#adisappointedoptimist

[pontificalandwarlike]

“That means get lost, Squidward.” *R

“ –––– oh. ” 

For all that they never did get along, it wasn’t particularly unusual for the two of them to find themselves the only occupant of their meeting spaces. Enjolras, because he often lost himself in whatever he was working on ; Grantaire, because –––– well, Enjolras really wasn’t sure why Grantaire came to their meetings in the first place, given that he seemed to dislike everything they discussed, much less why he sticks around so long afterwards. 

God only knew what possessed him to break their habitual silence today, to cross the invisible divide separating them in their respective corners of the room. Maybe it was the lingering aftereffects of his conversations earlier with Courfeyrac about the necessity of reaching out to more people to gather more support for their efforts. So much for that ; a dozen words into their conversation, and here they were. Perhaps this is why they didn’t often speak directly to each other –––– evidently, nothing good was to come of it.

“ I see. I’ll leave you alone then. ”

[pontificalandwarlike]

"Love is stored in the duck." *R

Enjolras looks up mid-sentence, his pen still on the paper two inches from his nose. His shoulder creaks as he straightens, the bunched muscles and misaligned joints complaining rather insistently about his poor posture. As soon as he realized who spoke and interrupted his focus, the corners of his lip pull back with disdain. Of course –––– who else would say such nonsensical things with no preamble and no prompting ? 

“ Go away, Grantaire, ” he says, irritation in every syllable. He doesn’t even bother looking at Grantaire to finish his throwaway dismissal. “ Go talk your nonsense to someone else. And sleep off that –––– whatever you drank. You smell like a bar. ”

[pontificalandwarlike]

“’Undying’? You should choose your words more carefully.” *R

“ Does the word displease you ? ”

Enjolras did not bother glancing towards the source of the interruption. There is no mistaking that tone or that voice –––– and anyway, there are few who would heckle him in the middle of an address to his friends and a few other supporters of the cause.

“ In life and in death, then. ” He paused, as if to seek the exact words, as if he could breathe them into truth if only he found the right letters in the right order. “ My eternal devotion and loyalty. Until my heart ceases to beat and my name ceases to be a memory, and then beyond. ”

He looked up, at last, to meet Grantaire’s eyes squarely. Blue eyes, serious and steely as ever, directed all their considerable focus upon him, delivering extra emphasis for his next words.

“ Or do you doubt that I would give my life for my beliefs ? ”

[amidelaloi]

@adisappointedoptimist​ ““Guaranteed train-wreck. Thanks for the invite.”

“Well, I had a plus one. I thought you would enjoy the people watching.” He never understood how he got invited to these things. A friend (although he wasn’t sure that was the right term, associate perhaps?) of Basil’s invited him to some fancy get together. Nicolas still didn’t know the reason for this soiree, but from a few of the looks he saw being thrown around, some type of fight would break out by the end of the night.

“There’s an open bar, but try not to drink too much. I don’t want to have to drag you back to your apartment.”

[pontificalandwarlike]

“What if I hired a stripper to help me make omelets, as in legit omelets, no innuendos, that would be nice.” *R

     Enjolras almost lets the words pass by unacknowledged. It wouldn’t be the first time he ignored Grantaire, after all, and usually someone else would amuse him anyway. But this time, the silence stretches a heartbeat too long after Grantaire’s words, and Enjolras looks up to realize that the café is mostly empty now, with only a few patrons milling about and no friends in sight except him and Grantaire. The rest of Les Amis have dispersed, it seems, each to his own preoccupations and duties, leaving only the two of them behind. 

     He almost leaves Grantaire alone anyway. They don’t exactly get along, not the way the rest of their little circle do. Grantaire –––– Grantaire confuses Enjolras, almost as much as he irritates him. But well, his focus has already been broken anyway, and it’s only polite to respond when you’re the only person in sight, right ?

“ I think –––– ” Enjolras pauses, a small frown between his eyes. God, indulging Grantaire’s bizarre talk is not his forte. “ I may be wrong, mind you, but I think that’s not part of the job description. Have you tried asking a friend ? A significant other ? I’m sure there must be someone in your life who would make you omelets without innuendos. ” Actually, he’s not sure of that. He’s sure of very little when it comes to Grantaire, including who is friends are outside the frequent denizens of this café. Maybe one of them knows how to make omelets ? 

[amidelaloi]

“I’m so broke, I could inhale the dust in my non existent wallet to get high and die instantly from an asthma attack.” *R

“Grantaire, if you’d like me to buy you a coffee, you just have to ask.”

[pontificalandwarlike]

“ nobody cares about a few forgotten lunatics. ” *R

     Enjolras stares at Grantaire for several heartbeats, wordless. The café is dimly lit, only a few forgotten candles remaining on the mostly-empty tables. The flickering light casts shifting shadows across his face, accentuating the severe shape of his brows and the pressed line of his lips. 

     “ We will not be forgotten, ” Enjolras declares at last. “ If we win, history will remember us as they remember 1789 and all its great figures. If we lose, then those that answer the call after us will remember us as we remember those who answered the call before us. Revolution is a tradition, and what follows will hold in its memory what came before. They will remember our sacrifice and our faith, if not our names –––– and is that not enough ? ”

He falls silent once more, shadows obscuring his expression. And if his eyes slide off to the side not to gaze at some faraway vision but to mask the tremble of an unvoiced fear –––– well. No one would know the difference, would they ? 

[ciircumserpent]

❝ It is Nostradamus type shit, pardon my French. ❞ *R

       “You’re pardoned.” He looked the book up and down again, then shoved it back onto the shelf, opting to stretch precariously for a different volume rather than run down the ladder, adjust it, and go up again. Evidently this man had impressive balance, because he didn’t fall and break his neck; he plucked the desired book from its place and returned to leaning against the railing, flipping through it idly. A moment later, his eyes flickered to Grantaire, noting that he was still there. “--can I, um, help you.”