euryalus | (no subject)

(no subject)

He had tried to forget it. To pretend as though it had never happened, that it was just some strange figment of his imagination, brought on by fatigue and too much red bull. Stranger things had happened beneath such a combination, after all. He had almost managed to convince himself that what he remembered really was just all in his head-

When he saw him again.

Enjolras had ignores him, at first. What else was he supposed to do? The man was a stranger- capitalizing on the strange. So he thought nothing of it; surely it was just a coincidence.

When it happened a third time, in a completely different place Enjolras began to suspect something was amiss. When it happened a fourth- he'd had enough.

"Are you following me?" He demanded, out of the blue on the sidewalk, having stalked up to the other with fury burning clearly on his features.

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Grantaire had been eating a hot dog from a still nearby street vendor. It was a new stand and, being willing to try anything, Grantaire graced it with his wallet. His expression held very little praise, though; the many toppings he doused on were fine, but the middle of the sausage itself was cold. Even thoroughly betrayed, he held his hot dog protectively to his chest when (what seemed to be) an attack came from nowhere.

"What? Who are y--oh," his confrontational expression turned sheepish once he actually turned around. Certainly he recalled this man from the incident-he-refused-to-think-about on the bus, but he had no reason to follow him.

So he raised his chin, unintentionally showing off a bit of ketchup stuck there, and scoffed. "What reason do I have for that?"

He cocked an eyebrow at the other, lips drawn into a thin line of disapproval as the other finally turned to face him. He wasn't... much to look at, really. Especially with the smudge of ketchup on his face. Good lord, hadn't he heard of a napkin? But Enjolras really wasn't here to accost the other on his inability to eat a hot dog without wearing half of it, and he wasn't about to allow himself to be sidetracked from the matter at hand, either.

"Oh?" he demanded, and it did not take much to imagine him scolding the other with his hands upon his hips, though he had no such stance now. Only straight backed disapproval, hands clenched slightly at his sides, "Is that all you have to say for yourself? I do not know what reason you have conjured up- you tell me!" his accent was thicker when angry, or so he had been informed on occasion. "But it ends now,"

Grantaire was not sure why this man gave off an intimidating air; he was tall but not brawny, and his face was delicate and young. There was really no reason why Grantaire should have taken a step back. Most of all, though, he had become practically incomprehensible as he went on and on. Well, if Grantaire weren't also upset, he might have been able to understand.

"Sir," he said, all sarcasm and no respect, "have you taken something recently? You appear to be on a very bad trip."

"A bad trip?" he parroted, flushing in anger and sucking in a sharp breath, "No, sir," he spoke the word like a curse, as though it were something sour on his tongue that he had a great desire to spit out, "I have taken nothing that would warrant your blatant disrespect. Though fool am I to expect more of someone so-" he looked the other up and down, but bit his tongue. He had come to confront the other, not to insult him.

"Let me speak more plainly, and slowly, since you seem to be unable to grasp simple concepts," Enjolras carefully enunciated every word, speaking as he would have were Grantaire a child he was very, very cross with, "I have seen you following me. Repeatedly since you spoke to me on the bus. I demand to know why."

Always one for insults himself, Grantaire saw it coming and scowled even though it had remained unsaid. Unsaid, perhaps, but not unfinished considering the look he was given. His shoulders moved forward and he kept his arms held up defensively, hot dog still clutched in his hand.

"Is that it? Maybe I should be glad I'm so--" he left it hanging, as Enjolras had, and snorted. "Because apparently if I looked like you, I would think of myself as so irresistible that unfortunate men take to stalking to get a better view. How do you live with it? Am I your first?"

"That is not what I was implying," he snapped back indignantly, his scowl only deepening as he stared down his nose at the other, "I don't consider myself- and anyway this clearly is not about me!" He refused to be put off center by this stranger, and so forced himself to draw in a levelling breath.

"Since you bumped into me on the bus I have seen you now on four separate occasions in as many days, yet until then I had never seen you before in my life. I want to know why, and if you continue to refuse to give me an answer measures will be taken." He wasn't really sure what those measures were yet, but... work in progress.

"Measures," Grantaire repeated in a dry tone. He wasn't sure what kind of measures this man could put in place, but this all was becoming ridiculous. "Are you going to call the cops on me because you've seen me around?" He was becoming less defensive, putting his arms down and letting his shoulders relax. This didn't seem to be too serious.

"I've seen you, too. Prior to... that. We go on the same route sometimes, so what?" This man was admittedly hard to miss, but Grantaire hardly registered it at this point.

The fact that the other was relaxing only served to irritate him more. It was as though this man wasn't taking his concerns seriously at all, and Enjolras refused to admit that it flustered him. Colour rose on his cheeks, staining them crimson as his lips pursed, blue eyes narrowing in obvious frustration and disdain. It most certainly was serious!

"So you've been watching me, then?" he snapped peevishly, the corners of his lips turning down into a sharper scowl for this admittance. And also refusing to consider the other's point that this was all just a matter of coincidence. It couldn't be, after all!

Grantaire couldn't tell what this man's problem was. It had to be obvious that Grantaire was not stalking him. What kind of person would be so insistent about this?

"What? I've seen you and I'm capable of recognizing you." He lifted up the hot dog in his hand. "If I saw this half-eaten, honestly disgusting, hot dog on the bus every day, I would recognize it too." He narrowed his eyes, then, mirroring the other man's expression.

"Of course, the hot dog wouldn't accost me for no reason. Is this just a way of getting me to talk to you?"

"There is a difference between having seen someone, and purposefully watching them or following them!" Enjolras huffed, and although he did not do it, it wasn't hard to imagine that the blond had his hands on his hips, scowling down at the other. Briefly his eyes clipped to the hot dog, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. At least the state of that was one thing they could agree on; the hot dog looked pretty awful.

"But that is your defense, then. That this is all coincidence," he sounded disbelieving. He opened his mouth to further argue his point- and then shut it abruptly, pursing his lips and not sure how to phrase what bothered him about this the most.

"Did anything happen to you on the bus?" he demanded, and now he did put his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes and glaring. Instead of phrasing his own troubles in any articulate way, he decided to pose them instead as a question. Put the ball in Grantaire's court, so to speak.

Grantaire sighed, as if realizing this would take a while, and threw his hot dog into the nearby trash can. He would have ordered a drink if he knew this was going to happen.

"I didn't even know you were here. That was my lunch, you know. I've become so upset that I can't stomach it anymore." It was a lie, but he thought it might work as a distraction. His raised his eyebrows at the question, though, and looked at Enjolras defensively.

"You'll have to be more specific, in any case. I was shoved over multiple times and I believe an infant threw up on my shirt. Many things happen on public transportation."

"You said it was disgusting! Why would you even want to stomach something that was disgusting?" he scowled, but wasn't about to start arguing with the other about the other's choice in eating habits.

His eyebrows climbed up as the other confessed his happenings on public transportation. Enjolras had never experienced anything quite like that; but then again he did his best to avoid babies.

"More specific," he echoed, before narrowing his eyes again and shaking his head, "Nevermind," he figured the other would have known what he was talking about, if he had experienced it too. "Look just- leave me alone, okay?" he demanded, getting that sharp edge back to his tone again.

Grantaire went back to crossing his arms, becoming defensive again. This man never gave up, did he? It almost made him feel like he actually was a stalker--but really, he could hardly care about a random guy on the bus.

"You're the one who came here solely in order to harass me! Even if I were your stalker, at least I'm a harmless one." He would get back to the idea of what happened on the bus later. He wasn't sure how to address it, but it seemed to have possibly been a shared experience.

"I did not come here to harass you, I saw that you were here and I assumed you were following me," Enjolras' voice was tinged with heavy annoyance, his back straight and his eyes narrow and judgemental.

"So you do admit that you're a stalker!" Enjolras lifted his hands a little, arguably a 'hallelujah' or an 'I knew it!' sort of gesture- probably both.

Grantaire practically jumped back at Enjolras's apparent revelation, at first wondering if he'd admitted anything like that, then just realizing that this man was undoubtedly hard of hearing or insane.

"If, ef, gef—what dead language do you need it in? A word rooted in doubt! Doubt that I'm a stalker, because I'm not, and what are you trying to do, exactly? Sue me?"

He was tempted to drop his hands to his hips, eyes narrowed on the other, fury beginning to pink his cheeks. He drew in a slow, levelling breath, before scoffing, making a deliberate show of looking the other up and down.

"Sue you? And what would that accomplish monsieur? All that I ask is for my space back. I see you everywhere, and I have seen you looking at me!" surely that wasn't normal!

"And what about the way you're looking at me right now?" Grantaire made a show of looking properly scandalized, arms against his chest tightening as if covering himself from Enjolras's gaze.

"Look, I don't know how things work in your country, but people in America occasionally look at each other and go on about their day. I don't see how that could possibly stifle you."

His eyes rolled before he could stop them, an exasperated huff escaping him as he grew more and more frustrated with this stranger by the moment.

"This is the problem with you Americans! Always assuming that it is the rest of the world that is backwards," he scowled again, shaking his head in obvious disapproval, "If it were one casual look it would be a different matter," and he probably wouldn't have noticed, in all honesty, "But as I have said you continue to pop up everywhere!" And had become a strange focal point in a memory Enjolras was sure that he didn't have. It wasn't even a memory per se- just a... feeling. Something distantly familiar, and deeply unsettling for it.

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