Love Is Blind - An E/R Les Misérables Fanfiction

Pain and Doubt

The hardest thing about falling in love is that unless they've told you that they love you, you pretty much are certain that they don't. Grantaire was suffering through this exact kind of experience. He saw Enjolras often; they and Prouvaire would meet at the Café as they always had with their friends, and talk. It of course wasn't the same, with seven missing members, but strangely...it was all familiar. The three men all seemed to be greatly comforted that some others had survived as well.

Or at least, from what Grantaire could tell, he and Prouvaire were. Ever since that embrace Enjolras had given him when they'd first seen each other, Enjolras hadn't expressed much emotion. Grantaire knew that this was the usual way of his friend. He knew that the gesture had been nothing but Enjolras' relief, relief that he hadn't been the last man alive, but it was still disappointing.

"Ever since I became a lawyer, I've wondered if it was the right decision. I would enjoy being a playwright or writer." Prouvaire was saying. Ever since the three of them had met up last week, no one had mentioned the barricade. Grantaire sensed the none of them wanted to talk about it.

Taking a long swig of wine, Grantaire smirked, his gaze flashing over to Enjolras. But as usual, Enjolras was busy with several books, for just because he wasn't planning a revolution didn't mean Enjolras had lost all interest in such things. If only Joly or Marius was here, then the fun would begin. Joly and Marius had always been Grantaire's favorites to tease; with Joly's hatred of germs, and the way Marius obsessed over things like he had with that girl, it had been quite entertaining.

"Perhaps you should try." Grantaire suggested, finishing off his bottle and grabbing another. "You never know until you try something. Perhaps you could be the most famous poet in all of France!"

"And if you keep drinking the way you do, Grantaire, you could be the most well-known drunkard in France." Enjolras said, without looking up.

Grantaire grinned, only too glad to have received a response from his Apollo.

"Merci, Grantaire, you are too kind." Prouvaire said. Then he started fiddling with his fingers, almost unconsciously.

Grantaire noticed and said, "Anxious?"

Prouvaire flushed slightly, and Grantaire laughed. "Would I be correct in assuming it is about a girl?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, it will account to nothing. I spoke a few words to her in passing, but I doubt I shall see her again." He smiled sadly.

"Prouvaire, please do not tell me you are following in Marius' tracks," Enjolras muttered, and Grantaire shared a grin with Prouvaire. Neither of them had minded how Marius had fallen in love; they'd both found it amusing. Grantaire had taken it upon himself to tease Enjolras about it. Of course, that had been when Marius had been alive.

"Well, in fact, I do know her name. My thoughts are always upon her."

"Who? A fair, golden-haired lady?" Grantaire said, taking another drink.

"She said her name was Lily."

Grantaire choked on his wine, coughing and setting the bottle down in shock. "What?! Did she have...brown hair?"

"Yes, and she had a beautiful smile." Prouvaire spoke in a way that made Grantaire wonder whether he was in a trance.

Grantaire knew that it definitely his Lily, the girl who'd known about Enjolras. He hadn't seen her in more than a week...evidently Prouvaire had though.

He stole a look at Enjolras, because Enjolras had said he'd met her as well. Enjolras was frowning somewhat at Prouvaire. "I had the pleasure of meeting her," he said, and his tone said he thought it was anything but pleasant. "She has quite the tongue."

"She did," Prouvaire admitted. "Yet it only made her more beautiful."

Grantaire grinned widely. "I am aghast, Prouvaire; I have heard you speak of ladies and girls, but never like this. You are in love!"

Prouvaire turned red again, but he nodded. "That I am."

"If you are going to continue to speak of this," Enjolras said abruptly. "Do so somewhere else; I am trying to work."

"On what? Planning another rebellion?" Grantaire asked, and immediately wished he could take back his words, as Enjolras turned to him with cold eyes.

"Find something useful to do Grantaire." Enjolras said, before he returned to reading something. Automatically, Grantaire put the bottle to his lips, hiding the hurt from Enjolras' words. Over the last few days, he'd realized that Enjolras being alive wasn't enough anymore. He wanted Enjolras to care about him too. Hadn't that smile before their 'death' meant anything? So far, it seemed that it hadn't.

Prouvaire looked between the two other men, and as Grantaire put his drink down, he saw something flash through his friend's gaze. And Grantaire knew then that Prouvaire knew.

"Enjolras," Prouvaire said. "Your mood is foul. Has something disturbed you?"

"He is disturbed because he himself is in love with this girl!" Grantaire said, and Prouvaire laughed, making Grantaire proud of himself.

When Enjolras gave Grantaire a look of piercing death, he only smiled more. Until Enjolras said, "Grantaire, leave before you can make a fool of yourself even more." He sounded scornful. It was too much for Grantaire to take.

"If that is what you wish, I will." He said, and stood up. Enjolras made no move to stop him. Prouvaire started too, but Grantaire said, with a fake but believable smirk, "Enjolras has had enough of me; that's a compliment." And then he left the room.

The sadness and sorrow inside him felt like a giant hole. He would not shed a tear or do anything of the sort however. He would focus on something else.

He nearly ran into a serving-girl. "Sorry, Monsieur, please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," he said, offering her a smile. She blushed, and cast her eyes downward. She was quite pretty.

"Mademoiselle, forgive me if I sound forward, but may I ask you to join me for a drink?"

She looked up and stuttered, "I-I don't drink, but I would love to."

He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and then escorted her back into the inn. Not more than five minutes had passed before they were kissing passionately. For, if Enjolras wouldn't have him, Grantaire had to find a way to move on. Right? Holding the girl, who said her name was Elisabeth, in his arms, he thought there might be a chance for that after all.