The Mind Of a Fangirl // One-shots

Rebellion // Les Misérables

Fandom: Les Misérables
Ship: Enjoltaire

The one where revolutions never die.

"To the barricade!"

Grantaire's insides twisted a little when he heard his friend scream those words, but he ignored the gut feeling. They had prepared for this. They knew what was going to happen.

This was no children's play.

This was real.

This was the revolution.

Grantaire sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, before looking up and staring right at Enjolras.

The leader of the rebellion, dressed in the red that was so typically him, sported a smile and extended his hand towards the dark-haired man.

Grantaire looked at it for less than a second before taking it, gripping it tightly, and allowing Enjolras to drag him along the streets of Paris.

To the barricade.

***

The rain fell down, mixing with the blood that had been flowing and the tears that had been shed. Grantaire sat with his back pressed against the barricade and listened to Enjolras, who tried to keep their spirits high and their hope alive.

Enjolras.

The leader of Les Amis de l'ABC.

His Enjolras.

Apollo.

Grantaire closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall forward a little. He was tired, so tired.

They had lost so many on their way. Éponine. Gavroche, poor little Gavroche.

Gone.

Never to be seen again.

A soft hand touched Grantaire's face, and when he opened his eyes slightly and glanced up, he saw Enjolras. The man sat next to him, looking directly at him, smiling. His fingers softly trailed along Grantaire's cheekbone, effectively calming him down.

That smile was the last thing he saw and that touch the last thing he felt before he fell asleep.

The rain fell down.

***

All hope was gone.

Grantaire, weak, wounded, stared at his friend, his leader, his Enjolras, his Apollo, for a few seconds, before making his way across the room and taking his place next to him.

This was where he belonged. At Enjolras' side.

He was happy to die with him.

He was ready to die for him.

The soldiers looked at him cautiously, but Grantaire ignored them. He slowly turned around to face the soldiers again, but not before he gave Enjolras a sideways glance.

His Apollo looked at him in awe, and Grantaire felt his heart grow a little.

Enjolras admired him.

The silence between the soldiers and the two men was thick. The weapons were raised, there was nowhere else to go.

There was no way out.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras again, and saw in his eyes that he knew.

Their last seconds on this earth were slowly ticking away.

With one last look at him, his Apollo raised his hand, the one with the red flag, high up in the air.

Rebellion.

Even while staring into the face of death, the red flag was raised.

A revolution never dies. Let others take their place.

The last thing Grantaire felt before everything turned dark, was Enjolras' hand slipping into his own, holding on to him.

All hope was gone, but love never dies.