Work Text:
“If anyone could save the world, it'd be you.”
The sentence, whispered to him by the unusually serious drunkard just a few moments ago was still echoing in Enjolras’ ears as Courfeyrac sat down next to him, letting out a deep sigh.
“Enjolras, what's wrong? Has Grantaire interrupted a speech of yours yet again?”
The blonde man rolled his eyes at the mention of the cynic’s name: “Do not even get me started, Courfeyrac.”
His neighbour chuckled and shook his head, wild but kempt, dark locks bouncing along. His friend could be so very overdramatic.
“He doesn't even believe in anything we stand for! Heaven knows why he’s accompanying us at all times! He is so incredibly full of himself and thinks he's so very smart, damn drunkard couldn't even get through art school! And his drinking problem, don't even remind me! He drinks all day long as if he could not care less about the consequences. Courf, every time he's late for a meeting I am sick with worry, thinking he might be dead in a ditch God-knows-where! And just mere minutes ago he told me ‘If anyone could save the world, it'd be you’. What on earth is that supposed to mean? He always acts like I'm a naive child, but then goes on to say this as if he believed in me all along?”
When Enjolras ended his monologue, his hand tangled in his golden locks, a look of exasperation on his face, the two friends sat in silence. Slowly, his eyes widened and the exasperation faded from his face, realisation taking its place instead.
“Oh God,” his voice was quiet, merely more than a whisper, “I'm in love with Grantaire.”
A smile crept on Courfeyrac’s face: “Congratulations, you are the second-to-last to know.”
With one last somewhat encouraging smile his dark haired friend got up from his chair, leaving a dumbfounded Enjolras behind.
“Are you quite alright?”
Grantaire's voice was soft and, to the blonde's surprise, he spoke without slurring.
Golden locks bounced ever so slightly as Enjolras nodded, the softest blush appearing on his face of marble.
“If anyone could make the world worth saving, it'd be you.”
He took Grantaire’s hand, the artist’s lips curling up into a knowing smile for, though the other Amis would not know what the two men were talking about, he understood what the divine one meant.