A Franc or Two - Les Misérables [IN EDITING]

An Odd Sort of Feeling - Chapter 59

Had it not been before, your life was completely turned on its head.

Though your previous relationships seemed to mend themselves, it felt as if was more so out of pity than genuine remorse— and... sure enough, by the time of General Lamarque's funeral, you were long forgotten.

Had you made a full recovery?

Well, of course not— but Courfeyrac had invested in a wheelchair for you, and that was how you made you way around town. Did you have the desire to go out, after that entire scenario? No. Not at all... But if it kept the boys' consciences clean, you'd just pretend it would suffice for now.

You were sitting by the window of Enjolras's house (well, of course you were sitting— you were in a wheelchair), which had been stripped of furniture that would soon be used for the barricade. Did you understand the logic behind that? Well... Not exactly, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

Ever since you watched the boys dragging the sofa and running away with chairs, you got more and more lonely. Joly would make an occasional visit to check up on you, but nothing seemed to suffice.

Now you didn't have a baby to talk to in your alone time.

While you sat in your wheelchair, you were unable to help but feel horribly worried... Because you had attended the meetings, you knew how dangerous these plans were— and your stomach sank horribly. You felt physically ill from that.

However, your worried was interrupted by a frantic knock.

"[Y/N], can I come in?" a voice asked. It sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite put a face to it just yet.

"Erhm— sure," you said, certain that it was someone you were close to... After all. You didn't have any visitors who hadn't been...

And sure enough, once the door clicked open, you were greeted with your favorite artist of the century.

"Grantaire?" you blinked, still trying to process why he would be there. Again, the funeral was today— probably happening as you spoke— and you were almost certain everyone would be there... And yet, here Grantaire was, standing in front of you as he shut the door a little too quickly. "Aren't you supposed to—"

"Enjolras is coming for my ass," he said, though there was a glint of adrenaline and mischief in his eyes. He glanced behind him, as if Enjolras had managed to appear out of thin air to drag him out by the ear, and he couldn't help but smile like a complete and total idiot. His eyes flicked to you as he simply decided to sit down on the floor... And it was then that you noticed he had a new book— for art, that is. "I just— I didn't want you to be alone for today, since I know it's been hard for you... And even though I'm going to have to leave at some point, I just wanted to be here so... You know..."

He paused, zoning out for a moment as he looked at you, then he gave a soft, awkward bit of a smile.

"You alright, 'Taire?" you asked, returning his soft sort of smile as you fiddled with the hem of the blanket draped over your legs. "You were out if it for a moment."

Grantaire's lips prickled into another smile, and... after a moment, he shrugged a little.

"I'm not certain, I just... I suppose the revolution really puts everything back into perspective, I guess," he said, giving a soft nod as he leaned back on his hands.

"Certainly," you said, allowing the blanket to drop from your hands. Your eyebrows furrowed as the thought of gunfire flashed through your eyes, and you gave a soft sigh. "I just... I'm upset I can't fight, monsieur."

"Enjolras wasn't going to let you fight either way," Grantaire said, glancing out the window as a few men passed by. For a moment, he was afraid that it might have been Enjolras, but he gave a chuckle as he realized how terribly old the man was— a little ironic, he thought. He then realized how much of a pessimist he was being.