ABSENT

Chapter 1st

The breeze of the summer night was spreading its intoxicating scents along with the dew and coolness of the season that had just arrived to embellish the city of Paris with its unique beauty and fragrance. The stars were shining in the night sky, like drops of water sparkling on the humid grass after the rain has passed. Silence was dancing through the desserted streets paved with flagstones, the windows were closed as the last students were entering their apartments after another meeting, their last probably. But they didn't know that.
The café in the middle of the city was the only building in which a fade light could be discerned. The door had been closed for half an hour now and yet, not everyone had left it. The bright light of the almost full moon was entering the window of the first floor, filling the room with the light the candles were not enough to give, reflected on the crystal blue eyes re-reading the last written sheet of paper between the pale, delicate fingers that were trembling slightly with tensness. The golden locks seemed to shine in the light of the candle, falling over the wide, imposing forehead as little drops of sweat were wetting the temples. The fresh, rosy lips were moving nervously to the words of the leaflet of the previous day. Oh, such beauty, such gentleness could hardly be found on a man, on a human being. No, such beauty can belong only to an angel. He needed the light of no candle to shine, the rays of sun his imposing and calm presence and only was radiating were enough to light not only a room, but the whole world, a light stronger than that of the stars, brighter than any sun. And yet, he was a man.
He let the sheet slip off his fingers and rested his back on the chair he was sitting, sighing, his hands running through his hair as he blinked with exhaustion, his eyes red from insomnia. He never really slept enough and he never actually cared, but tonight, oh, who knew, tonight it might be the last night he had the chance to sleep properly. He swallowed and turned his head, his look flying to the void out of the open window, his curls waving slightly in the breeze that had just intruded the empty room. His eyes were sparkling with tension. He couldn't explain what he actually felt. He felt passion filling his heart, love for justice, for freedom, determination for what he was going to do tomorrow. Tomorrow was the great day. Oh, he could see it. He could see the people rising, fighting for a better future with them, for love and equality, and they were there, ready to sacrifice their life in order for this significant dream to come true. They could die, each and every one of them. But they would have set the base for the people to rally in the future and continue what they had started, fulfilling the dream they would only last to see from the heavens.
That's what he felt, he knew what he felt and he was determined to do everything he could tomorrow. But something still didn't feel right. Something was missing from this heart full of passion and love for the patria and he knew what it was. It was the love for the people. Not that he didn't love people. He loved, yes, he loved everyone, he loved his friends, his family, he loved every single one of them. But he was afraid. Yes, he himself, who had never feared in his life, was afraid of not having shown them his love and friendship as strongly as he could. He was afraid that he would die before he was able to express his love as he wanted, afraid that he would be the last to die, after seeing the ones he loved falling because he had filled them with his passion and determination when they were hesitant and sceptical. He was afraid. And his fear was staining black the greatness of his marble heart. But even the marble breaks sometimes.
He stood up slowly, snorting, and with nervous, unsure moves he tidied the papers spreaded all over the table. The light breeze was caressing his back, making the shudders run up and down his spine, his body flouncing a little. Suddenly, the crackling of the door was heard from downstairs, followed by slow, unstable steps on the wooden floor. He raised his head and fixed his eyes on the stairs with an indifferent, almost empty look, although he didn't expect anyone to be in the café after midnight. A shadow darkened the wall under the light of the candles as the man reached the top of the stairs and remained still for some moments, the moonlight sparkling in his eyes, his face lightened suddenly, but one couldn't tell if it was by the flames of the room or by an inside flattering of a pleasant surprise that spreaded its rays to his expression. He raised his eyebrow grinning.
"Enjolras? What are you doing here so late?"
Enjolras lowered his look and chuckled ironically.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?", he said and straightened his body with a sigh, waiting for an answer. His look flew at a bottle of wine the young man was holding. Of course. Grantaire. The man guessed his thought and tried to excuse himself.
"Actually, I forgot my coat...", he said pointing at a green coat left on a chair in the corner.
"And you couldn't resist...", Enjolras interrupted him with a sarcastic tone. Grantaire shrugged with an apologetic look and made some steps forwards without taking his eyes off Enjolras. The young man smiled a faint smile and lowered his look, shaking his head slightly, his hands starting to move again anxiously. Grantaire stopped moving and swallowed, a serious and surprised look shading his green eyes.
"Are you okay?"
Enjolras flounced slightly at his words and looked at him, the papers between his fingers shaking by a slight tremble of his hand. He raised his eyebrows and nodded indifferently.
"Why?"
Grantaire shrugged with a half-funny, half-concerned expression and smiled faintly.
"I don't know, are you not going to give me the disapproving look of yours or roll your eyes with exaggeration?", he chuckled and leaned on a table, taking a sip of wine from the bottle. Enjolras' lips curved a weak smile he tried to hide and he bowed his head, biting his lip and nodding negatively.
"I'm okay, it's just...", he stuttered but he couldn't find the words to explain what he felt, he didn't even know what he felt to explain. He was sinking in the sea of his own soul with feelings hitting him like waves one after the other, without knowing when each wave was going to reach him. And he saw the surface, he saw the shining light of the sun and he knew he had to go there, he knew he belonged there, and yet, he couldn't reach it. He ran his hand through his hair sighing and looked Grantaire straight into his eyes, allowing him to see the black circles of exhaustion around his own. "I guess I'm just... tired, you know...", he finally uttered and swallowed, finding himself unable to take his look off the young man in front of him.
Grantaire didn't speak. He remained still, his eyes fixed on Enjolras, breathing shakily. Oh, he was so beautiful. A fine marble, with his impeccable face, his tall, delicate posture which could stand even the most insufferable pain, this marble was so different on the inside. He was tired. Grantaire felt himself blessed for having heard at least one honest word from Enjolras, a word coming from his heart and had not to do with his disapproval of him or his passion, the greatness of the revolution, but with himself, his feelings, words that didn't discriminate between people to be said, and they had chosen him to hear them. He swallowed and let his lips curve a short, compassionate smile as he gazed lovingly at the young man.
Enjolras waited. He waited for Grantaire to say something, to help him as much as a man like him could help, his eyes begging for him to speak, although he would never imagine himself asking for help, especially from a drunkard. But Grantaire said nothing, he just stared at him and he felt his need for help being replaced by rage and exaggeration for allowing himself to express his feelings that way. He shook his head and smiled coldly.
"I didn't expect any help from you anyway...", he said bitterly and one would have thought he tried to bit back a sob. He bowed his head and placed the papers he was still holding in the drawer, closing it abruptly. His heart was beating fast. He turned again his head to face Grantaire, his look cold, but when he saw the young man, he felt the ice around his heart melting and his expression softened suddenly. Grantaire was smiling at him, a warm and loving smile, his eyes sparkling and then hesitated for a moment, before he glanced quickly at his bottle and gave it to him, still with a timid look. Enjolras swallowed and sighed shortly as his look flew from Grantaire's eyes to the bottle.
"I...", he stuttered and chuckled softly, an unsure expression shading his face. "I don't drink, Grantaire..."
Grantaire shrugged and nodded, his smile almost fading.
"I can't...", he started, his voice gentle and sweet, "I can't help you, you're right... But...", he chuckled and lowered his look, "I know something that can... For now, at least..."
Enjolras didn't speak nor did he move for some seconds. He looked at the wine filling the bottle and shivered. He had never drunk in his whole life. He considered it as cowardice. But now, oh, how he needed it. He didn't know what made him want to do this instead of having some good sleep. Maybe the fact that his sleep was always restless. Maybe he wanted to find comfort in something he knew that would help. He stared at Grantaire. His breath was cut for a moment and he felt the man he had in front of him aspiring such trust and safety to him, he suddenly felt his heart warming, he felt he was finally able to express himself freely. He raised his hand slowly and with trembling fingers took the bottle from Grantaire's hand. Their fingertips touched for a moment. He felt shivers down his spine, but said nothing as he held the bottle still hesitantly for some seconds. His eyes met again Grantaire's. He was smiling at him. He took a deep breath and brought the bottle to his lips, its intoxicating scent suddenly feeling good to him. First sip. Of course he had tasted some good wine from time to time but he had never crossed the line. Second sip. He felt the cold wine running through his vains and shuddered as it filled his mouth. Third sip. It was the first time he did this and maybe the last one. He didn't care anymore.
A pair of green eyes was staring at him. He clenched his fist and faced Grantaire, licking his lips. He smiled shyly and breathed shakily.
"It's... good...", he uttered hoarsely and Grantaire nodded, making some steps forwards, unable to take his look off Enjolras' captivating blue eyes.
"Told you so...", he almost whispered and felt breathing more and more difficult as his chest was moving unsteadily. Enjolras swallowed and flounced slightly as he felt the young man closer to him and to his surprise and relief at the same time, he urged himself to come even closer. He could now smell the wine in Grantaire's breath as he was gazing in his eyes, feeling his knees bending. His heart was beating fast or was not beating at all, he couldn't decide and it was the last thing he cared about at that moment. Where had this feeling been all this time? Was it hidden only to appear now, when it was given the chance, knowing that maybe it was the last chance given? He couldn't tell. He only knew that the empty part that was previously blackening his heart was now filled with something he couldn't explain, but this time he knew it was what he needed at the time.
He breathed shortly and lightly bit his lower lip.
"Grantaire...", he whispered almost breathless, his voice shaking and looked at him even more intensely, knowing now that what he felt was reflected in the young man's eyes as strongly as in his. Grantaire breathed shortly and a drunk smile curved his lips but he wasn't able to utter a word, so he remained silent for some seconds, his mouth open, searching for what couldn't be spoken in words. He couldn't find them. There were not any words to describe the heady love his heart was filled with. Eventually, he chuckled and shook his head as words escaped weak his lips.
"Oh, damn it!..."
And he violently pressed his lips against Enjolras' as he felt his hands running up his back and reaching his head without hesitation, his body leaned on the table behind him. He ran his hand through Enjolras' golden curls, feeling his soft lips pressing his with a passion that was dancing around them and their bodies united, each one feeling the other's heartbeat as if it was his. Enjolras was breathing quickly, feeling Grantaire's curls caressing his cheeks and moaned softly as Grantaire pushed him back and started kissing him down his neck. He kept his eyes closed, feeling the other's breath warming his skin as his fingers reached the buttons of his vest and unbuttoned it nervously, quickly throwing it off his body. Grantaire smiled among the kisses and ran his fingertips on his bare, pale shoulder as the white shirt gently fell off his right arm. Enjolras loosened Grantaire's cravat biting his lips and sat on the table as he felt himself more and more pressed against it, the young man almost climbing on him as their lips met again. He felt Grantaire's cold hands fondling his bare chest, he grinned and for a moment they stopped breathless, staring at each other's eyes, drunk with love and happiness, their fingers and bodies entwining. Enjolras then smiled and his lips touched Grantaire's skin as he leaned more on the table and gently bit his shoulder as a loud moan escaped his lips and Grantaire pressed even more his body on his, his fingers gently stroking his sweaty blond locks. The other's short breath reached his neck as his soft lips caressed his skin and he smiled with pleasure, a short sigh escaping his lips. He gently pressed again and Enjolras laughed along with a short groan, feeling himself more safe than any other time as he was sensing Grantaire's body on his. A feeling of joy, of love and passion was filling their hearts that felt as if the part of them that was once missing was now completed. Maybe what happened was too sudden, although both of them knew it was going to be this way. And they actually didn't care. Whatever they had to do, they had to do it now. Because tomorrow might be too late.
The drops of rain that had just started falling where sparkling in the moonlight, hitting the streets, the windows, the walls, the humidity making the night breeze even cooler. The light filling the empty room became even brighter as the moon approached the roofs of the buildings, the rain intruding the room, creating ponds on the wooden floor. The sweet lullaby of the falling raindrops was echoing in the streets of Paris, lulling even the owls that had stopped singing their ood, unique song.
But they couldn't sleep, as if what caused the rest of the world to sleep was stirring their need to stay awake. So they sat there, on the floor, in each other's arms, showered with moonlight, only their unbuttoned shirts on, their fingers entwined, letting the warmth of their love run through their vains as the cool breeze was stroking their hair. Enjolras was breathing deeply in Grantaire's hug, caressing his hand with his thumb and staring at the almost empty bottle some meters away from them. He could admit his thoughts were blurred, enough for him to calm a bit and let himself loose in Grantaire's arms. And yet he still felt his previous fear rooted deep in his heart, now a fear of being unable to protect the ones he loved. He swallowed.
"Grantaire..."
The young man was staring at him the whole time. He couldn't ask anything more than that, staring at an angel after he had been through hell to find him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and smiled as Enjolras raised his look on him.
"I was thinking...", he started in a low voice and took a deep breath. "What's deadlier?... A gun or a thought..."
Grantaire made to chuckle but he faced Enjolras' darkened eyes, his look serious and innocent at the same time, like that of a child asking a question about something unknown and doubtful to him. He shrugged slightly and grinned.
"A gun, I guess...", he answered and stroked Enjolras' golden locks. Enjolras chuckled, one would say bitterly, and shook his head as he lowered his look.
"No... No, that's wrong...", he muttered and snorted. Grantaire started feeling confused.
"Why's that?", he wondered and Enjolras looked again at him, a fade smile curving his lips.
"Because the thought pulls the trigger..."
Grantaire thought for a moment and then flounced slightly, shudders passing through him. A shade darkened his eyes and he looked at Enjolras' crystal eyes baffled. Enjolras breathed shakily and swallowed, feeling his voice drowned in a sob he held back.
"I'm afraid, Grantaire...", he whispered and tears wetted his eyes as he peered at him helplessly. Grantaire tightened his arms around his body and squeezed his hand.
"Afraid of what, my love?", he asked in a whining voice. Enjolras shook his head, feeling fear and despair growing in him as tears came down his marble cheeks.
"Afraid...", he repeated and sobbed silently. "Afraid of losing you, of losing our friends, of losing everything I love because one single thought that might not even be clear decides to pull the trigger and give an end not only to your lives, but also mine... I wouldn't stand the pain of being the last one living...", his body was now shaking in Grantaire's hug. "I wouldn't stand that kind of suffer, Grantaire... They can beat me, they can shoot me, but not that, anything but that. And if I'm to die...", he made a pause and looked Grantaire in the eyes, "Then may I be the first one..."
Grantaire shivered at the last phrase and shook his head terrified as he tried to soften his expression in an attempt to comfort the young man in his hug.
"For God's sake, Enjolras, you're drunk...", he stammered but a tight grip on his hand didn't let him finish.
"Grantaire...", snapped Enjolras seriously, trembling with tension, "One does not get drunk with half bottle of wine and you know that better than anyone. Which means that I'm dead serious about what I just said."
Grantaire didn't speak, he just bowed his head nodding. Oh, he was right, who was he trying to deceive. Enjolras would probably die tomorrow. He shuddered at the thought of it. Enjolras would die, and he was going to die with him. But he would be still alive. Dear God, what could keep him on this earth if his whole life was gone? The shadow wouldn't exist if not for the sun, and so Grantaire couldn't exist without Enjolras lighting the shadow of his life. He felt tears coming up his eyes as Enjolras fixed his eyes on him, his fingers trembling as he was touching Grantaire's bare chest. The tears were coming like waterfalls down his face. Grantaire stared at him for some moments, his heart breaking as he faced this desperate look darkening his favorite blue eyes. Oh, he couldn't stand watching him like that, he felt guilty for not comforting him enough. He shook his head and wiped the tears from Enjolras' pale cheeks, gazing at him lovingly.
"Listen, Enjolras...", he started, his voice shaking as he held the young man's head in his hands, caressing his cheek. "Whatever is going to happen tomorrow or any time after this night, I swear to God...", he chuckled as a tear came down his cheek and emphasized his words, "I will always, always be there for you."
Enjolras stared into his eyes and for a moment he let himself believe in words he never thought he would hear from someone. But then, as a man who had grown up without receiving any love would normally do, he felt doubt in a part of his heart and he swallowed. He lowered his look for a moment hesitantly and then turned again at Grantaire, his eyes almost begging him not to fail him, although he had no doubt for his honesty. He didn't doubt his honesty, no. He doubted his own ability of believing in his words, he doubted that those words were spoken for him. He bit his lip and smiled a faint, innocent smile, his voice low and weak.
"Will you?"
Grantaire flounced slightly and raised his eyebrows surprised. Oh, God, of course he would, in life and in death, he would never let go of him, even if it meant to die, he would wholeheartedly do so for him, he would do anything only for him to be safe and happy. He smiled with love and stroked Enjolras' golden curls.
"Yes, I will...", he whispered, his voice filled with love and emotion. "I promise, my love, I will."
He would be there, as long as it was to his power he would be there. And he made this promise not only to Enjolras, but also to himself, a promise he would never go back on, and if he did, he would have nothing else to do but to die in shame and guilt.
Enjolras' beautiful eyes were lightened suddenly with happiness as he felt his previous doubt disappearing only to come back later, when each moment would be vital. But he didn't know it yet. He stared at Grantaire's green sparkling eyes and suddenly they stirred in him such certainty, such safety as nothing had ever done so before, and he knew that he belonged there, in his hug, that there he could feel the love, the calmness and the passion he would never been given the chance to feel again. And, at the time, he wanted nothing more.
Grantaire glanced at the bottle near them and the wine left filling it. He reached for it and held it in his hand. Enjolras raised his eyebrow and grinned. He took a deep breath and raised the bottle.
"Here's...", he stopped and thought for a moment, "Here's to the moments we lasted to live together."
And he took a sip before he gave it to Enjolras smiling. Enjolras took it and looked at him drunk with love. He raised the bottle.
"Here's to them...", he repeated and his lips touched the bottle with a faint smile as the cool wine quenched his thirst. Maybe he was actually drunk. Maybe it was better that way.