Jehantaire Appreciation

earthbound-in-doubt is my main

[lesmis-animated]

First of, I'd like to say that all your drawings are very beautiful, and I hope you reach all your goals with this project!

Second, since you've said in your last post that you're taking requests, could you draw Grantaire and Jehan as besties, maybe making art together? I love their (albeit fanon) friendship dearly.

Thank you so much!! I loved this suggestion they’re so cute <3

[lizardrosen]

Seeking solace for Courferre? (Or Prouvaire and Grantaire? Because I couldn't decide. ^_^)

I wrote some Prouvaire and Grantaire, complete with a Grantaire rant :D

“I have something to show you!” Grantaire announces one afternoon, and Jehan looks up from his scraps of poetry, intrigued. “Only I can’t really explain it so you’d know what I’m talking about, and if I tried it would ruin the whole thing.”

“Ah, a mystery!” Jehan claps his hands together once and stands up to head to his dresser. “Alright, I’m in.”

“What, you trust me — just like that?”

“Of course I do; you’re my friend.” He holds up two indistinguishably ugly hats. “Which one of these goes best with my caftan?”

“Uh. The floppy one.”

&&&

Grantaire leads him through a network of streets whose names he might have seen in passing or recognized from a dream, but for one reason or another never thought to wander down. Even in all his musings and meanderings he could not have counted on stumbling across this… wherever they’re headed… by accident. Meanwhile, the alleys continue to narrow.

Until they come to a stop on a quiet corner that’s not so different from the others they’ve crossed. The building’s walls form an acute angle which somehow feels welcoming and not imposing, and a blue post with grape vines trailing across it declares the place to be Corinth.

Keep reading

[mysunfreckle]

Early Morning Music

Jetaire, Established Relationship, Tooth-rotting Fluff, 1.5k

Requested by @prettypettypansexual who asked for Jehan and Grantaire dancing to American Pie, completed for Rare Pairs week!

(Music referenced X, X, X, also linked in text if you want the ~interactive experience~)

Grantaire has a reputation for being a layabout. Undeserved, he feels, because he actually gets up earlier than most of his friends. Compared to say, Bahorel or Combeferre, he is a veritable morning person. At least Grantaire thought he was a morning person. Until he met Jehan, that is.

“Good morning!”

Grantaire casts a groggy look towards the bathroom as he passes and blinks at Jehan who is standing in the doorway, smiling at him as they brush their hair.

“Morning,” he yawns and that is enough proof of consciousness for Jehan to come and drape their arms around his shoulders as soon as they’ve tied up their hair.

By then Grantaire has made it halfway to the kitchen and he smiles tiredly as Jehan nuzzles against his neck.

“Did you sleep well?” they ask.

“Coffee,” Grantaire answers, pressing a kiss on their cheek. How Jehan manages to wake up so fast he’ll never know.

Keep reading

[mysunfreckle]

A clingy kiss with jehantaire?

The night’ssky is beautiful. It’s dark and wideand beset with jewel-like stars. Jehan pushes themself up on their elbows, upoff the blanket they had been lying on, their face lifted eagerly towards theheavens.

Next tothem Grantaire makes a soft, vaguely protesting sound.

Jehan sitsup fully, tilting their head back further to not loose even a sliver of thesky, and feels around blindly with one hand to find Grantaire’s.

His fingerssqueeze their hand in the dark and there is something not quite easy about the wayhe holds on to them so tightly.

“Where areyou going?” he asks.

“Nowhere,”Jehan says quietly, the stars focussing and unfocussing before their eyes. “Seethe sky, R…”

Grantairedoesn’t let go of them and when he breaks the silence between them his voicesounds oddly heavy. “…it feels like you’re about to fly away.”

Jehan blinks,the spell of the starlight dissipating. Silently they turn around, kneelingbeside where Grantaire is still lying down and looking down at his face. Thewhole of the starry sky seems to be reflected in his eyes. Jehan feels thewhole of their feelings stirring in their chest.

“I’ll neverfly away from you,” they say warmly and they lean down, into Grantaire’seagerly outreaching hands and press a kiss on his mouth. He kisses them backwith a joint desire to have them closer and push his own uncertainty away andJehan lets themself melt against him, coming to lie beside him again. They don’tpull away until he does and for a moment they just lie there, breathing softlyin the quiet darkness, looking at each other by the pale starlight.

Then Grantairefinally smiles. Just a bit exasperated with himself, endlessly fond of them.

Jehantouches their noses together for a moment and smile back, putting their headdown against his shoulder.

Grantairesighs a little as they cuddle up closer against his side. “You can fly if youwant to,” he mutters into their hair. “Just, please come back again, alright?”

Jehan smilesup at the stars. “I promise,” they say, whispering the words right besideGrantaire’s ear. “Cross my heart.”

[transcerat0ps]

a standard monday afternoon: grantaire started a fight and got his ass kicked and face bruised, jehan tries to be disappointed, instead they drink wine, read, and grantaire shows off his makeup skills

jehan: me

grantaire: @softbeargrantaire

[jehantairerecs]

I should make the banner on this account a picture of Homer the kitten

[mysunfreckle]

Devotion

Jetaire, “Greek Gods are still worshipped in modern times” AU, ~670 words. A present for @soaringren, happy birthday! 🌷 

Jehan likes to take ‘singing praises’ literally. Some words just works best with a melody. Right now, with the temple all quiet and empty, they take particular pleasure in it. Their voice echoes around the altar room like there’s a whole host of devotees singing.

On a normal day Aphrodite’s place of worship would never be this empty. People will always have reasons to beg for her favour. But today is not a normal day. 

As Jehan places the last rose on the altar, they are beginning to hear the glorious noise outside, approaching at a droning, dancing pace.

With a last murmur of devotion they flit barefooted out of the altar room, making their way out of the temple, into the streaming sunlight. They hurry through the streets, feet going faster and faster as they get nearer to the sounds of celebration until they are almost running. Jehan loves the Dionysia. The festival fills the entire city with joy and energy. Like the place is bursting at the seams with hidden happinesses ready to break loose.

Keep reading

[feratscal]

redraw of an older piece, once again with the purpose of getting comfortable with affinity My dudes i have used photoshop for like 10 years i am metaphorically writhing everything is different and it does not come out how i want it tooooooooooo but neverhteless i shall push on because fuck adobe im never going back

[jehantairerecs]

This is so cute!!!

[lesmisshippingshowdown]

Les Mis Shipping Showdown: Round of 32

Bahorel/Feuilly vs. Jean Prouvaire/Grantaire

Bahorel/Feuilly

Jehan/Grantaire

Voting ended onMar 7, 2025

bahorel/feuilly art by @the-march-hair

jehan/grantaire art by @thepiecesofcait

[jolys-cane]

in a world where enjolras gets crushed by a falling anvil who would you ship grantaire with

bahorel

combeferre

prouvaire

bossuet

joly

bini (joly + bossuet)

JBM (joly + bossuet + musichetta)

Voting ended onJan 22, 2025

these are the top answers of my last grantaire minus enjolras shipping poll PLUS the suggestions people put in the tags 💝pick your favourite option

[perplexingly]

Both Jehan and Grantaire are Romantics, but of a different kind. Learned Jehan, with his wide interests, would probably be irritated at Grantaire’s attitude but I think he would be the first to notice how much of a care Grantaire puts to be seen as this non-believer.

[justgayrevolutionnaries]

Of snowflakes and revolution

My gift for @fructidors for the @drinkwithme-exchange ! I was more than happy to make another fic for you, this time I wanted to focus on Grantaire an Jehan and I had so much fun writing about them, I hope you enjoy <3

This one takes place in canon era, a few weeks before the Barrière du Maine episode.

Read it below or find it on Ao3 !

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

February 1832

“You know, my friend, since you forced me to go out, I feel the least you could do is look happy I obliged.”

Jean Prouvaire’s words seemed to be met with an immediate success, as the man facing him, though he didn't assume the happy look expected of him, was effectively snapped back to reality and considered him with an ironic stare.

“I would apologize, but I should have thought you would be more than eager to look out that window yourself - are you not the same one who would rather talk about the shapes of the clouds than listen to Enjolras pestering us with practical matters ? I am curious what you should have to say about the snow out there.”

In Grantaire’s defense, although he was not usually one to admire the landscape, it was not everyday you could find Paris under the snow, and both of them had a feeling they should revel in the occasion, as they did not know when they would come across such a view again - or even if they ever would. In fact, Prouvaire’s face as he called out to his friend was more bemused than actually upset, as he had barely been able to tear his eyes from the window himself since they had sat down at the Corinthe.

The pair would usually meet at Prouvaire’s apartment, although it was so messy these days that there was barely enough room for him to move around, let alone his imposing and exuberant friend. Not that it bothered the poet in the slightest, it seemed almost natural for him to live amidst a mess of worn out-books, pieces of paper filled with fragmented verses and various flowers all around, and since there was always a bottle of good wine to be found somewhere in this mess, Grantaire did not mind either. This time however, upon finding out that his friend had been so absorbed in his readings that he had completely neglected his mortal needs such as buying decent food, Grantaire had positively dragged him out of the building, claiming that “burying yourself in books will make you even more boring than Combeferre” and that he needed to go out immediately to prevent this unfortunate occurrence from happening.

Which was how the two of them had found themselves walking along the quays of Paris under the freezing wind, looking for a decent place to eat. The streets were cold, probably colder than they had been in years, and although this did not affect their enthusiasm in the slightest, all Jehan could think about was that they would not be able to show their faces at the Musain for weeks to come, as they would never hear the end of it if Joly was to catch them with a cold.

Either way, as one could have expected, their wandering had led them to the Corinthe ; the cabaret was not exactly an establishment that could be qualified a “decent place to eat at” but it seemed any other place would have felt wrong - at least that was Courfeyrac’s usual saying to justify their constant going back. Well, that and the fact the waiter here knew Grantaire so well that she immediately brought not one, but two bottles to their table- two bottles that the man had been eyeing with envy since they had sat down.

As he reached for one, however, Jehan immediately slapped his friend’s hand away, blatantly ignoring the offended look he was met with.

“I will remind you - do not give me that wounded look, capital R - I will remind you that I agreed to come only if you did not inebriate yourself before we even got the chance at a meal together.”

Grantaire merely wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought.

“Really, Prouvaire ? You, of all people, are going to tell me I am not allowed a drink today ?”

“Actually, I had expected my winning personality was enough to keep you good company - in fact, I shall take great offense if I find you brought me here only to immediately replace me with a bottle of wine. I should be upset, really. Positively vexed.”

The stern words only earned him a sarcastic look from his friend, who was used to Prouvaire’s theatrical lectures enough to know he did not mean one word of it.

However, though the redhead enjoyed teasing his friend about this subject, the truth was that being around Prouvaire had an unexpected effect on Grantaire. While the man was ever the most likely to grab a drink, and had drunk himself to oblivion more than once after a disdainful look from Enjolras, Jehan’s presence often sufficed to help him sober up. Not that the poet himself did not enjoy a drink, he was never the last to hold a glass of good wine to his lips, but he somehow seemed able to soothe Grantaire’s temperament with his mere words - after sharing a meal with the two of them, even Courfeyrac had marveled at the man’s sober self, effectively assigning Jehan the name of a “miracle worker”.

As if to acknowledge this, Grantaire’s eyes softened as he answered :

“And I am more than grateful for that company, Prouvaire. Although I think you are avoiding my question.”

At this point he took a solemn face and leaned in closer, earning him a puzzled look from Jehan.

“You will have to remind me what question you are talking about, R. I am afraid you were not the only one not paying attention.”

Grantaire leaned in even closer if that was possible and, whispering dramatically, he asked :

“What about the snow ?”

Prouvaire smiled as he understood what his friend meant. He leaned back into his chair, taking a puff of his pipe as he assumed a pensive look.

“The snow, uh ? A white mantle that comes to cover our whole city, petals white and pure, as if they had been sent by the gods themselves. For all we know, Chione could still be the one blowing snowflakes down until they reach us, so small and yet all chiseled by her hand, one by one. ”

“Is that all ? You are letting yourself go, Prouvaire. I expected more of-”

Grantaire burst out laughing as Jehan threw his hat at him, deliberately missing his face.

“Would you just let me think, you heathen !”

He closed his eyes to better concentrate, deciding that his friend’s ironic smile was not helping him at all.

“City asleep in the silence

Footsteps of a ghost in the night-”

“A ghost, really ? It seems to me those appear every time you try and write a verse about anything.”

“And why should we not talk about spirits ?” Jehan countered. “They are all around us. But if you have better inspiration, feel free to share it ; I shall be glad to hear what you have to say.”

Though caught off guard, Grantaire was more than happy to oblige.

“Snow falls from the sky like sparkles in the dark- no, this one doesn’t feel right. Keep going, you are better at this than I am.”

“No, no, wait, you had a good one with this. Snow falls down from the sky, sparkles in the dark / Black and white as far as my eyes can see…”

Here the poet stopped for a moment as he seemed to come back to reality, and he blushed slightly at the pride written on Grantaire’s face.

“I can keep going, if you want me to,” he said almost timidly.

“Of course you could. You seem to have a gift for this, you know. Poetry- your sensitivity seems to come almost naturally in your words.”

“You are not so bad with words yourself, my friend. You should consider coming by to help us write a speech, one of those days.”

Though light-hearted and seemingly nonchalant, the offer was merely met with a disdainful scoff from the man facing him.

“A speech ? So I can stand by and make a fool of myself with nonsense while Enjolras tells me to go home ? I don’t see what use I could be there. You should know by now your speeches mean near nothing to me.”

As Jehan was about to answer, his eyebrows furrowed, he found himself choking on the smoke of his own pipe. His friend seemed used to this occurrence, as he began softly patting the redhead's back with a bemused smile.

“I am a lost cause, Prouvaire. You should go waste your time on someone else. Besides, you should know Enjolras would never allow me in the vicinity if he is writing a speech to rally workers - or whatever it is you are trying to do - I would only spoil his credibility.”

“Grantaire, I have seen you go on for hours about the most beautiful of subjects - do you think I don’t remember that time you made up a limerick in just a few seconds, with only a candle for inspiration ? Your problem is not your style of speech, because you are splendid at it, it is merely your convictions.”

The suddenly serious tone of the poet was not lost on Grantaire, who leaned back in his chair to consider him thoughtfully.

“That is quite the compliment you are giving me here. Where are you going at with this flattery, if I may ask ?”

“I heard Enjolras is looking to make a census a few weeks from now- he believes it could be of use soon. He may be looking for someone to go to the Barrière du Maine, and I believe you are a familiar of Richefeu’s.”

Jehan understood he had got his friend’s interest as he saw, for the first time, a glint of surprise in his eye.

“You really have thought about this, have you not ?”

“What I am trying to say is, if you want to be taken as seriously as you deserve, you have to show what you are capable of. I believe you should try and convince Enjolras to let you go, just this once. You might even find you actually have beliefs- whether you are willing to admit it or not.”

As Grantaire opened his mouth to try a last word of protest, he added :

“And if you still think I was wrong about this then, I promise to buy you a meal to make up for it- and a decent one this time.”

Lost in his thoughts, his friend did not answer him immediately ; and when he did his response was lost in the noise of the conversation surrounding them. However, Jehan’s words seemed to have worked like a charm at reinvigorating Grantaire, as when the two of them finally left the café, he was engaged in one of those soliloquies not even Jehan dared to interrupt.

“Your friends may despise me, but I will have you know I am more than capable of starting a revolution if I put my mind to it. I should like to think I am not an idealist, what good did that ever do to anyone ? I refuse to die for your revolution. Prouvaire says I shall become a mere spirit too one day. I call this nonsense. Men will take a look around, and the snow bothers them no more than the sun ; still they talk of battles and oppression. I am more than happy to say I will leave the guns and the glory to you, my friend - although I shall personally be very disappointed to see a gun in your hands. You are, like me, a man of sentiment, and we shall-”

Grantaire’s grandiloquent speech was cut off abruptly as the wind caught a hold of his hat, causing it to fly off along the boulevard, a few feet before the two men. He swore profusely as he began running after it, followed by the redhead who was laughing heartily, turning his face upwards to feel the snow landing on his skin.

God, Jehan loved snow. He really wished they would get to see it fall again - next year, hopefully.

[jehantairerecs]

New profile picture

[jehantairerecs]

@combeauferre wrote this for me for my birthday <3

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[cynical-n-sarcastic]

grantaire has many tattoos and he lets jehan colour them in :)

[roadkillaries]

there's orange juice in the kitchen 🍊

This is a physical print of the digital artwork made by me. Individually printed for quality assurance on an ultra-premium, glossy paper, th

[demonsonthemoon]

Keep Me Safe

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairing: N/A, mention of platonic Jehan/Grantaire Word Count: 3074 Rating: Gen Summary: It's Valentine's day, and Grantaire sits alone in his kitchen with a flatmate who won't leave his bedroom. But maybe he doesn't have to stay alone. Notes: Oh boy. Forgive me if this note gets a bit emotional, but it's hard not to feel anything when this fic celebrate the TENTH anniversary of me meeting the amazing @anastasiapullingteeth. Two arospec people meeting each other on Valentine's day through a Jetaire fanfic, and then staying friends for ten years after that... how freaking awesome is this? Thank you Caro for still being in my life after all this time. The moments we share are always precious to me. Thanks to you, I always look forward to February 14th, and that is no small achievement. Love you, duckling! Title from "Ibuprofen” by Bears in Trees. The song was a big inspiration for the fic and it means a lot to me, so I really recommend you listen to it!

Read it on AO3

“Dinner's ready,” Grantaire calls out across the flat. The cheese on top of the lasagna looks slightly golden and the smell of garlic bread permeates the kitchen. Grantaire is sweating from the heat of the oven, as well as from the cooking and the dishes he just did.

The table is set for two, and he hopes...

He hasn't made a point of the date. Neither of them are really into the idea of celebrating Valentine's day. Considering they're non-monogamous, that Jehan is aromantic and that they've both listened to one too many anticapitalist rants by Enjolras, the holiday doesn't hold much appeal.

But Grantaire had time on his hands today, so he cooked a nice dinner from scratch and-

“I'm busy right now, I'll eat later.” Jehan's voice carries through the closed door of his bedroom.

Grantaire sighs, tells himself he's not disappointed. He would have been happier if Jehan had joined him, but this is the outcome he expected. His thoughts don't sound very convincing even to him as he puts the bottle of red wine he bought in the cupboard under the sink. He's not going to drink a bottle of wine by himself. Not tonight. That would only make things worse.

Would be a waste to, considering how expensive the thing was. That's what he gets for falling into the trap of Valentine's day marketing.

He's barely seen Jehan for the past two days, but this isn't exactly a surprise. Grantaire isn't worried about that. He's worried about his friend's behavior the weeks before that, the ever-present melancholy, the repeated absences at friendly gatherings, the aggressive defensiveness whenever this was pointed out.

Grantaire eats the lasagna in silence, scrolling through his phone all the while. He doesn't touch the garlic bread, leaves it in the turned off oven to hopefully stay warm.

His fingers hover over the Grindr app. He wants to get out of his head. Jehan's bad mood is starting to feel like a miasma, clinging to Grantaire's edges and slowly corroding his own will. He feels tired these days. Mean. He knows that the more he tries to keep his words soft and sweet for Jehan, the more they come out biting in front of other people. This isn't what Grantaire wants. It's not who he wants to be. It's not what he wants for Jehan either, but he's running out of ways to try and help. Surely he's not the only sad fuck out there who's lonely on February 14th and desperate for something else?

He locks his phone again.

Yeah, he's lonely and slowly reaching the point of touch starvation, but he's not in the right mindset for a casual hookup. Because he doesn't want to fuck some nameless person. He wants to feel close to Jehan.

It's not unusual for them to not have sex with each other for several weeks. But they haven't shared any kind of physical intimacy in at least ten days and it's starting to get to Grantaire.

The thing is... while he enjoys being held through his breakdown, feels anchored by having arms around him even if his head is too loud to do anything but sit in silence, he knows that's not the same for Jehan. Grantaire doesn't want his friend to snap at him like he did last week. He doesn't want to push himself onto him, doesn't want Jehan to accept his affections just to get him off his back.

Jehan wouldn't do that. He wouldn't manipulate Grantaire like that, wouldn't play with his feelings. Jehan has always been clear about his wants and needs, he's never led Grantaire on. He's nice.

But wouldn't it be the nice thing to do, to go along with Grantaire's own desires? Wouldn't it be easier for everyone?

Jehan probably wouldn't do that, but can Grantaire be sure? Considering that his roommate is currently locking himself up in his room and not talking to him, can he be certain that he hasn't been making Jehan feel uncomfortable all this time, that the other man hasn't just finally reached his limit and is just too scared to admit it to Grantaire? Too nice to hurt him in turn?

Grantaire breathes. In and out. He's spiralling.

He gets up and washes his plate. He covers the dish of lasagna and puts it in the fridge. He keeps the garlic bread in the oven still, even opens the door a little. He's hoping the smell will be enough to lure Jehan out at some point in the evening at least.

Grantaire can feel his muscles tensing. He regrets having done the other dishes earlier, because now there's too much restless energy in his body and he doesn't have a physical task to do to let it out. He wants to hit something. That would relieve the pressure in his brain for a little while.

He breathes in and out.

Picks up his phone again and opens the Signal app. He could text Bahorel, see what the girl is up to. She's usually down to hit the gym even at times when their boxing club is closed. Weights and cardio aren't the same as a good friendly match, but it would be better than nothing. Bahorel is good at not asking questions.

But what if Grantaire wants someone to ask questions?

Jehan hadn't been to the last ABC meeting, nor to the night out that Joly and Bossuet had set up as an excuse to flirt with the barmaid of their favorite queer bar. Both times, Grantaire had left early, worried about his roommate. He'd come back to a silent flat and a closed door, which hadn't been more reassuring than if he had stayed out. And then he had muted the group chat in which people were sharing photos of their night out.

Maybe what he needs isn't an anonymous fuck or a work out, but something else altogether.

Maybe what he needs is to not stay alone with his fear and his lasagna.

Instead of tapping on Bahorel's contact, he opens a group chat nicknamed The High Council. It's Valentine's Day, so he knows that Enjolras isn't busy tonight. Courfeyrac and Combeferre might be – it's difficult to keep track of Courfeyrac's relationship status, and Combeferre has been making eyes at Eponine for long enough that Grantaire wouldn't be surprised if there was something going on between them that they were keeping on the down low. Still, it's worth a shot.

Got lasagna and garlic bread to exchange for company and emotional support. Deal of the century if I'm honest. Anyone wants in?

He doesn't send the message right away.

Because the truth is... He would hate it, if it was him. If he was in Jehan's place. He would hate for someone else to invite people into his space. Would hate to be looked at with pity, with sympathy. He would hate for his vulnerabilities to be exposed to others.

He would hate to be a burden to his friends.

He does hate it. He fucking hates asking for help.

But that also means that Jehan would hate the way Grantaire feels right now. He would hate to be the cause of such helplessness.

So Grantaire pushes through his instincts and hits send.

Sometimes what you want and what you need aren't the same thing. Isolating yourself to deal with your issues isn't always the kindest thing you can do.

Grantaire repeats these thoughts over and over in his mind, hoping he can force himself to believe them.

He drops his phone beside him so he doesn't stare at the text conversation. He's not sure he can fight against the urge to delete the message before anyone has a chance to see it.

He stares at the ceiling instead. It's only marginally better than staring at a screen.

Grantaire can hear soft music coming from Jehan's bedroom, but there's no movement to accompany it. Maybe Jehan is also staring at the ceiling.

Grantaire wants a glass of wine.

Grantaire wants to find a hookup who will share a joint with him before letting him fuck them and who won't ask any personal question and he wants to slam the door on his way out to make a point to Jehan.

He wants to turn the oven back on with the garlic bread still inside. Maybe then it would smell bad enough for Jehan to come out and check what's going on.

Fuck. Being a good person is exhausting.

His phone vibrates with a notification. He doesn't open it right away. Better not hope too much, lest you be disappointed. It could be anything. Maybe someone messaged him on Grindr.

He closes his eyes after a few seconds. Hard. Just enough that it hurts a little, that he can see phosphenes.

Then he checks his messages.

👼 and I are on our way, keep the lasagna warm and cheesy 👌

The text is from Courfeyrac, and a few seconds later a new bubble appears with Enjolras' name.

We've already had dinner.

Followed by another message from Courfeyrac: I said what I said.

He should feel relief but is instead filled with dread. This has to be a fucking mistake. He's just proven to his friends that he's a deadweight. Not even capable of helping his closest friend. Not capable of helping himself.

What if Jehan hates him for this? For meddling? It's not any of his fucking business, what Jehan does in his bedroom when he doesn't want company. It's not Grantaire's business if he decides not to eat.

It certainly shouldn't concern Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

Grantaire sends a thumbs up anyway.

He puts the lasagna back in the oven, turns it on on a low setting.

He knocks on Jehan's bedroom.

“Enjolras and Courfeyrac are coming over,” he says. He doesn't ask if Jehan is going to join them. Hope not and you won't be disappointed.

He doesn't get any answer.

Grantaire has opened the bottle of wine by the time Courfeyrac and Enjolras arrive. He's poured himself half a glass, and taken out two others to fill.

The table is still set for Jehan. He can just pretend that the plate is for Courfeyrac instead.

His friends know to text him instead of ringing the unsettlingly loud doorbell. Grantaire wishes they'd forgotten, because it might have woken up Jehan. The man probably isn't asleep, but still. It's not that Grantaire wants him to hurt. He just has an easier time dealing with Jehan's anger than with his silence. Anger gives him something to chew on, something to eventually act upon. Right now he has nothing.

He walks down the four flights of stairs to open the door.

“Happy Valentine's Day!” Courfeyrac exclaims as soon as the door opens. He drags Grantaire into a hug and lays a huge smack on his cheek. Enjolras rolls eir eyes at the scene.

Grantaire feels a smile tug at his lips. It's partly just a reflex, the urge to pretend, to always act like everything is fine. But there's also some genuine amusement in it, some contentment from his friend's easy affection, from the warmth in Enjolras' gaze even as ey holds emself at more of a distance.

“I would have brought some chocolate but the only one we had at the flat was Combeferre's fancy not-so-secret stash, and Enjolras refused to stop at a night shop.”

“You would have paid a prohibitive amount of money for sub-par chocolate for the sole purpose of feeding the so-called 'holiday spirit' that only serves to drive more capitalist consumption as well as reinforcing norms around monogamy and amatonormativity.”

“Yes, I would have,” Courfeyrac responds with an easy smirk, unbothered by the well-rehearsed rant. “And it would have been fun! Besides, am I really reinforcing those norms if I'm buying chocolate to cheer up my polya and arospec friends?”

Enjolras frowns at that, and Grantaire ushers the both of them inside before they start a debate in his staircase.

“Oh, it smells amazing in here,” says Courfeyrac as he immediately moves towards the kitchen.

“I put the lasagna back in the oven to warm up, you can check if it's ready. And there's garlic bread over there.” Grantaire points to the counter where the bread lies, covered in a clean kitchen towel.

“Well, don't mind me, I'll make myself right at home,” Courfeyrac responds. And he does just that, opening the oven and quickly touching the top of the lasagna to check its warmth.

It leaves Grantaire staring at Enjolras and looking for something to say.

“Want some wine?” he finally asks, before pouring two glasses at Enjolras' nod.

They both sit down at the table, while Courfeyrac lounges against the counter, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread.

Grantaire takes a sip of his own drink.

“So, is something wrong?” Enjolras asks before ey even tries the wine. Rude. This is actually a good bottle. Grantaire put thought into all of this.

He has another sip. Enjolras just stares at him.

Grantaire sighs. “Jehan isn't eating. I've barely seen him for the past two days, really. I'm worried. I don't know what to do.”

“Bread was for him, right?” Courfeyrac chimes in with his mouth still half full.

Grantaire nods.

“His favorite. You're a romantic, 'R.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well. Thought the smell might draw him out. It obviously didn't work.”

Courfeyrac shrugs. “It drew us in, though.”

Grantaire raises his eyebrows at him, but his friend doesn't elaborate, instead poking some more at the lasagna that's still in the oven.

“I noticed that Jehan wasn't at the last ABC meeting.” Enjolras says, finally sipping on eir wine. “But it's not exactly unusual for either of you to skip attendance from time to time.”

“I really don't feel up for a lecture about dedication to the cause, Enj'” replies Grantaire.

Enjolras tuts. “I'm not lecturing you. I'm just saying... this isn't unusual. Jehan gets like this sometimes. He always comes back to himself.”

Grantaire looks up at the ceiling. There might be tears pressing at the corner of his eyes, but no one will be able to prove that. The thing is... The thing is, you only need one time of someone not coming back for the world to change forever. The thing is, Grantaire knows how steep that edge is, he's walked it often enough himself. The thing is, Jehan's depression is often quieter than Grantaire's, but he suspects that the silence only serves to hide the depths of it.

“I'm just scared,” Grantaire finally admits, looking back down at his friends once he is certain that the tears will not fall. “I don't want to fail him.”

“Oh, 'R...”

Courfeyrac walks around the table in order to hug him from behind, the back of the chair probably digging into his stomach uncomfortably. It doesn't stop the embrace from being tight and warm.

“What if we hadn't been able to come tonight,” Enjolras asks in a soft tone. “Would you have thought we'd failed you?”

“What? No. You have the right to be busy. It's not your job to-”

“Just like it isn't yours to take care of Jehan.”

Grantaire feels Courfeyrac nod from where he's still holding him.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that you can be here for him. Just like we're happy to be here for you. And the two are close in a way you aren't with most other people, living together and... such.”

Grantaire can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Enjolras blushes. It's fucking adorable.

“But you're not responsible for one another even when you rely on each other. Does that make sense?”

“I guess,” Grantaire reponds, rubbing his fingers against the various permanent stains that dot their kitchen table.

“I'm glad you texted us,” Courfeyrac adds from his unrelenting hug. Not that Grantaire is fighting a lot to get out of it. It's nice to be touched. “We want to be here for you, you know? For you both. But it's hard to show up when the things you're fighting are happening in your own heads. Hard to be there for Jehan when he won't let us in.”

Grantaire nods somberly. “Won't even open his door.”

“But you did let us in. So we're here. And it won't solve everything but maybe it doesn't have to, right?”

He finally lets go at that, not even looking back as he walks back towards the oven and pulls out the lasagna.

“Now who wants a piece of this delicious-looking bad boy?”

Courfeyrac eats a huge portion of lasagna, along with some more bread. Grantaire and Enjolras share a small plate between them, almost shyly. Grantaire is almost vibrating at the idea of fighting over who gets the last bite. It's extremely lame.

They chat through the bottle of wine, Grantaire's friends keeping him up to date on all of the gossip he missed, including the fact that Combeferre and Eponine actually do have a date together today and, well, good for them.

It's almost midnight when they all hear Jehan's bedroom door open. There is the slightest pause in the conversation before Courfeyrac keeps describing the extravagant floral arrangement that Joly and Bossuet brought to their favorite barmaid. Nobody wants to acknowledge that they've noticed the noise, in case it makes Jehan retreat again.

But no, the sound of bare feet on the linoleum is faint, but it's coming in their direction.

Jehan is dressed in his pyjamas, his short bob of red hair hanging messily about his face. Grantaire can't help but look for red-rimmed eyes or the bags that indicate sleeplessness. He can't make out anything by the light of their old and shitty halogen lamps.

“Did you leave any lasagna for me? 'the least you could do after making such a ruckus that it's impossible to sleep in here.”

Jehan's smile looks tired, but it's a smile anyway. Grantaire doesn't waste a second before getting up and putting a plate of lasagna in the microwave. He puts the garlic bread in the oven for good measure. It won't be properly warm, but that's no big deal.

It will still make the flat smell like home.