And so a while passed, Enjolras had grown stronger each day, feeling a bit more like himself. And yet it seemed as if Grantaire was getting no better.
Enjolras would often take strolls with Marius and the girl - who he had recently figured out was called Cosette- through the country in the morning, and spend the evenings at Grantaire's side, waiting for some kind of sign that Grantaire was not dead. At times he had held the man's hand, checking that it wasn't cold and that there was a pulse. At times, Enjolras was even afraid to let go, just in case something happened to Grantaire.
One evening, Enjolras was in his usual position, his knees on the floor, Grantaire's hand in his, when Grantaire began to stir.
His dark eyes met with Enjoras' blue ones, unblinking. A minute passed before he said something.
"Enjolras?"
YOU ARE READING
If We Had Survived... (Enjoltaire)
FanfictionGrantaire wasn't afraid of dying, and with the Leader in Red, holding his hand, nothing could be better. Or perhaps it could've been... The confusion was real on Enjolras' face when he woke in Grantaire's arms. He was...alive?
