【ER】Golden Rule

When Grantaire was 24, he got into trouble for refusing to cite a police witness who he knew would lie.They prosecuted a burglary case, and the procedure for acquiring the tools used as evidence was flawed, but the police department wanted a police officer who was on duty that day to provide testimony and fabricate the legality of the procedure.Grantaire refuses to do that.Because of the lack of key evidence, they could only withdraw the prosecution in the end.On the way home, he was dragged into an alley and beaten up, and it turned out that the perpetrators were the superintendents in charge of the case.The policeman is a policeman himself, and he didn't do much later.

When he was younger, he was sent by his intern boss to do ideological work on a defendant with elementary school education.The defendant was barely literate, and the supporting lawyer who represented her rarely spent more than three minutes meeting with her.The prosecution had little useful evidence in hand, and if the defendant and her attorney had tried a little harder, acquittal would have been almost certain.So Grantaire's superiors wanted him to trick the poor girl, scare her into thinking she had no hope, and either agree to plead guilty to a lesser crime or face a serious crime. punishment.Young Grantaire refuses to do it, and tells his boss to "fuck his ass".So he became the only student who lost his internship after his first year of law school and spent a summer with Eponine in a bar.

He also remembered many things.Think of the moment when he was ashamed because of idealism.He remembered the time when he was almost kicked out of his house by the bank because he couldn't repay the education loan after graduation, and the time when his boyfriend at the time scolded him as a "lunatic who loves to dream" because he never made it through the probationary period.But for so long, he had become immune to those memories.He thought he had figured it out, compromised with reality, and would never experience that kind of life again.He thought that this kind of picture would never appear in front of his eyes again.The smashed glass, the twisted oil drum, the insults written in paint... He thought he would never see these again.

But here they are now.

At the gate of Enjolras.

"This is..." Grantaire said with difficulty, "This... this family is really miserable." He swallowed for a while, trying to make a final struggle, "Hey, Angel of Justice, where do you live? Do you know this family?"

Enjolras said nothing.Grantaire saw his jaw tense, and his blue eyes blinked twice quickly, whether to confirm or accept the scene in front of him.

"...this is my home," he said at last.

"...oh," Grantaire said.Well, damn it, what was he expecting.This is of course Enjolras' house, the guy who was "talking nonsense" to the camera not long ago.Hot topics in small towns always explode very quickly.Who can say how high the quality of ordinary people is on average?He thought of the fist he had punched in the stomach when he was 24.

"Thank you for bringing me back," said Enjolras.He lowered his gaze now, no longer blinking in shock as before.Surprisingly, his voice had completely returned to normal at this time, as if the messy real estate outside the car window had nothing to do with him. "Open the car door. It's time for me to get back."

Grantaire froze.

"What?" he said.

"Unlock the car door," Enjolras said.

"What?" Grantaire said. "No, I mean, what are you going to do? Are you going to let it go? And then?"

"I'm going home," said Enjolras, "literally, I'm not going to..."

"...your house has been smashed!" Grantaire yells, almost annoyed by the look on his face - he looks like he's looking at someone else's house. "Why do I need to tell you this? Someone took your house—"

Enjolras' expression silenced him.He looked up at Grantaire, but the look was unintimidating.I don't know if it was because of the night, his eyes changed from that bright sky blue to a soft gray, which made his vision look a little empty, and even a little confused for a moment.Grantaire wasn't sure if there was a fleeting look of hurt in his eyes - if there was such a thing for Enjolras

"...you should call the police, really," Grantaire said, sighing.He didn't know why he was so irritable.Maybe it's because he thought of his unlucky appearance, maybe it's because the suit is too hot... maybe it's just because Enjolras is the one who is unlucky now, and he never thought that Enjolras, who is as energetic as a god, would be so confused and bad luck. "I can drive you to the police station."

"It's useless," said Enjolras, strangely calm, he looked even more marble than ever before, "it's hard for the police to deal with this kind of thing. It's hard to catch the perpetrator in the first place—"

"Sue them trespass! Damn trespass! You're a lawyer!" Grantaire said. "How can you pretend this never happened!"

"No point," said the young blond lawyer, "just some money and community labor, I don't have to—"

"The point is that they paid the price," Grantaire said. "I don't believe you're going to let your house go down and nobody's going to take responsibility for it—"

"And then they're going to get worse," Enjolras said, looking a little tired—it might be the first time he'd shown emotion in more than ten minutes. "Believe me, this kind of thing has happened before—it's a kind of price. If you have to insist on representing people who aren't welcome—"

"Fuck it." Grantaire finally couldn't take it anymore, he punched the steering wheel, and the car made a shrill horn, echoing in the streets late at night.Enjolras looks at him disapprovingly, but Grantaire can't help it now, "You don't have to pretend you deserve it! Fuck, I don't know what you're thinking. What goddamn saint are you ? Are you Jesus Christ? Do you need me to make you a cross and nail you up?" He finished his speech and began to think about whether Enjolras would offend him if he was a Christian, but a large part of him was out of anger So don't care, another small part of him thinks that Enjolras' belief may be "Theory of Justice" or "The Spirit of Law".

(And, of course, maybe he's angry because he thinks of himself. He doesn't think anyone should pretend that shit like this is what they deserve.)

Surprisingly, Enjolras didn't look offended at all.He looked at Grantaire for a moment, and after a while, he suddenly gave a small laugh.

"...no," he said, and while it was a very small smile, it was enough to make him look very un-Enjolras. "I'm not that conceited yet."

Grantaire stared at him.

"So you know you do have a bit of an ego, huh?" he said, trying to hold himself back from saying things like "you can laugh," because that sounded so flirtatious—and corny.For some reason, Enjolras seemed to be letting go of some of his defenses, as if breaking a piece of the marble that wrapped him up and revealing the flesh and blood inside.This is not good, this is a bit too much.Grantaire isn't sure if it's the wine or the night, or Enjolras feeling a little vulnerable at the moment.Or all three.He took a lot of effort to take his gaze away from the other person's face, and looked at the road ahead.

Enjolras burst into another burst of suppressed laughter, which sounded a little hysterical.Grantaire wishes he'd stop laughing like that.

"Maybe," Enjolras said, "but that doesn't mean I identify with you—a little bit," he added.

"Okay," Grantaire said.

They were silent for a while, and the atmosphere in the car became less unbearable by this time.

"Anyway, thank you for sending me back." Enjolras broke the silence. "Good night. I think I must go back."

That made Grantaire turn to stare at him again.

"Go back? Go back to where?" he said in disbelief. "You're talking about this room in front of you—I don't know how to describe it—well, you don't intend to continue living here, do you?"

Enjolras' expression showed that this was his intention.

"You're kidding. Your windows are broken! You fucking plan to spend the night with Night Breeze, Bugs, Squirrels, and even little burglars."

"It's too late," said the fair-haired youth. "Besides, Combeferre—a friend of mine is away on business this month."

"Tell me you're sure you have other friends who can sleep in your house."

Enjolras' expression said he hadn't.

"Uh………"

Grantaire buried his head on the steering wheel, not sure if it was surprise or anticipation.So who are your other human friends?Montesquieu or Tocqueville?He swallowed the words back.Part of him told himself to stay out of trouble and just leave Enjolras here, and part of him yelled that he couldn't—this fragile, hurt, isolated, tired and hysterical Enjolras Left alone.While Enjolras doesn't have any of those words written on his face at the moment, he still looks like he could knock Grantaire to the ground with his bare hands, and that vulnerable part is probably just Grantaire's wishful thinking—but Clearly, this fantasy still prevailed.

"Well, if you would..." he whispered, feeling uncomfortable, "I mean I would..."

"I didn't catch it," said Enjolras.

"I mean," he raised his voice a little, "you can live with me."

"Oh," said Enjolras.Looking a little surprised, "That's a very... kind offer." He seemed to be weighing his words, "But I can stay at the hotel for one night."

"And then continue to come back and live in this house that gave away the address?" Grantaire said. "They will continue to trouble you. Finding a new house is not so fast... Are you going to live in a hotel?"

Enjolras looked a little hesitant. "But we shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't be too much in private or something?" Grantaire shrugged. "Come on, Mr. Celebrity, we're not stars—except maybe you. No reporter follows us every day, especially me. I don't get enough As good as having people knocking on my door every day. Don't worry, for a while - a judge or whoever has a problem with it - won't find out."

Enjolras didn't seem to agree with what he said.He opened his mouth, looking like he was going to say something like a "lawyers shouldn't be stars" sort of argument, but surprisingly, he held back.

"...Thank you," he said.That's when Grantaire realized how tired he was.Under his eyes were two black eye bags, and the blue eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep.Before Grantaire was about to say anything about it, he opened the car door.

"I'm going to get some of my stuff," he said, motioning to his room. "As soon as I find a new house... I will move out of you very quickly."

"Okay." Grantaire said, and couldn't help himself from making a joke, "because I'm sure I'll use this time to peek at your file."

Enjolras glared at him—the kind that had no deterrent effect, turned around and went into his house.

It was almost four in the morning when they arrived at Grantaire's house.Grantaire lived in a two-story country house, plain in design and style, exactly like the surrounding row of houses—street regulations, yes.Only one thing is different: its color.The exterior walls of other houses are a light blue-green color, and the white door and window frames seem to complement the surrounding greenery.But Grantaire's house...it takes on a complex color.It is not so much painted as it has been randomly splashed with paint.Large blocks of highly saturated colors are stacked on top of each other on its walls, like a twisted Rubik's cube.On top of that, someone had painted a lot of scribbles, little stars of no doubt, some cartoon characters, and even some nonsensical letters.As Grantaire's car pulled up to the house, he felt Enjolras freeze in the passenger seat.Rather, he looks like he's summoning all of his will not to ditch the car and run.

"...did you draw this when you were drunk?" he said after a moment, looking surprisingly trying to maintain his politeness—since he'd never tried to be polite to Grantaire before, His efforts now seem especially admirable.

Grantaire shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, "I was drunk. I just got my first internship at the time..." He paused for a moment, waiting for the memory to come flooding back. "I drew this with Éponine. Éponine brought me wine. . . . almost six years ago."

He didn't speak any more.

He remembered the feeling of that summer.He and Eponine were sitting on the lawn, their hands and clothes covered in colorful paint, even their faces.Sweat and sunlight melted some of the paint, running down their necks and piling up on the neckline.Those clothes are really hard to wash.

"Show them, Grantaire. They'll be officially hiring you soon," Eponine said, drawing a purple pony against a background of yellow.

"I hope so, Penny. But I haven't graduated yet. Remember? They can't officially hire me until I do graduate." Grantaire remembers explaining patiently—perhaps patiently.Eponine didn't even go to college after they graduated from high school.Grantaire knew she had worked as a saleswoman, as a waitress, but then he gradually lost track of what she was doing.For a while, he was no longer willing to communicate patiently with Eponine.He's starting to think she doesn't understand what's going on with him at work and at school.

"...I thought there would be street regulations or something," said Enjolras behind him, who didn't look very happy—maybe, who would be happy to live in such a colorful house? ?

"The day before—the day before it was enacted," Grantaire said.He backed the car into the garage and pulled the key out, "We purposely picked the day before the new cladding regulations go into effect—hey. Not retroactively. That doesn't apply to me. Every year Somebody comes to do my intellectual work and wants me to repaint the walls. But I'm not going to. Geez, long live constitutional rights. Long live legislative laws."

He got out of the car, the wind was blowing, the night was silent, only the yellow light still hit his strange outer wall.Then he thought of Éponine again.Since when did he lose respect and patience with her, but she didn't.Éponine, his friend, had a rare insight, tenacity, and neither haughtiness nor condescension.Even when Grantaire lost patience with her in the vanity of education, she was there for him, coming to him at every new job, being there for him when he lived poorly because of his ideals , to accompany him to ruin his wall the day before the new regulations were promulgated.

When Grantaire walked to the front door of the house, he realized that Enjolras hadn't spoken for a long time.Maybe I shouldn't have made any "long live constitutional rights" jokes.Now he bet Enjolras felt insulted.It seems that his belief is not Rawls, but the Constitutional Amendment.Grantaire turned his head and saw Enjolras standing beside the car, his blue eyes staring at him—unexpectedly, it wasn't anger, but a kind of confusion and confusion.

"Is Épone Thenardier your girlfriend?" he said, frowning, looking puzzled.

He did have reason to be confused, Grantaire thought, he felt he read the meaning under Enjolras' brow - what kind of person, what kind of person would send his girlfriend's sister who was controlled by drug dealers to prison?What kind of person would take a defense attorney for a suspect in the murder of his girlfriend's loved one back to his house?

Grantaire sighed.

"No, she's not. She's just my friend." He said a little tiredly, turning and inserting the key in the lock.But it didn't make it sound any better, he thought.He just went from a bad boyfriend image to a bad friend image. "...she used to be my friend," he could only add.

Enjolras said nothing.Grantaire wasn't sure if he was looking at him with sympathy - or worse, contempt and condemnation for a guy who had turned his back on his friends.But he didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Come in," he said. "The guest room is on the first floor. There are some clean old clothes in there... If you haven't brought a change of clothes, you can wear mine first."