[Les Miserables] A Cycle Repeats
Title: A Cycle Repeats
Author: bearit
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Characters: Enjolras/Grantaire
Word Count: 406
Summary: In the 21st century, Grantaire awakes from a nightmare with a very Bad Feeling.
Notes: Anon requested on Tumblr: E/R through the times
Disclaimer: Les Misérables belongs to Victor Hugo. I have no rights to the novel, musical, anime, or any of the movies. This piece of fanwork is unofficial and not making a profit.
---
“Do you permit it?”
Then the gunshots resounded through the Corinthe.
Grantaire shot out of bed, and Enjolras instantly sat down next to him, abandoning the open document on his computer and the many instant messages that flooded his screen. He drew Grantaire into an embrace, running his hands through his hair and whispering soft words of comfort. Grantaire clutched him desperately, slowing his breaths but his mind racing with only one thought.
“Don’t go tomorrow.”
Enjolras held Grantaire tighter. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t!” said Grantaire as he pulled out of Enjolras’s arms so desperate eyes could meet serene ones. “You don’t have to go. The protest will happen without you anyway. You don’t have to be there. You can stay here. We can stay here. The point is made, the words spoken, and everything is in place. What good is your presence going to be? The protest will turn into a riot, the riot will turn into a bloodbath. It’s always the same!”
Grantaire did not speak of similar protests past, where students walked out of their classrooms with signs and chants and the police opened fire on them, and at the same time, he did. All their lives, Grantaire and Enjolras had dreams of previous lives that held their friends and each other, and through those dreams, they were able to pick up where they had left off only a lifetime ago. But the past two weeks, Grantaire had nightmares of Enjolras’s death, one by one, backwards, through this night.
“What was it tonight?” asked Enjolras softly.
“1832. Paris.”
Enjolras did not need to go to the Internet to know exactly what revolution Grantaire spoke of. He nodded. “Our first life together.”
“Our first death together,” Grantaire corrected. His eyes dropped. “Enjolras, please. Don’t do this. That was the last dream. I know it. You will die tomorrow. I don’t want to bear it. I can’t bear it. Even if I die with you, you will still be dead. Stay home. We can be together. Grow old together. You don’t always need to be at the front lines!”
“Yes, I do. You know I do.”
Grantaire shook his head and fell back into Enjolras’s arms, burying his head into his shoulder. After a few long moments, Grantaire finally conceded, “Then let me come with you. Let me stay with you.”
Enjolras smiled and kissed the top of Grantaire’s head. “I permit it.”
Author: bearit
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Characters: Enjolras/Grantaire
Word Count: 406
Summary: In the 21st century, Grantaire awakes from a nightmare with a very Bad Feeling.
Notes: Anon requested on Tumblr: E/R through the times
Disclaimer: Les Misérables belongs to Victor Hugo. I have no rights to the novel, musical, anime, or any of the movies. This piece of fanwork is unofficial and not making a profit.
---
“Do you permit it?”
Then the gunshots resounded through the Corinthe.
Grantaire shot out of bed, and Enjolras instantly sat down next to him, abandoning the open document on his computer and the many instant messages that flooded his screen. He drew Grantaire into an embrace, running his hands through his hair and whispering soft words of comfort. Grantaire clutched him desperately, slowing his breaths but his mind racing with only one thought.
“Don’t go tomorrow.”
Enjolras held Grantaire tighter. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t!” said Grantaire as he pulled out of Enjolras’s arms so desperate eyes could meet serene ones. “You don’t have to go. The protest will happen without you anyway. You don’t have to be there. You can stay here. We can stay here. The point is made, the words spoken, and everything is in place. What good is your presence going to be? The protest will turn into a riot, the riot will turn into a bloodbath. It’s always the same!”
Grantaire did not speak of similar protests past, where students walked out of their classrooms with signs and chants and the police opened fire on them, and at the same time, he did. All their lives, Grantaire and Enjolras had dreams of previous lives that held their friends and each other, and through those dreams, they were able to pick up where they had left off only a lifetime ago. But the past two weeks, Grantaire had nightmares of Enjolras’s death, one by one, backwards, through this night.
“What was it tonight?” asked Enjolras softly.
“1832. Paris.”
Enjolras did not need to go to the Internet to know exactly what revolution Grantaire spoke of. He nodded. “Our first life together.”
“Our first death together,” Grantaire corrected. His eyes dropped. “Enjolras, please. Don’t do this. That was the last dream. I know it. You will die tomorrow. I don’t want to bear it. I can’t bear it. Even if I die with you, you will still be dead. Stay home. We can be together. Grow old together. You don’t always need to be at the front lines!”
“Yes, I do. You know I do.”
Grantaire shook his head and fell back into Enjolras’s arms, burying his head into his shoulder. After a few long moments, Grantaire finally conceded, “Then let me come with you. Let me stay with you.”
Enjolras smiled and kissed the top of Grantaire’s head. “I permit it.”