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Grantaire takes great care to believe in nothing (justonemorelie) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-09-06 20:35:00

Who: Enjolras and Grantaire
What: Oblivious boys in love are oblivious. And True Love’s Kiss. Mostly oblivious boys in love.
When: 6 September 2014, around 5/6 pm
Where: Their apartment
Warnings: Low. References to failed barricades and rebellions.
Status: Log | Complete


When Grantaire wasn’t passed out from the random narcolepsy he was suddenly hit with, or talking to that kid on the network, (Armand was it?) or looking to see if anyone else had any answers on how to waken someone stuck in a coma like sleep, he was sitting in Enjolras’ room. Okay. So he had basically planted himself there and could check things from where he was. Irrelevant.

“You know, Apollo, if this is revenge for me locking myself in my room for eleven days. It’s not funny.”

He knew it wasn’t. There was no way Enjolras would miss work to sleep. Especially when it seemed his sleep was just as unrestful as Grantaire’s was whenever he passed out, or what others were talking about. Nightmares. County wide sleep issues and nightmares. Really, he’d take being a chick again over this feeling of helplessness. He really hated feeling this helpless.

Too much time left to his thoughts was never a good thing. The artist was prone to falling into a depression, cycling out of control. He’d been pulling himself out of it since he left his room, but this wasn’t helping. Not that it was Enjolras’ fault. But because he was worried, he wasn’t doing much in terms of distracting himself. Which led to the dark thoughts. Like how his life was just as pathetic in his Dreams as they were here. He was still a shell of man who followed a believer, admired and loved him from afar but only able to earn his ire. Here they were friends, but even that sometimes felt uncertain.

“I can honestly say I never expected that I’d be by your bedside because you just didn’t wake up. Got fucked up from a rally? Sure. This though?”

He was trying. When he was awake and not seeking information and answers, he talked about whatever came to mind. Or he would start, only to trail off and fall asleep. How much longer could this go on, though? Really, how much longer? Three days. They were on three days and no sign of it lessening. Just Enjolras. Trapped in nightmares. Grantaire powerless awake and pathetic and lost in nightmares when asleep.

At some point, he had taken one of Enjolras’ hands into both of his. Who knew when that happened, but all Grantaire did was kiss the knuckles of his roommate’s hand before keeping the hand in his own, head bowed as he blinked away the betraying tears of his weakness, hand held to his forehead. It wasn’t like anything was like anything would come of it.

“Please just wake up….”

Enjolras had never wanted to know what a coma was like, and probably still didn’t; but this to him felt borderline. He could swear he could almost hear voices through the darkness of his dreams, but he really couldn’t be sure what they were saying. The dreams were far too fucked up to really pay attention to anything outside of them.

Most of them took place in Paris, during some sort of battle. There were barricades and bullets, mostly he remembered blood. Mostly he remembered being very much alone. Every time a new dream occurred it started the same way. He was full of hope that the people would rise up and join in the battle to take back their home but they did not. On several occasions even, Enjolras faced down a musket alone. On others, he was on the other side watching men die. His men. His Grantaire, his Gavroche. His conscience. Their blood was always on his hands, and he knew it.

In his heart he felt it. That battle had meant nothing, it wasn’t much of a battle at all it was more of a massacre when the military did finally decide they’d had enough of the rebellion. It ended with the streets of paris drenched in blood under his feet. Every. Time. Always that blood. Always the heavy stench of loss. Constantly broken. Who wanted to wake to a world that would only be a loss?

His sleep was far from restful as Grantaire took his hand. There were beads of sweat on his forehead from stress and fear. Still he didn’t even move, he didn’t shift even slightly. He just lie there as he had for days now, leaving Grantaire in silence.

And still nothing. Why was Grantaire not surprised. Just because other people seemed to have been waking up from the nightmares didn’t mean Enjolras would. No. Because Grantaire was nothing more than a drunk who had no purpose and was incapable of doing just one thing to wake his roommate up.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Enjolras.”

His voice was gruff with frustration and fear. It wasn’t like Enjolras could even respond to him. Placing Enjolras’ hand back on his bed, Grantaire sighed before getting up. He needed to get a wash cloth, at least try and wipe the sweat away. Try to make Enjolras a semblance of comfortable, or as comfortable as one could be when they were trapped in nightmares with no way out.

Okay, so he might have ended up passed out in the bathroom for a time because hey, why not make this whole situation worse? Cursing himself out for being so weak as to once again fall asleep, Grantaire got a wet wash cloth and moved back to his roommate’s room and started to wipe the sweat off his face before he kissed Enjolras’ forehead. It was instinct, really. His mother had done so for him when he was a child and sick, when he needed comfort, just as his sister had as well. It was a mindless act that Grantaire doubted would do any good, but that was his specialty. Not doing any good for anyone.

One of the people though had mentioned talking and he’d been talking, but he did have his acoustic from earlier and picked it up, plucking at the strings and singing softly. ***

Again he heard that voice. The familiar one of Grantaire, but it couldn’t have been. Grantaire to him in his world was a ghost, and ghosts didn’t talk. Yet, there he was. That voice getting closer and louder, almost to the point of causing Enjolras to groan in discomfort. It was an attempt to tell him to shut up, but it came out as nonsense. He tried to ask what all the noise was about, but he found he was unable. His voice hadn’t made it’s way back just yet, but his eyes did begin to open.

The room around them looked foreign at first. He’d become so accustomed to the streets of Paris. Every last inch, even the foul smell. You see there was not much by way of irrigation or proper plumbing in those days. Thanks to the dreams, or nightmares, as it were Enjolras smelled every bit of it. This place smelled nothing of it and sounded nothing like it. It was quiet. Almost hospital levels of clean compare to the place he had been.

Bleary eyes watched Grantaire, though for a moment he said nothing more. He was unsure it was real, or another twisted nightmare.

“Love of mine, one day you will die, but I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark…” With how tired he was, Grantaire was just sticking with songs that he knew, and this time it was Death Cab for Cutie’s I’ll Follow You Into the Dark. Or. It was when he noticed that there was a change in Enjolras’ demeanor. He had gone still, something that caught Grantaire’s attention even as he focused on his acoustic, as if that was going to save him from all of this.

Pausing in his (albeit desperate) attempt to distract himself, the artist looked up and nearly fell over.

“Shit, you’re up!”

Shock. He was definitely shocked. He had wanted Enjolras to wake up, but as the minutes turned into hours and the hours turned into days, he was beginning to lose hope even of that, despite the fact a couple of people had indeed woken up from their coma like sleep. Water. Did he have water? Yes. Hydration was important and Grantaire had made sure a glass of water was at the ready. Just in case.

Weird, having hope something would happen and it actually doing so. Yes, Orange County was weird and logically he knew it couldn’t last forever, but he still was used to hope being crushed and nothing coming of it.

“Uh. Here. This might help.” Placing the acoustic beside the chair, Grantaire picked up the glass of water to hand to Enjolras.**

Hydration was definitely a good thing, as Enjolras couldn’t even talk yet without it. He’d been asleep for a great deal of time, it really ought to not be surprising at all that he couldn’t yet find his voice. His was weak when he grabbed for the water, but somehow he managed not to spill it all over his own chest. He pushed himself upward to look over through bleary eyes at his friend and finally spoke.

“The hell happened?” His voice was still rough from lack of use, and his head felt like it’d been beaten in by a sack of bricks but he was awake. He was awake and Grantaire was alive. “Saw you die.” He reached for his hand as he put down the water. He wasn’t going to dare move much yet.

Grantaire was ready to help if needed, but it seemed that Enjolras had it under control and so he just remained in the chair he had been sitting on since he realized that there was something wrong and that his roommate wasn’t waking up. Not that he really knew how to answer the question when he himself didn’t have an actual answer beyond Orange County weirdness.

And the fact that Enjolras had seen him die and had taken his hand. Okay. New development. Not sure how to process that.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. Nightmares. Apparently it’s a thing as others have had the same issue. Or staying awake the entire time. Or randomly falling asleep.” Which was what he’d been doing. And it sucked. A lot. His goal was not to fall asleep now but who knew how well he’d manage given how fucking tired he was.

“But as you can see, I’m alive.”

Barely awake. But alive. Enjolras being awake both gave him a semblance of energy, all the while the relief making it easier to fall asleep, which was why he rapidly blinked as if that would keep him awake.

Enjolras attempted to get up, but it felt like the whole world shifted underneath him, and he was forced back down. Right then. Down was where he was going to be for a while apparently. He sighed as he looked over at his friend with an exasperated expression. “I can’t tell if I should laugh or not. But everything hurts too much to laugh.” Asleep for three days. That explained why his body didn’t even want to cooperate. He wasn’t about to force it.
His thumb brushed gently over the back of Grantaire’s hand almost affectionately as if to make sure he was still actually there before releasing it and letting it fall back down to the bedding.

“It all felt real. You refused to leave me and we both died. I was apparently some kind of rebellion leader” Seeing Grantaire alive was a bit of comfort, but he worried for a moment it still might be a part of the dreams. It was only a passing worry, water was soothing. In them there was only wine. Lots of wine.

“You probably shouldn’t--” Or Enjolras could end up going back down since he clearly was in no shape to be getting up at the moment. Not that Grantaire knew much on the cause of what had happened to the county or what the ramifications of being unconscious would be for someone. His stint of eleven days locked in his room hadn’t been without movement. Just painting. Destroying his work. Trying to find himself.

Unexpected tenderness was painful. Because Grantaire knew that it meant nothing for Enjolras, when the sensation would haunt his dreams for nights to come. It was just reassurance. Nothing else. He had to get his head out of the clouds, he had to accept it instead of holding on. But he was the obverse to Enjolras and so would continue to be a moth to the flame that was his roommate.

“Yes, well… I certainly haven’t gotten that far. Just talk and plans. Though leader? Is there any other role you could possibly be?”

“Now you’re lecturing me?” He gave him an almost fond look, the tone wasn’t scolding but more amused. Especially since that was a tone he often got with Grantaire when it came to making sure he was taking the proper care of himself. Of course it was short lived, though part of him was almost wishing he could have seen a bit more of it. He often wondered what it would be like on the opposite end of said tone, but he wasn’t the sort to push those limits on purpose.

His hand was warm. It meant something. In the dreams it all felt..different. Not cold or ghost like just not the same as a true living being. He frowned some as he thought for a moment. “Suppose not much else..comedic relief doesn’t quite fit me.” He shrugged as he propped himself up on his elbow at least to look Grantaire over a bit more.

“You were playing that weren’t you?” He motioned with his eyes toward the guitar, having wanted to hear more of it now that he was conscious and hoped his friend might comply. “Finish it?” He knew his waking up had to interrupt what he’d been doing. He reached for the glass of water again and sipped at it carefully.

“Someone has to.” That was all there was to it. Grantaire noticed the seemingly amused tone and seemingly fond look but ignored it. Enjolras was just out of sorts from being unconscious for three days. That was it. There was absolutely nothing else behind it. Because that meant he would have something to hope for, and Grantaire knew better than to hope. Ever. It just led to more pain.

“Yeah. You as the joker of the group doesn’t make much sense.” Not that Grantaire ever believed in the revolution. He knew how the world worked and he knew that it would fall. Yet he continued to go. For Enjolras. To see light even as he mocked and ridiculed and let his self loathing fuel his actions. Yet another similarity between the Dreams and reality.

“....You want me to play? You usually want me to shut up.” Not that he was refusing to do so. As he spoke, Grantaire had picked up the acoustic and contemplated before just sticking with the song he’d been singing before Enjolras woke up. He would just need to sing the actual song and not the verse he had been thinking up in his mind that dealt more with him and his roommate, or their Dream selves.

That he was out of sorts, but that didn’t make that look go away. He just laid there waiting for him to pick his guitar back up and chuckled some. “I only got to hear part of it.” Yes Grantaire that meant he’d heard some when he was under. He wasn’t sure how, or why. But he had heard him in bits and pieces. So naturally he wanted to hear the rest. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere else or do much else at the moment, why not indulge him just a little?

Besides, he was hoping that with Grantaire playing his nerves might stop tweaking and maybe he would be able to get some actual rest. Whatever this spell coma sleep was, it hadn’t been restful at all. He felt like he hadn’t slept in three days instead of having been out.

He was trying to relax, just go with it this time.

“Huh, so you could hear me…” That could be...awkward. But no matter. It was playing the song that he’d been playing before. If anything as he sang, he was also keeping an eye on Enjolras, to see if it was helping or what. Hopefully it was. It wasn’t like his coma-sleep had done him any good.

Or he could randomly fall asleep in the middle of the song. That worked, too. It only lasted a few minutes before he again woke up and shook his head.

What had he been singing? Was it Leave from Once? That seemed right. It wasn’t but he had just woken up so that was the song he jumped to.

“Pieces, I think..” To be honest he had barely heard any of it at all. But he was getting too tired to really go into detail and let him know that. He was already laying back again and settling into the bed. It was odd really, he’d been asleep for so long but all he was still so tired.

Maybe it was just a result of the damn dreams. He remembered other people complaining a bit about dreams making them tired. Honestly though Enjolras didn’t go around telling many people about them, but he had them too. This probably was going to make it painfully obvious that he hadn’t escaped it. The thought however didn’t stop him from getting more tired.

He could no longer fight sleep.