➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[seditiously]

( who chases traces of you )

Comments

[habitually]

[ The red in his angelic cheeks really just makes this all the more of an enjoyable conversation. Grantaire smiles fondly at the fearless leader’s new eyes, with the same intensity and fire that their soul brings out. ]

Czech. It means thank you. You... really- [ He crinkles his brow and tries hard to wrap his brain around all of the loathing and bickering and insults that have been thrown at him. Rémi tries to think back, remembering the time. The tension. The climate. Enjolras’ vision and goals and love for his country. Is it possible that- R was an easy target for his frustration? Not that he made it any easier. He’s snark and skepticism and fundamentally everything that E can’t tolerate.

Why? He has to ask again. He looks down as he asks, his hand coming up to rub his furrowed brow. ]

Really like me that much? You would date me? You would do this shit with me regularly?

[seditiously]

[Whatever straightforward confidence Enjolras had earlier has dissipated under the embarrassment of his own presumption. He pulls his hand back from the table, gripping his forearm.]

Would you?

[habitually]

If it’s you? [ R looks back up, needing something to convince him it’s an actual offer. He sees a man who looks embarrassed, and why shouldn’t he be? He likes a disaster. He doesn’t know what he’s actually opening up for— Honestly, R should just reject him. It’s easier that way— ]

Yeah. [ Fuck easy. He offers his hand to the one Enjolras is gripping his arm with. Half to show he’s in it, half to save E’s circulation. ]

[seditiously]

Oh...great. I want that too. [The smile Enjolras offers Remi should be a familiar one, even if the man offering it doesn't realize; soft and warm smile curling over his lips, he extends his hand out to grasp the offered one over the table.

The mistake is immediately apparent; Enjolras can feel his bones ache as he clutches a now bloody flag, surrounded by royal soldiers. This is the moment he'd been dreading since the night prior; he's a dead man, and they all know it. The man appears again, up a staircase Enjolras had thought already destroyed. Vaguely, Enjolras thinks 'no, not him, why him' as he parts the circle of soldiers, a unforeseen Moses embracing a doom not of his own making.

The Man’s face is still blurred, his name still unremembered as he joins Enjolras at his side. The unnamed Man offers his hand out to him, and although Enjolras can't hear what The Man says to him (it comes as nothing but static,) he knows, knows down to his bones it’s as close as they will both get to a love declaration. He grasps the offered hand and squeezes tight, but the bullets come before his words can--

The vision cuts, and Enjolras almost doubles over in pain from a deathshot earned nearly a lifetime ago. He breathes heavy, now realizing his hand is no longer in Remi's but curled against his own chest as he regains his breath. Eyes wide and panicked, he looks at Remi desperately and searching.]

I-I have to go. Tell her to keep the change. I'll...I'll see you later, okay?

[Hurriedly, Enjolras tosses a few Euros, more than enough to cover both their meals, on to the table and shuffles on his coat as he moves towards the door.]