[ Grantaire isn’t half the idiot he believes himself to be, at least, but math never did come easy to him. He silently wishes for a scrap of paper to work it out. Better that than in his head, but it takes him far too long to work it out. Enjolras is smiling and that’s such a rare and precious thing that calculations hardly seem to mean anything. The grip on his shoulder is nearly painful, but worth it. It’s only distracting.
Grantaire gets that number eventually, though, and he’s actually shocked by how soon after their deaths it happened. He’d always believed in Enjolras, always believed in his ability to make things happen, but he lost what dim glimmer of hope he had on that barricade. In his heart, he always knew his friends were going to die, but perhaps it hadn’t ended with their deaths. Perhaps they had brought about change after all. ]
Change brought about by you.
[ He just feels his belief in Enjolras being further cemented in this moment. ]
By the people. [It feels like a hymn to say it. A sacred declaration of the future which he always knew would come.] The men and women of France- rising against the king. Declaring liberty above all- even above their own lives!
[He can't he so still and say this! He gets to his feet again, his hand still on Grantaire's shoulder.] Have you anything decent to celebrate with? At last there's something worth drinking to.
[Perhaps it's his own optimism, but he has the sense that Grantaire is moved by this. Best to capitalise on it.]
[ That is one thing he doesn’t believe. Perhaps it was the people in the end, but the people weren’t the source. It was Enjolras. It was Enjolras and his words who inspired and stirred the people to rise. He doesn’t argue this point. If he does, it may break the spell entirely. ]
I—yes.
[ He blinks, clearly surprised by the request. His drinking is usually vehemently discouraged. He’s hesitant to move away, but he does, allowing his hand to slide away from Enjolras’ shoulder. ]
I could never deny such a request.
[ He doesn’t have a large supply of wine here, but he does have something decent. He doesn’t pour it gracefully; not with his hands still shaking as much as they are. ]
[ Grantaire is behaving very strangely—for Grantaire, at least. When he would ordinarily be brimming with paragraphs of nonsense, he has far too few words to say. When he would ordinarily be eager to drink at a moment’s notice, but he hesitates in Enjolras’ presence.
He does allow himself to be pulled to his feet, but he very nearly stumbles. It’s neither patriotism nor pride. It’s simply the fact that his hand is in Enjolras’ again. He forgets to let go as he raises his own glass. ]
To—…?
[ He can’t seem to come up with anything. Leave it to Enjolras. This is his moment, after all. ]
There's no hesitation in what to say. He speaks as though he was born to say the words.] To the citizens of France who fought and died for a future they never saw. To the citizens who ushered in the birth of the Second French Republique. To the citizens of the future who will benefit and fight for it on and on, until the end of France!
[Has he noticed they are still holding hands? Perhaps not. He drains his glass.]
[ He doesn’t even try to repeat it as a jape. He merely raises his glass a little higher, then drains it in one long swig. There’s so much he could say. He could mention that France is no more, he could say that there are no future citizens, but he doesn’t. For once, his pessimism dies, and he gazes at Enjolras like a man in a trance. He’s overcome with the need to say something, so clearly this can only end well. ]
I believed in you.
[ And he still does, more than ever. This has only reignited that believe. ]
Even when I claimed to believe in nothing, I always believed in you. I was right to do so.
[For all he has read and studied the rights of men and how change is to be achieved by them, Enjolras is still no closer to understanding this man. Instead he feels the ever-present current of frustration from being around Grantaire- this time that the man is incapable of saying what ought to be said- "to revolution here too!" or "to our friends!"
A miracle: he takes the time to set his glass on the table. He closes his eyes and refrains from a sigh.]
Don't spoil this.
[Don't belittle what we gave our lives for. Don't belittle what hundreds have achieved. Be serious.]
[ So, it was the wrong thing to say. He won’t apologize and he won’t take it back.
Although Grantaire is usually the one facilitating their arguments, the manner in which the two of them clash can sometimes be a frustration to him as well. Their hearts dwell in such different places that they may as well be true opposites. He doesn’t expect Enjolras to understand him, but sometimes he truly wishes he did. ]
Do my words offend you? I say only what the situation has inspired me to say.
[ He’s suddenly aware that he’s still grasping Enjolras’ hand. He doesn’t dare to grip tighter, even if he would like to. ]
[I believe in you? There is so much about that statement that Enjolras wants to argue about, but he has Jehan to tell. He wants others to appreciate this with him.]
[ It isn’t that Grantaire doesn’t appreciate the true matter at hand. It’s just that there are other things he appreciates more: offshoots of the main subject, things that others might view as small and insignificant. To Grantaire, those are the most important things of all.
He fills his own glass once more, raises it, then drains it yet again. ]
To the future of our nation, then, long gone though it is. Congratulations.
[ He can’t say he isn’t disappointed by Enjolras’ reaction. Grantaire seldom has passion for anything, but there is passion in his voice when he proclaims his belief in Enjolras. ]
[Wordlessly, Enjolras holds his glass out for it to be refilled.
His eyes are on the man rather than the glass, though. There isn't time right now to think on what's been said, his focus won't allow it while there's this triumph to be celebrated.
In Paris his mind wouldn't have allowed a further thought to go towards it at all, but here... it lingers in the back of his mind, another question mark surrounding the dark haired man he doesn't wholly understand.]
[ And wordlessly, Grantaire refills it. His hands don’t shake so wildly now that he’s ruined the moment, shattering some of Enjolras’ outward joy, but he is vaguely aware that Enjolras’ eyes are on him.
He expects to be scolded further, but he thinks that wouldn’t be so bad. It’s what he’s used to. It’s familiar enough to him that he doesn’t hate it. It’s better than being completely ignored or asked to leave: something that he doesn’t think his heart could handle for a second time.
Cruel words don’t come, though. Only silence, and Grantaire presses further in an attempt to fill it. ]
But why, Enjolras? Please, answer me this. Why is it so wrong for me to believe in you? Is it not better than believing in nothing at all?
[ There’s still a hint of that passion even as he speaks now, a touch of brightness in his eyes. He isn’t lying. Despite believing in nothing else, he truly, genuinely believes in Enjolras. ]
If I could change my beliefs to fit your preference, I would do it, but I cannot force myself to believe in anything else.
[ Grantaire knows that he’s taken action on his beliefs, but only once. Without the ability to repeat that single moment, he’s at a bit of a loss. ]
Must a man take action on all of his beliefs more than once?
[ It isn't that he doesn't want to, it's more that he doesn't know how. He would do a great deal for Enjolras, but an opportunity hasn't presented itself. ]
[Again Enjolras sets the cup down. If Jehan isn't here he will go and find him. Later he can return and they can argue to their hearts' content about what it means to believe in something. Perhaps it's that Grantaire doesn't understand the meaning of it.
Before he can declare his intentions, Grantaire continues. More than once? That surprises him.] Once would be enough.
[ Grantaire has entirely forgotten about Jehan for the time being. He’s found himself too wrapped up in this particular subject, and his desire to argue is strong. ]
I’ve already acted upon it, once.
[ He knows the truth won’t please Enjolras, but it isn’t as though things can get any worse for the two of them. ]
[ His brow furrows. He had nearly forgotten that night. Too much guilt and too much wine have helped him to thoroughly block out that particular mistake, but Enjolras has managed to dredge it back up. ]
Ah.
[ Part of him wonders how Enjolras learned of his failure. Another part of him feels as though he should apologize, but it’s far too late for that. The revolution has come and gone, and the men at the barrier-du-maine are of no help to them now. He’ll get sidetracked if he doesn’t focus on the subject at hand. ]
It was not at the barrier-du-maine, but in the room above Corinthe.
What of it? [His tone is harsh and impatient, but even as the words leave his mouth he already knows what Grantaire means. His posture, restless and ready to leave only moments ago, grows still.
He expects to feel surprise, but he doesn't.
He had thought Grantaire might have joined him that day because he had suddenly seen the light of revolution. Life here had proven it was not the case. That had always confused Enjolras: dying for one thing then immediately regressing? It made as much sense the fear he'd felt about dying alone. As much sense as as the comfort he'd felt at having the man at his side when he died. As much sense as Grantaire in general made.
(Suddenly that other Grantaire comes to mind, the one who had died for the revolution. The one who laughed and stared coldly at him. Why he should think of that man now Enjolras cannot say.)
His expression has been severe, scowling at this man who refuses to conform to how Enjolras wants the day to proceed. Now it turns frustrated.]
I have not asked men to believe in me. I have not asked it of you either.
[ Grantaire sees the recognition on Enjolras’ face, and he knows he doesn’t have to explain. He waits, silent, expecting to be sent away. Shockingly, the request to leave does not come.
It’s odd, the feeling he has about his decision to die. He isn’t proud, necessarily. He could have done better, he could have been of some actual help. He could have even tried harder to believe in the cause, but his heart had never allowed it. In the end, he had died for what he believed in, and there’s nothing he can do to change that. There are absolutely no regrets, and he wouldn’t take it back for all the wine in Wyver.
He turns his gaze to Enjolras, expression soft despite the clearly frustrated face before him. ]
No, you never did. Did the people ask you to plan a revolution for them? I should imagine not. I do not have many beliefs, Enjolras, but I am certain that one does not need to be asked in order to believe in something.
[Well that's a ridiculous comparison. The people need someone to plan a revolution for them, to lay the foundations and set a spark so they can catch alight.
Enjolras does not need someone to believe in him.
What he needs is to go find Jehan. This has taken too much of his time already.]
Very well then. Believe whatever you like. I will go to find someone who shares my beliefs.
[ It’s possible that Grantaire doesn’t need to believe in anything, but he can’t say for sure. It’s been a very long time since he’s lacked that singular belief in his life. ]
Of course.
[ It doesn’t seem as though the conversation has anywhere else to go. Grantaire nods, and seats himself with the last of the wine. He hadn’t expected much. In fact, he isn’t even sure what he hoped to accomplish at all by revealing the truth, but he won’t ask more of Enjolras than what he’s already given. He’s allowed Grantaire to continue to believe, and there isn't much more he can ask for than that. ]
You won’t need to look far. Jehan will be returning soon.
You forget, Enjolras. I have never needed an excuse before.
[ Grantaire only smiles gently, the bottle of wine grasped in his hand. Perhaps his comment is in dry humor, perhaps not. His smile gives very little away. ]
You needn’t worry. This isn’t near enough for me to lull myself to sleep, let alone to drink myself into a stupor. Find Jehan. He will be glad to hear of this news.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Grantaire gets that number eventually, though, and he’s actually shocked by how soon after their deaths it happened. He’d always believed in Enjolras, always believed in his ability to make things happen, but he lost what dim glimmer of hope he had on that barricade. In his heart, he always knew his friends were going to die, but perhaps it hadn’t ended with their deaths. Perhaps they had brought about change after all. ]
Change brought about by you.
[ He just feels his belief in Enjolras being further cemented in this moment. ]
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[He can't he so still and say this! He gets to his feet again, his hand still on Grantaire's shoulder.] Have you anything decent to celebrate with? At last there's something worth drinking to.
[Perhaps it's his own optimism, but he has the sense that Grantaire is moved by this. Best to capitalise on it.]
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I—yes.
[ He blinks, clearly surprised by the request. His drinking is usually vehemently discouraged. He’s hesitant to move away, but he does, allowing his hand to slide away from Enjolras’ shoulder. ]
I could never deny such a request.
[ He doesn’t have a large supply of wine here, but he does have something decent. He doesn’t pour it gracefully; not with his hands still shaking as much as they are. ]
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He takes his glass when its filled-] Come, join me in a toast!
[If he has to, he'll attempt to pull the man to his feet.]
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He does allow himself to be pulled to his feet, but he very nearly stumbles. It’s neither patriotism nor pride. It’s simply the fact that his hand is in Enjolras’ again. He forgets to let go as he raises his own glass. ]
To—…?
[ He can’t seem to come up with anything. Leave it to Enjolras. This is his moment, after all. ]
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There's no hesitation in what to say. He speaks as though he was born to say the words.] To the citizens of France who fought and died for a future they never saw. To the citizens who ushered in the birth of the Second French Republique. To the citizens of the future who will benefit and fight for it on and on, until the end of France!
[Has he noticed they are still holding hands? Perhaps not. He drains his glass.]
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I believed in you.
[ And he still does, more than ever. This has only reignited that believe. ]
Even when I claimed to believe in nothing, I always believed in you. I was right to do so.
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A miracle: he takes the time to set his glass on the table. He closes his eyes and refrains from a sigh.]
Don't spoil this.
[Don't belittle what we gave our lives for. Don't belittle what hundreds have achieved. Be serious.]
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Although Grantaire is usually the one facilitating their arguments, the manner in which the two of them clash can sometimes be a frustration to him as well. Their hearts dwell in such different places that they may as well be true opposites. He doesn’t expect Enjolras to understand him, but sometimes he truly wishes he did. ]
Do my words offend you? I say only what the situation has inspired me to say.
[ He’s suddenly aware that he’s still grasping Enjolras’ hand. He doesn’t dare to grip tighter, even if he would like to. ]
I speak the truth. Would you prefer a lie?
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I prefer to celebrate the future of our nation.
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[ It isn’t that Grantaire doesn’t appreciate the true matter at hand. It’s just that there are other things he appreciates more: offshoots of the main subject, things that others might view as small and insignificant. To Grantaire, those are the most important things of all.
He fills his own glass once more, raises it, then drains it yet again. ]
To the future of our nation, then, long gone though it is. Congratulations.
[ He can’t say he isn’t disappointed by Enjolras’ reaction. Grantaire seldom has passion for anything, but there is passion in his voice when he proclaims his belief in Enjolras. ]
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His eyes are on the man rather than the glass, though. There isn't time right now to think on what's been said, his focus won't allow it while there's this triumph to be celebrated.
In Paris his mind wouldn't have allowed a further thought to go towards it at all, but here... it lingers in the back of his mind, another question mark surrounding the dark haired man he doesn't wholly understand.]
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He expects to be scolded further, but he thinks that wouldn’t be so bad. It’s what he’s used to. It’s familiar enough to him that he doesn’t hate it. It’s better than being completely ignored or asked to leave: something that he doesn’t think his heart could handle for a second time.
Cruel words don’t come, though. Only silence, and Grantaire presses further in an attempt to fill it. ]
But why, Enjolras? Please, answer me this. Why is it so wrong for me to believe in you? Is it not better than believing in nothing at all?
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He does not want this interruption, this unplanned interjection into what ought be a day of triumph. There is only one response.]
You believe in me? There are other things I would prefer.
[And yet he hasn't missed the passion in Grantaire's voice. He dislikes how it makes him wish to be less severe with the man. He doubles down.]
A man must take actions on his beliefs. [Surely Grantiare is incapable of it, his tone implies.]
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If I could change my beliefs to fit your preference, I would do it, but I cannot force myself to believe in anything else.
[ Grantaire knows that he’s taken action on his beliefs, but only once. Without the ability to repeat that single moment, he’s at a bit of a loss. ]
Must a man take action on all of his beliefs more than once?
[ It isn't that he doesn't want to, it's more that he doesn't know how. He would do a great deal for Enjolras, but an opportunity hasn't presented itself. ]
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Before he can declare his intentions, Grantaire continues. More than once? That surprises him.] Once would be enough.
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I’ve already acted upon it, once.
[ He knows the truth won’t please Enjolras, but it isn’t as though things can get any worse for the two of them. ]
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His reply is immediate.] At the barrier-du-maine? Don't be an idiot.
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[ His brow furrows. He had nearly forgotten that night. Too much guilt and too much wine have helped him to thoroughly block out that particular mistake, but Enjolras has managed to dredge it back up. ]
Ah.
[ Part of him wonders how Enjolras learned of his failure. Another part of him feels as though he should apologize, but it’s far too late for that. The revolution has come and gone, and the men at the barrier-du-maine are of no help to them now. He’ll get sidetracked if he doesn’t focus on the subject at hand. ]
It was not at the barrier-du-maine, but in the room above Corinthe.
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He expects to feel surprise, but he doesn't.
He had thought Grantaire might have joined him that day because he had suddenly seen the light of revolution. Life here had proven it was not the case. That had always confused Enjolras: dying for one thing then immediately regressing? It made as much sense the fear he'd felt about dying alone. As much sense as as the comfort he'd felt at having the man at his side when he died. As much sense as Grantaire in general made.
(Suddenly that other Grantaire comes to mind, the one who had died for the revolution. The one who laughed and stared coldly at him. Why he should think of that man now Enjolras cannot say.)
His expression has been severe, scowling at this man who refuses to conform to how Enjolras wants the day to proceed. Now it turns frustrated.]
I have not asked men to believe in me. I have not asked it of you either.
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It’s odd, the feeling he has about his decision to die. He isn’t proud, necessarily. He could have done better, he could have been of some actual help. He could have even tried harder to believe in the cause, but his heart had never allowed it. In the end, he had died for what he believed in, and there’s nothing he can do to change that. There are absolutely no regrets, and he wouldn’t take it back for all the wine in Wyver.
He turns his gaze to Enjolras, expression soft despite the clearly frustrated face before him. ]
No, you never did. Did the people ask you to plan a revolution for them? I should imagine not. I do not have many beliefs, Enjolras, but I am certain that one does not need to be asked in order to believe in something.
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Enjolras does not need someone to believe in him.
What he needs is to go find Jehan. This has taken too much of his time already.]
Very well then. Believe whatever you like. I will go to find someone who shares my beliefs.
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Of course.
[ It doesn’t seem as though the conversation has anywhere else to go. Grantaire nods, and seats himself with the last of the wine. He hadn’t expected much. In fact, he isn’t even sure what he hoped to accomplish at all by revealing the truth, but he won’t ask more of Enjolras than what he’s already given. He’s allowed Grantaire to continue to believe, and there isn't much more he can ask for than that. ]
You won’t need to look far. Jehan will be returning soon.
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[Even as he says the second part he second guesses himself, uneasy with the vague sense that he ought not have said it.
It's true, he has wasted time here. And yet-] Don't think this news gives you an excuse to drink yourself into a stupor.
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[ Grantaire only smiles gently, the bottle of wine grasped in his hand. Perhaps his comment is in dry humor, perhaps not. His smile gives very little away. ]
You needn’t worry. This isn’t near enough for me to lull myself to sleep, let alone to drink myself into a stupor. Find Jehan. He will be glad to hear of this news.
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