And Rain, Will Make the Flowers...

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by professionalfangirl9

by professionalfangirl9

The boys stood silent, waiting for instructions. Enjolras always knows what to do. He always takes the lead. But this time he doesn't. He's clinging to Grantaire's hand, his eyes red and glistening with- wait- could those be tears? The great marble champion of the oppressed is crying. Les Amis avert their eyes. They cannot handle this.

"EVERYONE OUT OF THE WAY!" Courfeyrac shouts, taking charge.

He jumps off the wagon, gesturing for the rest of the revolutionaries to follow. They pull it towards the hospital, with only Enjolras and Grantaire remaining on it. Gavroche leads the rest of the street urchins in clearing a path. The crowd parts like the red sea, but the are all desperately craning to get a glimpse of which boy has fallen

A voice is heard from the back of the crowd:

"It's Grantaire!"

The women who had been falling over themselves moments before burst into tears.

Les Amis finally arrived at the hospital, and Joly helped the doctors tend to R. Bahorel and Feuilly had to pry Enjolras off of him. He was no longer crying, but was frozen, truly like marble now. They went to the Musain and drank. A lot. They had no qualms about drinking over R like they had with Eponine. HE would have wanted them to drink. They prayed constantly that soon he would be drinking with them. Enjolras downed 4 glasses of red wine before Combeferre dragged him home. Sweet Jehan cries quietly into his paisley cravat. Bossouet trips on the worn wooden step that he falls on every time, but the usual laughter and exchanging of bets doesn't follow. This was not the utopia they had dreamed the uprising would bring.

*** AT THE HOSPITAL***

Grantaire woke in a strange room in a strange bed with a strange face looming over his.

"Well, look who's finally awake." The man said kindly.

"Who are you?!" He asked. Alarmed, he tried to push himself up, but fell back with a cry.

"Grantaire!" A familiar voice called. Joly rushed in, tears of joy running down his face.

"He just awoke." The stranger explained.

"Joly!" R exclaimed groggily. "Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital. You were shot at the parade." The stranger replied. It dawned on him that the old man was probably a doctor. "Do you remember that?"

"Vaguely." R said, wincing.

"Well you were hit in your left arm." He continued. "It will scar, but you will most likely make a full recovery, as long as it didn't chip the bone. We extracted the bullet without too much difficulty."

"I must go tell Enjolras!" Joly cried. "He's been a mess since you were shot!"

Grantaire bid his friend goodbye, but he had a strange smile on his face. Enjolras cared about him!