he may be Icarus but at least he is willing with it, at least he is commanding the attention of the sun before he shrivels up and falls.

"Mr Jameson dress coded a girl in my class for wearing a skirt that was but half an inch too short and threatened to send her home for distracting the boys and other male teachers, i simply pointed out that if male teachers were distracted by a minor's slightly too short skirt then it was an issue with pedophilia and not a dress coded issue, and that the dress code existed purely to simultaneously infantalise and sexualise young girl's bodies and further strip them of their autonomy, he did not take kindly to that as you may have guessed and so here i am" the girl's fists are clenched and there is flames in her eyes.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, i completely agree with you and personally would love to punch Mr Jameson" he replies with his GrantaireGrin™"

The girl smiles and Grantaire swears he sees his life flash before his eyes, Jesus, he was well and truly screwed, wasn't he.

"....thank you" she says and Grantaire thinks that maybe he has a chance at.. well he doesn't know what but its something but then-

"You should come to the social justice club on a Tuesday lunch, we're currently campaigning against the dress code actually" and just like that Grantaire's chest tightens because of fucking course, of course she goes to the social justice club and genuinely thinks she can make a difference because the world hasn't quite crushed the life out of her, not just yet, not like Grantaire, numb and resigned to his miserable life, not quite suicidal not quite wanting to live.

"No offence Apollo, but i'd really rather not" he says, but it comes out harsher than he intended and he winces as the girl stiffens and inhales sharply "look, it's not that i don't admire all of that, but its kind of pointless, no adult in power is going to listen to us and it just depressed me putting everything into a cause that's doomed before it even starts"

that was not the right thing to say.

the girl slams her hands down on Grantaire's desk and leans down so that they are eye to eye "just because you do not believe in anything does not mean others should follow suit." and then she is gone, back at her desk facing away from Grantaire in stony silence.

Fun.

The rest of the detention passes without another word from either of them, and Grantaire feels vaguely ill, he really excels at messing things up doesn't he? And then the bell rings and they are free to go and Grantaire is about to leave when "When can i see you again Grantaire"

he freezes, "I- what? How do you know my name?" and he turns to see the girl with an amused expression, once again looking at Grantaire with laser focus

"It's on your bag, when can i see you again" 

"I- uhm... I have another detention next week Tuesday"

and Apollo smiles (Grantaire is convinced his heart has stopped and this is all a hallucination) "I'll be there"

She turns and walks out the door leaving Grantaire reeling and grasping at the strings of reality "Wait-" he calls out, and she faces him again "What's your name 'pollo?" he asks

in return for his questions he receives a wry smile and "Elle, my name is Elle"

"I'll see you in Tuesday, Elle" and then she, Apollo, Elle, is gone, and Grantaire? Grantaire is so incredibly fucked.

Chapter Text

Grantaire’s first lesson of the day had been…. Interesting, to say the least. The kids were eerily quiet and some of them looked downright terrified?! Grantaire can remember teachers making him nervous but never scared, not like how those kids were anyways. He makes a mental note to ask Combeferre about that later. But first he needs to visit the history teacher across the corridor and ask what exactly his deal is. He hadn't noticed it at first but over the course of his lesson Grantaire had caught eyes with the man from across the two rooms, and don't get him wrong, this man is gorgeous, Adonis with golden hair and and cerulean eyes that his artist heart immediately began to mix colours together for the perfect combinations HOWEVER: it can be rather disconcerting for a coworker whom you’ve never interacted with to stare so intensely at your through two sets of blinds like he is personally trying to superman laser eye kill you.

But then again Grantaire can't really talk, he did use to stare at Elle a lot before meeting her eyes made him feel sick to his stomach….

If he’s being honest, Grantaire doesn't fully mind this StalkerTeacherHotGuy staring at him, just curious as to know why, and if Grantaire’s being even more honest, he’s confronting the man about it as an excuse to talk to him- but that would probably be really weird and Eponine would never let him live it down which is why it's fortunate that Grantaire isn't often truthful with himself; it means he doesn't have to openly admit it to his best friend and keep his remaining dignity in tact… fuck who is he kidding. Grantaire hasn't had dignity in years but a man can pretend (another perk of lying to himself!)

And now, the moment of truth: will Grantaire be brave [read: delusional and insane] enough to talk to StalkerTeacherHotGuy? Gods Eponine is going to absolutely obliterate his ego tonight because for once, Grantaire is actually going to follow through with this plan [read: fantasising]. 

Grantaire stands and makes his way over to his classroom door when there’s a knock and he’s confused and nervous and his palms are sweating and he’s opening the door and-

He doesn't know who is more shocked, him or StalkerTeacherHotGuy who is standing, hand still raised from knocking mouth parted in surprise. And fuck. Hes so pretty? That probably isn’t the normal response to seeing the person who's been creepily watching you for an hour Grantaire muses, but then again, Grantaire has never been very normal and this man’s eyes are just so blue and he thinks dimly that he would gladly drown a thousand times in that colour he would paint it a million times over and yet somehow Grantaire doesn't think he could ever quite capture the depths of those eyes and then StalkerTeacherHotGuy begins speaking

“Are you going to keep staring at me or..?” He says and Grantaire can only laugh and reply

“I could ask you the same question”

Apparently that wasn't the right thing to say as StalkerTeacherHotGuy (who he really should ask the name of) just glares and brushes past him into the classroom and Grantaire can’t even pretend to himself that even the glare wasn't pretty (why must he be cursed with attractive coworkers).

Grantaire follows StalkerTeacherHotGuy into the classroom and shuts the door behind him only to be greeted by this man still scowling at him. At this point, Grantaire is just confused, which he should probably have been before this moment but hey! At least he’s reached it now!

The man rakes his eyes over Grantaire in a stony silence before all but biting out “Grantaire.” and oof, Grantaire can hear the full stop hanging in the air, but instead of wincing and rubbing his neck awkwardly like he used to with Elle, he just nods goodnaturedly.  

“That would be me” he replies with a smile and damn the self restraint that answer required, he deserves a medal for that

The man narrows his eyes and walks over and suddenly Grantaire realises what drama teachers mean when they tell kids to “move with purpose” “What. Are you doing here.”

Yeah, Grantaire is really fucking confused. “Uhm.., teaching? It's my uh-” he clears his throat self consciously- “First day I- i'm sorry do we know each other? It's just you seem pretty annoyed with me and…” he hates the way his voice trails off, god he feels 15 and socially inept all over again . Grantaire’s only comfort is that his inability to talk to human beings over the age of 20 does not seem to have affected the frowning man in front of him, StalkerTeacherHotGuy only deepens his glare.

“We went to the same secondary school” he says coldly and Grantaire’s heart plummets into his stomach. Shit. Grantaire hadn’t exactly been at his best during secondary school, what with his anxiety and unmedicated adhd and hatred for authority and all; the combination had meant he was an…. Acquired taste to say the least (and by that he means only three people had tolerated him in his whole time at that school, one among them had been Elle and well.. That hadn't exactly ended well). He had deflected his anxiety by creating a massively exaggerated facade of himself, loud and boisterous, disruptive, sarcastic etc. You get the picture. He never let people see him behind that mask, which he supposes was why everything went to shit, or maybe it was the brief fleeting moments of letting the wall down that drove Elle them away, he'll never get to find out now.

“So uhm… what's your? Name?” Grantaire says, breaking the horrifically uncomfortable silence after it got too much to bear

“....Enjolras” the man–Enjolras–says, like it's a challenge, and Grantaire does love a good challenge.

“Nice to meet you, Enjolras, i’d tell you my name but it seems you already know it” He replies, holding his hand out with a smile, accepting whatever challenge Enjolras had given him along with his name.

Enjolras does not take his hand.

Enjolras turns on his heels, opens the door, walks out, and slams it behind him, leaving Grantaire reeling in his wake.

God, Eponine is going to find this hysterical, he thinks glumly, now sat back at his desk. Grantaire feels strangely crushed after their conversation, like Enjolras had found a bruise he didn't even know he'd had and pressed down on it, and the worst part? Grantaire doesn't even know why.

So much for having a smooth first day.

Chapter Text

Enjolras is going to throw up. Or scream. Or curl up into a ball on the floor and become one with the teenage body odour and mystery crumbs in his carpet.

Or all three. All three sounds good.

What was he thinking?! "WhAt aRe YoU dOiNg HeRe"? One look at Grantaire and suddenly he's a bitchy middle school kid again? No, he's better than this. It doesn't even matter that Grantaire is here, they're in completely different departments - they'll hardly interact! And, even if they were working closer together that would be fine. They're adults. Enjolras is an adult. He could definitely work alongside Grantaire, no matter how infuriating, stubborn, aggravating, impulsive, difficult-

There is no use - He cannot work with Grantaire.

In the back of his mind a thought niggles: what if Grantaire has changed? What if Grantaire grew up from the immature boy he was?  The voice sounds suspiciously like Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac isn't here right now meaning that Enjolras is not obliged to listen to it. Momentarily, Enjolras wonders if this is why Jehan--the school's head of pastoral--thinks he holds grudges unhealthily. The thought is quickly brushed off. He is well within his rights to hold a grudge against Grantaire, even if the grudge in question has already been held for over a decade.

And! To make matters worse! Grantaire doesn't even recognise him. You cannot gain closure from a perpetrator who doesn't know who you are. Although - It's not as if Enjolras needs closure of course; he moved on from Grantaire long ago. It's not even like they had ever been in a relationship, not officially anyways. All that Enjolras and Grantaire had together was meaningless making out and almosts, its for the best that Enjolras never fully told Grantaire how he felt, knowing the other man Enjolras would have just ended up hurt. The messy situation of what could have been between them is better off for having ended, that much Enjolras knows to be true (and the fact that Enjolras hasn't been in a serious relationship since Grantaire is absolutely unrelated so don't go getting the wrong idea).

Enjolras still remembers the last conversation they had before he moved schools, recalled in perfect detail the bone deep aching he had felt watching Grantaire walk away. It wasn’t the first time that Grantaire had walked away, but it had been the last, and for some inexplicable reason, it hurt more than he could put into words.

But that was then. He barely feels anything at that memory now, obviously, why would he? He doesn’t care about Grantaire.

Enjolras is struggling not to care about Grantaire. He is just so irritating. Combeferre would say he's overreacting but yesterday Enjolras had to hug Combeferre for fifteen minutes while he cried about the lifespans of moths. So Combeferre doesn't get to talk about overreactions.

The issue, is that Grantaire is so incredibly unpredictable. Enjolras does not do well with unpredictability. He likes stability, chartered waters, mapped out social interactions bur Grantaire keeps going off script. When Enjolras expects Grantaire to zig? Grantaire zags. When Enjolras expects Grantaire to make a joke? He stays silent. Its like Grantaire is trying to throw him off; with his new neat clothes and light tamed stubble and his stupid green reading glasses he props on the top of his head like a middle aged father. And to top it all off? Grantaire will not stop staring at him. To the point where Enjolras is beginning to wonder if Grantaire does recognise him but thought it would be a funny joke to pretend like he doesn't. Enjolras wouldn't put it past him to pull a stunt like that. 

They don't talk again for the rest of the day, a small comfort in Enjolras' brewing storm of barely suppressed infuriation. The whole situation is ridiculous, the kind of thing a fifteen year old would come up with in a crappy celebrity x reader fan-fiction written in the back of their diary. This sort of thing just doesn't happen in real life! It shouldn't! It is cliche and stupid and too predictable to not be a set up, and it isn't even a set up. Logically Enjolras has no reason to be so angry. Grantaire wasn't hired to piss him off, its entirely coincidental that they were... acquaintances in their high school years. Really, it just feels like a cosmic 'Screw you Enjolras! We hate you and you suck!' from the universe. Maybe hell is real and he's in it. The next thing he knows, Combeferre will be 'subtly' trying to set them up on a date and it will be awkward and awful or even worse - it might be kind of nice. It might be so nice that Enjolras is lulled into a false sense of security padded with blankets of false promises like "I've changed" "I'm not going to hurt you this time" "I actually really like you Enjolras" just for Grantaire to pull the rug out from underneath him as he begins to consider falling.

No.

He will not let this turn into one of those Hallmark movies Courfeyrac makes them watch at Christmas and always ends up ugly crying over.

Enjolras eyes Grantaire over the staff room coffee table. He's solving a soduko, and seems oddly invested in it, his brown eyes focused intently on the squares of the puzzle, tongue poking out slightly between his lips in concentration. Enjolras also likes sodukos. He is further enraged by this shared hobby. He sits, simmering in the corner of the small staff room until Grantaire finally leaves, an uncertain "See you tomorrow" tossed over his shoulder. Enjolras hates how familiar the aftermath of Grantaire feels, the stillness, the too loud silence, the urge to follow him out in stoic silence for no reason other than the strange magnetism Grantaire holds, in spite of how dislikable Enjolras finds him. Enjolras also hates that he knows he's being unfair. He hasn't seen Grantaire in years, for all Enjolras knows, Grantaire could be completely reformed. He must be somewhat reliable or he wouldn't have been hired. Mr Valjean has never been wrong in his choice of staff, Enjolras just has to trust that Valjean is right (even though it would mean he is wrong) Grantaire has changed. Its not that difficult to believe, not really. Not when Enjolras has changed too.

They don't know each other anymore, all they know are echoes of who they used to be: Elle and R (best friends, enemies, lovers, strangers, always back to strangers).