Love Is Blind - An E/R Les Misérables Fanfiction

Alive

Completely aware and awake, Grantaire hurried down the streets, needing to get to the ABC Café as soon as possible, for he was sure of it now: Enjolras was alive. For some unknown reason, he trusted this strange girl. He knew she was telling the truth. Now he just needed to find the man he loved, so that he'd finally have the terrible weight of despair lifted off his shoulders.

As he ran, his mind filled with memories of Enjolras. All those meetings with their friends, all the times Grantaire had teased his Apollo. He remembered all the bad and hurtful times as well, like how Enjolras had declared him incapable of love, but Grantaire didn't let that stop him. He would always love Enjolras, no matter what. In fact, he could go his whole life without Enjolras returning his feelings, as long as he could see him and tease him. It would be painful, but it would be better than never seeing him.

There actually had been a few times when Enjolras hadn't treated him so awfully. One of the times had been when he'd arrived at the Café early to find only Enjolras there. He'd been slightly drunk, and Enjolras had noticed it right away. "Grantaire, how many times have I told you to at least be sober when you arrive?"

With a smirk, Grantaire had replied, "Worried about me, Apollo?"

Enjolras must have decided those words didn't deserve an answer. He returned to writing on a piece of parchment. Grantaire had gone to take another drink from his bottle when Enjolras sharply said, "Put the bottle down, Grantaire."

His voice was cold and hostile. Hurt, but wanting to hide it, Grantaire had simply put it to his lips faster. However, before he could take more than a sip, a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled it down. Grantaire was surprised to see that there was an almost gentle look in Enjolras' eyes, as he said, "Grantaire, stop." His tone was quieter, and more tender.

At that moment, Joly walked in, and they were no longer alone. But that moment was still framed in Grantaire's mind. The almost kind look in Enjolras' gaze. It, and the smile Enjolras had given him at the barricade, were two memories he treasured most. Now, more than anything, did he need the girl to be right.

He had no clue how long it took him to arrive at the Café; all he knew was running up the stairs, to the back room. The door to the room where he and his friends had always met was slightly ajar. He put his hand on the knob, and...

Doubt plagued him. Was he really believing the tale of a girl? Someone whom he'd never met? No one came back from the dead! And Grantaire bloody well remembered how he and Enjolras had been surrounded...

You should have died as well. If you survived, he must have, he thought. Besides, the young woman had known his name. Had known Enjolras' name. Had known about the barricade. Surely that was proof enough.

With a deep breath, he pushed the door open, and let his eyes scan over the room's contents. There were the empty tables and chairs, that once had been filled by his friends, and  books and shelves that they had gone over hundreds of times. It was all shadowed in darkness. For half a moment, grief struck Grantaire cold. Then he saw a shadow by the window, and a flash of gold. And he smirked.

"What a fine statue you'd make," he said.

The shadow moved in Grantaire's direction, and in the dim light, Grantaire saw Enjolras' face. "Grantaire?" he said.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Grantaire's gaze did not leave Enjolras', afraid that if he blinked, his Apollo would disappear. Then, to his disbelief, Enjolras crossed the room and embraced him, as if he actually considered him a friend. Before Grantaire even realized it, it was over, and Enjolras was looking at him with slight bafflement.

"It is good to see you again, my friend," Enjolras said. "I thought you were dead."

"I could say the same for you," Grantaire replied,

"Were you the one who got us out of the barricade?"

Grantaire laughed, for the first time since before that terrible morning four weeks earlier. "The idea that you think I could have done that is flattering, but no, I'm as puzzled as you are."

"It should be impossible," Enjolras said. "There shouldn't be any way that we survived. Especially when everyone else..." He trailed off, and Grantaire knew he was thinking about all their friends whom had lost their lives at the barricade.

"How did you know where to find me?" Enjolras asked, and Grantaire finally noticed that he seemed...tired. With a great sadness in his eyes. His golden hair was untidy, and his voice had noticeably lost most of its authority.

"A girl," he said, remembering the strange young woman whom had known his name and Enjolras' whereabouts. He realized now that he did not even know her name; he'd been to desperate to get to Enjolras to think of asking.

"One with short hair and an unusual dress?"

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "You met her as well?"

"Indeed," Enjolras said, but did not say more than that.

"What do you suppose happened then?" Grantaire asked; his mood had brightened completely, now that he was standing before the man he loved. He felt a small amount of loneliness, because he knew that Enjolras would never love him, but that was alright...'friends' was good. "I got hit quite a few times, but none of it caused any damage."

Enjolras nodded. "That's what I expected. The same occurred to me." He unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, as if fretting over something, and Grantaire's heartbeat quickened. Part of him—no, all of him—yearned to tell Enjolras, but he knew better. He just had to settle for giving his true love subtle looks.

It was then that from somewhere outside, a clock sounded, announcing the hour. Enjolras seemed to come out of a trance, and he said, "I must go; there is somewhere I have to be." He met Grantaire's gaze, and smiled. It was a real, true smile, that made Grantaire's heart fly. "It's been good to see you, my friend. I'm glad to know I did not lose everyone."

"Well, it would take more than that to get rid of me," he joked, and he was sure he saw some humor in Enjolras' eyes. Without another word, Enjolras walked out of the room, and Grantaire sat down in the nearest chair, feeling like his heart was soaring.

Enjolras was alive and well. He'd smiled at him again. It was a dream come true.