Enjoltaire fic
I got bored and I wrote a small Enjoltaire fic thing. Enjoy I guess!
âCheers, Iâll drink to that,â Grantaire calls from across the room, where Enjolras has just finished a long diatribe on the rights of the citizen.
Enjolras, temporarily distracted from his idealism, turns to glare at Grantaire. The flames in Enjolrasâs eyes threaten to burn the artist, but, truthfully, Grantaire is just grateful to have that fiery passion directed at him, if only for a fleeting moment.
âThat statement means nothing from you, Grantaire, as you will drink to anything,â the revolutionary says coldly, turning away once again in order to continue his speech.
Grantaire simply cannot allow that. He feels himself growing cold from the absence of Enjolrasâs attention already. âPerhaps it does mean nothing to you, Apollo, but Iâll continue nonetheless. Although wrong in all of your ideals, you are right about my drink. I am fond of it, and unashamed, and so, a drink to that!â He lifts his glass mockingly towards Enjolras, who is turning red with anger. Then, he downs another glass, prompting a few hesitant chuckles from those around him and a pat on the back from Bahorel.
âIf only you were as devoted to the cause as you are to your drink, Grantaire,â replies Enjolras, clearly restraining himself from saying something worse.
Grantaire laughs loudly, pointing with the bottle in his left hand. âTo the cause? No. But to you? My devotion to you far exceeds my fondness for alcohol, Apollo.â
Enjolras flinches, as he always does at that nickname and at displays of affection. Grantaire assumes it is pathological for somebody so emotionally constipated.
âI sincerely doubt that,â Enjolras finally says, apparently having no desire to continue this particular argument. The leader turns to Courfeyrac, who is stifling a laugh, and gestures for him to come over to discuss something. Courfeyrac has hardly even stood, though, when Grantaire is interrupting.
âAllow me to explain, dear leader. My life has not been easy. The world is cruel and doesnât take kindly to people like me-â
âI-â Enjolras begins to interrupt, eyebrows furrowing.
âNo, I donât want your pity or argument or whatever it is you plan on saying. Only listen, just once, Apollo. The world has broken me. I am but pieces. The alcohol allows me to forget; it blurs my fracture lines. But, alas, when I wake, I am reminded once again. Reminded that I am only rubble, nothing more. But you.â The artist says the last words so softly that Enjolras startles, not used to such quiet from the notoriously rowdy drunk. He looks at Grantaire and momentarily forgets where they are, forgets to form a rebuttal in his head, forgets to breathe. Enjolras simply listens as Grantaire continues.
âYou, Apollo, make me feel whole. You are light, and warmth, and when I watch you speak, I feel healed. So yes, I am more devoted to you than I could ever be to my drink. Because while my drink allows me to forget I am broken, it is you who makes me whole.â
A long silence follows as Grantaireâs words sink in. Everyone appears stunned, and Jehan looks like they might melt, leaning against Feuilly dramatically. Interactions like these are common from Grantaire towards their leader, but this time, it appears to be more than drunken rambling. In fact, Grantaire has never looked more sober in his life as he gazes almost challengingly at Enjolras.
Enjolras is at a loss. He canât seem to look away from Grantaire, or move, or say anything at all. Finally, he swallows and says, steadily as he can manage, âR- Grantaire,â he corrects quickly, obviously still flustered. âI have things to do. Matters to attend to. A meeting to run.â
Grantaire sighs, but the smile on his face remains, sad and sarcastic. âObviously. You always do.â
âBut,â Enjolras interrupts abruptly, looking seriously at Grantaire. âAfter the meeting. Stay behind. We have things to discuss.â
Grantaire hesitates, something he has never done before in answering Enjolras. Finally, he whispers, âAs you wish,â in a strangled sounding voice.
Enjolras states him down for a bit longer, thinking, before nodding to himself, clearing his throat, and walking back towards Combeferre.
Grantaire turns back to the rest of his booth, where Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel are staring at him with wide eyes. The stunned silence is eventually broken by Bossuet, who says, âHoly shit.â
They all laugh. âHoly shit is right,â Bahorel chuckles loudly, punching R in the shoulder. âIâm buying you a drink.â
âNo thanks,â he replies, smiling lazily.
They all turn to him, even more stunned than before.
âGreat,â Joly says, frowning. âEnjolras broke him.â
âI thought I had just expressed the opposite? I was always broken. Discovering Enjolras made me whole.â Grantaire says, grinning.
His companions make noises of disgust.
âUgh, somebody call Jehan over here!â
âOr Pontmercy,â
âIâll drink to that!â














