[ It’s a strange thing, to see Enjolras sick and bedridden. He seems so infallible and godlike sometimes, Grantaire needs to remind himself that Enjolras is just as human as anyone else. For a split second when the memory begins to play out, he thinks he may be drunk, but he’s hardly been able to sneak away for more than a sip. It’s his own making; Enjolras would prefer to be left alone, but the man is stubborn. He’s likely to pretend as though he’s in perfect health and slip out the door when no one is looking. For this moment and this moment alone, he has to put aside his skepticism. He’s had to do it more often as of late, but he’s made no mention of it yet.
He shouldn’t watch the scene with a smile, but he does. He always did say that life was meaningless, but his death felt like it had meaning. He didn’t die for the revolution, but he died for something. He didn’t die alone, and he didn’t die friendless. He died accepted, by Enjolras' side. Perhaps it wasn't heroic, perhaps he didn't fight, but it wasn't nothing.
When the shots fire out, he feels a brief moment of dread. Don’t leave me here alone, his panicked thoughts begin to intrude, but when the room reappears and Enjolras is still there, his expression softens once more.
The only trouble is, he’s forgotten that he’s still holding a handful of papers, pilfered from Enjolras’ bed while he slept. ]
I understand I’m a nuisance. Do you regret it?
[ He knows that not much has changed, after all. Grantaire is still Grantaire, a staunch nonbeliever and an excessive drinker, still poorly motivated and lacking in ambition. He still hates himself, but still watches Enjolras with that same impossibly tender gaze. If he could will himself to become what Enjolras wished him to be, he would do it in an instant, but it doesn’t work that way. ]
wOW SAME
He shouldn’t watch the scene with a smile, but he does. He always did say that life was meaningless, but his death felt like it had meaning. He didn’t die for the revolution, but he died for something. He didn’t die alone, and he didn’t die friendless. He died accepted, by Enjolras' side. Perhaps it wasn't heroic, perhaps he didn't fight, but it wasn't nothing.
When the shots fire out, he feels a brief moment of dread. Don’t leave me here alone, his panicked thoughts begin to intrude, but when the room reappears and Enjolras is still there, his expression softens once more.
The only trouble is, he’s forgotten that he’s still holding a handful of papers, pilfered from Enjolras’ bed while he slept. ]
I understand I’m a nuisance. Do you regret it?
[ He knows that not much has changed, after all. Grantaire is still Grantaire, a staunch nonbeliever and an excessive drinker, still poorly motivated and lacking in ambition. He still hates himself, but still watches Enjolras with that same impossibly tender gaze. If he could will himself to become what Enjolras wished him to be, he would do it in an instant, but it doesn’t work that way. ]