If you take prompts: You know how just-french-me up did a ficlet about that thing where you cough up flowers if your love is unrequited! I want to see your take on it with your favourite pairing! Have a nice day! ♡
Beautiful Elise’s fic for reference (highly recommended read- like everything she does)
Sometimes they were carnations. Red like him. Bright like him. Beautiful like him.
Sometimes they were large sunflowers, that would choke at his throat with their large, long, thick stems. Just as he was feeling their brightness would suffocate him, they came to their end.
Sometimes, when he was speaking so passionately that he thought he might cause the world to rise, and the words would haze his mind and soften his vision, they were roses. Their thorns cutting his cheeks and making him cough up blood for days.
No matter what they were, they always hurt.
Grantaire was at a loss of what to do with them, they had become more of a worry than a nuisance. He had tried pressing them, planting them, burning them at his lowest points. But it seemed no matter what he did, there was always more to get rid of, and it was becoming hard to hide. Now it seemed as though he could almost drown in them.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but they never said it would make it heavy with hurt.
Nobody had seem him for over three weeks, and Enjolras was growing concerned. Rationalising was far from his priorities, sifting through complicated feelings and thoughts were not his idea of productive. Yet that is how he found himself, wondering where he had gone.
Thinking of him… Worrying about him… Missing him.
It wasn’t long before his heart admitted that it loved him.
He would have expected such a confession to feel like defeat, but instead it lifted him and freed him from something he had trapped within himself.
Grantaire’s door was open when he arrived, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to get into his apartment.
Wildflowers, Chrysanthemums, Acacia’s and more filled the room up to his waist. He sifted through them in waves, until there he was, in the middle of the room. His chest and head poking out from a bed of tulips, his eyes closed. He looked tired, he looked beautiful.
Slowly reaching out his hands, Enjolras cupped his face- soft against his skin.
Grantaire’s lids slowly opened, his face broke into an easy smile.
“The flowers stopped.” He said with a quiet whisper, staring at Enjolras as though he was the only beautiful thing in the room.
Enjolras contentedly returned his look, amongst a multitude of other things.
