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Grantaire did not identify with Albert Schweitzer particularly strongly, seeing as the man had been a highly philanthropic do-gooder, working towards a better world. In fact, Grantaire would say he was not remotely any of those things. However, there was a quote by Albert Schweitzer which Grantaire took it upon himself to live by, and that was this: "In the hopes of reaching the moon men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet." Choosing to take this even more metaphorically than was probably originally intended, Grantaire came out with this sentiment at every possible opportunity.
The main situation in which Grantaire used this quote was in the context of the social justice group he attended yet barely participated in: Les Amis de l'ABC. If he was honest with himself, which he wasn't, Grantaire would recognise that he used this quote mainly as a defense mechanism, muttering it to himself when the righteous fury of Enjolras was released, claiming it would be better to die than not strive for a better existence, or whenever anyone said something along the lines of "Grantaire is only interested in immediate gratification." Anyone, he had thought to himself, but of course he meant Enjolras. He always meant Enjolras. Beautiful, passionate, naïve Enjolras. Not that Enjolras ever listened when Grantaire mumbled about the moon and flowers in an attempt to reassure himself that he was in the right.
It was at a rally protesting recently instated anti-immigration policies that Grantaire felt real fear for the first time in a long while. After all, it was the first rally Les Amis had organised in a while, and it was the first one Grantaire would say would be more aptly labelled a riot than a rally.
It had started off peacefully enough. People had gathered and cheered. Enjolras had given a speech, throwing all the fire his soul possessed into it. Grantaire had stood beneath him, surrounded by his friends, also members of Les Amis, looking up into his vibrantly blazing blue eyes, taking in the set jaw, the hardened brow, the obviously angered yet controlled gestures, and the halo of curls that looked more like a lion's mane in that moment- grown to intimidate. He was utterly in awe of Enjolras. There was nothing on earth more fearsomely beautiful, nor could there ever be, Grantaire was certain.
It was when the crowd began to get violent that Grantaire's fear started to set in. He lost everyone, being somewhere in the middle of the front, while the one person he had to keep an eye on was undoubtedly at the front, yelling for righteousness, throwing himself at the police and civilians causing unnecessary violence. Undoubtedly getting caught up in said violence. Undoubtedly getting himself hurt.
Grantaire looked around frantically and began pushing his way through the crowd of people hot with passion and slick with sweat under the uncharacteristically hot October sun.
Voices were loud around him, only increasing in volume as he reached the front of the crowd. What had been a peaceful protest was now so incredibly out of hand. The police was there, and they weren't being gentle by any means. Grantaire spotted Enjolras not ten feet away trying to step in when a policeman threatened to bludgeon a particularly tall and aggressive Asian girl. He freezes for a moment as his Angel pratically hurls himself at the police officer to start accusing him when said policeman raises his baton and strikes it across Enjolras' perfect features.
Grantaire flinches before driving into furious action. Before Enjolras can get up and continue to fight against police brutality or some other bullshit that will never change, Grantaire has reached his side and is yanking the blonde to his feet. He had been stepped on after falling, so Grantaire pulls one of Enjolras' arms around his shoulders while supporting Enjolras' waist with his own arm, hurling him out of the crowd to much protesting on the oh-so-fearless-leader's part.
Once out of the crowd, they could finally hear one another. Though slightly on edge due to his uncomfortable proximity with the object of his desires, Grantaire remained coherent, guiding Enjolras to his flat, not two blocks away, as conveniently as it happened.
"What do you think you're doing, pulling me out of there? I'm responsible for that rally!" Enjolras said indignantly, though he was no longer struggling in Grantaire's grasp in the slightest. Grantaire scoffed, incredulous as he repositioned his hands, as Enjolras wasn't doing a great position holding himself up as he turned the corner onto his street.
"Responsible indeed. Enj, there was nothing you could do to control that. It got totally out of hand," Grantaire insisted.
"What's more, you were going to be torn to pieces in there! I couldn't just leave you. I warned you this would happen as well, that's why we had a plan to stay in groups. And I also knew it was absolutely inevitable that you would forego the plan to go with whatever felt right in the moment, or whatever bullshit was going through your head."
"Well where were the others then? You didn't make sure they were okay?" Enjolras sounded downright petulant at having been the only one hauled out of the rally by Grantaire. It made the dark haired man shake his head as they reached the door of his apartment block.
Grantaire made sure Enjolras was leaning against the wall before unlocking the scratched-up black wooden door and responding.
"I think I can trust the others to have stuck in their groups or pairs and gotten out of there once the violence started. You're the only unreasonable one, Enj, let's be real,"Grantaire told him, letting his speech slip back into the teasing tone it usually possessed around Enjolras.
He held the door open and ushered Enjolras inside, going to hold him up again. Enjolras scowled and didn't accept his arm.
"I can walk," he hissed, only proceeding to stumble across the threshold, falling into the carved wooden banister before him. Grantaire stepped forward, releasing the door with haste to grab onto Enjolras, holding him upright. They faced each other, one scowling, one smirking, a pink tinge across both sets of cheekbones.
"You sure about that?"
In Grantaire's organized mess of a flat, Enjolras was perched on the couch, pens, brushes and stage plans shoved to the side as Grantaire fetched his very basic first aid kit, and a damp flannel from the bathroom. He froze as he wrung out the wet flannel, staring at himself in the mirror.
His hair was a tousled mess, though fortunately not frizzy. The perpetual purple smudges beneath his eyes seemed accentuated, and his brow was furrowed, his eyes widened, as though he could not rid himself of the fear he'd felt before he'd brought Enjolras back to his flat.
The thought struck him. Shit. Enjolras, his Angel, his Apollo, his Marble Memorial, was in his flat. His flat. The only one of his friends who hadn't been, and there was definitely a reason for that. Not that Grantaire thought he could really call Enjolras a friend, as such. Enjolras rarely tolerated him and Grantaire was too in love with Enjolras to ever try to be just friends, if he was honest with himself.
Either way, Enjolras was in his flat and waiting on him for help. He prayed briefly not to fuck anything up before taking a deep breath and going back into the main room.
Grantaire worried his lip as he approached the grey second-hand sofa where the awkward looking blonde was trying and failing to maintain his scowl. He picked up some of his papers and placed them on the coffee table before taking a seat and surveying Enjolras' face.
A vibrant reddish-purple bruise had blossomed by his right eye and over his cheekbone, his eye now swelling up in a sickening wink. His lower lip was split and swollen.
Looking over the rest of his body, Grantaire saw Enjolras' bruised and grazed elbows, and a graze along his left hand which was resting on his lap.
Grantaire swallowed the lump in his throat at seeing the usually pristine and perfect looking Enjolras so injured. The idea of Enjolras being in pain hurt him too much, but he had a chance to remedy that now, so Grantaire shook himself mentally and took the other man's hand.
Enjolras grimaced as Grantaire wiped the damp flannel over his grazed hand and averted his gaze, looking around the flat to take his mind off of things.
"This is a really nice flat," he noted, looking out at the spectacular skyline and then around at the spacious apartment before turning to look at Grantaire who was bent over his elbow now, deep in concentration, lip between his teeth before looking up.
"What? Oh. Yeah, it's pretty good. Update to principal dancer and director a few years ago did me well," he said absentmindedly, going back to cleaning the scrapes.
Enjolras' eyes widened in surprise.
"I mean I… knew you were a dancer. We all went to see you last year. I didn't know the director thing. I had no idea you were good enough to have a place as nice as this. I've never been here."
Grantaire tensed up, hand tightening around Enjolras' arm before releasing him, his stomach clenched.
"Nice to hear you're so surprised that I could have any talent," he spat. Enjolras opened his mouth to protest, but Grantaire continued. "Either way you're here now, aren't you? Even if it took you stupidly getting hurt in some protest you shouldn't have been in to get you here."
Lifting the flannel to Enjolras' lip, Grantaire's eyes were narrowed with hurt. He dabbed lightly at the split lip when Enjolras drew back, no longer looking like he was going to apologize.
Grantaire raised an eyebrow.
"What is it with you? I don't understand-- why are you so against me fighting for a cause? Fighting towards something greater than all of us?" he asked, sounding both exasperated and completely desperate, his light eyes wide and searching.
Grantaire fixed his eyes on the ground as he smiled weakly. He knew the answer. At least it was cryptic, and Enjolras was no artist. It felt awfully like bearing his soul, but he said it anyway. His voice was soft and slightly broken.
"In hopes of reaching the moon men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet." Despite the softness of his voice, Grantaire's words rang out in the silence that had fallen, resonating between the two men.
Neither said a word as Grantaire cleaned Enjolras up, or even more than a brief "thank you" when Grantaire made tea. Grantaire knew of a quiet Enjolras when they were with their friends and he had nothing to contribute. But a silent one when the number of thoughts running through his head were clearly inscribed on his face? Never.
Enjolras left after spending almost an hour in Grantaire's flat soundlessly, yet he smiled at Grantaire as he went, cogs still working behind his eyes.
The following day, Grantaire was back at work, performing in the contemporary ballet fairytale medley he'd directed and starred in as the male lead. It was a good job, and one that he enjoyed thoroughly. The precision and wildness that possessed him on stage allowed him to focus on the moment, and the immediacy of the job allowed him to work a minimal amount outside of the studio.
This did not mean that he didn't work outside of the studio. He was working on a new contemporary ballet based on the classics he'd devoted so much of his time to- specifically the epic story of Achilles. He was going to do it all- the story, the choreography, the stage design, the makeup, the costumes, and though he couldn't do the musical arrangement himself, he was going to make sure it was precisely how he wanted it to be. He intended to star in it as well, though not as a leading role, and as he'd gained respect as a performer and director, Grantaire knew that this ballet would be a definite possibility.
But enough of that. Act one was beginning with the Sleeping Beauty segment, and Grantaire watched for the wings, hopping up and down in his soft black shoes, preparing for his entrance.
It wasn't an eventful or excessively energetic performance, but it passed without a hitch and the audience responded with vigor, to Grantaire's satisfaction. Almost the whole cast was on stage for the final number, twisting and leaping with enthusiasm. When the last note of the song struck, everything froze, Grantaire with one arm around the leading lady's waist, and the other outstretched before the lights went down and the audience erupted with cheers.
The bows commenced and Grantaire stood at the forefront of the cast, grinning both with adrenaline, and out of expectation. Looking out into the audience, he let his eyes fall on the most enthusiastic members, drifting from one exuberant face to another, and did a double take, his smile fading slightly before he managed to replace it with a fabricated one as his eyes fell on a very familiar face. A pale, gorgeous one with a bruise over one cheekbone and a now-tamed halo of golden curls. Their eyes met and Grantaire blinked, tearing his eyes away to applaud the tech crew and the pit orchestra.
Once offstage, the cast and crew congratulated and thanked each other as they did every night before going to change and go home. Grantaire felt his stomach twisting slightly at what he'd just seen: Enjolras in the audience of his show, coming to watch him perform.
Why would he do that? He remembered that they'd mentioned it the day before, and Enjolras had offended him, albeit unintentionally. Had he wanted to see Grantaire perform again?
No. No, he was making up for insulting him. That was a very Enjolras thing to do, after all. He held no interest in the arts, despite his insistence that they were crucial to society.
Grantaire brushed off the idea of significance behind this action (as much as he could) and left the theatre with his stage makeup still caked on and his hair still slicked back against his head.
There was a meeting for Les Amis every Thursday afternoon, and Grantaire fell into his usual seat at the back of the group late, as was often the case.
Thursday evening and both Sunday performances were understudy performances, which was fortunate for Grantaire, as it meant he was still able to attend these meetings. It was Grantaire who had assigned those performances to be done by understudies, as he thought they deserved more credit than they generally got. He was confident enough to leave his cast for those performances and spend some time for himself, or working on his new production.
On this particular Thursday, Grantaire had gotten caught up with a backstage issue. Though it wasn't his job to keep the sets in perfect condition or to make sure props didn't go missing, he took the time to help a particularly stressed young crew member.
So when he slipped into the back of the café, late and holding a glass of red wine he'd ordered at the bar, Grantaire expected to get the usual berating by Enjolras about both his tardiness and choice of beverage at such an important meeting. However, when the blonde did catch his eyes, he simply smiled and continued speaking a few seconds afterwards, appearing to have lost his train of thought.
Grantaire's brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his glass to his lips. This was… unusual. Courfeyrac's eyes flicked to him and then away again, his mouth clearly biting back a grin.
This was the second time Enjolras had been unexplainably kind to Grantaire. He was probably turning over a leaf. Trying to be decent.
On Sunday, Les Amis had decided to get together to finish recuperating from their rally-gone-wrong the previous week by having a relaxing movie marathon, which would inevitably consist of conversing and barely watching said movies. Courfeyrac and Marius' apartment was volunteered, as per usual, due to its spacious and central nature, and large TV.
As it was his day off, Grantaire forgot that he might have such plans, as he was sitting on the floor, almost in a full split, with papers consisting of various costume designs splayed out across the wooden boards. He was in the process of sketching more and more designs, his character list, complete with descriptions, beside him.
Finishing his sketch of Patroclus' armor costume, Grantaire got up to grab his watercolour paints in order to get a sense of colour scheme for the costumes he'd sketched that day. Upon getting up, Grantaire stretched, realising for the first time that he'd been sitting for hours. He heard his phone buzzing with notifications on his bed upon entering his room to fetch the paints, and come to think of it, Grantaire hadn't checked his phone since getting up. He didn't even know what the time was. Lifting his phone, Grantaire could see that it was already 17:30 and he unlocked his phone to many new messages which he began to scroll through.
Jolllllly (13:28): u still coming today??
Jolllllly (13:34): Bossuet says its indiana jones and you need to be here
Jolllllly (13:36): I haven't been paying attention to them but u should still come!! We miss youuuu!!!!
Shit that had been today, hadn't it? He'd said he'd go, but his costume designs had gotten away from him.
Grantaire clicked on the next set of messages he'd received whilst simultaneously running a hand through his hair.
CourfeyRADICAL (15:18): DUDEEEEE!! Where r u?
CourfeyRADICAL (15:23): enj made us watch Indiana Jones instead of Suite Life on Deck cuz u like it and ur not even here?????
CourfeyRADICAL (15:23): UNACCEPTABLE!!!
CourfeyRADICAL (15:48): k like I know ur a busy guy n im not salty but like u said ud come??
CourfeyRADICAL (15:54): ITS OFFICIAL! ENJ IS SULKING IN THE KITCHEN U HAVE UPSET HIM
CourfeyRADICAL (15:58): jokes about that last one but he does keep bringing u up its rl cute
Grantaire chewed on his tongue at these. As much as he enjoyed Courfeyrac's company, he indulged in seeing romance in other people's lives where there was none, and it really didn't help Grantaire with the whole Enjolras predicament.
Tapping back to his list of messages, Grantaire's heart leapt into his chest. Unsure of why he hadn't noticed before, he clicked on Enjolras' illuminated contact name.
Apollo (16:12): hey Grantaire I was just wondering if u are still planning on coming to the movie marathon today? :)
Apollo (16:40): it's fine if ur not coming I know u always have a lot going on :)) do u need anything?
Fuck! He'd gotten two kind messages from Enjolras (which wasn't totally unheard of, though the smiley faces were) and hadn't replied! Enjolras probably thought he was too lazy to respond and probably thought worse of him than ever now. Fuck!
He was just about to type a response to the messages when a new text notification came up from Courf.
CourfeyRADICAL (17:36): LOL OK FERRE AND BAHOREL MADE ME HOLD OFF TELLING U TIL NOW FOR KICKS BUT
CourfeyRADICAL (17:37): OUR FEARLESS LEADER IS ON HIS WAY TO UR APARTMENT HE LEFT LIKE 8 MINS AGO
CourfeyRADICAL (17:37): I THINK HE COMES BEARING SUSTENANCE
CourfeyRADICAL (17:38): HE SHOULD BE THERE ANY MOMENT
CourfeyRADICAL (17:38): HAVE FUN ;)))))
You (17:39): FUCK
Because seriously. Fuck. That's all that was going through Grantaire's mind at that moment. He tossed his phone back onto the bed and raced back into the living room, one hand tugging on his hair. He'd just begun hastily gathering his costume designs together when the doorbell rang.
Grantaire groaned loudly, placing the gathered papers on the already full coffee table before going to get the door. He stopped in the hall mirror for a second to give himself a once-over. He looked dreadful, but at least he had a shirt on, so that was something, and there was no time to remedy the unshaven face or over-casual attire (or the general hideous face he always had going) so he got the door, trying to look casual.
There stood Enjolras, pink faced on the doormat in his red coat holding a paper bag from the Thai takeout place down the street. He looked a little nervous, which wasn't a common expression to see on his face.
Grantaire tugged a hand through his dark curls, as was habitual, and allowed himself to grin somewhat awkwardly.
"Hey… Apollo," he articulated with half his usual eloquence, and opting out of any more mocking nicknames.
"Hi R. Um… I brought food," Enjolras replied, holding the bag a little higher. "I thought you might not have eaten?"
Grantaire cleared his throat. "Thanks. You really didn't have to. Courf just texted saying you were coming by. Uh- sorry I missed the movie marathon. Wait, I'm sorry, come in," he said, stepping aside to allow Enjolras to step into the flat.
Grantaire took the bag of takeout from the other man while he removed his coat and boots.
"So, is there any particular reason for your presence? Courfeyrac failed to specify," Grantaire asked, hoping he wasn't being rude.
Enjolras shrugged as he turned back to Grantaire and followed him to the small dining table.
"I figured you were working on things. You always have plenty on your hands, it seems. I wanted to see what it was you were up to, and I wanted to make sure you ate today," he responded. Grantaire started pulling boxes out of the bag, examining the contents to distract himself from the beautiful man beside him. Pad Thai, duck dumplings, coconut soup…
"I mean, you're usually a prolific texter and you'd forgotten your phone. Figured you might have forgotten your food as well."
It was so bizarre for this to happen, but Enjolras cared about his friends, Grantaire told himself, and forced himself to look at Enjolras, stomach clenched in an attempt to discourage the butterflies which were fluttering around inside him, threatening to break free.
"Well uh… you were right. I haven't eaten today. Thanks."
"Happy to do it," Enjolras said, smiling down at him.
"Let's eat on the couch," Grantaire suggested, handing some of the foodstuffs to Enjolras. "I think I cleared most of it before. If you were planning on staying that is?"
"Of course!" Grantaire nodded and made his way back to the couch, takeout boxes in hand, Enjolras close behind.
They were just sitting down when Enjolras noticed the stack of costume design sketches on the coffee table and reached out, awe on his face.
"Grantaire, is this what you're working on? I- I mean wow. This is…" he looked up from the sketches he was now flipping through, Pad Thai forgotten on the coffee table. "What are they for?"
Grantaire pulled the sketches from Enjolras' hands.
"I um… they're not ready to be seen. I'm not really doing the whole thing in order but…" he broke off under the intensity of Enjolras' gaze, so focused on him it made him even more nervous. "they're for this new production I'm working on."
"You're a costume designer too?" asked Enjolras, brow raised in admiration.
"I- not really," Grantaire explained hastily, occupying himself with opening the chicken and coconut soup and starting on it so he wouldn't feel quite so scrutinized. So it wouldn't seem like a big deal. "It's just this ballet that I'm writing. I'm doing the choreography, design, modifying the story… I'm not doing the score 'cause my orchestral skills are less than impressive, but well…"
"Wait so… you're doing the whole production?" Enjolras asked, putting a hand on Grantaire's shoulder, and Grantaire felt a bolt of energy surge from that spot through to his core. He shrugged.
"I mean I guess?" Enjolras huffed an incredulous laugh.
"R that's impressive. That's like… incredibly impressive! You're amazing, I had no idea you were so talented! Not that I'm surprised it's just that I didn't think anyone…" he trailed off. Grantaire's face felt very hot and he kept his head ducked over his soup, hair falling over his face to hide his embarrassment. "And these sketches, Grantaire? Wow. Can you tell me more about it?" Grantaire gave a soft laugh this time.
"I kind of want it to be a surprise, but uh, I can tell you a bit. If you promise to eat." He gave Enjolras half a grin. "You're starting to make me uncomfortable just sitting there, Angel."
Enjolras rolled his eyes, but grinned back and went to grab the Pad Thai box on the coffee table.
"You know I really do think he likes you," Bossuet murmured to Grantaire in wonder after Enjolras placed Grantaire's exact coffee order on the table in front of him before going to chat with Combeferre at the next Les Amis meeting on Thursday.
Grantaire bit his lip before taking a sip of coffee.
"You really shouldn't let me entertain ideas like that," he told his friend.
On the other hand though, it was getting exceedingly hard not to think about the prospect of Enjolras being interested in him, and he vocalized this.
"You are kidding, right?" asked Courfeyrac who had appeared in the seat to Grantaire's left.
"Why what's he been doing?" Bossuet asked, allowing Grantaire to ignore Courfeyrac's question. Grantaire sighed and wet his lips.
"Well he came to see me in the ballet last week. I told you that. And at the last meeting he didn't get mad at me for being late. And then on Sunday he brought me takeout when I missed the movie marathon and he stayed and talked with me and tried to not argue which was just… bizarre. And he came to the ballet again on Tuesday and met me at the stage door to compliment the performance. And now he bought me my exact coffee order without my even asking? I mean…" Courfeyrac practically squealed with joy.
"Oh my god, R, he likes you so much! That's too adorable! Please tell me this means you'll finally ask him out? You've been pining way too long! This is so perfect-"
"No," Grantaire said sharply, cutting Courfeyrac off. "No it's just false hope I'm getting. I need to get over it. He's just… trying to make up for being an asshole to me before. It's fine. I think we might actually be friends now, which I don't know if it's better or worse, but it's something."
Courf groaned witch exasperation and even Bossuet looked confused.
"Um… if you say so R, but maybe Courf is right?"
"Of course I'm right!"
For a moment, Grantaire let himself believe. Maybe… but he shook the thought out of his mind. As best he could, at any rate.
It was Saturday night, always the busiest performance for the ballet, and always a particularly exhilarating performance for everyone involved. During bows, Grantaire spotted Enjolras in the crowd. Again. He was standing at the far left of the front row, cheering and smiling straight up at Grantaire.
Grantaire got out of his costume quickly, stretched to cool down, and actually removed his makeup backstage for once so he could get out to stage door where fans were always waiting, and where he knew Enjolras would be too.
Enjolras was indeed there, but he stood back while Grantaire signed a few tickets and took selfies with the few fans who had waited for him to appear. Once done with that, he approached Grantaire who was worrying his lip whilst half grinning at him, stomach fluttering madly.
Once they were about two feet apart, Enjolras pulled out a bouquet of red roses he'd been holding behind him and Grantaire's heart leapt into his throat. His breathing caught and he swallowed hard, eyes wide. Enjolras was still smiling though.
What was he thinking? Red roses? Who brought their friend red roses as congratulations? Surely he knew what red roses meant. Even Enjolras had to know what red roses meant.
"You were incredible tonight, R," Enjolras said, full of admiration, holding the roses out for Grantaire to take. "I mean, you were the other nights I came too, but you had a special sort of energy tonight. I loved watching it."
Apprehensively, Grantaire took the roses.
"Thanks," was all he felt he could say. Enjolras' grin broadened.
"I was thinking you're probably hungry. And tired so you probably don't feel like cooking. And I figured since you were so amazing tonight you deserved to have someone acknowledge it, so I was thinking I could get you dinner," Enjolras suggested far too conversationally.
Grantaire gulped and scrutinized Enjolras' face for a trace of what he meant.
"Enjolras," he began and the man started, not being used to Grantaire using his real name, "what's this all about?" Enjolras' brow furrowed.
"What's what about?"
"This," Grantaire repeated, gesturing wildly with his hands, to indicate everything. "You, being nice to me ever since I pulled you out of that protest! Coming to my performances? Bringing me food? Asking about my ballet? Ordering me coffee? Bringing me flowers, and offering to take me to dinner? What is all this?" Not that he didn't have a pretty good idea by now, but he needed to be sure.
Enjolras broke their eye contact, fixing his eyes on the roses clasped in Grantaire's hand. He shrugged weakly.
"In hopes of reaching the moon," he began, voice soft, "men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet." Grantaire stopped breathing when Enjolras locked eyes with him again, full of hope and regret. "I don't want to be one of them."
Grantaire shook his head.
"Enj, the flowers are nothing next to the moon. You should reach. You can get there, I know you can. It's fine. Don't worry about it," he breathed.
"No, R. Flowers are here. They're now. They're alive. What good will the moon be otherwise? We should preserve what we can, and if you don't take care of flowers… they die." Enjolras' voice broke on the last word. "I don't want to live in a world with the moon if I can't have the flowers." .
"As ironic as it may be for the artist to tell the lawyer this, drop the damn metaphor already," Grantaire laughed, a real smile spreading over his features. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Enjolras' waist, still holding the roses. "Not gonna lie, I didn't think you'd get the metaphor to that extent." Enjolras giggled nervously, and Grantaire thought that this was surely the most endearing thing he'd ever heard.
"Jehan helped explain it to me," he said, blushing, and Grantaire couldn't help but laugh again.
"Of course he did," said Grantaire before leaning up to bring their lips together for what was the first, but certainly not the last time, never more certain than in that moment.
Perhaps highly philanthropic do-gooders who worked towards a better world had a point.