#la13grantaire

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Depression

Today was not a good day.

Grantaire lay in bed, wrapped in blankets. He hadn't moved since he woke up that morning. The paralyzing, painful sadness had returned, squeezing the air out of his chest. He felt it creeping up on him since he dropped taking his meds, leaving his apartment less and less. He missed coffee with a friend yesterday and couldn't remember who, turning off his phone to ignore the worried texts that he knew would be there. The only reason he hadn't relapsed today was he didn't feel he could leave bed. Grantaire didn't know how much time had passed, curling up into a tight ball. Sobs wracked his thin body as it finally overwhelmed him. He threw the covers over his head, sobbing so hard he couldn't see our breathe. This is why he didn't hear the knock at his door, not someone everything his room.

[witheyeslikeafortuneteller]

An almost merry Christmas

Musichetta was a bit excited for the night. Evrn though it would be her first Christmas without any if her family, it would be nice have Grantaire over. And honestly, some traditions never changed, like the one of running to a supermarket to buy the last (or all) ingredients she would need fir dinner on the last minute. The timing of the telephone was flawlwss, since it rang right after she took the turkey out of the oven and put it on the table. (It had to be a proper Christmas dinner after all) She ran out of the flat, the way she was getting used to do, and took her old car to the Musain(she hated to take the car, but it was a necessary evil sometimes) Getting there, she fiund a trembling Grantaire and immediately hugged him. “Telll me what happened” She ordered while guiding him to her car,

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Cookies

"My phone is fine." Grantaire said, steadily cleaning the kitchen and not looking at Combeferre. He kept his hands busy and eyes glued to what he was doing. "Yeah totally. Why wouldn’t I be?" He said quickly. The weight of everything was just hitting Grantaire’s mind now, how close he had been, how close his friend had been. How it was possible he would’ve not been standing here. He was surprised to find himself…relieved. happy at the thought of someone helping him, that he lived through this. It started him enough to pause in his scrubbing.

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Apologies and Alcoholism

Grantaire stood nervously outside of Jehan’s door, shifting from foot to foot with a box of tea in his hands. It had been a month and a half since he had seen the poet, having made the decision to drop completely off the map when going through the beginning of his withdrawal. He hadn’t seen or heard from anyone at all in his self made solitude. The only people he had had contact with was Combeferre and Musichetta. Who he couldn’t believe convinced him to do this. They said it was trade of four having them not tell anyone where and how sick he was. Grantaire really hadn’t gotten out much, having been violently ill and weak from quitting drinking so suddenly. He still felt sick and had to be on medication, and would for a long time. The psychological damage had also taken it’s toll on Grantaire. Dark circles hung under his eyes from the nightmares and he was painfully skinny. Connecting with friends was part of his back-to-normal-life acclamation. God, he missed them so much it ached. For the fifth time, Grantaire raised his hand to knock, but lowered it again. He was so scared of what Jehan might say. If he would reject him, laugh at him, get him to relapse. He knew it was foolish, but the familiar anxiety was clutching at his heart again. He didn’t think he’d be able to live if Jehan was cruel. Gathering up his courage before his could regret it, Grantaire raised his hand and knocked quickly, wincing at the sound.

[witheyeslikeafortuneteller]

Text to Grantaire

Musichetta: can we talk?

[witheyeslikeafortuneteller]

Song

It hadn’t passed much time since the acident, and Musichetta decided to spend some time with Grantaire. They had talked a lot - about happy things, sad things, just things - and now it was evening. She was sat on the couch with the artist’s head in her lap, and she could praticaly feel his eyes heavy with sleep. They had been talking about the man’s insecurities, or at least, trying to, since he wouldn’t open up. However, Musichetta knew how afraid he was of being without his friends, even though he couldn’t understand why they were still with him. So she started singing to calm him down. “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears” Her voice wasn’t very good, in reality it was very out of tune, but she could sense him getting calmer. “I’m here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you” Phantom of the Opera was one of her favorite musicals, and those lyrics wer amazing… so why not? “Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I’m here, with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you.” When Grantaire finally slept, she rested her head against the back of the couch, falling asleep too.

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Grantaire meets Eponine.....again.

It had been several weeks since Grantaire's withdrawal incident, and he hadn't seen any of his friends since. In fact, he had been avoiding the Musain altogether. The bandages had just come off his arms leaving behind scabs and more than a few that would turn into new scars. Shame welled up in him every time he looked at his arms. He didn't know how to approach his friends, and had begged Combeferre not to tell. He felt guilty, but what ever Ferre had told them left Grantaire in peace. Grantaire almost had an anxiety attack when he thought about it, so he had decided the best course of action was to wait. The only person he had seen was Combeferre, who came around every so often to check up on him. The nausea had mostly gone away, but the trembling and headaches varied. Combeferre seemed to show up just as it was getting to be too much. Most days though, Grantaire would take a walk. On today's walk, his mind was more scattered than usual. Having not felt hungry, he had taken one look at his violently shaking hands, got dressed and started walking. That had been seven AM. It was nearly noon now, and Grantaire was wandering down the sidewalk not paying attention whatsoever to where his feet were taking him, shaking hands shoved into his pockets. That was, until, he crashed into someone. The smaller brunette stumbled, but righted herself quickly. Grantaire had no such luck and crashed to the ground. "God- I am so sorry. I-" he began to apologize, looking up at her through his dark curls. Her face was so familiar it completely disarmed Grantaire and made him lose his train of thought. "I-I'm sorry." He faltered. "D-do I know you?"

[neverputhebottledown-blog]

Nearing Halloween...

"What kinda crazy shot do you guys want to do this year? I mean, last year’s Halloween party as pretty great….at least what I remember of it."