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cheshirequeenwithoutaheart · 5 years

Text

the boys plan a party (surprisingly, they dont fuck anything up)

“Okay!” Daniele slammed a list down on the table, prompting the occupants to either jump back (Milo), swear loudly (Leander and Alois), glare at him in annoyance (Connally), or swivel their head around like something out of a horror movie (Raine).

“This,” he began, ignoring the reactions of his boyfriends, “is a list of things that we need to do in order to throw Mal the best birthday ever!”

“I don’t know, it’s gonna be hard to top the one we threw her last year,” Raine drawled, stretching across the table to drag the piece of paper over to him.

“Raine, one of the walls was destroyed and Connally had to be taken to the hospital with a broken arm,” Daniele looked at him like he was crazy which, whilst fair, was also kind of hypocritical.

“I know,” he smiled smugly, mischief gleaming in his usually bored eyes.

“Whatever you’re planning,” Alois said slowly, giving the younger man a warning look, “don’t.”

Raine pouted and fluttered his eyelashes innocently for a moment before reading the list.

“Who thought putting Connally in charge of the decorations would be a good idea?” Milo wondered, reading over Raine’s shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Connally asked, affronted, at the same time Daniele gave them a look that just screamed ‘I did, you idiots’.

“Daniele in charge of cooking? We’d probably be in the hospital for food poisoning if we let that happen,” Raine commented, ignoring both Connally and Daniele with an ease that came from years of practise. That, and he just didn't care.

“We’re gonna need to rewrite the whole list, aren't we?” Alois sighed, resting his head in the palm of his hand.

“Yep,” Raine pulled a black marker from out of his pocket and began editing the list, crossing out bits here and there.

“Why do you have a marker in your pocket?” Milo questioned, staring at the back of his head with a raised eyebrow.

“So I'm always prepared to draw on people’s faces,” the other man answered, voice completely deadpan.

Connally twitched violently, remembering all the times he’d woken up to a moustache drawn on his face.

“Okay!” Raine capped the marker with a flourish and handed the list to Alois who skimmed over it.

“Right, Daniele and I are both on decorations, Connally is on shopping duty, Milo is the cook, Leander gets to remind Lyssa and Kana about it being their cousin’s birthday, and Raine gets to distract Mallory.”

“You did that to get out of doing work, didn't you?” Daniele accused Raine, finger pointed directly in his face.

“I don't know what you mean,” he denied, trying his best to look innocent; it wasn't very convincing.

“I don’t know why you’re here, arguing, when you should be doing your jobs!” Alois yelled at them, slamming the list down on the table with twice the force Daniele used. “Get moving!”

“Um, okay,” Milo set the cookbook down on the table and opened it, flipping through it for a moment before pausing, “what’s Mal’s favourite type of cake again?”

“She doesn't have one,” Daniele called, walking into the kitchen a few minutes later. “And trust me, I would know. Years of going on cake dates with her have yielded no results to that question, save that she burns off calories like a mad thing.”

“Should you even be in here?” the younger man asked, eyebrow raised. “Won’t Alois throw a fit or something?”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, hon,” Daniele dismissed with a wave of his hand. “He’s busy helping Raine to distract Mallory.”

Milo blushed at being called ‘hon’ before shaking his head at the man’s unconcerned demeanour. “You’re a glutton for punishment, you know.”

“Yep~” he winked, smiling widely at the younger man’s reaction.

“Oi!” Alois appeared in the doorway, glaring at them both. “Stop chit chatting and get back to work!”

“Why are you here?” Connally grumbled, staring at Leander out of the corner of his eye. “Shouldn't you be calling Mallory’s cousins or something?”

“I can do that from the store, you know,” Leander pointed out, tapping away at the touchscreen on his phone.

“Oh...yeah,” Connally finished lamely, tossing a bag of sweets into the cart.

“This is why I am the genius,” Leander tucked his phone into his pocket and walked on ahead, turning around with his hands behind his head as he walked backwards, “and you are...whatever it is you are.”

“Gee, thanks,” Connally glared at him. “You’re such a big help.”

“I try,” he smiled back, a thin amused one.

Connally couldn't feel even a hint of guilt for laughing at him when he tripped and fell backwards.

“Uh, Alois?” Mallory asked, frowning even though she knew the man couldn't see.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have your hands over my eyes?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered, steering in the direction of what she thought was the kitchen.

“Couldn't you have just told me to close my eyes or something, then?” she wondered, “surely, there’s no need for...this.”

“But where’s the fun in that? Besides, you wouldn't listen,” he was smiling, she could just tell, as he brought them to a stop. “We’re here, by the way.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she grumbled, huffing when he didn't remove his hands from her eyes.

“Be patient, Mal,” there was the press of lips against the top of her head and the sound of him opening the door.

“Surprise,” he removed his hands, finally, and watched her blink slightly when that word was echoed by everyone occupying the room.

“Happy birthday, bitch!” Lyssa chirped, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. A smirk Mallory returned.

“Thank you, dumbass,” she returned, eyes scanning the room. Daniele had his arm resting on Milo’s head, Leander was having a glaring contest with Lyssa, and Connally was leaning against the counter. Kana was sat in one of the kitchen chairs, her dumb cat in her lap. Raine was perched on the edge of the table, face amused rather than blank for once.

“You knew,” she accused him, biting down on her lip to suppress the smile that threatened to break out over her face.

“Yep,” he agreed easily, smirking at her.

“And you didn't tell me,” she gasped, pulling a face of mock offence, “how could you?!”

“Quite easily,” he retorted, pushing himself away from the table and walking over to wrap an arm around her.

“I’m impressed that you managed to keep it a secret,” she mused, wrapping an arm around him in return before kissing him quickly on the cheek and pulling away and walking over to Leander.

She poked him on the shoulder and, when he turned around with his mouth open (fully prepared to yell at her, she guessed), kissed him on the cheek.

“I suppose I should say thank you,” she said, ignoring the spluttering man as she moved over to Milo and Daniele.

Milo smiled at her, soft and sweet, and she returned that smile, albeit with a much less soft and sweet one.

Daniele pulled them both into a hug, dropping a kiss onto her forehead as he did so.

“God, can you be anymore sappy?” Lyssa asked, snarky voice in full force.

“Oh, we could be,” Milo chirped. “For your sake though, we won't be.”

“Urg- ow!” Lyssa yelped, glaring at both Leander and Kana, Leander for throwing a pen full force at her head, Kana for pinching her in the side.

Mallory shared an amused look with her youngest cousin, Lyssa was still very much the same as she always was, before pulling herself away from Daniele and Milo to walk over to Connally.

“What part did you play?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

“Personal shopper,” he drawled, dropping his head down to kiss her on the nose; she giggled at him.

“We all chipped in, really,” Alois said from where he was leaning against the doorframe. “Well, except for Lyssa and Kana.”

“Shut it,” the ginger haired woman glared at him.

“Thank you,” Mallory said simply. “I don't really care about birthday parties, and you know that very well, but thank you.”

@srazar @myreidola @writersloth @millie-likes-art @editedandwrittenbyhannah

#writing #they all love each other #under all the sass and rude remarks #might be a bit choppy in places but I like it #satt #chara mallory #chara daniele #chara leander #chara milo #chara connally #chara alois #chara lyssa #chara kana

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

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ROSALíA - BAGDAD

[7.67]

And we close out our newly curtailed Sound of 2019 (Half-)Week with, finally, a song we like...

Joshua Minsoo Kim: So many striking images: a woman bringing her hands together and then apart, representing both hand clapping ("compás por bulerías") and prayer; a chorus that interpolates the melody of Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River," with lyrics about a woman burning; a woman leaving the titular adult entertainment nightclub, one where she was presumably a spectacle, only to be observed by passersby who are also oblivious to her pain. The confluence of all these ideas -- as well as the contemporary pop touchstone intermingling with traditional singing -- conjures up the feeling of eternal purgatory. The invoking of fire lends itself to this idea, and proves poignant since fire is a source of both pain and purification from shame and guilt: perpetual penitence, suffering, and rejection. In telling this story, Rosalía implicitly asks: "Why is any of this necessary?" "Why is this something women still feel?" This is a song about their paradoxical fate, a song about woman as neglected object yet unceremonious recipient of burden and blame. I'm not terribly fond of "Bagdad" musically, and find it rather unexciting as a standalone single. But in the context of El Mal Querer, it's a compelling and rich addition to the album's narrative. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: If Björk were a Catalan woman re-inventing flamenco music, she might make something sounding like this astounding and instantly memorable single. The music she's making with co-producer El Guincho isn't just ahead of the curve -- it obliterates the curve. [9]

Alfred Soto: "Bagdad" has promise: interpolating a melody from "Cry Me a River" into a song that becomes a response. But as much as I admire when artists mitigate sentimentality with distancing devices, the vocal distortions quash Rosalía's pathos. [5]

Crystal Leww: Do y'all remember that era when people were begging Justin Timberlake to make an album because of his half-a-decade hiatus? I legitimately remember watching a "comedy" video featuring grown-ass women talking about how Timberlake was essential because Justin Bieber wasn't grown and sexy. A lot of people said FutureSex/LoveSounds was what they missed about music, but in retrospect, it was Justified that was really full of the slappers. Justified was so good that Timbaland was coasting off the goodwill he earned from it as late as 2015, when "soundtrack by Timbaland" was seen as a real draw for Empire. It seems almost impossible for anyone to do something fresh and interesting with a song as dramatic as "Cry Me a River," which has been flipped and mixed so many times over the last decade and a half, oftentimes to lackluster results. But "Bagdad" is good! While the arrangement is scaled back, Rosalía stays away from what artists often do with pop songs of the aughts, which is to make it twee or sincere, and leans into the art ho within. [8]

Katie Gill: If you had me pick which 2000s-era Justin Timberlake song would have the most influence on multiple 2018/2019 songs, there is no way in hell I'd have picked "Cry Me a River." Thankfully, this interpolates it much more smoothly than "Without Me." Rosalía's high vocals soar over the song, mixing wonderfully with those backing vocals. Then the song just ENDS, but because of the haunting sound, that's okay! It fits the mood! [7]

Anna Suiter: The repeated sections make "Bagdad" feel like a hymn, but not like a pretentious one. It's got the awe part down pat, and in a small amount of space. You'd almost expect this kind of song to feel a little too tedious or overlong, but Rosalía knows exactly how long to stay. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: A masterclass in interpolation, Rosalía manages the impossible here: I went and revisited the awful "Cry Me a River." The way Rosalía weaves and warbles her voice in and out of the background choir and melody is ethereal and incredible, conjuring up the most magical imagery -- think pink elephants from Dumbo, but done more tastefully. That the lyrics complete the story of her first album is simply extra, because there could be entire essays written solely on her vocal intricacies and the melody. It's all perfect, and I can't help but succumb and become entranced. [10]

Nicholas Donohoue: My sister loves Rosalía. When we were together for the holidays, by the time it took to get from our house to the Christmas Eve Mass and back she gave me the crash course on all the necessary and supplemental elements to a full appreciation. "Bagdad" is a good example of how hooked anyone can get with Rosalía. The "Cry Me a River" sample is so forward, an immaculately layered concoction surrounds the hook, and the song is one part of a whole narrative in El Mal Querer, which itself is a compelling meta-story. It's an absorbing piece with so many entry points and as my sister and I have shown, many effective preachers and willing converts. [9]

Pedro João Santos: This is one of 11 tracks overpowered with tension and augury--in addition to jealousy, a wedding, relational conflict, ecstasy; the whole shebang. Yet the hymnal "Bagdad" manages the feat of upending the rest of El Mal Querer in the suspense criterion: its air heavy with hand-wringing gloom, a vulnerable Rosalía singing of deep heartache, the palmas and the piano forming an increasingly claustrophobic wall of sound, moving forward and closing in on whoever dares to listen. It's an everlasting thrill to behold. Even if the JT sample didn't bode well for me at first--it didn't help that it was part of an album so full of unexpected hooks, sinful dissonance and oddball mastery--it sounds affirmatively hers now, transplanted and rejigged for new pop life. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Rosalia #pop #flamenco #music #music review #writing #BBC Sound of 2019

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

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Ehi!! I just read your les mis fic and it's really amazing!!!Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ I was wondering if you could write one with the Sickie scenario you reblogged with A being enj, B being R and C... I don't know actually... Ferre maybe?

(Okay so here’s the thing: I don’t know what I reblogged. I have a very vague memory of it which I’m certain is right for the most part but I may have missed out some of the detail on the scenario so apologies for that! I’ve said this before but I love writing les mis!! Also sorry if my translations are off! Not native French speaker!)

TRANSLATIONS:

J'ai mal a la tête-my head hurtsJ'ai froid Grantaire- I’m cold, GrantaireJ'ai sommeil- I’m sleepyQuest ce qu'il fait faire ? -What should I do? Je suis desolee- I’m sorryA tés souhaits- Bless youJe ne me sens pas biens- I don’t feel wellPrenons ta temperature, oui? -Let me take your temperature, yes?Tu as l'aire malade, Enjolras- You look sick, EnjolrasRestez au lit, oui?- Stay in bed, yes?Ou est Grantaire? -Where is Grantaire?

Grantaire knows Enjolras well.

He’s spent a long time watching him move, analysing every little thing about him, and he’d fall in love a little more each day. And ever since Grantaire realised that his love was returned, he could only fall deeper in love.

He’d fall in love with Enjolras’s hair in the morning, how soft and perfectly messy it was. He’d fall in love with the look of his sleeping face, so calm, so beautifully natural. He’d fall in love with the way he’d constantly tap his fingers on surfaces to cope, and the little noises it would make. He’d even fall in love with the little stutter and shake to his voice, and even how clammy his hands got when he was anxious. Which was a lot of the time.

But these things no matter how imperfect made Enjolras.

And Grantaire loved Enjolras.

He loved him and all his little quirks. He’d memorised them; a little cheat sheet permanently installed into his head. Grantaire knew when Enjolras was getting sick.

He knew when he came home and his jacket pockets would be stuffed with tissues. He knew when the very tip of his nose would be slightly pink and slightly dry. He knew when Enjolras wore old hoodies for days in a row. He knew when Enjolras sneezed slightly louder, a little more powerful.

Enjolras pitched forward with a forceful sneeze that doubled him over, but managed to catch wth his sleeve. The sound was obviously strained, but not too successfully, like he had been trying to muffle the sound but had failed to do so.

Grantaire frowned and put down his paintbrush, sighing. It had been the 6th time in the past half hour, and he needed to draw the line. He approached him quietly, gently putting his hands on Enjolras’s shoulders and softly massaging them.

“Bless you, baby,” Grantaire whispered.

Enjolras jumped slightly, face still buried in his sleeve. After he pitched forward with another sneeze he cleared his throat and smiled at him wearily.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire rested his chin on Enjolras head as he lovingly embraced him, “E, baby, I think you’re coming down with something.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and shook his head weakly, “I’m fine, R, I promise. Just a little tired.”

Grantaire frowned, “I don’t like you working like this. You’re worrying me, come to bed?”

Enjolras offered him a sympathetic smile, “I love that you care for me so much, but I am honestly fine, ‘Taire.”

There was nothing he could do to convince him.

Enjolras sighed, “Here, let me just finish this point here then I’ll come to bed, okay?”

Grantaire sighed and gave him and a sad little smile, whispering a soft little goodnight as he left a little kiss against Enjolras’s nose. He left shortly after towards the bedroom, but couldn’t quite get rid of the anxiety building in his chest once he heard the harsh and chesty cough that came out of his boyfriend.

Enjolras didn’t come into bed until many hours later, and as much as that worried him all Grantaire could think about was the oh so good warmth against his body filling him with love.

They could figure this out when the morning came.

Enjolras was gone by the time Grantaire woke up.

He’d left a note like he usually did, of course, because Enjolras was a sweetheart. However what Grantaire did notice was that Enjolras appeared to be quite late, probably from exhaustion and oversleeping, given the fact his pyjamas were on the floor rather than in the hamper, the coat rack and the shoe pile was slightly messed up, and how there was no empty bowl of cereal left at the sink.

Grantaire frowned, unhappy that Enjolras had left the house sick and without anything in him. He shot a quick text to Marius telling him that Enjolras was sick and had no food in him. Grantaire sighed, feeling a little unsettled in his stomach and feeling a little anxious for his boyfriend. But he couldn’t waste the day worrying needlessly, Enjolras was strong and capable, he wasn’t going to die.

Grantaire just sucked it up and began to work on his art project. He lost himself in his skilful pain strokes and the beautiful colours that popped and complimented each other wonderously. He lost him in his art, each stroke of his brush calculated yet loose and free.

He was so lost in his art he had lost his concept of time, and his concept of his senses because he didn’t hear his phone ring or see it light up.

Grantaire finally checked on his phone at around quarter to four, and when he saw the text on his phone his heart sank.

Marius: E really is not doing good and he’s been sneezing and coughing so much so I’m trying to force him home (1:56)

Marius: Ok so I got him to go home and I really wish I could give him a lift or come with him but I’ve got a test and I feel awful but at least he’s coming home to ur loving arms!! :-) (2:48)

Grantaire looked over at the window and his heart sank deeper as he realised how hard it was raining.

He let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding and let out a series of rapid shaky breaths out of anxiety. He felt his heart begin to speed up and his blood run cold, as he scrambled to try and unlock his phone and try to contact him.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Grantaire hissed, flustered, as he kept failing to unlock his phone. To him, every second wasted was him getting closer and closer to losing Enjolras.

Until he heard the relieving sound of keys being yanked into the keyhole, twisting and the door softly being pushed open.

“Oh my god,” Grantaire said in relief, a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.

Enjolras came shuffling in, like a ghost, completely drenched and his clothes sticking to his skin. He looked the epitome of miserable, and every inch of Grantaire wanted to leap on him and make him warm and make him better again. He couldn’t handle seeing someone who was made of sunlight and moon dust so stifled.

“Hey,” Enjolras said weakly, his voice cracking and hoarse. He managed a weary, feverish smile before he was tilting slightly, then collapsing.

Grantaire rushed to his side and caught him before he fell, “Oh my god, E!”

He put the back of his hand against his cheek, “You’re burning up! Oh fuck, I gotta get Ferre..”

“J'ai mal à la tête..” Enjolras murmured into Grantaire’s sweater.

Grantaire froze. Fear seeped into his bones, his hands beginning to shake slightly in fear of his boyfriend. He loved him too much, and he wished he could take any pain away from him. Enjolras didn’t deserve it.

“J'ai froid, Grantaire…” Enjolras whimpered.

“U-uh, q-quest c-ce qu'il fait faire?” Grantaire asked nervously, beginning to panic. He wished he knew a bit more French.

“O-okay, lets get you out of those clothes and I’ll call Ferre, okay?”

Enjolras nodded tiredly as Grantaire tried to lead him over to the en suite bathroom. Grantaire passed him a towel to dry off on, and left him briefly to carefully select an old but well loved, royal blue sweater from Enjolras’s old high school and a warm, thick pair of jogging bottoms.

“Here, ‘Jolras, sweetie, you need to get changed..”

“J'ai sommeil..” Enjolras whined weakly.

Grantaire heart was aching, desperately wanting to kiss it all better, “I know, love, I know. You can go to bed soon, I promise, but you need to get changed..”

Enjolras nodded finally, until he was taken over by an intense coughing fit that had him doubling over. His entire frame racked with the awfully chesty coughs, face scrunched in pain as he continued to cough. His muscles contracted as he did so, a wheezy breath ringing out as he inhaled and then fell back into the tortuous cycle.

Grantaire rubbed his back soothingly, frowning as he helped Enjolras to remove his wet clothing and donn the newer, soft ones. Enjolras picked up the sweater before his breath started to hitch and his red nose twitched, and he was being taken over by a monstrous sneeze sprayed all over the sweater.

Enjolras sniffled weakly, rubbing at his irritated nose, “Je suis desolée..”

Grantaire smiled warmly and leaned in to kiss Enjolras on the nose, “A tès souhaits.”

Enjolras’s breath caught again and he sneezed violently to the side, the force of the sneeze clearly taking a lot out of him. Just as his eyes began to open, his eyes began to water again and he exhaled deeply to prepare himself for his third sneeze, which was even more desperate and ticklish than the last one.

Grantaire frowned and lead Enjolras back to their bed, tucking him in. It was then when Grantaire noticed how much he was shaking.

“Je ne me sens pas bien,” Enjolras whimpered weakly. He sounded so miserable it broke Grantaire’s heart, and it pained him how horrible Enjolras was feeling.

“I know baby,” Grantaire choked out before whipping out his phone and dialling for Combeferre, watching Enjolras toss and turn in a restless, feverish sleep as he waited for Combeferre to pick up.

“'Taire?”

“Oh thank god, Ferre!” Grantaire exclaimed, but still trying to keep his volume down for his sick boyfriend’s sake.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Enjolras! He’s burning up so bad and hjs cough sounds awful and he’s sneezing and he’s speaking French for fucks sake Ferre my French isn’t the greatest and he’s so delirious and I’m so scared and I–”

“R, man, calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay. He’s okay. I promise you everything will be okay, deep breaths, alright? I’ll be there in about 15, just try and take his temperature and stay by his side, alright?” Combeferre reassured gently.

“O-okay,” Grantaire stuttered as he put down and reached for the thermometer inside one of their drawers, opting for the ear one and approaching Enjolras.

“Prenons ta temperature, oui?” Grantaire whispered shakily as he gently inserted the thermometer into Enjolras ear. He waited anxiously for the click and his heart dropped when he saw what it was. He just hoped Combeferre would be here soon.

“Oh, thank god you’re here!” Grantaire exclaimed with relief, his voice shaky from worry.

Combeferre shot him a sympathetic smile, “Awh, R..Here, give me a hug, you look worried sick..”

Grantaire nodded weakly and collapsed into the hug, letting out shaky inhales and exhales. Combeferre rubbed his back comfortingly and gave him a smile.

“Now where’s the little shit?”

“In the bedroom,” Grantaire giggled.

Combeferre shuffled over to their shared bedroom, and frowned upon the sight of his sick best friend.

“Awh, no..what’s his temp?”

“103 on the dot,” Grantaire frowned.

“Go get him a cold towel, okay?” Combeferre asked softly, to which Grantaire quickly obliged. Once he left Combeferre let out a heavy sigh and shifted to position himself closer to the sick boy. He hissed a little at the raging fever.

“Jesus, E..What have you done now?” Combeferre said exasperatedly, loosely playing with his blonde locks.

Suddenly Enjolras’s face contorted into a pre sneeze expression and he quickly turned his head to the side and released three monstrous and sickly sounding sneezes that left him breathless and chest heaving for air. He looked around blearily through watery eyes and jumped very slightly when he recognised him.

Combeferre offered him a sympathetic smile, “Tu as l'air malade, mon ami.”

Enjolras nodded weakly, pawing at his nose, “Oui, je ne me sens pas biens..”

His eyes suddenly watered with tears, highly emotional from the fever that flushed his face a deep pink colour. “Ou est Grantaire?” Enjolras whimpered.

Grantaire returned with the cold towel, eyes widening upon recognising that Enjolras was now awake. He quickly ran over to him and jumped onto the bed to cuddle Enjolras into his arms.

“Jesus, Enjolras..you scared me so much..god, I love you so so much,” Grantaire whispered lovingly, pressing soft little kisses against his smooth skin.

“Je suis desolée, je t'aime..” Enjolras said feverishly, melting into Grantaire’s embrace. He pushed away, begin to cough violently into the crook of his arm.

Combeferre gave them both a sweet smile, “Now, E, you don’t want Grantaire all sad and worried, do you? You have to get better soon for him, okay? We’ll help you. Restez au lit, hm? We love you very much.”

Enjolras nodded obediently, which was slightly worrying that he wasn’t being a stubborn prick, showing the fact he truly had a bad fever. But he would be okay. He had two loving people by his side.

He had a friend and a boyfriend who would catch his sneezes and bless him after he sneezed, who would rub his back whenever he coughed, bring down his temperature and cuddled him until he felt a little better. They would be there.

And they were, and slowly he did get a little better.

Enjolras’s theory was proven right because Combeferre and Grantaire were there for him. The past few days they’d take of him, and it had been a past few days filled with constant back rubbing and blessings. Sometimes Courfeyrac and Marius would pop up with soup or ice cream or simply to crack a joke. He’d felt extremely miserable, but now he’d felt a little less miserable. He still felt a little sick, but well enough that he was eager to get back to work, but that was strictly prohibited.

Grantaire on the other hand had also been miserable. He could barely sleep worried out of his mind for Enjolras. It’s not like the guy hasn’t been sick before, in fact he got sick more often than the average percentage, but something about the delirious French and him completely not noticing the lashing rain had set him off. Grantaire had been beyond stressed, and the same way Enjolras got his illness to begin with, he had taken ill by his stress.

It wasn’t too bad, he’d feel a little fever coming on, and he did feel a little stuffy. And apparently Enjolras was slightly more observant than he was because it took no time for him to notice.

The exhaustion had been far too much for him. Grantaire could feel it in his bones, seeping into them and he needed to get away from everything me take a breather. He’d left a movie for Enjolras in their bedroom, leaving in the guise of doing some painting, but ended up falling asleep on the couch.

He’d woken up some time later to a hand lovingly combing through his hair, and the sound of sweet and melodic humming. Enjolras looked down and a soft smile spread across his lips, leaning down to press a kiss against his hair.

“Hey,” He whispered.

“Hi,” Grantaire whispered back fondly.

“You’ve been a little quiet today, sweets,” Enjolras said worriedly, sitting next to Grantaire on the couch.

“Wow, you’re speaking English again?” Grantaire teased playfully.

“Oh, shut up,” Enjolras giggled, “but seriously, what’s up?”

Grantaire didn’t even have time to respond before Enjolras’s eyes were widening, and hand rushing towards his forehead.

“Oh, fuck,” Enjolras sputtered nervously, his breathing picking up a little.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Enjolras whimpered, a little teary, “How long? I didn’t even fucking notice you were so caught up trying to take care of me and now you’re sick and I did this to you I’m so so–”

“Enjolras!” Grantaire called out, forcing himself to sit up, cupping his lover’s trembling face in his hands.

“Stop it, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Grantaire rasped out, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Enjolras let out a series of shaky breaths and tried to regain his composure, nodding weakly, “P-please, a-at least let me t-take care of you.”

Grantaire offered him a loving smile, “Okay, you can start by handing me those tissues.”

Enjolras managed a little giggle and reached for the tissues situated on their coffee table, handing them over to his boyfriend, allowing him to pluck one out. Grantaire steepled the tissue over his face and blew his nose, the loud noise making the most unattractive sound he had ever heard.

Grantaire cringed at the wet, soggy sounding sound that sounded a mix of a trumpet horn and a deflating balloon and went slightly red at that. He drew away the tissue and caught sight of Enjolras’s face, who’s face was a deep pink, lips pressed together tightly. His shoulders started to shake slightly.

“What?” Grantaire asked, a little bit of a giggle punctuating his sentence.

Enjolras burst into laughter, a kind of harmonious and laughter that was so bright and crisp it sent a little shiver down Grantaire’s spine. He couldn’t help the wife smile that brushed over his face.

“Sorry! I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just–” Enjolras couldn’t help but fall back into his little laughing fit, his entire frame shaking as he continued to laugh. Grantaire thought it was a good look on him.

“What? This?” Grantaire chuckled, blowing his nose again which sent Enjolras into hysterics again. He spent a good minute in his hiccupy giggles, he looked so cute that Grantaire just wanted to devour him.

Enjolras could barely breathe, “Fuck! I can’t–hahaha-breathe!”

Enjolras started to laugh at this ridiculous situation, until his laughs began to become punctuated with little coughs.

“Okay now, lets calm down,” Grantaire giggled, cupping Enjolras’s face and nuzzling his nose with his boyfriends fondly. They sat there like that, gazing.

“God, you’re adorable,” Grantaire whispered in a husky whisper.

“You’re funny,” Enjolras giggled as he ran his hands through Grantaire’s dark curls lovingly.

Grantaire pushed Enjolras away to cough a few dry coughs into his sleeve, causing Enjolras to frown.

“Here, let me get you some medicine..” Enjolras started, pushing himself off of the couch and retreating into the kitchen.

Grantaire let out a fond chuckle, stretching out against the couch and letting out a quick sneeze. He yawned, feeling sick but content. He had a boyfriend who was adorable and loved him so much, and seeing Enjolras laugh was so revitalising and so fresh. It was a good day.

Enjolras came hopping back with a packet of pills and a glass of water, a bright and wide smile on his face.

“I’ve got you some medicine!” Enjolras grinned, before his face scrunched up and he burst into a harsh sneeze that toppled him over a little so some water splashed over the edge and spilled onto the ground.

“Oops,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire burst into laughter and opened up his arms, “For fuck’s sake, come over here and give me a hug you piece of shit!”

Enjolras couldn’t help the fond smile as he rushed over and settled the items onto the coffee table, then proceeded to jump into Grantaire’s arms and cuddled him. He pressed soft little kisses all over him, each filled with love.

“I love you,” Enjolras whispered lovingly.

“I love you,” Grantaire rasped out before snuggling against Enjolras’s side, as tiredness suddenly began to sink into his body. His warmth was so pleasant and sleep seemed to be calling for him.

“You’re going to be okay, 'Taire. I’ll take care of you. Get some rest, I’ll be right by your side,” Enjolras whispered fondly. Grantaire could only nod in response weakly, basking in his warmth.

Grantaire knew Enjolras pretty well.

He knew that sparkle in his blue eyes, like light on a sunny day, whenever he looked at something he loved. That gaze would often be for him, and it never ceased to amaze him. He knew that warmth against his body whenever he was cuddled.

He knew that kindness and love in Enjolras’s heart and as long as he was here Grantaire knew he was going to be alright.

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