【ER】Golden Rule

At five o'clock in the morning, Grantaire was in bed and texted Courfeyrac: "Enjolras is sleeping in my house now."

Courfeyrac's text message came 2 minutes later.

"Who do you want to defend you?" he said.

Grantaire gritted his teeth.

"I *didn't* force【】violate *any* person." He typed in all capital letters.

"It's boring!" Courfeyrac complained.

Grantaire turned off his phone and started sulking at himself for making friends carelessly.

An hour ago, Enjolras walked into Grantaire's house.He looked around, seemingly taken aback by how tidy the first floor was.Grantaire began to think about whether he should say that he was a person who cleaned the house at six o'clock every day to meet the other person's disbelief, or tell him that he and his neighbor jointly hired a Filipino girl to get some information about the crushing housekeeping service. Speech for staff hours.On the other hand he was determined never to let Enjolras set foot in Grantaire's own room on the second floor—a forbidden land filled with his dirty laundry, discarded printer paper, and empty wine bottles.

In fact, Enjolras was polite enough to say nothing.Grantaire had to routinely point him to the guest room where the sheets were fresh, find him a new toothbrush from the guest bathroom, and remind him that there were some clean old clothes in the guest room closet for a change.Enjolras had brought a suitcase, but judging from the weight of the suitcase, the contents were more likely to be books than soft clothing. (Maybe Enjolras doesn't need pajamas because he doesn't need to sleep? Maybe Enjolras can get through the night by reading the files? Maybe Enjolras doesn't need toiletries because his gleaming blond hair decontaminates itself? Maybe Enjolras Lacking a change of clothes because he doesn't need clothes?  … No, Grantaire, stop thinking about it. He's probably just not very self-care.)

In short, Enjolras thanked him after a fuss.He looked a little reserved, but he had lost his former sharpness because of being trapped.After they said a casual goodnight, Enjolras went into the guest room (and closed the door), while Grantaire went upstairs to his room.

He washed his hands lightly, and then lay down on the bed.It was already five o'clock.More than half an hour had passed since Enjolras entered his house.And Grantaire lay there, staring at the glowing stars on the ceiling that he and Eponine had posted together, and suddenly realized what was going on.

Enjolras is sleeping in my house now!

He yelled at himself again in his head.

What the hell is going on!he thinks.

He adored Enjolras.He admired Enjolras.He has babbled to Courfeyrac countless times while drunk, calling Enjolras a walking bill of rights or a declaration of human rights.He said this not without sarcasm, but it did have some sour sincerity.He had never known a human being (especially a human lawyer) to be born like Enjolras.

Enjolras hated him, though.Rather, Enjolras despised him, or despised him.If Enjolras could be sarcastic, he might have told his secretary that Grantaire was a fig leaf for the police and smelled of alcohol when he was drunk.But at this moment, he inexplicably led Enjolras back to his house.He's sleeping downstairs, literally two meters below Grantaire, to be exact.This is really terrible.Can he and Enjolras live safely under one roof?Would Enjolras have prodded Grantaire with his righteous little machine gun while he was writing his case?How, in fact, can one live with a bill of rights?

He felt anxious, anxious even more than the pounding of his heart as he sat in the LSAT exam room waiting for the proctor to press the timer.He covered his face with another pillow on his double queen bed, trying to force himself to sleep.Of course, Enjolras must be sleeping soundly downstairs (directly below his room!), he thought indignantly in a sleepless restlessness.After all, what human emotion could affect Enjolras?

After about four and ten minutes (which actually felt like ten hours), he fell asleep.

Grantaire woke up before ten o'clock the next morning.This is not common for him.On days when he is not in court (or preparing for it), he is often willing to sleep through the afternoon until his empty stomach wakes him up.But for some reason, he probably forgot to draw the curtains before going to bed last night.The morning light danced on his eyelids, persistently resisting his drowsiness.He cursed out of his throat, and sat up on the bed with his eyes closed.Why didn't I draw the curtains last night?He thought dazedly, closing his eyes and ripping the jumper off his head.It's still too hot to sleep with a shirt on, he thought, maybe I can go down and eat something before I come up to sleep.

He slid to the floor with his eyes closed, not bothering to lift his pajama pants, whose waistbands had slumped to his hips.He kicked open his door with bare feet, touched the handrail of the stairs with his body's memory, and then went down the stairs with his eyes closed.The kitchen is on the left, and the refrigerator is next to the cooking table. There is also a bag of toast and a half bottle of cream liqueur in the refrigerator, which is good for drinking in the morning.He made his way to his breakfast with eyes closed.

Something soft and warm hit his nose—no, his nose hit something soft and warm.

It felt like he had bumped into someone else.When did I put someone on the way from the stairs to the kitchen?He thought, and opened his eyes in a daze.

Enjolras stood before him.

To be precise, Enjolras is wearing a dark green striped shirt that he may have bought in high school, and one of his red and one green plastic slippers (Grantaire never owned two pairs) pair of slippers for more than a week, he suspects the magpies have stolen all his single slippers) standing there.

To be more precise, Enjolras was standing in his house, in the hallway of his living room, without a suit, tie, or hair combed back.His blond hair might not even have been brushed, and it floated around his cheeks in a shaggy and slightly tousled pose as the sunlight shone through the living room.He stood too soft in a striped shirt that looked too soft, fringed and faded from too many wears.A living Enjolras stood there.No suits, no hairspray, no shield-like folders.Before this, Grantaire had never imagined an Enjolras who wasn't connected to these things.That's a little too much, he thought, and he'd always thought he was a hardcover hardcover Codex Constitution, but Codex Constitutions obviously don't wear cotton pajamas and don't comb their hair.

"... Ah!" he cried, fully awake now.

"...uh." Enjolras made a voice in his throat, looking a little unsure whether to stare at Grantaire. "…Sorry. I didn't see you coming."

"... Ah!" Grantaire couldn't control himself and yelled again.Enjolras is in my house!Enjolras in my pajamas!Enjolras just woke up standing in my living room in her pajamas without combing her hair!

"..." Enjolras was indeed staring at him this time.His eyes flick down Grantaire's pajama bottoms—he looks stunned.He takes a step back, looking uncomfortable (Enjolras? uncomfortable?). "Are you okay?" he asked.

"...ah!" Grantaire yelled in despair, only then did he realize that he was naked from the top of his body, his hair was flying in the air, and the way he was wearing pajama pants was almost risqué.He took a big leap backwards, quickly pulling the waistband of his pants up over his navel before tripping over his own.

"...sorry!" he yelled, finally finding his voice and his ability to think, "I mean, sorry, uh, I forgot you were in- I forgot you lived in my house so I-" He stopped up, so what?So I wander around the house disheveled?As if Enjolras really cared what he wore.Since Enjolras already looked at him like a savage when he was wearing a suit, there seemed to be no big difference between a naked savage and a savage in a suit. "...Okay, forget it, it's nothing." He said, shaking his head embarrassingly, and now he was fully awake and calmed down.Subconsciously, he pulled his trousers up again, and then combed his hair with his hands. "...good morning. Are you making breakfast?"

"..." Enjolras didn't speak.Although his expression didn't change, judging from the way he looked away, he seemed more uncomfortable than before.Grantaire looks over him to the console, where a carton of eggs sits and a pan sits on top of the electric range, clean inside.Enjolras’s phone is next to the stove, the screen is on, the top search bar reads “how to fry an egg” and the bottom half says “here are the results Siri found for you”.Enjolras quickly reached out and locked the screen after realizing Grantaire's gaze.

"No, I wasn't making breakfast," he said quickly, "…but I'm sorry I didn't ask if you could use your kitchen."

Well, Enjolras can't cook - Grantaire thought blankly.Enjolras had to ask Siri to fry an egg, and didn't even know to put some oil in the pan first.It's even more surprising that Grantaire actually finds it kind of cute.OK, he learned today that this bill of rights will not only wear pajamas, not comb your hair, but also not fry eggs.If he hadn't controlled himself, he might have started giggling.Wake up, Grantaire, he thought, you're not supposed to know this.If he hadn't happened to be unlucky enough to live in your house, you would never have had the chance to know this in your life.Don't smirk at this kind of honor that doesn't belong to you.

"...Okay, it's okay." He said, scratching his face, "You can use my kitchen as you like. But I'm going to make something to eat now, and you can eat with me later." He Bypassing Enjolras, he opened the refrigerator to check the contents, "What time did you get up?"

"...Thank you," Enjolras said, looking relieved.He sat down at the dining table, and Grantaire saw spread out a thick black folder, some loose-leaf papers, a laptop, and a cup of coffee (well, it looks like he'd use the coffee machine). "I get up at seven." He said, Grantaire nodded, and just when he thought Enjolras would stop talking, the other party surprisingly added, "...I'm not used to sleeping It's after seven o'clock. So get up... and prepare the materials."

"Wow." Grantaire expressed admiration for this.Wake up at seven...they don't get settled until almost five?So Enjolras didn't sleep much at all.Well, the answer is revealed, Enjolras really doesn't need to sleep.But that meant he was here at least seven o'clock, waiting for dinner.Jesus, he's probably waiting here for Grantaire to get up and cook, and he's not going to try it himself until he's too hungry at ten o'clock.I was going to go upstairs and brush my teeth first, Grantaire thought to himself, but the thought of Enjolras waiting at the dinner table made him quickly abandon this plan (the word "waiting" was in his mind eliciting a wave of wild laughter).Is this a little too much fun?He thought, took out a bag of ham slices from the refrigerator, turned on the electric stove, and poured the oil into the pan.Who usually protects him from starving to death?Does he live with someone else?

"...there's a breakfast cart on the block where I live." Enjolras' voice suddenly came from the table as Grantaire cracked the eggs on the edge of the pan.He slipped his hand and watched a broken eggshell float into the pot.

"I'm sorry I don't have a breakfast car here," Grantaire said.

Enjolras bit his lower lip.

"That's not what I meant," he said.

what does that mean?Grantaire thought as he picked the egg shells out of the pot, are you explaining to me that you don't live with anyone else?Come on.

"Uh, it's okay. It's my fault." He said he was a little overwhelmed by the fact that Enjolras had said more to him this morning than everything they had said outside court combined. "Breakfast will be ready in a while."

Enjolras nodded.His attention seemed to return to the stack of papers in front of him.He didn't speak any more.

Grantaire shrugged and continued to fry his eggs.He didn't know what kind of eggs Enjolras wanted, but it would be strange to ask him what he wanted.In fact, the fact that he made Enjolras breakfast was weird enough.He fried a single-sided fry and a double-sided fry, and put them on two plates, planning to give Enjolras whichever he chose later.He also took out the ham and started to fry it.Just then, the doorbell rang.

Ding dong.

It's Sunday, Grantaire thinks, remembering who knocks on his door right now.He seems to have ordered a batch of air freshener the other day.

"Can you open the door for me?" he said to Enjolras as he turned the ham.

"Okay," said Enjolras.Wearing Grantaire's dark green striped shirt that was probably ten years old, and his old slippers, he went to open the door.

Not an air freshener delivery guy outside the door.

To be precise, there was a girl outside the door.She had black hair, all braided into one of those thin little braids, and tied in a strand with a skull on it.She has thick eyeliner, a metal ring on her nose, and a slip dress you'd normally only see in a nightclub.Her eyes and nose were red, and some spent mascara stuck to her face.

She didn't seem to expect that it would be Enjolras who opened the door in front of her.She stared at Enjolras, her eyes sweeping from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.Her eyes showed that she recognized the clothes on Enjolras.

"..."

In fact, Enjolras was also stunned.Both of them seem to know each other, but they don't know what to say, they can only stand there and look at each other.

"What's going on?" Grantaire asked, turning around with the frying pan, throwing the ham up at the same time.

He was also stunned.

"Eponine?" he exclaimed in surprise.

The piece of ham turned over in the air and fell to the ground with a "crack".

His witness, along with the opposing lawyer, turned to stare at him.

"...I'll put on a shirt and explain." He said weakly.

TBC

Next chapter: Fake Shura field (.