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Enjolras arrived back at the dorms late after a study session that had gone on far too long. Instead of heading to the room he shared with Combeferre, as usual, he continued on further down the hall to where Grantaire and Bahorel’s dorm was. Bahorel had gone home for the week to visit his family, and after a bit of pleading from Grantaire, Enjolras had given in and was currently sharing his dorm and his bed.
Enjolras’ brow furrowed as he got close enough to the dorm to hear what sounded like muffled crying. Picking up his pace, he hurried into the room, and flicked on the light.
Grantaire was curled up in the bed, seemingly still asleep, but as soon as the light was turned on he jerked upwards and backed against the headboard, curling up tightly and covering his face with his arms, as if trying to protect himself, and what had previously been quiet whimpers suddenly became full-blown screaming.
“Shit!” Enjolras cursed. “Grantaire, Nicolas, R, listen to me, look at me.” He said as he ran over to Grantaire’s side. He reached out to touch his shoulder and try to rouse him, but this only prompted Grantaire to give a particularly loud scream and dart away, managing to cross the room and curl up in a corner instead.
He remembered Grantaire sheepishly telling him that he used to suffer bad night-terrors, and that since his attempts at sobering up, they’d returned a few times. Enjolras assured him then, but now realised he wasn’t really sure how to deal with it now it had occurred.
Enjolras briefly thought back to a quick enquiry to Combeferre as to what exactly a night-terror consisted of, and remembered the key points his friend had listed off; bolting upright, screaming, rapid heart rate and respiration, punching/swinging/fleeing motions, seeming to be awake but being unaware of surroundings, and inconsolability. This wasn’t the same as a simple nightmare – which he had dealt with on many occasions, when Grantaire actually slept – and so trying to soothe him wouldn’t work. There’d also been mention of the suffer having to potential the accidently harm themselves if they moved too much, but Grantaire was far stronger than Enjolras, and they’d both be likely get injured should he try to restrain him.
Deciding that he really needed to take some sort of action, and now, Enjolras whipped out his mobile and called Bahorel, hoping the brunette’s usual roommate and childhood friend would have some sort of idea. He swore softly with each ring, muttering under his breath for the other man to please, just pick up the phone, until finally his prayers were answered by a click and a groggy voice.
“Enjolras-”
“Grantaire is having a night-terror and I don’t know what to do.” Enjolras was dimly aware of the fact that his voice sounded slightly panicked, as his usual calm eluded him, but his attention was more focused on his boyfriend, who was still shaking and letting out strained, whimpering cries. He heard Bahorel curse softly on the other side of the phone.
“You’ve gotta restrain him and talk calmly to him until he comes around.”
“I’m not strong enough for that, Bahorel.”
Bahorel sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Try sitting on him, you should be able to keep him down that way. He won’t hit out at you; that’s not how he works. He’s trying to protect himself. I’m guessing he’s curled up in a corner?”
Enjolras made a positive noise.
“Okay. It seems horrible but you’re just going to have to trap him in there, try sitting on his lap, and talk to him. He’ll probably start screaming loudly, but he wakes himself up with it eventually. When he wakes up he probably won’t remember that he was having a night-terror, so he’ll probably seem confused.” Bahorel listed off quickly.
“Alright, I think I’ve got it.” Enjolras nodded to affirm to himself that he did actually know what he was doing.
“Okay, good. It doesn’t usually take very long to calm him. Good luck.”
“Right. Thanks.” Enjolras murmured before hanging up. Grantaire was still curled tightly in his corner, occasionally flinching and crying out. The blonde tried to ignore the pull in his chest at seeing Grantaire like this, and instead walked steadily and quickly forward until he was directly in front of him.
With a firm hand, he pushed back on Grantaire’s shoulder, and as the other man flinched violently, his back slamming against the wall and his legs flexing in preparation for flight, he planted himself in his lap. Grantaire struggled and, seeming to realise he was being held down, started to scream again. His eyes were wide and terrified, and although he was much physically stronger than Enjolras, his panic seemed to hinder his efforts at escape. Enjolras planted his knees on either side of Grantaire’s hips, rested his weight on his legs, and put his hands on either side of the brunette’s face, pushing their foreheads together to try and look into his eyes.
“R, it’s me, it’s Enjolras. Come back to me, R. You’re okay, you’re safe, no-one’s going to hurt you.” He murmured lowly. He kept talking, softly, calmly. “Come on Nicolas. Come back. You’re safe.”
His thumbs ran softly over Grantaire’s cheeks, feeling the stubble, the scar that crossed over his left cheek and down to his jaw, trying to ground the other man. He sat there for maybe a minute before Grantaire’s screaming abruptly cut off, his eyes fluttering and finally focusing.
“En...jolras?” he asked groggily, his voice sounding strained and slightly rasping. He blinked a few times, and looked around himself. “Why am I in a corner? Why are you sat on me? Wha-” he paused for a moment and his eyes went wide in realisation, before he tried to duck his head to avoid Enjolras’ eyes. “I had a night-terror, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” Enjolras said calmly, stroking back some of the brunette’s messy curls and touching his chin to encourage him to look up.
“I’m sorry.” Grantaire muttered.
“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” Enjolras assured him, and when Grantaire still refused to look up he bent to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Are you okay now?”
“Yeah, I don’t remember a thing.” Grantaire nodded, and pressed forward for another kiss. “Sometimes I do, but I can’t tonight. Damn, I need a drink.” Here he shook his head and brought a hand up to rub at his forehead.
“Not tonight.” Enjolras told him, and finally straightened himself up and stood, reaching down a hand in an offer to help Grantaire. It was accepted, and the other man pulled himself up, swayed tiredly, and leant back against the wall. “Come on, to bed. We both need some sleep.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to.” Grantaire said nervously. “I don’t usually.”
“You can at least try.” Enjolras reached out to take Grantaire’s hand, lacing their fingers together and tugging both of them towards the bed. Grantaire was already in pyjamas, so Enjolras nudged him down onto the bed as he made quick work of stripping down and redressing himself in nightclothes. He clambered into the bed beside Grantaire – it was quite cramped, with two full-grown men attempting to share a single bed, but they made do as always – and pulled Grantaire against his chest as he lay down.
“I am sorry. Bahorel said he freaked the first time it happened around him.” Grantaire murmured, his fingers trailing idly across the fabric on Enjolras’ chest, occasionally twisting it into his gasp before releasing it and smoothing out the creases. “Apparently I scream like a Banshee.”
“You do have quite a set of lungs on you.” Enjolras chuckled lightly, playing with Grantaire’s curls. “I was more concerned than scared. You sounded terrified, and I couldn’t do anything. At least if you’re having a nightmare, I can wake you up.”
“I can’t usually remember them. The night-terrors, I mean.” Grantaire explained. “But it’s harder to sleep after them. There’s a lingering feeling of dread. God, I wish I could remember a time when sleeping was easy.”
“It’ll get better.” Enjolras said.
“Hm.” Grantaire made a vaguely doubtful noise, but he nuzzled closer to Enjolras, settling himself against his side and winding his arm securely around the blonde’s midriff. “It’s easier to sleep when you’re here.”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That you are, Apollo. Providing some light in a bleak darkness.” Grantaire’s eyes were fluttering closed, and his voice trailing off.
“You exaggerate.” Enjolras told him, feeling himself drifting off too.
“Never.”
At this point, he couldn’t decipher whether Grantaire was being sarcastic or serious, but decided it didn’t really matter. He managed to huff out a quiet laugh before he slipped off to sleep, the fingers of one hand still tangled in Grantaire’s curls, the other resting atop his arm.