➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[seditiously]

( who chases traces of you )

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[seditiously]

[Enjolras leans into the open-mouthed kiss with a renewed sense of urgency, hand cupping Remi's jaw like he could anchor himself with this soft grip. His other hand snakes around to grasp at the brunette's side, hand fisting into the jacket's thick cloth as he presses his hips even closer to back Remi further up against the wall.

It's not like he hasn't kissed people in this life-- lord knows the current social environment lends itself far better to the experience compared to his prior existence-- but this, this burns. He tries to open Remi's mouth further, explore and claim anything he can touch, taste...it feels at points as if he's drowning, but he refuses to come up for air.

(A flicker of memory; a bar cleared out, calling out to the faceless man, he needs to make it clear how he feels, before the funeral and the fight that follows; not now, he's dead, it's all gone, there's only this moment here now before you--)

He startles when the bar's rear door opens, pulling back from Remi's now certainly chapped lips to stare wide-eyed at the stranger intruding; he catches his breath as the person mutters a 'sorry' and retreats, hands still firmly gripping Remi's coat but unable to meet his eyes.]

[habitually]

[ Rémi laughs through his nose and relaxes his hold on Alexandre’s hips, which was firm enough to be slightly bruise-inflicting before. He looks at the blond man, but sees flushed cheeks and is unable to see his eyes. (Pity.) R almost bolts, telling himself he was right but he’s anchored by the hands on his coat.

Tentatively, R’s thumb hooks into the loop of Alexandre’s belt and he squeezes the man’s hip. Rémi’s other hand goes to push a lock of hair out of E’s fervent and avoidant eyes.

He thinks of something witty to say. His mouth opens to say it but, he’s speechless, with nothing that sounds important enough to break the moment in the aftermath. (Good job, Enjolras, better late that never to shut him up.) R can only manage to look him over, appreciating the bridge of his nose and the breath entering and leaving his lips in quick movements. ]

[seditiously]

[Enjolras's mind is running at a frantic pace (what has he done?) but the soft brush against his temple, the lock of hair leaving his line of sight is oddly grounding. He finally glances back at Remi, sees those kiss-bruised lips and doesn't that just turn his stomaches into a flutter of activity. He leans back in, slow and deliberate, and gives him another short close-lipped kiss.

He doesn't know if it meant to be an apology or claim on his handiwork. Perhaps both.]

Do you... [He clears his throat, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks; let's try this again.] Do you want to get out of here?

[habitually]

Yeah.

[ Rémi has a ghost of a smile and a less than spectral glint in his eye. ]

If you’re coming with me.