Esmeralda dances to the rhythm of the tambourine (changewillcome) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-02-15 21:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, esmeralda, grantaire |
Who: Esmeralda and Grantaire
What: Hunting down Grantaire who’s on a bender
When: Recently
Where: Random bar
Warnings: Low
Status: Log | Complete
To say that Esmeralda was worried would be an understatement. She was well aware of Grantaire’s moods. Honestly she’d been concerned since the new year and keeping an eye on him. So when he hadn’t shown up to the Court of Miracle for weeks, hadn’t been on the network, she’d stopped by both his work and home to see if he was okay and nothing, or letting her know if he was okay? Well, she took matters into her own hands. She was still dancing and serving drinks, but she was also spending most of her free time looking for Grantaire. Even Clopin was worried at this point.
With the Court having closed for the night, Esmeralda had decided that she was going to do some more searching. She’d crossed off the most common places Grantaire would have gone, bars in the area. Some had seen him and spoke about him getting drunk (not that uncommon) but it wasn’t enough information to go off of and only served to make her more worried.
This night would be different though. While she sure there were people she could ask for help in locating Grantaire, perhaps those with abilities, she was going to rely on herself as she always had. Besides, depending on how bad off it was (and she was piecing together that it was quite bad), she doubted Grantaire would appreciate strangers knowing once he was a bit more together. Because Esmeralda refused to believe the absolute worse, that he was dead. No. She would find him and they would work through whatever it was that was troubling him no matter how long it took. She wasn’t about to abandon him no matter what he might try to convince her to do.
Grantaire actually counted the fact that he’d left the house to drink as a win. When he was in a capital-M Mood he usually couldn't make it out of bed. But he’d been in a particularly foul way since that unfortunate incident in December, that terrible Christmas miracle that allowed him to function at the level that others enjoyed all the time only to drop him so very suddenly into the state he’d been in before. If he still bothered with a therapist, they probably would say that he was “backsliding” or “in a state that required hospitalization for his own safety” or “was going to kill himself doing this”.
But he was going out. He’d been to see Tama and his aunt recently. He went to bars and drank until he was kicked out or they closed. He just didn't go to the ones that knew him, that would look out for him and not be reasonable and just take his money and ply him with alcohol.
When the bartender paused after checking his ID, R had to admit some concern but mostly he just drummed his fingers on the bartop. He hadn't had a drink since breakfast (wine in his cereal because he could hear a nagging voice that sounded like all of his loved ones saying that drinking straight from the bottle and not bothering to eat was a sign that there was a problem) and he could feel his skin crawling and Thoughts creeping into his head. But the bartender handed him his ID, made him his drink, and then stepped into the back. R heard him on the phone with someone, something about a wanted man being there. Since R couldn't remember doing anything that would brand him ‘wanted' by the law, he figured someone else was looking for him. A well meaning friend, probably. He had had his phone turned off for several days.
Ah well. Let whoever it was come and see what a state he was in, with his unwashed hair and clothes, the weight he had lost, the bags beneath his eyes. Let them come and realize the time they wasted in looking. R had a drink to finish.
Esmeralda paused as she heard her phone go off. But given she had asked plenty of bartenders to let her know if Grantaire showed up, or just in case he actually bothered to check his messages, she had it with her. It just had been silent for so long she had been convinced that she was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Instead, she got a call from one of the bartenders she had made contact with a few days before.
“Thank you, I’ll be right there.”
Hanging up, the Roma woman ran her fingers through her hair. Okay. Grantaire was at least alive and not dead in a gutter, something she had actually worried about at times. That was good. And he was nearby. So turning around from the direction she’d been heading, Esmeralda found the bar which had called her and stepped inside, scanning the people there and ignoring any of the ones who tried to make a pass at her. It was late, this was one of the bars that was open later than most in the area and they had all had something to drink and she really wanted nothing to do with them.
Maneuvering her way through the people, Esmeralda got to the bar and sighed softly to herself as she took in Grantaire’s appearance. A nod was given to the bartender in thanks for the call as she slipped next to her friend. She could feel her heart breaking for Grantaire but right now she had to figure out the best way to help him.
“Hey.”
R chuckled, a little bitter. He should have known it would be Esmeralda - his only other guess was Jehan, but his dear poet would probably not think to give his number to bartenders on the off chance that R happened to wander in. “I should have known,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “You have found me, ma belle, and now you have me. What do you want with me, that is the question, non.” He turned to face her with a somewhat cruel smile. “You are happy to see me in such a state? You have come to pity me and make those faces?”
If the bitter chuckle had an effect on her, Esmeralda didn’t show it. She had known many and while she was a believer and optimistic, never let someone think it made her weak or unable to hold her ground. So she ignored the cruel smile and prepared to ignore whatever Grantaire tried to throw at her to make her leave. He would be sorely mistaken if he thought he could be rid of her that easily.
“In such a state, no. But I am happy to see you alive as you have turned off your phone and have not been seen at the Court or when I’ve stopped at your home or work.” Turning to face Grantaire, she held his gaze, “Do not mistake concern and care for pity, Grantaire. I will drag you out of here if I have to.” Just as she would keep him at the Court and detox him if she had to. Clopin would help. She was pretty sure if it were to come down to it and only would could be saved, that the King of the Court would save Grantaire over Gringoire.
“You always have been the worst to argue with,” Grantaire said, switching to French since he was too tired and drunk to bother with trying to translated anymore. He sighed and dropped his head onto the bar, pushing his empty glass aside. “What do you want to do to me, Esmeralda? I’m in no state to do anything and we both know that I’m not worth the attention. Go home, I’ll be fine.” And he waved her off.
French was definitely better than English. Especially in situations where there were emotions to be dealt with. And while she knew that Grantaire truly believed what he said, that he was not worth the attention, nothing could be further from the truth for her, so instead she just wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pressed her cheek to the top of his head.
“Just to help, however that is because you’re worth it to me. I’m going nowhere.”
Another dark chuckle and R shook his head, not bothering to sit up. “I am not sure how to help myself. I don’t know how to tell anyone else how to.” He chuckled a little wetly and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, hoping that she wouldn’t see. He didn’t know how to explain and didn’t want her to give him the sad eyes.
Because not knowing how to do something had stopped Esmeralda before? So she just pulled him close even as he kept his head down. “So we figure it out one day at a time.” That was how you did anything really. You worked at it even when it seemed impossible. Wasn’t believing in the seeming impossible part of her? Esmeralda had no issue putting her heart into helping those she cared about, even those she didn’t know. Whatever was needed, she wasn’t backing down.
Even talking about it was daunting and so, so tiring. This was why he prefered to drink away his problems, or at least the memories of his problems. It was much easier. R didn’t have her convictions, her drive, her dreams. He was, essentially, a husk, a shell of a human with nothing inside but alcohol and contempt for the world (barring those few who he loved so, so much, so much it hurt even worse than everything else that hurt in his life). “Do you have any suggestions for how? I’ll listen,” he said.
If only she had some idea, some suggestion and knew a way to help, but Esmeralda did not. All she knew was that she was not giving up on Grantaire, no matter how long it took. What mattered was proving to him that she wasn’t going to give up on him no matter what he thought. She’d already told him repeatedly he was stuck with her, now was no different. “For now, we get you to your room at the Court. We’ll figure it out from there.”
R sighed and finally tipped his head to look at her. “You may have to carry me, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ve been drinking for most of the afternoon. And also the last few weeks.”
Well at least she hadn’t gotten any pushback. Yes she had been prepared for it, but she did prefer not having to. Instead she just stood up before helping Grantaire up, nodding to the bartender that she had it under control before leading him back to the Court. It wasn’t exactly easy work given Grantaire had a half foot on her, but Esmeralda got them back to the Court and down to the room set aside for Grantaire and putting him on the bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She would let Clopin know what was going on once Grantaire was asleep.
Grantaire tried to help her, he did, but his feet were as stubborn as the rest of him and didn’t want to cooperate. He was glad when he was able to drop onto the bed. It wasn’t his own, with the unwashed sheets and the smell of stale sweat, and he found it infinitely more comfortable than that den of depression he’d trapped himself in. He cracked his eyes open at the kiss and mumbled something, half-heartedly, about better uses for her lips, before waving her off. It was bad enough that someone he knew had to see him like this; he needed time to prepare for the rest of the Court to see him as well. “Goodnight, Esmeralda,” he told her, before flipping over to face the wall to hide his burning face.