"Just hold me." Grantaire said, voice barely above a whisper.
That broke Enjolras' heart, the tone, the pleading. He obliged and held the brunette man, the drunkard, the cynic. The leader wrapped his arms around Grantaire and did not let go.
This was it. This was their last night before judgement day. Their last night before they and their friends may die. The people of Paris would rise and the world would become a better, freer place, but, dear reader as you and I know that did not happen and the barricade fell. As did the leader and the drunkard. The cynic and the idealist. Enjolras and Grantaire.
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Enjoltaire One Shots
FanfictionA collection of original Enjoltaire one shots, drabbles and poems.
