Chapter Text
“Do you permit it?”
Those were Grantaire’s last words.
The last words of the cynic who went to the Les Amis meetings just to bother, drink and sketch on his stupid sketchbook which he didn’t allow anyone to see.
Enjolras never understood why he went to the meetings. He didn’t care about politics, he didn’t believe in anything.
“I believe in you”-Grantaire’s voice sounded in Enjolras’ memory. And suddenly, he understood everything.
Enjolras smiled at him and took his hand under the eyes of the National Guard who were aiming at them with their bayonets.
The leader of the revolutionaries turned to face his dead with a smile, and the smile didn't fade when five bullets were fired in their direction.
Four of them nailed under Enjolras’ skin, the fifth one got nailed to the wall.
Enjolras took a look at Grantaire for the last time before the pain of his wounds took him into unconsciousness.
But Grantaire wasn’t physically wounded, he was standing still.
And Enjolras felt happy for him, he felt happy because at least Grantaire wasn’t going to die.
His deep green eyes, filled with angst and desperation were the last thing Enjolras saw before he felt unconscious.
Grantaire felt how the people that just sentenced Enjolras to death abandoned the place and they left him alone with the dying body of the blonde boy.
Enjolras wasn’t breathing anymore. Grantaire tried to bring him back to life just how Joly had teached him a few years ago, but it was useless.
He looked at his own hands, which were stained with Enjolras blood and at that moment he knew that all hope was lost.
He hugged Enjolras body desperately while he started crying out loud.
Every light in his world had gone out with Enjolras, and without him, there was only darkness.
But it was minutes after when Grantaire noticed something that filled him with hope again: Enjolras’ heart was still beating.
And then a worried voice that didn’t belong to anyone that Grantaire knew:
“Hello?”