If We Had Survived... (Enjoltaire)

Chapter Nine

Well, Grantaire had no wine. And he knew he couldn't hide his problems forever. He probably should tell Enjolras now, and if things went bad, Enjolras would believe Grantaire were sick enough to say things he didn't mean - even if he meant it completely.

Maybe he'd wait a while though. He didn't want Enjolras to call him 'useless' or something else. He didn't want the revolutionary leader in red to hate him. He didn't want to lose him. He couldn't.

But at the same time, he couldn't keep it in any longer. He needed to say it. No, wait, he needed to become drunk. He needed to be drunk enough to think that he didn't care if future-Grantaire would regret what he did.

Wait- was Enjolras holding his hand? He had often felt Enjolras' presence at night, sometimes felt him hold his hand, sometimes even felt him fall asleep, his head slumped on Grantaire's stomach. But this - the fact that Enjolras hadn't thought to remove his hand in hate or shame- was new.

And Enjolras had let Grantaire die beside him. Or well, almost die.

"I was worried," Those three words brought tears to his eyes. Enjolras was worried. And not just worried, worried about him. The leader of the rebellion, worried.

"Enjolras, I-" And then he couldn't breathe. Pain, worse than anything he had ever experienced, shooting through him. He kept his eyes on Enjolras the entire time, as the pain seemed to paralyze him, leaving him to gasp in pain. The pain ripped and tore at his chest like a thousand tiny hooks dipped in alcohol then plunged into his skin, then pulled out and plunged in again.

The world around him became quite blurry and dark, which made him panic. He couldn't die. Not yet. He wasn't ready to die. He could see Enjolras' mouth move, but could only hear a loud ringing in his ears. He felt as if he was on fire. As if he was burning and crashing, as if he had been thrown into the sun and then fallen back onto earth.

Enjolras, help me. He wanted to so desperately call for help. He wanted Enjolras to help him. He wanted to get rid of the pain.

"Enjolras," He spit out, coughing, immediately writhing in pain as the cough burned in his chest like someone had plunged knives dipped in heated fire to burn holes in him. "I love you," And then the pain was too much, everything went dark.

A/N - :) Hope you enjoyed