Falling - A modern Enjoltaire AU

Chapter 8

E pov:

Enjolras rolled up his jumper and placed it under his head. It marginally lessened the hard wood of the table. His lone backpack housed all his school books and valuables and a duffle bag was shoved full with dirty and clean clothes. Sooner or later he would have to find a way to wash them or his friends were bound to notice. It was another problem added onto the swiftly growing pile. He heard the scrape of chairs being placed on top tables as the Musain was preparing to close.

He waited for the inevitable shout of the manager or a shake on the shoulder to turf him out onto the street. None came. Just like the night before they turned a blind eye and worked around him, most likely thanks to the pleasant barista. He settled down, unrestfully adjusting his position to best remove the crick in his neck. He screwed his eyes up as tightly as they would go, yet still the dim street glow settled against his lids.

He opened them more uncertainly as light footsteps approached him. He tensed his shoulders ready to gather up his stuff and find the cover of a doorstep. The barista strode towards him, folding up her apron as she walked. Her bob of brown hair swept back in the same headband as yesterday. He wearily lifted his head and grabbed for his jumper.

"There's someone here to see you." She announced, offering him a tired smile before twirling back towards the counter. Enjolras blinked back his surprise and redirected his gaze. Standing in the doorway was the person Enjolras wanted to see the most and the least.

"Hi." Grantaire said hesitantly.

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras was only too aware of his dishevelled state. His hair, being long, would have tangled even within its loose plait; because of the public cafe he was still wearing the same clothes as he had worn to school.

"Well Chetta told me you were here last night and I told her to text me if you came again. We can't have Apollo camping out on tables can we?"

So many things didn't make sense in that sentence. Why would Grantaire be here? Instead Enjolras murmured, "Chetta?"

"Musichetta." The barista explained, waving at him from her perch on the counter.

"Oh."

She smiled at him before leaning over and pouring herself a mug of black coffee. "Wait, so why are you here?" He managed, looking back at Grantaire.

Grantaire gave a forlorn snort of laughter before gesturing around the cafe. "Just grab your stuff, Apollo." He ordered.

"Wait what?"

Grantaire only sighed in response. Turning his back and talking to the barista as he waited for Enjolras to gather himself. They seemed to be arguing, Chetta reasoning a little harshly to Grantaire who had his head in his hands. Their words were too low to travel to where Enjolras stood. He swung his backpack up, pushing his jumper and laptop inside of it. Groping around under the table he snagged his duffel's strap and dragged it up.

Their argument had ended so Enjolras headed towards them. In the time it had taken him to be ready Musichetta had tidied up the coffee she had made, tucked away her apron and was sorting through her bag for a cigarette. She astutely nodded goodbye to both Grantaire and him before disappearing with a flick of her skirt out the door.

Enjolras looked shyly to where Grantaire was standing. He watched as a muscle twitched in Grantaire jaw, he opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head instead. He stretched out a hand. Enjolras looked blankly at it. "Bag?" Grantaire sighed.

"Oh. Its fine." Grantaire kept his arm outstretched and Enjolras conceded with a shrug. Grantaire grasped the handle and strode out of the room. Enjolras had no choice but to follow.