The Darkest Night Will End

The Enjolras-Coste Flat, Paris, February 3rd, 1832

Jacquelyn chuckled to themself, poking at Enjolras' cheek, causing him to groan and try to bat their hand away, "You've got to get up E."

He groaned again, sitting up from where he'd fallen asleep, hunched over the desk, "No."

"Your classes start in an hour. You've got to get up."

A warm cup was pressed into his hands, and the smell of coffee wafted weakly toward him. He smiled at that, sitting up fully and rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand, using the other to cradle the cup.

"That was the last of it. Now hurry up and get ready," Jacquelyn laughed, practically shoving him out of his seat and toward his bedroom, calling, "If you hurry I'll let you walk me down to work!"

Four minutes later Enjolras emerged from his room, pinning back loose strands of his hair as he went, "Is that the dress I bought you?"

Jacquelyn blushed a little, looking down at the skirt they'd cut from the uncomfortable bodice of the dress, hemmed and brought in the waist on, "I uh- altered it, a bit. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," He said, putting the last of his books into his bag and looking back to them, "It looks better that way."

Together they headed out of the building and passed the Musain, the air still holding a touch of domesticity as they reached the bookshop a few minutes later.

"I'll see you at the meeting, yeah?" They asked.

"Like I would ever miss a meeting." He scoffed.

Jacquelyn smiled, and headed into the book shop, immediately bombarded with Madame Moreau's, "That Enjolras boy is just so kind. And handsome too. If you don't start courting him I will."

The old woman knocked her hip against Jacquelyn with a laugh as she turned back into the shop, "I've just got a new shipment, come stock the shelves."

That night Enjolras found himself sitting alone in the backroom, everyone else either having gone home or shifted to be downstairs, closer to the bar. Jehan had dragged Jacquelyn off with him a mere half hour ago, furiously whispering and glancing back at him now and again.

He groaned, tipping back the tankard that was in front of him to drink the last of its contents, wishing that it could help him make up his mind.

Almost on cue, Grantaire appeared in the doorway, "Drinking alone dear Apollo?"

"Thinking in peace, more like." The marble man retorted.

"Ah, so you are drinking alone because you think that it'll help you sort something out," Grantaire deduced, coming to sit next to him and pouring out half of the bottle of beer into the empty mug, "Now tell me, what ails you?"

Enjolras sighed, looking the man in the eye just long enough to be able to tell that it was the first night in a long while that Grantaire had truly been drinking heavily, "There is a lot of stress, weighing on my mind, nothing more."

"Ahh, so you are worried that your revolution is well and truly coming at last?" Grantaire chuckled, mirth shining in his eyes, "You're more likely to be found out before that day Apollo."

He laughed again, putting the bottle to his lips, "Then this whole place 'ill be swarming with police spies for a few weeks and I'll have to go to the Second best bar in the city."

"It's not about that. When the day of the revolution comes the people will rise, in that, I have faith." Enjolras sighed.

"Then what could you have to be stressed about?" Grantaire asked, candidly.

Enjolras looked out of the backroom and at the stairs, before turning back to Grantaire and carefully asking, "R, how- how would I go about courting a woman? Surely you must know."

The man paused, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully as his days courting Jacquelyn came quickly to mind, before slowly answering, "I suppose it would depend on the type of woman. What's this girl who's captured your heart like Apollo?"

"Well, she's headstrong, stubborn and sure of herself most of the time. She can be arrogant at times, but she truly is brilliant. She carries herself one way in front of certain people, tough and foreboding, but she can really be kind, and gentle." Enjolras rambled on, and Grantaire simply listened patiently.

When he had at last finished Grantaire's smile was somewhat forced from hearing the man he so idolized talk about someone else with such passion, "So, you love her?"

"She's a girl. It's not allowed, not with everything I'm planning. But, I do like her, that's allowed." Enjolras admitted.

"It is," Grantaire agreed, "Is she pretty?"

He sighed wistfully, "So pretty, she makes my bones ache."

"With want?" Grantaire nearly laughed.

"That's not appropriate. But.. the other day, she smiled at me, and I think I stopped breathing, for a moment."

"She causes you so much pain?" He asked.

Enjolras nodded, "When I'm around her- it feels like I'm swallowing dying stars."

"Didn't take you for a dramatic Apollo, perhaps you should just like her less."

"Yes, that would be the sensible thing to do, and yet...."

"And yet?" Grantaire prompted.

The room remained quiet for a long moment as Enjolras thought.

"And yet I think I could bear it. I could take it over and over if it meant I could be with her."

Grantaire took another swig from his bottle, "Well, I- I suppose you should ask her then. Something at least. I knew a similar woman once, quite a while ago, it took me a long time to finally catch her," He sighed wistfully, taking another swig of drink, "I could've held on tighter, kept her, but I didn't."

Enjolras looked at him, "Why don't you go get her back then?"

They held a long moment of eye contact, Grataire eventually sighing again, "I do not think she'd have me."

"Well you don't know that!" Enjolras cried.

Grantaire frowned, thinking for a moment before deciding, "A deal then. You begin courting your woman and I shall try to fetch mine back, yes?"

Enjolras chuckled, "It's a deal."