➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[seditiously]

( who chases traces of you )

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[seditiously]

[ It's hard to tell if it's being run into or who was doing it that leaves Enjolras breathless. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, not putting it out quite yet for lack of a trash can (life-changing realizations or no, he's not going to be a litterer). As the smoke just curls up as his waist, Enjolras wracks his brain for something, anything eloquent to say to convey he's sorry, to make up for their last harsh parting-- ]

...Hey.

[ Nailed it. ]

[habitually]

Hi. I’m just— You.. I live here.

[ They should write a novel. It wouldn’t be as long as Victor Hugo’s version, probably.

Grantaire shivers and looks anxiously at his ex. ]

What are you doing here?

[seditiously]

[ Right. Right. He should probably explain why he's standing outside his boyfriend's apartment like some sort of stalker after their huge fight, the one about 24 hours ago where he asked for space... ]

Well, I rem--I mean, the mem--Can we go upstairs to talk? I really need to throw this away.

[ He gestures to the cigarette in his hand, still letting out a gentle wisp of smoke by the waist. ]

[habitually]

[ R grabs the cigarette and puts it into an ashtray filled in the corner of the stoop. He ignores the slight twitching of his hand when it touched Enjolras’ palm. ]

Problem solved. What’s going on now?

[ Look. A diversion— don’t go upstairs. ]

[seditiously]

[ Well, there goes his reason to do this in any semblance of privacy. Taking a deep but stuttering breath, he spits out: ]

Well, I..I..fuck, I remember okay? All of it. [A meaningful look as blush colors his cheeks.] I didn't think I did, but I talked it out with Combeferre and Courfeyrac and...

[ He trails off; as bad as a shock as it was to hear Grantaire's initial claims and to fight over refuting them, talking about it afterward just felt like knives piercing his gut. ]

Are you sure we can't do this inside?

[habitually]

You— Yeah let’s.

[ Grantaire fumbles just keys after an awkward moment, dropping them once with a choice swear word. The building door squeals open with the familiar smell of pot and fried food. He looks behind him and wants to kiss those stupid red cheeks but grabs his wrist instead impatiently to urge him inside. ]

You suddenly just remember? [ R asks quietly as he climbs to the second floor of the building. ]

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras, a little shellshocked at the sudden touch, lets himself be led. His eyes are fixated on the back of Grantaire's dark curls as they make their way up the stairs, so much so he almost misses the question, answering a beat too late-- ]

Ah, kind of? I remembered...several different things, over time. [ Motivations for his suicide move aside, Enjolras really needs to ask Grantaire about that one time outside the Musain, why he didn't just make his move back in 1832, social conventions be damned... ] I just didn't realize he--that you were you. It was all blurred, like a corrupted film reel, if that makes any sense.

[habitually]

[ Another key in another door and they're inside his small apartment. R reaches for a switch and a single light flips on. The apartment is a mess, but R has something more pressing to get at.

He keeps the sweatshirt on for warmth, putting his keys on the kitchen counter to his right. Rounding on Enjolras with a baffled expression, he tries to figure out what happened in 24 hours. ]

So you remembered someone and just didn’t know it was... me?

[seditiously]

[ If Enjolras didn't feel like enough of an idiot now, he sure as shit did now. ]

...Yes? Look, I know how it sounds, but I could never make out your full face and voice, like it wouldn't even come into focus.

[ He takes a second look at the sweatshirt, and feel a deep surge of affection. ]

...Like I remember you dedicated you were to the color green. And apparently still are.

[ Another beat, as Enjolras fumbles with how to explain any of this, much less ask what he so desperately wants to know of the brunette. ]

Courfeyrac finally pointed it out, that there had to be someone outside the group that night in the barricade I was discounting. I just kept thinking I knew everyone who would have been part of our group that day. But it was my fault you weren't there, I sent you away--God, I'm so sorry Grantaire. I don't know what to do with any of this.

[habitually]

[ R smiles, and it only has a slight hint of sarcasm in it. ]

Enjolras. You had a lot on your mind. And I wasn’t much help to you.

[ He furrows his brow, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to say it nicely. ]

But you- you detested me. With those memories of me back I thought you’d—

... but you came back.

[seditiously]

...You were in the end.

[ There's a meaningful look there. ]

I still don't understand why, but...thank you. After watching Courfeyrac and Combeferre-- [There's a soundless choke here; almost two centuries later, the memories of his friends perishing in front of his eyes, through his own leadership, cuts deep. ] ...I thought I was the last. I was supposed to be, anyway. I'm sorry I led you to that end, but I can't thank you enough for those last moments.

[ Enjolras looks stricken and a little embarrassed at the claim, shaking his head. ]

I didn't detest you, Grantaire. I won't lie, I was definitely frustrated with you back then: I didn't understand why you stayed all that time, what your motivations were in a group whose cause you didn't seem to care for, but...I think I simply didn't understand you then. I'm not even sure I fully do now, but...I'm getting there. But I promise I have never detested you.

[ Enjolras feels embarrassingly exposed, unused to talking about his feelings at length (it was always Courfeyrac's strength, and wouldn't he just laugh at him, stumbling over himself throughout this). He can feel the heat creep to the tips of his ears and back of his neck. ]

Of course I came back, why wouldn't I?

[habitually]

[ Grantaire feels his head ache behind his eyes, pulsing and dull. He takes a small step toward Enjolras, R’s voice soft in the aftermath of the other man’s admission. ]

You don’t know why I admitted support for the revolution? You must know. I told you.

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras' brow furrows in confusion; he racks through his memory of that day, of his back pressed up against the wall, waiting for the national guard's bullets to fly, only to have the drunk brunette appear miraculously behind them, as if out of thin air... ]

When? We had so little time...

[habitually]

[ Grantaire laughs and it feels like fresh air after being held underwater. The tightness in his chest alleviates and the pounding slows. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he looks at Alexandre and his vision skips between the furrowed brow looking toward him and a long, blond mess of hair looking amazed as Grantaire emerges from the wreckage of the wine shop shouting for the guards to hear. ]

“I believe in you.”

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras furrows face crumbles. ]

...Oh.

[ He reaches out tentatively, taking Grantaire's hand in his own. ]

Thank you. I'm so sorry. You really would have survived, if not for me.

[habitually]

Don’t apologize, Apollo. [ Grantaire squeezes his hand, pulling him toward him. ]

You- and everyone else- did... everything you could. And it was worth my life to be there.

[ Hesitantly and gently, he embraces the other man and buried his head into the crook of Enjolras’ neck and shoulder. He lifts his head and speaks softly beside his ear. ]

I didn’t particularly want to do anything “if not for you.” I was only there for you, Enjolras.

[seditiously]

[ Although he looks indignant and slightly petulant, Enjolras doesn't pull away; he instead tilts his head to try and maintain eye contact as best he can, brushing his spare hand over the base of Grantaire's neck. ]

That's hardly a good reason to give your life. [ He's sounding critical again, and finally some sensible part of Enjolras' brain tells him to let it rest. ] But I...can't begrudge it now. Just please never do something like that again.

[habitually]

[ Now Grantaire is feeling a bit more like himself and snickers derisively into Enjolras’ shirt, squeezing Enjolras’ hand before releasing it to hug him with both arms. He lifts his mouth to speak again, rubbing the man’s back patronizingly. ]

Or what, you’ll kill me?

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras' petulance indignation only deepens, gripping Grantaire's side and hand and giving both a slight squeeze. ]

Hey, be serious.

[ His eyes quickly widen for what he's just left himself open for-- ]

[habitually]

[ Grantaire chuckles and pulls back. He cocks his head to the side, trying to decide if Enjolras did that intentionally or if it was a slip. Those wide, dumbstruck eyes make him kiss the mouth beneath them. ]

That’s your niche, leader. I wouldn’t want to take that from you.

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras takes a kiss with a little delay, almost following him as he pulls back. A nice warmth begin to pool in his chest, undercutting whatever bitterness his retort might have had:]

Ha, hilarious, really. [ His fingers sitting at Grantaire's waist play at his waistband, but stop short when he takes his eyes off R's face to take in the room behind him. ]

...Oh my god, what even happened in here.

[habitually]

[ R looks around, from the lamp on the floor, to the disheveled rug with empty bottles on it, to the mattress with a balled up blanket, to the unwashed dishes in the sink and back to Enjolras. ]

I- uh. Did some redecorating. And didn’t plan on guests.

[ He pulls back and clears his throat, walking over to straighten the rug and pick up. An emptied plastic bottle as he lifts it makes Rémi pause. His nostrils flare as he turns it over to read— Vodka. Cheap shit. He rattles the bottle but finds no droplets left and hurriedly picks up another to throw out, carrying them to the bin in the kitchen to the right of Enjolras. ]

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras stands there awkwardly for a second (internally hitting himself because he was being kissed and chose this moment to point out the room, bravo) but moves to take the items from Grantaire's hand. ]

Can I help? I'd like to help.

[habitually]

You’d like to help? Hah. Um. Well, I’m starving- realized I didn’t eat today actually. Can you help with that? I’m. I’ve got ... this. My place here. And while you’re busy, I can finish... with this.

[ R, do you have cleaning supplies? Shit. Are you sure you want to deal with this, Apollo? R, you drunken idiot. He’s too sober to deal with this. Any of it, honestly but there drops that other shoe. He looks increasingly miserable and embarrassed as he holds the bottles tighter and moved past Enjolras to toss them. ]

[seditiously]

[ Enjolras, half-expecting to be rejected, jumps at the chance to actually do something positive, moving toward the fridge. ]

Sure, what do you have in the fridge, I can try to pull someth--

[ There's a slightly stale scent coming from the fridge when Enjolras opens it, which is ironic given then is only an almost empty minus a bottle of wine on the door and a now-expired carton of milk and old takeout box occupying its shelves. ]

...Or not. I can order takeaway, if you have any preferences? That way I can help you clean while we wait.