Love Is Blind - An E/R Les Misérables Fanfiction

Surrendering Thoughts

"Monsiuer Grantaire," a voice said from behind him.

Despite his miserable feelings, he smiled, somewhat grimly. "I am beginning to think you follow me everywhere I go, Mademoiselle," he said, turning to see the girl Lily.

It was only a few hours after the event of the afternoon. He had left the inn after ordering another drink of wine (that waitress had started flirting with a different gentleman, so he did not regret leaving her behind like that) and he had decided to take a walk, to face the words Enjolras had sent at him.

Enjolras has always thought me a fool and an annoyance. Why should things have changed?

"I would not say that," she said, with a wide grin, halting as she stood beside him. Giving her a glance, he saw why Prouvaire fancied her, as she was quite pretty, and there was something wild about her.

"Thank you for your assistance," he said. "With alerting me about my friend's survival."

"Which one? Monsieur Enjolras or Monsieur Prouvaire?" Without waiting for his reply, she said, "Do not thank me yet. Has..." she trailed off for a long moment, as if deciding what to say.

"How do you know so much?" Grantaire asked aloud the thought he'd wondered.

She smirked. "You would never believe me."

"Do tell," he said.

However, all she said was, "Has Monsieur been more kind to you? After all, you were willing to die with him. Surely he..." She fidgeted, and looked to the ground, almost hesitantly.

"I do not believe he knows of such a word," Grantaire laughed, trying to hide his wounded feelings.

Lily met his gaze, piercing him with her eyes. "Monsieur, I know how much he means to you, and don't worry, I am not scornful of it."

He kept his face a mask, but inside, his mind was racing. She knew? She knew that he was in love with Enjolras?

"Please don't ask me how I know," she added softly, looking away. "The fact is I do. I met Monsieur Enjolras. Twice." A smile came to her face, but it quickly left. "And..."

"And what?" Grantaire said, confusion, anger, and worry building up inside him. Usually now would have been the point where he took a drink, but he did not have one at the moment.

She shook her head, and met his gaze again. "You must find out by yourself." She went to turn away, but Grantaire lunged forward, taking hold of her arm.

"What did you say to him?" He asked. She was evidently shocked by his sudden movement, but she showed no sign that she thought it improper.

"The first time? I told him that though memories are terrible things, that he should go back to the Café. Please let me go, Monsieur,"

He released her, taking deep breaths. Prouvaire knew. This young woman knew. What if Enjolras knew of his feelings? He must have, for Enjolras always could sense everything. He still hates me, he thought.

He needed to be alone. He needed to have a drink, to avoid this realization. Without another word to Lily, he turned and walked away, lost in his lonely thoughts. When he had woken up at the barricade and seen that Enjolras had been about to die, he'd known, as he always had, that he couldn't live without the golden-haired leader. Enjolras was the sun in his life. In the same that France and revolution was to Enjolras, he was that way to Grantaire. And Grantaire both loved and hated it.

Part of him wished he'd never met Enjolras, never had to fall in love with a man who thought him nothing but dirt. Yet the other half of his heart knew he wouldn't have given it up for anything. Despite the fact that they hurt, the words that Enjolras had spoken to him, his voice...they consumed Grantaire's mind and spirit.

I love him, he thought, for what might have been for the millionth time. And yet, he never seemed to be able to give up his childish hopes. Enjolras will never care for me at all. There is absolutely no chance that he could love me. He felt tears in his eyes, but managed to hold them back, as he entered a pub, ready to wash all these feelings away...

He did return to the Café the following day, but he was in such a depressed state that he hardly spoke a word, as Enjolras and Prouvaire had long discussions. Towards the end of it, he decided that he wouldn't be coming back again. It was too hard to bear. That evening, when he walked out of the Café with a bottle in his hand, he was confident that he would never return...

A/N: Image is of Lily.