The Les Mis Anon Kink Meme, Round 5

[10littlebullets]

Since LJ seems to have finally capitulated to the Russian government and is now subject to Russian anti-obscenity laws, I'm not going to take a chance on sudden deletions. The Les Mis kinkmeme now lives at https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/. (Round 5 here.) Everything has been backed up there. The LJ kinkmeme will stay up, but is now closed to

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Fill: We are Made of Memories [2/3]

[jayeinacross]

The drink softens the blows, dulling the pain to an ache every time Enjolras’ eyes skim past him but don’t linger, every time they touch then part without words. He loves Enjolras all the more for his passion and his faith, but at the same time, he loathes it, knowing that in this life it will rip him away from the world, just as his indifference in their last parted them the same. He sits in the Musain and watches everyone he cares about plan their revolution, speaking of things that will not be no matter how much they believe, while he knows that they are only going to their deaths.

When most of the group has filtered out at the late hour and only Enjolras and a few others remain bent over their plans and deep in discussion, Grantaire cannot help but speak up, to make some attempt and dissuading them from their course. Though he knows it is useless and he is helpless as ever, he has to try. “You talk like it is the beginning and not the end.”

Everyone stops talking and gazes flicker between him and their leader, as Enjolras slowly turns to look at Grantaire. His expression is hard, determined. This is not the first time that Grantaire has been unafraid to express his doubt, but it ruffles Enjolras every time. “Others have done this before us - it is the beginning of another chapter, one that others will continue.”

Combeferre nudges Courfeyrac and they go without a word, and when the two of them are alone, Grantaire speaks again.

"You think it is better to die for a cause that is certain to fail?" In the end, whether it is Achilles’ blind rage born of grief or Enjolras dying for a lost cause, driven by passion or crushed by the loss of that very thing, it is the same, and Grantaire cannot bear for it to happen again.

"Instead of dying for no reason at all? Yes!" That fire has always been something that both Grantaire and Patroclus adore and admire, but has struck fear into them at times all the same.

"You are wrong."

"And you would not know!" Enjolras’ exasperation is driven by fear, but Grantaire cannot see it.

"After all this time, your naivety still persists!” Granatire keeps talking, but Enjolras stops short at his words, all too familiar - Patroclus always did say that for all his strengths, he trusted too easily, in both men and ideals. “You foolishly believe that if you die for your cause that others will take your place and succeed if you do not.”

But Enjolras does not hear Grantaire’s words anymore. He hears only the desperation in his voice that he somehow never recognized in there before, and the look on his face that he has seen so many times, but not through his own eyes before this moment.

“Patroclus,” Enjolras breathes, and Grantaire can only stare at him for a moment. Then they’re stepping towards each other, closing the few paces between them and embracing like they have not before, holding nothing back, letting their relief and joy and fervour flood their touch. Enjolras gasps into Grantaire’s shoulder, verging on a sob. “Grantaire.”