A/N: You can chop off my hands. Oh well.

What the hell just happened with his life?

Grantaire wasn't the type of person to fall in love. No… he drank alcohol and get drunk, he hook up and had sex, he draws and he paints. He doesn't want anything too serious and simply wanted that easy going life.

Grantaire can blame a lot of people for the sudden, unexpected change. There was Courfeyrac. For introducing him the current root of his problems. How many friends does the guy have anyway? And then, of course, the root of the problem himself, Enjolras.

Mister Enjolras, currently studying political science (a step towards his dream career, he said), a political activist (who organized rallies), with eyes so very blue and hair so very blond, gaze so… okay, he was Apollo. Greek God walking with mortals, an angel sent from heaven. The bottom lie of it all… it was his fault.

Enjolras was determined, unafraid and fucking gorgeous.

The next time he met Enjolras again was in a bar. Courfeyrac had dragged him, while Enjolras brought a guy named Jehan Prouvaire. But Courfeyrac and Jehan left earlier together leaving the two of them alone.

Grantaire won't let the opportunity pass (he drank some liquid courage anyway). He gave Enjolras a smile, "Want to go out from here?"

The blond stared at him. Grantaire was honestly ready to be rejected, but then Enjolras shrugged. "Alright."

Later that night, they lie side by side, panting and breathless. "That was… wow." Grantaire said.

Enjolras laughed. Honestly laughed. His voice was so wonderful and clear and… Grantaire knew he was fucked… truly fucked.

Grantaire soon became a part of Les Amis (Enjolras' group of friends set on changing the world). Enjolras started to disdain him during meetings. He was a cynic and was usually drunk during meetings. Yet, they continued to fuck once in a while. And if he felt a pang of 'something' (nope, he would never try to define it), he drowned it all with alcohol and refused to deal with it.

One of Enjolras' organized rallies became violent. Well, things like those were bound to happen. Violence was almost normal for the Amis, but that particular rally was different. The rest of the Amis did not escape from the usual bruises and wounds, but Enjolras got it worse. He was barely conscious and was bleeding heavily from his head when they got to him. Enjolras was needed to be rushed to the hospital.

Grantaire paced around the corridor as he, Combeferre and Courfeyrac waited for any news about their leader's condition. He had never seen Enjolras like that and it scares him. Good God, did he even try to protect him? He just thought about himself while the love of his life… Love of his life, Grantaire repeated inside his head.

It wasn't just simple admiration now. Grantaire loves Enjolras. He loves him and had no idea if Enjolras would accept him or would return his feelings. His mind reeled back with the realization.

Enjolras was discharged from the hospital three days later. Limping, bruised, bandaged but better (and ready for a new plan of attack).

After making sure Enjolras was in better shape, Grantaire left without a word to anyone. He wanted to sort himself. He was scared. He didn't do love. Love was something different. It meant closeness and intimacy. It meant passion and obligation. And he does not if he can do that. Hell, he does not know if Enjolras would reciprocate at all. Apollo was too busy saving the world, too busy with this revolution of his to care for a drunken cynic.

So was he doomed to pine? Pine and pine until there were enough pine trees (fuck, did he just thought that)?

Grantaire went away for a month. He did some small time jobs to earn money, pay lodgings and buy alcohol. But soon, he realized he was being stupid. His friends (and Enjolras) were trying to find him and was leaving him countless of messages. He missed Enjolras and was feeling way miserable.

Grantaire went back. And was greeted by a punch from Combeferre (damn, that hurt).

"I deserve that."

"Enjolras told me what's going on between the two of you."

"Enjolras did not do anything wrong." Grantaire immediately said, "I wasn't thinking right."

"You know how Enjolras is with these kinds of things. He could be harsh at times, but he always meant well."

"No… no. Whatever he says to me, it's all true anyway. And, it wasn't like that."

"Then go talk to him and fix this."

Grantaire nodded.

Enjolras looked tired and horrible. He lacked his usual vigor and shine.

"I messed up. I realized I actually love you and it scared the hell out of me." There, Grantaire said it.

Enjolras' expression did not change at all, "Oh…"

"Yeah." They were bad at talking about feelings that was certain.

"Just… don't disappear without telling anyone about your whereabouts."

Grantaire wasn't forgiven yet. But for now, that will do.

Another week later, they found themselves back in their usual routines. Enjolras planned, Grantaire got drunk and of course, sex was back. They once again found themselves naked on bed together.

"Grantaire…"

"Enjolras?"

"I think I love you. And that scares me too."

Another month later, Grantaire found himself living with Enjolras. Their friends don't seem to mind their relationship too and had expected it, in fact.

It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. Both of them were new with relationships and at times, everything just clash and crashes. But somehow, someone always bends and reconciliation happens. Serious arguments were inevitable, but somehow, it became further and further apart.

So, what the hell just happened with his life?

Grantaire can't help laugh out loud as he opened the windows. Enjolras had tried to cook breakfast for the both of them. But turned out, Apollo does not know how.

"I followed the instructions," Enjolras huffed in irritation, "I don't know where it went wrong."

"Come over here and I'll show you how to cook."

Grantaire embraced the part of life he was scared of and well… it definitely made him happy. That was for sure.