"These are so good they should be illegal," Courfeyrac mumbled through a mouthful of deep fried Oreo. He shoved the rest of it in his mouth and wiped the crumbs off of his chin. Across the hard metal table, Grantaire furtively dumped some of the contents of a flask into his drink.
"I saw that," Feuilly smirked.
"How did you even get that in here?" asked Joly.
"You'll never know," teased Grantaire. His eyes were hidden under his black wayfarers, but the corners of his lips turned up into a smile before he slurped down as much of the liquid he could muster. Enjolras rolled his eyes and cuffed Grantaire on the head.
"I do not want thrown out of this park because you can't function without alcohol in your system," he warned. A ripple of laughter went around the table of friends: Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel, Jehan, and Feuilly. Enjolras stood at the head of the table, leaning against it. Beside the rowdy group was a smaller table at which Joly and Bossuet sat sharing salt and vinegar fries from the Potato Patch.
This motley crew was taking a study break from their junior year of college. They were one of those odd assortments of guys who had been randomly assigned a wing in the dorms and had become fast friends by the end of their first semester. Together they studied during the days, partied through the nights and bemoaned the fact that they had opted to spend their college years in the small city of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Not far outside of Pittsburgh was a small amusement park—Kennywood. This is where Courfeyrac had insisted they take their last "broventure" before cramming for finals.
So there they were. The May sun beat down on the boys and the sound of water from the nearby Raging Rapids was teasing them and making them painfully aware of how hot the metal benches were.
"Let's walk, or something, I can't sit still any longer," Combeferre said, standing up to stretch. Enjolras nodded in agreement, and the guys picked up their food for the walk. He was naturally their leader, but this was also his home turf. Enjolras was an only child who grew up not far from the park, and he spent many days there as a child and a teen. He could have walked the familiar paths blindfolded and his friends followed his lead here as they did pretty much everywhere else.
"Noah's Ark?" suggested Bahorel. Enjolras bristled at the suggestion.
"No," said Enjolras. He thought of the loosely described funhouse, where he never had any fun as a child, and actually he had many nightmares.
Grantaire, as if he knew, thrust his flask in Enjolras' face. "Liquid courage for the chicken?"
"Shut up Grantaire," the blonde blushed. "I just don't see the point in waiting in line for two hours to walk through a decrepit and filthy old funhouse." He smacked Grantaire's hand out of his face.
"Whatever you say," he smirked.
The group had passed most of the day in this manner. They arrived at Kennywood as soon as it opened, and raced to the back of the park to make sure to get in line for the indoor roller coaster, The Exterminator, first. They'd been to the park a thousand times together and this time had been no different than any other, save the anticipation of classes being nearly over that was buzzing about them.
Around sunset, Bossuet reminded everyone that they hadn't been on one of the coasters yet—The Phantom's Revenge. The modest steel coaster paled in comparison to many others, but it was the epitome of fun at the small amusement park.
The group slowly made their way toward the purple and green coaster and took their place in line. As they stood together in line, they freaked out about finals and girls and everything else they could call to mind.
After half an hour, Enjolras caught Grantaire with the flask again as he dumped some of whatever he was drinking (whiskey) into his lemonade (gross). "Seriously, could you throw that out? There are families all around us."
"I didn't realize I was forever corrupting the youth of Pittsburgh, Enjolras," Grantaire said with a devilish smile.
Enjolras, fuming, grabbed the cheap silver flask from Grantaire's hand and threw it into the metal trash chute behind him.
"Asshole!" Grantaire shouted.
"Please don't cause a scene," Combeferre pleaded, looking from Enjolras to Grantaire as if he was expecting a fight to break out.
Grantaire, closer to drunk than sober at this point in the day, stuck his tongue out and turned away from the group to lean against the railing. Ten or fifteen minutes passed in this fashion, Grantaire pouting, Enjolras brooding and the rest pointedly ignoring them while cheerfully recalling the best moments of the day.
When they finally stood on the platform, ready to board, they took great pains to make sure they were all on the same coaster. This practice got them more than a couple dirty looks and smart comments, but they generally didn't care what others said about them. With their odd number, Courfeyrac ended up being paired with an insanely hot girl none of them had ever seen before, naturally. Enjolras ended up waiting for the next coaster with Grantaire, to his chagrin.
As he impatiently tapped his foot on the floorboards of the platform, Grantaire decided to see how far he could push Enjolras, as per usual. He leaned over the railing separating them from the employees, and he clumsily swiped a hand at a girl's uniform t-shirt.
"Miss, can you come on the ride with me?"
She turned to stare at him. Olivia was the name printed neatly on her badge. "I don't get paid enough to flirt with park visitors," she snapped.
Enjolras turned his steely gaze to Grantaire.
Grantaire feigned horror. He opened his mouth to retort, and the girl narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, actually, I think I get it," she said incredulously.
"Oh you do, babe?" Grantaire replied.
"You've been drinking." She stepped closer, so that she was just on the other side of the railing. "You positively stink like whiskey."
"Do you like whiskey?" Grantaire asked her. "I did have some more but-"
She cut him off. "You're done. Leave. Now."
Enjolras cursed under his breath. Of course, he thought. He sighed and grabbed the green material of Grantaire's t-shirt. "Come on," he said. People were starting to stare, and Courfeyrac was laughing so hard that he was causing a scene himself, clutching onto Jehan for support. "We can go look at the pictures or something until they're done," he suggested.
"Pictures?" Grantaire asked. Enjolras just stared at him.
"The ones taken by the camera before the end of the ride…it's a souvenir," Enjolras spelled out impatiently.
The pair meandered over to the photo booth. Enjolras fixed his gaze upon the ride photos, waiting for the ones his friends would make. Grantaire stood a few calculated feet away as they waited for their friends. Enjolras stood in the shadow of the booth, inspecting the silly faces the passengers of the coaster made.
From just a few feet away, Grantaire stood leaning against the wooden railing. He blew a puff of smoke in Enjolras' way. The blonde quickly noticed what Grantaire was holding. Even though he didn't indulge in smoking, Enjolras could certainly recognize the smell of weed. "You can't smoke in here!" he hissed.
"I've never seen a sign posted against spliffs," Grantaire explained. Enjolras groaned and looked as if he were about to start screaming. Suddenly, Grantaire gazed beyond Enjolras, off in the distance.
"Are we at the movies?" he asked.
Enjolras never swore. "Grantaire, what the fuck are you talking about?" he asked.
"Well, I'm pretty fucking sure we are actually at the movies watching whatever 'Final Destination' movie just came out."
Enjolras was about to ask Grantaire to further clarify his ramblings when a light flashed in Grantaire's sunglasses (that he was wearing in near darkness) and Enjolras whipped around to observe.
Unfortunately, he would regret this moment for the rest of his life. The light was caused by the sparks of metal on metal—where it shouldn't be. The train of the roller coaster, in some freak accident, and derailed.
Grantaire spoke for every single person in the park at that moment. "What. The. Fuck," he said. Enjolras smacked the spliff out of his hand.