kernow | ➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[ Grantaire is smitten with someone. Specifically, the man who is capable of defying authority to its face and speaking to a crowd of people with a megaphone, but can’t look R straight in the eye or do more than brush his hand before shying away again. God, before he was haunted by a smile, a nod, and two hands joining, and now he’s... eating breakfast with him. He slept with him. (And it was incredible.) New memories. All he could think was maybe, just maybe, if he made enough new memories with this soul then... maybe Grantaire’s mind wouldn’t reach for the others as much.

By now he’s realized by the silence that the aforementioned soul spoke to him. R clears his throat and looks down at the paper menu in front of him. He smiles absently as he’s almost lost in thought again, one hand being used as a prop for his jaw and the other on the table. ]

Hmm, nah. I’m all set whenever you are.

[Well there goes that plausible deniability. Enjolras just goes with the least sweet pastry option he can find on the menu along with a cafe au lait; as the waitress retreats with their orders, he goes back to the primary task of trying not to let on how little he knows how to handle this.]

So...how are classes going? I don't think you've ever said what you're taking.

Thanks, hon. [ He smiles after her as the waitress walks off, still vaguely daydreaming. ]

Fine! Mostly writing and analysis classes now. English Lit. French Medieval. ...Philosophy gen ed. [ He counts then off of his fingers with limited interest shown by a shrug. ]

You? [ R smiles mischievously and looks over the mug as he sips the coffee that arrived. ] How many times have you been thrown out of class recently?

Huh. [He tries to picture Remi as the studious Literature Studies major in a library or cafe, but it segueways into a mild fantasy about adventurous hands and isolated bookshelves, which then prompts a short coughing fit.] So, what do you ultimately want to do with that? Write, teach...?

Hey, that hasn't happened since... [A short pause as he counts in his head.] at least a year. At this stage I'm doing mostly Pol-Sci independent studies and a an Intro to Legal Studies 500 courses.

Independent studies, huh. I know a bit about those. [ He sips his coffee thoughtfully. If he could read Enkolras’ mind, they would probably have a reason to postpone breakfast. ]

That’s fair, if you’re in legal studies you probably get encouraged to argue with each other. Honestly? Good fit for you. Now the question is defense or prosecution for Alexandre?

Was that meant to be a compliment...? [His brow furrows, unsure if he should be insulted or not right now.] Kind of the pot calling the kettle black...

[He leans back in his chair, appraising Remi's sincerity.] Defense, probably. My advisor has been pushing his state connections, but I'd like to be able to select my cases based on need, give those with less access a solid legal defense.

Yes, it was. You should see my insults.— also you would find the part of legal career shit that makes no money and want it. It’s like going into medicine and deciding you want to treat animals or save sick orphans. You’re...

[ He sighs and smiles condescendingly. What kettle? ]

Such an annoyingly good person. Why do you like me again?

[Enjolras scowls at Remi but there's no bite to it, more petulance than anything.] I want to use my privileges and access to higher education to improve the lives of those less fortunate than me, how is that wrong?

[Enjolras is finding is increasingly difficult to determine if he wants to hit or kiss that stupid smirk off of Remi's face. Both? Both.

He quirks an eyebrow at Remi's clearing probing question, a little unimpressed.]

Great question.

I didn’t say it was wrong! [ R laughs and holds his hands up palms out, his coffee swaying from how it was put down suddenly. ]

I said you’re annoying; that’s different.

[ As he looks at Alexandre, there’s a memory of a beautiful man with a flag on top of a barricade, sun hitting his golden hair as men with rifles shout toward the pile of wooden pieces. The defiant jawline twitched as he replied in kind, refusing to back down. The view from lower down, safely behind the armoire, makes him look angelic. R swallows as he listens, and Rémi swallows too and comes back to the café. ]

And a lie, you’re not. Only because I provoke you. Man it is a good question, huh? Eh, well, not too late to figure out I’m a lost cause and find someone better.

Hey. [Enjolras's features shift from unimpressed to almost annoyed, he leans in, expession far too intense for the early hour.] Stop that. I told you that I liked you, and I meant that. I don't regret last night, do you?

[ R looks into the eyes intensely fixed on him. His snark and self deprecation leaves him for a moment, still utterly baffled and unsure why this has all happened to him. R died. Enjolras was shot down. But here sit Rémi and Alexandre, staring at each other. What can he say besides— ]

No. I don’t. [ His hand flexes infinitesimally. ] None of it.

[That insensity relaxes with Remi's reply, lips quirked into a half smile.] Good to hear. Same, if I haven't said it enough.

[He looks back down at Remi's hand, fingers flexing out in the space between in response.} We should probably talk about what to tell people, assuming if you want to go that route right now.

[ That half-smile is enough to send rebellious butterflies through his stomach and he smiles back. The smile widens and Rémi laughed in reply. ]

You want to tell them? [ He pops a raspberry in his mouth from the plate placed in front of him. ]

I mean, we don't have to tell them right away; we can take it slow. [He mirrors Remi, grabbing a slice of bread and taking a bite.] But yeah, at some point I think we should.

[He sighs a little bit, already mentally torturing himself with Courfeyrac's incessant ribbing, Combeferre's knowing smile; they'd be supportive, he knows that, but he isn't exactly looking forward to being under that microscope.] On second thought, maybe we should just fake our deaths, go live in Eastern Europe or something.

Tell them that we hooked up...? [ Oh. Is he... They aren’t in 19th century France anymore, huh? Not that two men dating is accepted everywhere like a Visa credit card but that’s more than R expected. So soon. Or ever. God he feels lightheaded. More bites of breakfast to chew for time.

Well, Eastern Europe has a great environment for guys like you— I’m tickled to be invited though. Děkuji.

[Enjolras raises an eyebrow.] I mean yeah, that'd be part of it...unless you don't...?

[It hadn't really occured to him up until this point that Remi would have considered this purely a hook-up situation and not a segue into something more, and his face turns a little pink from the embarrassment of presuming.]

Was that...Polish...? And what is that supposed to mean?

[ 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?

[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?

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. ]

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.]

Edited (spelling and grammar is hard.) 2020-01-25 22:40 (UTC)

➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

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