[ It’s a memory that the flesh and blood Grantaire watches with a soft gaze, a gentle smile on his face. He doesn’t question how it’s possible to see it happen all over again, but he’s glad to see it. Most men would not be pleased to relive their own death, but it had been something special for Grantaire, and something he holds close to his heart. In that moment, he had been accepted. He had been with Enjolras, and he had been someone.

He hears Diana’s voice over the fading gunshots as the memory dissolves, and he blinks, turning to look at her with a slightly amused expression on his face. ]

It seems as though my reminiscing has gone more wild than I first anticipated. Not that they wouldn’t have waited, even if it were happening here an now.

[ Where are his cynicisms? He has voiced so few of them today. Seeing memories of his friends replayed before his eyes has been enough to stave them for now, and seeing the hostages some weeks back—that did something to him, even if he tries not to think about it. ]

Enjolras asked them to shoot him.