#but the one about enjolras running away is so so dear to my heart

[kvothes]

What are your top 5 Les Mis fics ?? Excluding your own of course :)

ough i'll confess it's been a while since i've read any that are new, so these will be older standards! but if i had to make a top five:

evergreen by @lesamis

you never have to wonder; you never have to ask by gamesformay

under my wings you will find refuge (ongoing) by @fivie

my head is a weathervane by @torakowalski

the speech of love series AND the you dance series by @theladyragnell and honestly also keep it kind, keep it good, keep it right. nell is amazing

i also cannot let the chance to rec world ain't ready and in defiance of all geometry by @idiopath-fic-smile pass me by

there was one other fic that i wanted to put on here from this series by @creativegoblin but it looks like some of them are part of a secret challenge and no longer available? i'm devastated quite frankly

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part: Thirty One

Summary: The truth comes to life.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, flashbacks to the barricade, mortality questions. 🍋Lemonade🍋 came to London in the 1800’s they made it with Honey, before it became chic…men on ships used to drink it to prevent scurvy.

❤️s, feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

He slipped free of his coat, untied and pulled his scarlet scarf from his throat. Laying them on his desk, he turned and kelt in front of his cupboard. When the door creaked open, he glanced around. He hated hiding this from you. It wasn’t in his nature.

Though he did not want to risk upsetting you or his unborn child. Uncovering, the sabers, he took the one had grown more comfortable toward. Inhaling, he began slicing through the room.

At first it was only his room that was a blur as he moved around. His heart began to beat harder, his breathing shallowed as his room began to fade it shifted in his mind to when he had first began to art of the sword. It had been at an early age when he learned on how easy it was for him move about. He was good at dodging and deflecting.

As a child, he never found it hard to find a place for his foot when climbing a tree or running across rocks that made it easier to cross a brook on his family’s estate. His heart lurched as his mind brought back the moments in the alley. The space easily had grown tight and the air had soured with plumes of smoke from the pistols and canons. The barricade fell broken in mere moments. A vision of his friend, Courfeyrac; he had long since laid rest his memory. He had been brave stood tall and made it possible for him and you run away from the soldiers that burst through the doors.

Stopping, lifting his arm clad in a start white sleeve he brushed aside the sweat that blossomed on his forehead. Thank you dear friend, he whispered in his mind.

“Mon amour.” There was a knock and creek of his door opening as your voice fluttered over to his ears.

Turned on his heal.

“There you are.” Your voice was so light, like the sunlight that shone into his room.

He coughed, holding the sword close to him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “Yes?”

He saw your brow furrow and your smile wavered but remained.

“A message came. I thought we’d read it together.”

“Ah, yes…yes. Bring it and yourself to the sitting room. I will shall join you shortly.”

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.” And his door snapped shut.

He relaxed, though annoyance prickled him. He hated that his words to you were as sharp as the sword in his hands. His heart rode his emotions, his actions. He crossed the short distance to his cupboard. He had to compose himself before joining you.

******

“My lady?” The soft voice of Beatrice broke the world of the book in your lap.

“Oh? Yes?” You were still getting addressed as such. Greta had always been respectful but lady, that was an entirely different class then you ever expected to be addressed in. And in these last couple of months. You realized not to argue with Beatrice over it. In the end, it only helped you and Enjolras in your new life.

“Sorry to disturb you but a message came for Sir Julien.”

You put the book down and with a quick breath, you stood and went over to her. “I would love to bring it to him.”

“I am sure, he will enjoy that all the more.”

Beatrice then handed it to you before turning and returning back to whatever task she busied herself with beforehand.

You can tell it had been replaced on the smooth and more elegant paper for the destination it was to reach. The paper felt very nice nice in your hands.

******

You were confused as to why he had not turned to even face you. His words, his tone were like an icy shadow compared to the days you had heard him speak warmly and passionately.

“Oh, yes that shall be pleasant.”

You felt a churning inside of you, not wanting anything further from this shadow of the man you loved, you closed the door at his last word.

******

On the small table besides the chaise, you tossed away the fine paper. The exchange between the two of you didn’t make you inclined to hold it any longer.

Eyeing the pitcher you wondered of its contents. You smiled seeing the sweet lemon and honey mixture. Beatrice, knowing you didn’t always want to ring by bell or other means would leave you pitchers ready for your thirst would fall over you. Though it was best kept inside because if you were to go to the garden, she would bring it out. Because if not it attracted more beings then the flowers did.

You poured yourself a glass, then holding your day dress just so you said down on the chaise. The cushions were very comforting and the dye chosen in it always pleased you. It reminded you on the sun shining down water by a forest or the ocean when it was not angry.

******

“There is my ange.” You noticed that his words had soften.

You barely glanced his way, and u took a sip from your cup.

He closed the door and soon his shadow fell over you, as he stopped on the other side of the table.

“Is this the message?”

You looked up, you immediately noticed the top buttons on his billowy shirt were undone and a flush dusted his cheeks. It made you pause. “Yes.”

You noticed that he also poured himself a cup. “I am glad you are fond of this.” He held up the cup and soon he snatched the envelope in his other hand and came and sat beside you. He took sip.

“It is very pleasant. It lays close to my heart like a deep rose tea.”

He smiled. “You do enjoy your tea.”

You nodded.

He put the cup down. He held up the envelope. “From home, I do wonder what they coiled possibly want.”

You put down your cup, reaching up you drew his hand down. “What is the matter?”

His brows knit together. “What are you questioning?“

You swallowed. “You.”

The flush returned to his cheeks.

“I see you infrequently unless it is time to slumber or eat.” You shrugged. “Yes, on the occasion I see you in the garden and we take in its beauty like we did in the park so long ago. But now, you act as if I have grown to be a nuisance or I am no longer bare any importance in your life.”

You finally spoke of all that had been lingering in your heart. A tear escaped and ran down your cheek.

He pressed his lips together, he placed the letter back on the table and finished what was in his cup. You didn’t dare move, you felt as if he was gonna spring off the chaise like a kitten would if it was hoping to catch a butterfly or a mouse. And right now you couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving your side.

Then he did the unexpected. He shifted and moved till he was sitting like he had under the willow in garden of your home. His back now more comfortably supported by the curve of the chaise.

The sight of him before you as such made your heart yearn.

“Do not break my heart.”

“Oh, my sweet amour.” Easily, having forgotten the strength he has you found yourself nestled close to him.

You laid like this. Silence had fallen over the two of you like a blanket would have. You felt the beat of his hear, the warmth of his breath and his arms draped loosely around you. That you knew was for fear of disturbing the baby that still grew with you.

“Oh my amour.” He spoke again lifting his chin from where it had nestled in the strands of your hair.

“Our life, our destiny more mine that yours may cause your heart to break, not I. In my wild, undignified ways I will always love you.”

His words, the feel of his heart beating harder, made you move so you could look at him.

“Not long after we arrived and wonderful news of the blessing of a child filled our new home. A storm, a shadow drifted and reached our shores from our past.”

You watched as he swallowed. Despite the warmth of him around you, coolness prickled you.

“A man, a solider is seeking revenge for my action. I struck down his son at the barricade. Now he is searching and wishes to do the same to me.”

“That was during a fight, skirmish I dare say. Deaths, men get slain.”

He nodded.

“Did I grow angry at the boat that went down or the ocean that swallowed my father? No. I was made that it was my father. Does be not see this?”

“No. He does not see that it was an act or war. There was no personal thoughts. It was a question of survival.”

You nestled close. “What are you to do?”

“I watch my shadow and I have been practicing with the sabers, my father sent me.”

“Enjolras, why…but why?” You were at a loss as why did not fair this horrific news with you.

One of his gently reached and held what he could of your growing stomach.

“What if he found you while you would be at the tavern? Were I then to find out when you would not return to us?”

He stilled under you. “To be honest, the thought had never came to me.”

******

You had not been able to sleep, reading by candlelight finally you felt as sleepiness clawed at you.

You felt the bed give after what felt like moments after you had pulled the blanket more tightly around you.

“Enjolras?” Your voice scratchy from sleep.

“Yes, mon amour.”

The bed gave only this time, only beside you. You blinked at the now glow of the candle on the table beside the bed.

Looking up you smiled seeing, Enjolras in and out of the shadows. It made him all the more handsome at that moment. You watched as could see etched on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“I just could have sworn I had just crawler back into bed when you awoke. I was worried I disturbed you.”

“I don’t think so. I had just used the water closet and seeing the dawn, I knew I had best travel to the harbor. The package mentioned in the letter should be arriving today.”

“Would you have awoken me?”

He smiled and ran his fingers through his curls. “Once the carriage was ready.”

“Let me come with you.”

You put your hand over his.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I will stay in the carriage. I need to do something outside of our estate.”

He pressed his lips together. He knew there was no stopping you.

“You are my husband.” You admitted. You were not that rebellious.

He inhaled and absently rubbed his goatee. “Maybe we can eat at the tavern or perhaps even do a little shopping.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but make me a promise my amour.”

“Please, if I grow concerned you will listen to me. I don’t quite trust these English men.”

“I promise.”

*******

The carriage rolled and bumped through the countryside. The world world turned but a murky dark blue, to purple to violet and finally to a clear light blue.

You say absently, after stirring.

“Looks like it will be a good day.” You yawn softly, waling more from your unexpected nap.

With the shaking, the creaks and cracks of the carriage the two of you actually had drifted off for more that half of the portion of the trip to the city proper.

He gave you a side long glance. “You look like a proper English lady with the hat and the gloves.” He rolled his shoulders, before stretching out his legs with a sigh.

You squeezed his arm before glancing down at yourself. “You think so?”

“Only far lovelier.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Enjolras. How is it you still make me blush.”

“Because my words speak the truth.”

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

[keiko86chan]

Les Mis as Steven Universe songs

So, I was thinking about how some Steven Universe songs fits so well with Les Mis characters...

Here it is a small list of what I means:

Jean Valjean:

1) Escapism

Trying to evade from Toulon

2) It’s over, isn’t it?

For exactly, when Valjean nurses a broken heart after Cosette and Marius wedding.

3) Full disclosure

Not wanting to reveal his past to Cosette to protect her.

Javert:  

1) Comet

Destiny, stars, choiches of life... It’s his perfect song!!!

2) The working dead

He’s so done!

3) That distant shore

Post barricade.... (And Valjean obviously will save him!)

Cosette:

1) Dear old dad

Dedicated to Valjean, worried about her leaving him forever.

2) Love like you

Falling in love with Marius.

Marius  

1) Isn’t it love?

Falling in love with Cosette

2) Let me drive my van into your heart

Fearing to being rejected by Cosette

Gavroche:

1) Other friends

IDK for real. But it seems so good for him, maybe while mocking the guards at the barricade!

2) On the run

While showing to his little siblings how to survive on the streets.

Fantine - Drifting away

Seems so similar to I dreamed a dream...

Enjolras - Disobedient

It suits him perfectly!

Grantaire - No matter what

Enjolras-sempai, please notice me!

Eponine - Tower of mistakes 

Forever alone. T_T

Azelma - Ruby rider

As she’s the last one (besides her father) to remain alive

Bishop Myriel - Here comes a though

When he helps Valjean.

Patron Minette - Sadie Killer and the Suspects

Well....

Thenardier - Like a burger (Pepe's Burgers Jingle)

Ehrm....

Madame Thenardier - Giant woman

Uh.

Toussaint - Li’l Butler theme

Eh...

Montparnasse - Aven’t you notice (I’m a Star)

He’s a dandy after all.

Bonus - Duets/Group songs:

Valjean + Javert - Stronger than you

The Confrontation, basically.

Valjean + Cosette - Independent together

Rising up Cosette in Paris.

Marius and Eponine - Doing for her, doing for him

For reasons. Bunus for a perplexed Cosette watching them worried

Marius + Barricade boys - Who we are

With Marius whining about Cosette soon gone, and the others wanting to fight

Valjean (scared about how is secret identity may be revealed) + the guests - For Just One Day Let's Only Think About Love

The wedding.

Valjean (Steven’s section), Javert (Pearl’s section), Marius (Garnet’s section) and Cosette (Amethyst’s section) - Happily ever after

The title say it all.

Bonus 2 - Valvert/Post-Seine edition playlist:

Change

Peace and love on the planet earth

Found

Basically Valjean teaching love to Javert.

Both of you

Cosette, to Valjean and Javert, After an argument between them, probably.

(@voulez-vouz-mon-chapeau​ do you have a list too?)

[cumbercookiebatchs]

I really need some drug addict Enjolras headcanons (you know who this is).

Hello my dear 💖💖

This turned out being a short fic-like thing, I hope you don't mind? I started thinking about what could make Enjolras fall into drugs and this happened -

Enjolras was fine, until he wasn't anymore.

His accademic career was brilliant, top of his classes, two loving parents and a little group of friends that shared his passion and fights.

Then the dreams started, filled his brain with people and places he didn't know, but seemed so familiar, so close, so terrible.

And it became an obsession, a nightmare come to life, so real and hurtful and taunting, it deleted time, never made a difference if he was awake or asleep, if it was day or night, blood and gunshots everywhere, sharp screams ringing inside his ears and the same pair of eyes, a sharp pang inside his chest, everything starting again, sharper and sharper every time.

Then everything shifted into place, every memory settled back, and made everything worse.

Remorse, pain, the uselness of his death, of his friends's death weighing on him, Grantaire's remarks ringing into his ears everyday, everytime he watched the news, capitalism laughing at his face and his back, had him crumbling down into an empty shell of himself. The thought of being the only one alive again, yet another cruel smack of fate, kindness being stepped on, killed, every day right in front of his eyes.

And do you know, how hard it is, to know you killed the one you loved for nothing.

Combeferre's sweet smile. Jean's beautiful poems. Courfeyrac's laughter. Bossuet, Grantaire, Eponine.

Gavroche.

Never there anymore.

That's how Enjolras fell into drugs.

A desperate try to send the pain away, a desperate try to forget, both himself and the pain he caused, and it was escape and punishment alike.

Then, punishment began to fade, blurred at the lines by the sheer euphoria he could feel, the euphoria that reminded him of the man he once was, when the fight had him feeling like that, when the warmth in his chest came from his friends, when the exited beating of his heart came from Grantaire's sharp comebacks.

He's not eating, he's not sleeping, living in memories and illusions alike. And he sees them, sees them everywhere, but they're happy now, they smile at him from the fog circling around their table, they tend their arms toward him, and Enjolras slips.

When he comes back to himself, it's to look into the same eyes he last saw more than a hundred years ago. There's a faint beeping, somewhere near him. Enjolras thinks he's dreaming again.

Grantaire's palm is warm on his cheeks, "is it really you?" he asks.

Enjolras screams, Enjolras cries. Grantaire's not real, Grantaire's not there, Grantaire's made up by his fucking brain and his own guilt and remorse, and he screams and screams and screams until he's sleeping again.

He wakes up alone in his room. It's dark, he breaths out, maybe he'll get some peace finally, but his veins thrums and he's feeling nauseous, and Grantaire's voice is still swirling inside his head.

It takes a lot. A lot of effort. A lot of failed tentatives to escape, to run away. He wants a dose, he needs it. He can't breathe.

He's in a clinic, he realizes after maybe a week. He doesn't really know.

Grantaire comes back, maybe he's not really Grantaire, maybe Enjolras's brain is just fucked.

But with his blood clean and this boy looking at him with tenderness and worry, Enjolras's guilt is back, and he spends his days in a daze, spends his nights crying and screaming, tied on his bed, blood hot in his veins, abstinence like damnation.

Grantaire's voice is a soothing, perpetual murmur, Enjolras doesn't know if he's making it up.

Then, then he wakes, the days feels less blurred, his head hurts a bit less.

He's calmer, and everything looks more focused. He still wants to start all over again, but the frenzy went away.

Grantaire's there. Grantaire is still there. Grantaire is real. Grantaire is alive.

Enjolras starts crying, ugly hiccups wrenching his body, shaking him whole, "I'm not alone", "I'm sorry", "It was all my fault".

Grantaire sits on his bed, hugs him tight to his chest.

He's crying too, Enjolras realizes. "I thought you'd never come back to me".

[kjack89]

Love in the Time of Quarantine (pt. 7/?)

More trouble in paradise quarantine...

Read parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, or catch up on previous parts on AO3.

Enjolras was woken by his cellphone vibrating irritatingly against the side of his face, and he groaned, blinking blearily at the screen before answering it. “Hey Ferre,” he mumbled, running a hand across his face.

“Well, good morning to you too,” Courfeyrac said, sounding amused, and Enjolras squinted at his phone again.

“Courf?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you stole Combeferre’s phone again.”

“No, there’s this magic thing called speakerphone,” Combeferre said, sounding just as amused as Courfeyrac had.

Enjolras glowered at his phone, even though he knew neither of them could see him. “Now you figure that out,” he muttered. “Dare I ask why you are calling so early?”

“Early?” Courfeyrac repeated, with mock concern. “My dear man, it’s after 8 o’clock! On any other day, we’d already be meeting by now.” He paused, and when he spoke again, Enjolras could hear the smirk in his voice. “Of course, that was before you decided to take up some late night extracurriculars, if you know what I mean.”

Combeferre made a disparaging noise. “Everyone knows what you mean,” he said sourly. “You have the subtlety of a foghorn.”

Enjolras tactfully chose to ignore both of them. “I forgot to set my alarm,” he told them. 

“Because you were up so late doing...well, Grantaire?”

Courfeyrac let out a yelp that indicated Combeferre had undoubtedly elbowed him in the stomach. “Speaking of Grantaire,” Combeferre said sternly, “how are things going?”

Enjolras shrugged as he finally sat up, running a hand through his hair. “They’re going,” he hedged. “We’re working on it, at the very least.”

“And I assume Grantaire is still asleep?” Combeferre asked.

“That I do not know,” Enjolras said, stifling a yawn. “He slept on the couch last night.”

There was a moment of silence before Courfeyrac asked, sounding confused, “But...how?”

“Well, see, he lay down on the couch and closed his eyes and—”

“Hardy-har,” Courfeyrac said dryly. “I mean, how exactly did you two manage to stay up all night bumping uglies like rabbits with him sleeping on the couch?”

“Bumping uglies?” Combeferre repeated incredulously, while Enjolras rolled his eyes and answered shortly, “We didn’t.”

There was another moment of silence at that. “You didn’t?” Combeferre repeated.

“No,” Enjolras said. “We’re taking a step back, trying to figure this whole thing out without relying on sex.”

“Oh.” There was a world of disappointment in the way Courfeyrac said that simple word, and Enjolras sighed, already bracing himself for the lecture. Luckily or not, Courfeyrac changed tacks, sounding smug instead as he added, “Well, sorry your quarantine’s not going as well as my social distancing is.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What makes you say that?” he asked warily.

“Well, unlike you, I’m actually getting some, so…”

Enjolras raised both eyebrows at that – not because Courfeyrac getting laid was even remotely surprising, but more because Courfeyrac sounded like there was something more going on there. “Do I even want to know from who?”

“It’s from whom,” Courfeyrac corrected, still sounding unbearably smug, “and actually—”

“We’ll call you later,” Combeferre interrupted, hanging up the phone before either Enjolras or Courfeyrac could say anything else.

For a moment, Enjolras just stared at his phone, wondering if he should call them back and deciding against it. Instead, he stood and stretched, running a hand through his curls once again before making his way into the living room. To no one’s surprise, Grantaire was still asleep, snoring like a freight train, his mouth hanging half-open. 

Enjolras half-smiled at the sight, his smile turning appreciative as he noticed that Grantaire’s shirt was partially rucked up from sleep, and he tore his eyes away from the muscles he could see moving under Grantaire’s skin as he breathed, heading instead into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

But by the time the pot of coffee had finished brewing, Grantaire hadn’t so much as stirred, and even though Enjolras was normally in a better mood with some caffeine in him, he instead felt his amusement souring into something like irritation as he sipped his coffee, watching Grantaire sleep.

He decided to take matters into his own hands, nudging the couch with his foot. “Grantaire,” he said, and when Grantaire didn’t move, he kicked the couch a little harder. “Grantaire!” Grantaire groaned and shifted, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Good morning,” Enjolras said pointedly. “Are you going to get up at some point?”

Grantaire cracked one eye open. “Trial run,” he muttered, and Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

Grantaire opened both eyes and yawned so wide his jaw cracked. “This is supposed to be a trial run for what a relationship would really be like,” he reminded Enjolras.

“Yes,” Enjolras said, slightly impatiently. “Hence why I’m awake and ready to get to work, on my couch, where I usually get things done.”

Grantaire yawned again. “And hence why I’m going back to bed,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and burrowing back against the couch cushions. “There’s another five hours before I’m normally awake.”

Enjolras glared at him, exasperation flaring in his chest. But he took a moment – and a deep breath – to tamp it down. “Then how about you at least go sleep in my bed so that I can get some work done?” he suggested instead, only a hint of irritation in his voice.

Grantaire opened his eyes again. “Deal,” he said sleepily, getting to his feet and kissing Enjolras’s cheek before slumping into Enjolras’s bedroom.

Enjolras’s irritation all but disappeared at that, and as he sat down to settle into his work, it was with a small smile on his face. A smile that was long gone by the time his stomach growled to remind him it was time for lunch, while Grantaire had yet to emerge from the bedroom. He glanced at the time on his phone and scowled, glaring in the direction of his bedroom and tempted to go wake Grantaire just to ask him if this was really how he intended to spend his entire day.

He was saved from doing that or something equally stupid by a knock on his door, and he stood instead to go answer it. He was surprised to see Joly standing there, a canvas tote bag filled with art supplies in hand, though it was less of a surprise to see that Joly was fully decked out in a respiratory mask and wearing a face shield, both of which he had undoubtedly swiped from work.

“I thought there was a PPE shortage,” Enjolras said mildly.

It was hard to tell what face Joly made at that, but his reply was good-natured. “Luckily, the hospital I work at got an infusion of supplies from a local manufacturer, so we’re actually pretty well stocked for the moment.” He held out the tote bag for Enjolras, revealing for the first time that he was also wearing latex gloves. “Delivery for Grantaire. He texted me last night to see if I could bring him some supplies.”

“And you agreed?” Enjolras asked, mostly joking.

Joly laughed, though the sound was muffled through his mask. “Actually, he texted Bossuet, but Bossuet and I both agreed that he shouldn’t risk it, given, y’know—”

“How bad his luck is?” Enjolras finished for him. “I sure do.” He reached out and took the tote bag. “Thanks, I’ll be sure Grantaire gets this.”

“Speaking of Grantaire, where is he?” Joly asked.

Enjolras sighed. “Still asleep,” he reported, trying not to sound as irritated by that fact as he felt.

He could only tell that Joly had smiled at that by the tone of his voice as he said, “And let me guess, it’s driving you crazy.”

Enjolras jerked a shrug. “It’s not my day that he’s wasting,” he said, entirely unconvincingly.

And sure enough, Joly didn’t even remotely sound like he believed him. “Well, at least it’s not forever,” he told Enjolras bracingly.

Enjolras hesitated. “Well, that’s kind of the thing – we’re trying to see if it could be,” he muttered.

Joly stared at him, and Enjolras shifted uncomfortably, realizing for the first time that if Grantaire hadn’t told Joly about their trial run, it was probably for a reason. “What do you mean?” Joly asked.

“I mean…” Enjolras sighed, wondering what he could tell Joly that wouldn’t make Grantaire murder him. “We, uh, we slept together. And realized we have feelings for each other. So we’re...I don’t know, we’re using this quarantine as a trial run of sorts.”

“And you’re sure that’s a good idea?” Joly asked, all traces of amusement gone from his tone.

Enjolras shrugged again. “As good an idea as any, I guess,” he said with a weak chuckle, on that Joly didn’t return. Enjolras’s smile faded. “What?” he asked Joly, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt.

“Just—” Joly broke off, looking unusually grim, even in just the small bit of his expression that Enjolras could see. “Look, this may be a trial run for you, but it’s not for Grantaire.”

Enjolras blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, at the end of a trial run, you can normally return something if it didn’t work out. And there’s not a return policy on someone’s heart.”

The metaphor would have been more expected from Jehan, and Enjolras stared at Joly, waiting for him to say something that made sense. “What are you saying?” he asked, when it became clear that Joly wasn’t going to.

Joly sighed. “I’m saying…” He trailed off, clearly looking for the right words. “I’m saying, you break it, you buy it.”

“Is there a reason you’re talking in retail terms?” Enjolras asked sourly, not waiting for a reply before adding, “Besides, what makes you think I’m going to break it?”

Joly met his glare evenly. “What makes you think you won’t?” Enjolras had no answer for that, and Joly sighed again, glancing down at his watch. “I have to get back to the hospital. Tell Grantaire to call me, ok?”

Enjolras nodded, watching as Joly retreated from his door, and when he had disappeared down the stairs, Enjolras closed the door, looking down at the bag of supplies Joly had brought, his expression troubled.

He had no intention of breaking anyone’s heart, much less Grantaire’s.

But he had a bad feeling, as he crossed back to the couch and realized that there was still no indication of Grantaire waking up anytime soon, that at the end of this whole quarantine, his intentions might not make that much of a difference.

[ohheyiknowthatguy]

HERE’S MY REACTION TO LES MIS 2012 AKA ME WATCHING IT FOR THE SECOND TIME!!! DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT!!

“My life was a war that could never be won, they gave me a number and they murdered valjean” poetic cinema

For someone dying of consumption fantine can belt pretty good

imagine ur dying at the hospital and the these mfs start swashbuckling in front of ur bed that’s basically what the confrontation is

jean I love you but you should NOT be kissing someone with tuberculosis

Love how Jean Valjean can pick up a heavy ass wagon without breaking a sweat but he grunts when he picks up little Cosette

Russell Crowe has such a nice voice 🥺🥺

The transition from Stars to Paris/Look Down?? legendary

How do you do? My name’s Gavroche!

Me: oh hi....

Gavroche: what the hell!

Me: omg... 🤭

Gavroche’s friends: wait!

Gavroche, fuckin cruisin on the back of a carriage: perish

HOW COURFEYRAC PICKS UP GAVROCHE AND THE TRANSITION FROM GAVROCHE SINGING TO EVERYONE SINGING??? LEGENDARY

Me, an American: omg.. Vive la France...

Enjolras is DONE WITH MARIUS he is FED UP

Marius: h-

Enjolras: no!! uh uh!! Bitch!!!

I NEVER NOTICED GRANTAIRE PROMPTS HIM ON HE’S LIKE “red!” WITH A LITTLE SMIRK OMG AND THEN EVERYONE JOINS IN And hes so CLEARLY MAKING FUN OF MARIUS BUT MARIUS IS JUST :) IM LOVE THIS MOVIE

GAVROCHE’S LITTLE FIST PUMP..

Sorry for shitty camerawork 😔

In my life time... angels

IMAGINE IF MARIUS HEARD EPONINE

Eponine: every word he says is a dagger in me

Marius, stupid: huh??? And I oop...

Eponine and Marius: share a tender little duet

Marius, moving on: a heeaaaart full of looove

Marius and Cosette: Not a dream after all!

Valjean: Cosette!

Cosette:

Uh oh one day more time

GAVROCHE’S LITTLE ‘yeah!’ WHEN MARIUS SAYS ‘my place is here, I fight with you!’ IM WEEPING

Do you hear the people sing time

ENJOLRAS RUNNING OUT AND EVERYONE ELSE LIKE “ah shit time to go!!”

THEY’RE CLIMBING OH JEEZ

Javert went 😳 >:(

OH SHIT BARRICADE TIME OH GOD PH FUCK

JAVERT HELPED COURFEYRAC UP?? WHAT

oh everyone’s throwing their furniture out to help the barricade!!!!

MARIUS TELLING GRANTAIRE TO GET OFF HIS ASS WHDJDJD

Joly’s just stealing a table!

oh javert is evil he’s plotting that’s why he helped him up

GRANTAIRE JUST KISSED A LADY, STOOD HER UP AND THEN STOLE HER CHAIR I

where did javert get the patch??

god the music here is so pretty GOD THIS PART IS SO PRETTY

Gavroche’s time to shine baby fuck u javert

LIAR

gavroche: inspector

everyone: OH SHIT

GAVROCHE HAS A GUN HE’S LIKE 10

MARIUS JUST HIT A SOLDIER IN THE FACE WITH A TORCH

Eponine’s gonna die tho that’s sad as hell

marius: hushabye, dear Eponine

Me: FUCK

Marius hits notes though

Their LAST DUET FUCK FUFKD CUCK

HIS LITTLE “grow.” FUCK MAN

GAVROCHEBIS CRUNG FUCK I HATE THIS SCENE

Gavroche is just chilling in a box I love that

Marius: gavroche, will you do something for me?

Gavroche: anything! Without you, I’d have bitten the dust!

Me: and I oop... we love foreshadowing

Valjean: stay away from there (the barricade)

Gavroche NO ONE WANTS YOU TO GET HURT STOP!!!

Valjean reading Marius’ love letter: lol wut

OH MY GOD “he’s gonna take my cosette away :,( but... he could die tonight! Lightbulb!” VALJEAN NO

Valjean: give me the spy javert let me take care of him

Gavroche: ok lol here’s a gun

Enjolras: also here’s another gun

“You are wrong and always have been wrong” BAHAHAH SUCK IT JAVERT

Enjolras: marius, rest.

My last braincell: 🥺🥺🥺

oh of course Grantaire is singing drink with me

IM SO MEAN TO HIM

but this song.... all my uwus

Gavroche joining in.... mwah

Everyone looks so disheveled I 🥺

It’s honestly such a powerful image everyone sitting there drinking together like wow... the flavor...

Everyone harmonizing in the back of Marius singing about cosette... total 180° from them making fun of him earlier... masterpiece

Valjean going from wanting to get rid of Marius to praying he makes it home ok?? The development!!

The Les Amis listening to this old man belt in Bring Him Home:

👁👄👁

Valjean: if I die, let me die!

Me, knowing it’s foreshadowing again: aw shit

Gavroche singin do you hear the people sing 🥺🥺

EVERYONE ACREAMING FOR GAVROCHE TO COME BAKC IM IN TEARS “you dirty bastard!” COURFEYRAC COMING TO GET HIM HES CRYING THIS IS HORRIBLE

The soldier singing after he shoots gavroche... nice voice for a BABY KILLER

THE GUY HUGGING COURFEYRAC 🥺🥺🥺

BRO THE NOTES ENJOLRAS HITS...

Soldier: cannons!

The Les Amis: c-c-c-cannons????

Ok but the music in the final battle... fucking SUPERB!! FANTASTIC!!

OH NO EVERYONES BANGING ON DOORS AND NO ONES LETTING THEM IN EVERYONES CARRYING THE WOUNDED THIS IS THE WORST MOVIE EVER

MARIUS GOT SHOT OH GOD

OH NO THEY WERE ALL HUDDLED AND THEN THE SOLDIERS SHOT THROUGH THE FLOOR OH GOD PH GOD

OH NO GRANTAIRE RUN RUJ MAN RUN THE MUSIC ENJOLRAS GOT SHOT HES HANGING IUT RHE WINDOW IM GONNA CRY IM FONNA CRY FUCK

ALL THE BODIES ARE LINED UP

JAVERT GAVE GAVROCHE HIS MEDAL IM GONNA SOB BRO

so basically I’m gonna die tonight from dehydration from crying

Bro Thenardier stole Marius’ ring....

“I saved you!” Headass did not

So I’d be sad but Hugh Jackman is wading through shit so...

JAVERT STANDING THERE THATS SO OMINOUS

“Look down, Javert!” BDE PURE BDE

“One more step and you die.” AND HE KEEPS WALKING

Javert: I’m tough as hell! Nothing in this world will stop me from hunting Valjean!

Valjean: shows him pity

Javert:

shall his crimes be repRIEEEEEEEEEVED

bro he sings to the tune of valjean’s soliloquy...wow

BRO STARS IS PLAYING IN THE BACK

turning is so fuckin sad I’m :,((

OH NO EMPTY CHAIRS AT EMPTY TABLES TIME

How the music slowly fades in... wow

HES CRYING OHBNO

he can hit notes though... wow... the flavor

OH MY FRIENDS MY FRIENDS DONT ASK ME WHAT YOUR SACRIFICE WAS FOR

THIS IS SO FUCKING SAD

bro dude is TRAUMATIZED he’s just starin blankly at the floor

A HEART FULL OF LOVE REPRISE TIME

THERE HE IS HES SINGIN GOOD JOB BABY

aw man instead of Eponine singin it’s valjean... poetic cinema

Marius: thank u so much!!! :))

Valjean: :/

WHO AM I REPRISE

instead of “who am I? Jean Valjean.” It’s “who am I?” “You’re Jean Valjean.” POETIC CINEMA!!!

Eddie Redmayne’s eyes are so pretty though..

suddenly reprise.. uh oh jean isn’t looking so hot

WEDDING TIME THEY LOOK SO GOOD

THEY’RE DANCING!!!

“Go away, Thenardier!” HE LIKE SPITS IT WOW SASS TIME “do you think I don’t know who you are?”

“I was there, never fear. I even found me this fine souvenir!” “I know this. This is mine!” HAKDHSJXBD

MARIUS JUST DECKED HIM BAHAHAHAH

Oh no epilogue time

bring him home reprise time..

Wow you couldn’t have even give hallucination fantine her hair back

Dam cosette can RUN in those heels

Ok this is all I can fit here for now! Thank you for reading all this if you made it to the end! Mwah I’ll fit the rest in another post!

[readyourimgaines]

Chapter Two: One Step at a Time

Another shout out to @thatbarricade for continuing to Beta Read and help with hcs and such to be added in as I go. -Freddie

Combeferre knocked on the door of Enjolras’ parents. A blonde woman opened it; the three young men could see where Enjolras got his looks from.

“I’m not buying anything.” She went to close the door but Courfeyrac caught the handle and held it open.

“Good, ‘cause we’re not selling anything,” Grantaire said. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“What?” The woman’s eyes widened.

“Ma’am, we’re friends of your son, Julien. We came to get the rest of his things. I’m sure you don’t care too much, but he’s safe and cared for.” Ferre explained.

“I’m Combeferre, this is Courfeyrac and Grantaire.”

“He’s alright?” The woman covered her mouth with her hand.

“Perfectly. He’s staying with me and my boyfriend.” Ferre nodded. “We won’t be here long, don’t worry.” Ferre lead the other two into the house and up the stairs, Enjolras’ mother running after them.

“I’ll help you pack his things.” She pointed them in the direction of her son’s room.

“Why?” R questioned. “You didn’t stop anything that happened last night.”

The woman didn’t have an answer for that. She wasn’t about to admit to these strange young men that she was often intimidated by her husband and that she adored her son’s bravery to stand up to him and for what he believed in.

“He’s still my son.” She settled with after a moment. “No matter who he loves.”

R looked at the woman and shook his head, going to help Courf pack Enjolras’ books while Ferre packed his clothes into a duffle bag and suitcase he found in the closet.

Mrs. Enjolras left the room for a few seconds to get a box in which she put picture frames and little knick-knacks he had kept around the room.

“Woah. Who’s that?” R motioned to a picture of a young person with dark hair that reached their chin. Ferre looked over R’s shoulder and chuckled.

“Our friend Jehan. Enj took a photography class last year and Jehan modelled for him.”

“Is Jehan a girl or a guy?” R had to ask.

“They’re non-binary, actually. I don’t know what their sex is… Enj might. He’s known them longer than I have.”

“Books are set,” Courf said simply. He picked up the box.

“I’m gonna run these to R’s truck.” Grantaire followed behind him.

Mrs. Enjolras took down three little cloth flags held to the wall with push-pins. One was an American flag, which she assumed he got at a Fourth of July parade; another was rainbow, the last was striped yellow, white, purple, and black.

“What are these flags?” she asked.

“The rainbow one is the gay pride flag and the other one’s nonbinary pride for Jehan,” Ferre stated. He closed the last dresser drawer and looked at the woman.

“We live at 229 White Street. You can come to see him if you want to, but if your husband comes and tries to touch him… We’ve got friends that don’t want to see someone else fall subject to a hate crime.” Ferre paused. “If he wasn’t 17, I’d call the cops and report your husband, Mrs. Enjolras. Wait at least a week if you decide to come. He’s still calming down from everything.”

“Thank you. For what you’re doing.”

“It’s nothing an older brother wouldn’t do.” Ferre slug the duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up the suitcase.“I hope to see you soon, Mrs. Enjolras.” He took the box from her hands and headed out to the truck where the other two were waiting.

Once she heard the front door close, she sat on her son’s old bed, picked up one of his pillows, and breathed in the faint scent of her son’s shampoo as she cried.

*****

Enjolras sat on his new bed in Ferre and Courf’s rented house with his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back and forth, trying to even his breathing. He still couldn’t breathe properly. The front door opened, closed, and his breathing only got worse.

“Enj?” Courf called.

Enjolras took deep breaths through his nose and exhaled through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down, but it only had the reverse effect.

“Julien?” Ferre tried. He walked to Enjolras’ new room and could hear the laboured breathing through the door. He opened the door just enough for him to get through and closed it behind him, going straight to the bed. He sat next to Enjolras and took one of his clammy hands, pressing it to his own heart.

“You’ve got to follow my breathing, alright? In and out. Slow and easy. In for four seconds, hold for seven, and release over eight.” Ferre explained gently, his voice was just loud enough to be heard over the younger’s fast, panicked breathing.

It took a few tries, but Enjolras was able to match his best friend’s breathing and slowly the dizziness went away, although the light-headedness lingered. He wanted to stop the panic attack before they got home so he wasn’t adding to the worry that he knew Ferre was already going through.

Combeferre pulled Enjolras into a hug as his breathing finished levelling out. “You’re alright. We got your stuff from your parents and you can arrange the room how you want. Courfeyrac and Grantaire are working on lunch so there’ll be food in a little bit.”

Enjolras nodded, even though most of the information was more or less passing through one ear and right out the other without really being helpful. Ferre figured this was the case and just squeezed his little brother a bit tighter and pressed a kiss to hair, a hand rubbing his back lightly.

“Panic attacks are hell; I know.” Ferre continued to rub Enjolras’ back.

“How about we ask R to spend the night see about a movie night? You haven’t seen The Two Towers until you’ve seen it with ‘Taire, and he’s doing his Treebeard impression along with the movie.” That got a chuckle from the blonde, and Combeferre grinned.

*****

“Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me.” Grantaire’s voice was two octaves deeper than normal, and Enjolras found himself wondering how it didn’t hurt his vocal cords.

“They come with fire! They come with axes! Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers, curse them!”

Enjolras could no longer hold in his laughter as it bubbled up from his throat. The sound made Grantaire and Ferre grin at each other. Courf was half paying attention and was on his phone. R had tried to snatch it on a few occasions but had yet to be successful.

“How many times have you seen this movie?” Enjolras asked, still laughing.

“Too many,” Courf groaned. “In high school, every sleepover, every birthday party, we watched this. Rarely one of the other two. Just The Two Towers.”

“You also don’t want to know how many times I’ve read the books.” Grantaire chuckled.

“By the way, if none of you know what to get me for my birthday I’ve read my giant anthology to death, so a new copy would be greatly appreciated.”

“I hardly ever watched these. I was only allowed to at Jehan’s,” Enjolras admitted. So that explained why his eyes were glued to the TV.

“Your parents didn’t let you watch them?” Courf’s voice was flooded with confusion.

“No. My parents are devout Roman Catholics. They filtered what I watched and read more closer than Russia. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, those books about the kids that find the magical land in the clo-”

“The Chronicles of Narnia?” Grantaire stopped Enjolras short. “Your parents didn’t let your watch or read The Chronicles of Narnia?”

“No.”

“And I thought my parents were fucked up.” R stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen to get more soda for the group.

“Oh, yours are,” Ferre laughed. “Yours were too lenient.”

“What are you talking about? I learned a lot on their unlocked computer,” he laughed. “I shouldn’t be laughing about this. Enjolras, I'm a deeply troubled man.”

“It’s the demon possessing you and making you gay.” Enjolras waved a dismissive hand and got a laugh from each of the three men.

“Oh! Ferre, I was texting Jehan earlier and they said they’ll help me look for work.”

“Shit. You’re looking for a job?” Grantaire asked when he came back into the room, handing each of his friends a can of soda.

“I got a place. Hold on.“ He dug his hand into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone; his fingers became a blur, and Enjolras wondered how anyone could form a coherent sentence typing that fast.

“Where?” Ferre furrowed his brow.

“I don’t wanna jinx it. Just gimme a sec.” It was closer to a minute, but R’s phone eventually went off.

“You’re 18 next month, right?”

“Yeah…” Enjolras looked between Ferre and Grantaire.

“Worked. You know where the Café Musain is?” Grantaire asked.

“No.”

“I’ll show you tomorrow. You’ve got a job as a barista. Pick a shift and you’re good. Noon to five, one to six, or three to eight.”

“One to six, I guess?” Enjolras was just as confused as Ferre and Courf were.

“How did you pull this?” Courf asked for the rest of them.

“So, I’ve got this friend- Eponine- and she works there, but is also really good friends with the owners so she’s more or less in charge of hiring people. Told her Enj was looking for a job, they’ve been trying to replace a guy that left for the summer, and here we are.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re gonna love the place. The atmosphere is amazing, the workers are nice. It’s technically on the college compass so it’s really fucking diverse. You should take your friend Jehan some time.”

“I’ll talk to them about it after my shift tomorrow.”

“I still can’t believe that you haven’t seen the Chronicles.” Courf shifted and leaned against Ferre.

“We should start tomorrow with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I don’t work till three, so…”

“I’m starting at one, apparently,” Enjolras reminded.

“So we watch the first two movies then R can get you to work!” Courf clapped his hands together, clearly not take no for an answer.

*****

“It’s 20 to eleven. Nothing’s going to be open.” Enjolras adjusted how he was sitting.

“There’s Walmart like five miles away.”

“Oh dear god.” Ferre leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.

“There’s no way I’m going to Walmart. For one thing, it’s a soul-sucking, sold out corporation. Second of all, the workers are extremely underpaid for how much they work; I’ve read they hardly even get holiday bonuses.

“That’s not even touching on the lack of hygiene in the entire store- sealed food included. Jehan bought a bag of rice from there once. There were ants in the bag, and the-the ignoramuses wouldn’t let them return it. I mean, you can’t even be angry at the workers because people in polos are just working for soulless idiots in suits.”

Grantaire blinked. “Well shit. Fine.” He put on the turn indicator and pulled up to a drive-through. He rattled off his, Ferre’s, and Courf’s usual orders with a pout and let Enj say his before driving to the pick-up window. Courf sat in the back seat of the truck next to Enj and was trying not to laugh at the annoyed look on Ferre’s face and the slightly proud look Enjolras wore.

“So you’re okay with Dairy Queen but won’t set foot in a Walmart?”

“I have...fewer problems with Dairy Queen, yes.”

“Noted.” Grantaire nodded. Ferre leaned over, hid his mouth behind his hand.

“Never mention StarBucks,” Ferre whispered in R’s ear. The darker-haired young man just laughed.

When the Dairy Queen worker appeared in the window with their order, R handed her his debit card. Once everything was paid for, he handed the ice creams out.

“I can pay you ba-”

“Don’t even worry about it.” R pulled back onto the street, his Blizzard in the cupholder. “I wanted ice cream, my treat.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Courf fell asleep half an hour into The Return of the King and Grantaire wasn’t far behind. Enjolras and Combeferre were still awake when Pippin took the palantír from a sleeping Gandalf.

“How are you holding up, Enj?” Ferre’s question was whispered so he wouldn’t wake the other two.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It might help.”

“Maybe. I just-just I don’t know. I mean...it was the family game night they push every Friday and...and Rene was losing and said it was ‘gay.’ I told him he shouldn’t use the word like that because some people find offensive.

“He said there wasn’t anyone in the house that should be offended by it and I was dumb enough to say I was. I was so tired of hearing him say things were gay, or faggy, and it just went on and on and I couldn’t listen to it anymore. So he knocked me out of my chair, punched me, and said I had ten minutes to leave the house.”

Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He just stared at Enjolras and the younger shifted, uneasy under his gaze. “I know there’s not much to say, but I do want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go or who else to call and this isn’t your job. I shouldn’t have put this much pressure on you and Courfeyrac. I’m sorry.” He quickly wiped his eyes as he felt tears forming again.

“And I should stop crying. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much.”

Combeferre hugged Enjolras, more or less pulling the blonde to sit in his lap. “I know I speak for both Courfeyrac and me when I say that you aren’t a burden, stress, pressure, whatever you want to call it. I care about you, Courf already does. Hell, even Grantaire likes you and he’s the most cynical person I’ve ever met, so that’s saying something.

“I promise you’re safe and welcomed here. And you didn’t even have to ask me before you invite Jehan over.” That brought a giggle from Enjolras. “You’re safe here, and I’ll keep reminding you as often as I have to for it to get through this thick skull of yours.”

Combeferre ruffled Enjolras’s hair again and pressed a kiss to the top of the blonde locks. “Get some sleep, my friend. Things are going to be just fine.”

[williamvapespeare]

Les Mis Tour THOUGHTS

(This is in no way an intelligent or coherent “review,” it’s just my exhausted brain thoughts after seeing the tour tonight. Also, a lot of the staging stuff is basically the same as the last tour.)

It pains me to begin this recount by sharing the heartbreaking news that Killian Donnelly was not there tonight. Zac Hamilton was on as Valjean and while he was INCREDIBLE, he did not give me the same experience of literally transcending the mortal plane of existence caused by even a single moment of Killian’s voice.

Zac Hamilton was really good, his voice was incredibly powerful and he KILLED the role! (But like, I was sad I didn’t get to see Killian - don’t want to be a dick about understudies though because this guy was still great!!)

Will Richardson was AMAZING as Enjolras. He was strikingly beautiful and serious and poignant. I would die for him.

Ruben Van Keer was a sweetheart. His Grantaire was very drunk, VERY SAD, and sillier than he was cynical (at least in Red&Black and in the “and so the war is won,” etc lines). His relationship with Gavroche was incredibly sweet, they hugged for like the entire end of A Little Fall of Rain, Gavroche hugged Grantaire after drink with me while he like sobbed against the wall it was, as the kids say, the Good stuff.

Marius (Harry Apps) was excellent and awkward and really talented (especially as it’s his professional debut and he’s a BABY). Empty Chairs at Empty Tables was BEAUTIFULLY staged. In Turning all the women came out with little candles which they put on the floor and when Les Amis came out to stand behind Marius while they were singing, they all picked them up and blew them out before they walked away. It was SAD.

Nic Greenshields was really good as Javert. I’d only seen him in Young Frankenstein before this. For the first act I was a bit underwhelmed? Like, he was killing it and is a great singer but he just was slightly unbelievable being overpowered by Valjean given that he’s really swole and TALL. He was also kind of bumbling rather than the like, really rigid/stiff (idk how to say it and sound smart: the “i have no idea what’s going on and am clinging to any sort of structure i can, moral and otherwise”) Javert mood?? But his act two was beautiful and his suicide was actually flawless. So overall he was amazing.

Thenardier KILLED IT every time he was on stage he was incredible. He had perfect comedic timing (one of my favorite moments was when he was backing up from Javert after “in the absence of a victim, dear inspector, may i go...”, he bumped into someone who was still on his hands and knees - I THINK Babet - and then just sat ON him and crossed his legs to wait). Master of the House was AMAZING, Dog eat Dog was AMAZING. Every time he was there, he blew me away. YES THENARDIER!!

Fantine (Katie Hall) was BEAUTIFUL and a beautiful singer and a beautiful person. It was a different Fantine than i’d seen before, but a really nice one. I was just so captivated by her voice, espeically in her death. like wow.

Honestly, Cosette didn’t impress me that much, but after Amara who can? She was good and could sing.

Here is a random collection of moments:

There was some nice Enjolras/Grantaire interaction (even obvs though no Drink with Me hug - OK WEST END).

Enjolras took his bottle away at “dont let the wine go to your brains,” Grantaire mimicked Enjolras from his seat for a whlie after that and then pulled out another bottle and Combeferre was annoyed.

Everyone tossed Grantaire’s bottle around to keep it away from him after “better than an opera” Enjolras caught it and Grantaire just stepped away from him.

After the Drink With Me solo Enjolras took Grantaire by the shoulders, pulled him in and whispered something in his ear.

Grantaire’s death was VERY sad because he had his moment with Enjolras, started running towards the barricade and then got knocked down and only got up again at the very end and didn’t make it up the barricade before he IMMEDIATELY got shot.

Marius ran up the staris away from Enjolras before he started the “had you been there tonight you might know how it feels” part

Grantaire fixed Marius’s bowtie before they left for Do you Hear the People Sing

Grantaire GRABBED Marius’s crotch at “ooh and ahh”

A Heart Full of Love felt very Romeo and Juliet balcony scene because...Cosette first came out onto her balcony.

VALJEAN AND THE BISHOP HUGGED when the ensemble came back for the Finale and it was the sweetest and most touching hug and a GREAT touch.

[shellcollector]

What Is Your Dream AU, also Tell Me A Headcanon (and who do you wish would write it) ?:D

Oh god you had to ask the HARDEST TWO QUESTIONS okay. I can do this. Also: this is long, I did warn you.

Dream AU: the difficulty I have here is that there are so many AUs that are dear to my heart and which I think about Often, for instance I still sometimes think about the Borrowers AU that a bunch of us dreamed up in which Valjean, Marius and the Amis are all Borrowers and Enjolras is a Very Brave Tiny Man with a needle sword.

Or there’s the AU that Elliot and I still talk about where Marius is a cat and Valjean is a dog but everything else is the same, which started as a joke but then swiftly became heartbreaking because in fact the last chapters make even MORE sense emotionally in this AU and Cosette finally finding her poor old dog in the building where they used to live after he ran away because she got a cat and he took it personally.... and he’s too weak to get up and run to her but his tail thumps on the floor when he sees her... help I’m going to stop before I cry.

But I guess maybe more in the spirit of this questionmeme are the AUs I’m going to keep occasionally requesting in fic exchanges in the hope that I win the exchange lottery and get matched with the like 1 or 2 people in the whole world who would even consider them, namely:a) Les Amis are radical disabled activists in the DAN era, pulling a bunch of stunts like chaining wheelchairs to buses. Mainly I heard a few of the original DAN members speaking on a podcast and I loved their entire approach, it’s the kind of joyful boisterousness meets savvy calculation that I’m heavily Into politicswise.

b) the Technically Is This Even An AU (yes shell it is) crossover with The Mill in which... I dunno, in my mind one of the English speakers, probably Combeferre would make most sense here tbh, has various correspondents and one of them happens to be a Manchester cotton mill engineer and trade unionist, and they become more and more friendly and SOMEHOW everyone ends up on a visit to England and also it’s discovered that Feuilly and Esther Price are distant cousins and it’s Good because they are both kids who lost a family and then made their own. Also they all end up in the GRITS together so there’s a nice reunion coda for you. Then of course there is the REAL star AU, namely the Actual Modern AU in which they’re all anti-authoritarian communists and their activities reflect the reality of organising today, and they distribute bananas and bustcards at demos, and babysit kids because Care Is Radical, and do a bunch of other Actual Political Work, and they Still somehow get into a confusion about who’s taking minutes at the meeting.

The problem with this AU is that I can’t even request it bc to research it a person needs to like, Seek Out Their Local Leftist Group Meeting, Not The SWP By The Way Steer Clear Of Them, and while I wish fervently that this were the kind of research that people were willing to do for fic (and then maybe they would... you know... end up staying for the ride) it doesn’t seem to be, alas and alack.

Headcanon? Oh hmm. This one’s hard! I have a bunch of headcanons which I will personally always write but I don’t think that counts. Also I feel kind of weird about Naming People I want to write stuff - it’s awkward! It feels demanding! What if they don’t want to! What if they Did want to and I named someone else and they think I don’t want Them to but that’s not the case I was just picking one name out of the many eligible contenders! And then also: I say ‘I have a bunch of headcanons’, but what in truth is a headcanon, what qualifies as such, how shall we break this down, et cetera. Okay well one firm belief of mine which I know you share & which is certainly a headcanon, on the grounds that there is nothing in the text requiring this over another interpretation, so I certainly don’t think people writing otherwise are Wrong it’s just Not How I Tend To Read It, is that Joly’s maladies are not entirely imaginary, it’s just that the state of medicine in his era doesn’t allow him to fully understand them. They’re probably quite minor! I would find it upsetting if he did actually have some fatal ailment, even if circumstances would have rendered that moot regardless. Also I don’t think he is Frightened of them so much as... I dunno, I have experienced this kind of anxiety, it’s where you have to keep Poking at a thing and trying to get it to go away one way or the other, and you end up having a worse time than if you hadn’t Poked at it but then again you were at least Doing Something, which feels better than doing nothing. Anyway I am going to nominate @marschallin to write this just bc I am thrilled that there is another canon era medicine fiend in the world and I love it when she writes about this stuff.

[findafight]

I saw les mis last night in the broadway across Canada tour and here are some highlights:

The transition between the prison and Valjean being free was so good and everyone just sort of faded away until it was VJ and Javert and then J turned and walked away so VJ was alone and literally gasped

Honestly the tech for this show was so on point all the time fuCk

Bishop’s forgiveness happened in the street outside the church in nightdress and Valjean was kneeling and the bishop pushed him down so he bent forward to touch his head the ground during the blessing and I liked that firmness right before “I bought your soul for god”

Fantine hit the low notes like a bOSS and me and my friends were gay about it

Blocking for Fantine being fired was ON FIRE

everyone held notes for so long like in Confrontation Javert holds “you’ll wear a different chain” for so long Valjean sings over it and you don’t realize he was still singing until he stopped

Lovely ladies sang the “come on captain *did* you wear your shoes/don’t it make a change to have a girl who can’t refuse” bits of the song AFTER he slept with fantine and I really dug that

During conformation Javert whipped out a freaking CHAIN and hit Valjean with it but then Valjean got it and CHOKED JAVERT OUT WITH IT

Thenadiers horrible and wonderful as always tbh

Javert just. Knocked it out of the park singing wise tbh

After Waltz of Treachery Mmd. Thenardier goes up part of the staircase set and as the screen curtain is going down M. Thenadrier hikes up her dress and puts his head under

I might be in love with Combeferre. He had like four lines and I ascended every time

The sets were really interesting I love them

Gavrouche narrated a little during Look Down and introduced some Amis and Ep and also he was adorable. His voice was higher than others I’ve heard and emphasized how young he is but also just everyone’s interactions with him like picking him up and ruffling his hair oi small child

Cafe Musain was in a basement type deal and I dug it

Grantaire being the gay disaster he is. During red and black someone passes Enjolras his wine and he made little grabby motions but Enj sent him a look and he stopped

Gavrouche and Grantaire always standing beside each other. Like. Gav going to R during the barricade and Eps death and after his verse in drink with me Gav runs to comfort R and he just breaks down before passing out in the corner. Their relationship was so good I loved it.

During the end of red and black enj stands at the top of steps and has a spot light on him as les amis gather at the bottom of the stairs (and R turns around during parts like he can bear to watch) and honestly he looked like an angel

M A R I U S

He was such a dork?? Ep had to shove him to hide behind a pillar during in my life so VJ didn’t seen him. He sang to cossette’s empty balcony during heart full of love and when she sang from behind him he breathlessly sang “dear mademoiselle” just the right amount of naive and dork without being annoying

Seriously my all time fave Marius

Combeferre was always the one with the flag

Ep and Marius are both breathless in little fall of rain and ep kisses him at the end before he sings the final “grow” and he spends a while just crying over her body

Everyone had so much personality in the performances and singing like I could go on about Marius who blew me away but everyone did I wanted to melt

R stood at centre downstage when Gav was collecting bullets and SCREAMED “NO” when he died and Enjolras passed his his body and he held him close before gently laying him down

At the start of R’s verse in Drink with me everyone is like ‘yeah it’s R!!! Good times’ and then after “fear to die” everyone immediately stands up and tries to comfort and settle him but he ain’t having it and enj zooms down the barricade and tries to settle his friends and R faces him for the last “one more lie” and ALMOST touched him but drops his hands and runs to stage right and enj reaches his hand like he wants to stop but doesn’t touch him either.

They spend a lot of time hovering near but never touching it killed me

R never went on the barricade until Enjolras fell and EVERYONE had died and he was trying to check on them then scrambled up to the middle and shouted with his fist in the air

Empty chairs at empty tables with Gav there wrecked me (Marius killed it again I love him shbdbdjsjsbfkkd)

Valjean did such a fabulous job of aging himself through the night like it wasn’t a surprise when he was sick and dying? At the barricade he was limping and even before that he wasn’t the same as newly paroled Valjean and I loved that so much

[pontmercyingtil]

(canon era ish) Courfeyrac has been losing things his whole life. Today, it was one particular item of clothing, left in a very specific spot, in his favorite location on all of Paris. “I swear, my hat was right on this very table!”

“My dear friend, you did not enter the Musain with a hat today, so you couldn’t possibly have left it here.”

“I entered without a hat?” he gasped, appalled at his own lack of style. “How could you have permitted me to do so?”

“Oddly enough, appropriate headwear is not one of Enjolras’s criteria for meeting,” his friend replies, “or else certainly Jehan would never be welcome.” Combeferre opens a small cupboard where he’d taken to storing his books, and passed Courfeyrac an old hat, the beaver fur a little faded, but functional. It has a good shape to it, and a dashing  blue ribbon wrapped around it.

Courfeyrac beams, the smile splitting his freckled face. “Why, I am touched! You went out and procured an auxiliary hat for me.”

Combferre tousles Courferyac’s hair (in that way only he can get away with) and then places the hat onto Courfeyrac’s head. “It’s your own hat, you dolt.” But then, Combeferre leans down, and kisses his cheek, softly. So softly one might have imagined it, if it wasn’t for the way Comebferre’s glasses brush against his wild curls. “I did add the ribbon though. Blue suits you.”

He watchs the studious man walk away, his stride that precise, focused gait that he’d followed from the day they’d met (well, followed the stride and a little more beside), and could not help but smile with affection. Courfeyrac had been losing things his whole life, and not the least of them was his heart.

He’d lost other things of course, but none as important as a heart; keys and buttons and books. Playing cards and trinkets from lovers, letters he’d planned on sending and never gotten around to. His apartment was a sort of chaotic waystation, where items rested in the space between lost and forgotten.

***

“I cannot seem to find my…” Courfeyrac begins, as he searches the apartment in a state of mussed half-dress, desperately racing against the clock (or rather, the theory of a clock, as they’d pawned his old pocketwatch ages ago) to be on time for a meeting at the Musain.

“Your hat is hanging up, near your coat,” Marius Pontmercy calls back, from where he sat, transcribing a document. “I put it there so you wouldn’t forget it.”

Courfeyrac smiles and claps a hand on Marius’s frail shoulder. “Excellent work, dearest roommate!”

Marius does not respond.

“What seems to be the matter Monseuir L’abbe?” he inquires, pulling up the only other chair in the room, and sitting on it backward, resting his chin on his hand.

“I miss my father,” Marius finally admits, his voice soft like a dream. “Strange, isn’t it? I only knew him from what he left behind, and yet, I cannot help but think my life would be better if I had him here, to ask his advice.”

Courfeyrac is rather glad there was no Napoleon-loving officer sitting in his already cramped apartment, but he did not say so. Instead, he nodded. “I feel that way about my mother sometimes.”

“You never mention her.”

“I suppose not.”

Yes, Courfeyrac was good at losing things, and pretending he did not miss them, once they were gone. Pretending he did not ache to hear the soft lullaby his mother used to sing him, that he did not peek around corners for the scamp of a baby sister he had once had, pretend that every cough from one of his friends did not terrify him, haunt him with memories of a room of doctors and tears that took his mother and his sister from him.

*** “Why, I’ve forgotten my hat!” Courfeyrac announces, running his hand through his hair in astonishment.

And this time, it was his duty to go and fetch it, his duty alone, because they are headed off to battle, all of them. They would go, and they would fight for liberty, for France. For all their love, their friendship, their beliefs. They would build their barricade and fire their rifles and wave their flag.

And they just might lose.

But that was all right.

Courfeyrac is good at losing things.

But better at always believing things would come back again.

[kimmyiewrites]

Until the Earth is Free ~ Chpt 5

They had found a couple of everyday dresses that fit both styles and found an evening dress as well. As they loaded the dresses into the carriage, Lizzie asked. “Do you think the shopkeep hates me?”

Marius chuckled. “No, he doesn't hate you. You are a breath of fresh air.”

Lizzie turned to look at her cousin. “He said that?”

Marius nodded. “Now into the carriage with you, grandfather is bound to be wondering where we are.”

On the ride home Lizzie explained to Marius all that had happened. He reached over and gave her a hand a reassuring squeeze. “You did the right thing, Lizzie. You deserve to be happy. After all you would wind up being the wife always gossiped about. ‘That's the crazy one. I can't believe he can't set her straight. I hear he's in denial that she has hysteria’.” He mocked, whispering in a high voice.

Lizzie laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder. “You are awful.”

“You know it would happen.” He continued to tease.

She let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah you're probably right.”

As the two were walking up the stairs to their rooms after dinner, Lizzie looked over at Marius. “You may not know the answer, but does Grantaire fancy me?”

Marius stopped in his tracks and looked up at Lizzie, who turned around when she noticed he hadn't followed her the rest of the way up. “Why do you ask?”

Lizzie shrugged. “It was just how we acted today.”

Marius climbed the last few steps and met her in the hallway. “Do you fancy him back?”

She thought about it. Did she have a fancy for anyone? A flash of red and blonde curls came across her mind's eye. With that as her answer, she shook her head. “No I don't fancy him back. He is a very dear friend though.”

Marius nodded. He knew the answer to his own question before he even asked it. He knew that the care Lizzie showed Grantaire was that of a sister caring for her brother. She was always worried about him and made sure he made it home safely. He also knew that while Grantaire thought he loved her like one would love a lover, it was just familial love. The roles seemed to have reversed after Lizzie had to move away from her mother. It was Grantaire who was always trying to get Lizzie to smile and laugh. “Then I think you should tell him how you really feel.” Marius replied.

The next day everyone gathered at the Cafe Musain. As Marius and Lizzie reached the top of the stairs that lead to the room les amis usually took over, Marius nudged Lizzie towards where Grantaire was sitting. Lizzie waved him off. “All right, all right, I’m going.” Marius walked over to where Courfeyrac and Enjolras were seated while Lizzie took a seat across from Grantaire.

“You passed on me yesterday so what about today?” Grantaire asked, motioning to the cup he had just filled with wine.

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll have one today.”

They smiled at each other as Grantaire poured her a cup. They clinked their cups together, chuckling before both of them took a hefty gulp of their drink. That was all the liquid courage she needed. Lizzie set her cup down and looked into the deep red drink a moment before looking back up at Grantaire.

“Is everything all right mam’selle?” He asked, curious as to why she was acting this way.

“Do you like me, Grantaire?” Lizzie asked, not really knowing how to start the conversation that she needed to have.

“Of course I do. I’ve always enjoyed your company even when I thought your name was Isabella.” He answered, wondering where this was going.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, do you...fancy me?”

Grantaire’s eyes widened. He had hoped she would never guess or at least have some kind of inkling until he gathered up the courage to tell her himself. Then again it felt like every time that he had talked himself up to do it Enjolras stole her away or he saw her with Enjolras, laughing or smiling. He gulped down the last of his cup and poured himself another. She wouldn’t be asking him this if she felt the same way, of that he was certain. He took another drink before looking back at her. “And if I were to say that I did?”

“I would hate to have to break your heart.” She whispered. Lizzie then reached across the table and took his hands in hers, holding them tightly. “Grantaire, I care about you deeply, I really do but I care about you in the same way I do Marius, like a brother, like family. I love spending time with you and you’re one of my dearest and most valued friend but there’s another girl out there for you that’s much better than me. Can you ever forgive me?”

He was preparing himself for a dagger when in reality it was just a sting. He got to thinking, they did very much act like how he saw her act around Marius, well it was slightly different, he liked to think she could banter more with him than with her cousin. “I forgive you, Lizzie. I get it. You can still call on me if you need anything or if you need to drink the night away.”

Relief flooded through Lizzie. She stood and hurried around the table wrapping Grantaire in a giant hug. They both began laughing since Lizzie in her hurry to express her gratitude that there was no hard feelings between them had tripped over the table leg and had more so fallen into Grantaire’s arms. “I’m so glad we can still be friends. I was so worried. Thank you.”

Grantaire gave her a slight squeeze. “Don’t you fret song bird, I’ll always have your back.”

Lizzie smiled and kissed his cheek before pulling back. She sat back down at her seat and soon the two were talking and drinking like nothing had happened.

Their small moment hadn’t gone unnoticed, however. Nearly everyone looked over when they heard Lizzie practically squeak when she tripped. When laughter had followed the sound they all went back to what they were doing, except for Marius and Enjolras.

Marius smiled, happy to know things seemed to have worked out between his cousin and friend. When he turned back to the papers he had been looking over, he noticed Enjolras still looking towards them. With a slight smirk dancing on his lips, Marius spoke up. “What’s wrong, Enjolras?”

Marius’ voice broke Enjolras out of his dreamy state. He was going over all of the reasons why he had no right to be jealous over the moment Lizzie and Grantaire had shared. Surely Lizzie didn’t fancy Grantaire back. Then again what had he shown her that he liked her more than a friend or a fellow revolutionary. Right, Marius asked a question he side tracked himself once again and brought himself back to the present. “Nothing, Marius.” He looked back down at the papers but found he couldn’t focus. “What’s going to happen now that Lizzie has eliminated Rousseau from the running?” Enjolras asked, not really thinking his newfound idea through, just going purely off of emotion.

“Grandfather’s probably going to push Raoul on her even more now. Why?” Marius was curious. Was his friend finally going to do something about his feelings for his cousin?

“Does he still go into his office?” Enjolras disregarded Marius’ question.

“He’s going to die in that office for all I know. What are you thinking?”

Enjolras nodded. He knew Monsieur Pontmercy had a law practice not too far from here and that’s why Marius was being forced to study law so that when the older man died his grandson could take over. “I’ll be right back,” was all Enjolras said before going out to the Paris streets to find Monsieur Pontmercy.

Upon arriving, Enjolras asked to speak with Monsieur Pontmercy and was lead to his office. Enjolras bowed before taking a seat across from the older man. “Good day, sir. My name is Alexandre Enjolras and I would like to court your granddaughter Lissette.”

Monsieur Pontmercy was a bit taken back. The Rousseau gentleman and Javert’s son were the only ones who had shown interest after the ball. He then recognized Enjolras as the one that Lizzie had left with near the end of the night. “It seems you already know Lissette. Did you know her previously?”

“I did monsieur but only through your grandson, Marius. I know you are wary because of where Lissette came from but I can assure that although I am not regularly seen with the higher class that I am indeed a part of it. I live on my own now after my parents passed. I dedicated my life to schooling and now I am helping my uncle with the law practice that belongs to the Enjolras’. It’s what my father would have wanted.” All of this talk made Enjolras sick to his stomach. He was doing this to help Lizzie in some odd and twisted way, he told himself as Monsieur Pontmercy thought it over.

Then it was like a light bulb went off. “Enjolras! Yes! He was a good defender. Always did my best work when I went up against your grandfather and even your father. I was so sad to hear what had happened to such a good man. You would make a good suitor for my granddaughter but it is ultimately her who decides, I just provide the suitors for her to choose from. Are you free tomorrow? I can make sure that Marius doesn’t cause her to run off.”

“Yes, I’m free tomorrow.” Enjolras nodded.

“Come to my manor at ten tomorrow morning then and we’ll have an official meeting of who you truly are and let her know of your intentions.”

“I will be there.” Enjolras agreed. He then stood and tried to walk out as casually as he could. He hoped he didn’t look like how he felt which was that he was running out of there. What had he just done?

[deadrevolutionaries]

I saw les mis at national theatre and it was so amazing omg Highlights: -the opening chords made me gasp tbh bc it was so cool to have a live orchestra. I was really high and in the back but I could still hear really well -Jean valjean was ready to fight everyone in the beginning he was so angry and then the bishop comforted him and he just SOBBED -fantine was beautiful and amazing (and also ready to fight) and 'I dreamed a dream' gave me shivers -when Jean valjean revealed himself at the court he did it by tearing his shirt open to show a brand it was kind badass -little cosette was so cute!! And her voice was great -gavroche came in and introduced us to Paris and it was amazing -he robbery was so great bc marius came in (and he looked super adorable and confused) and eponine was trying to stop him getting involved and he just stopped for a minute when he saw cosette, but then these thieves started attacking and he started to try and protect her it was really cute -also javert was asking for witnesses and marius timidly raised his hand before running off after cosette -then gavroche mocked javert it was great(he also flipped him off at the barricade) -the cafe scene was so great! Gavroche and grantaire were buddies and grantaire was SO ANGRY. And feuilly had a beautiful voice. And marius was a lovestruck puppy. -in my life/a heart full of love were absolutely adorable, I loved this marius so much! He was head over heels and totally awkward and he didn't notice cosette when he was singing 'I'm doing everything all wrong' and then she coughed and his voice went all squeaky on 'dear MadEMoISelLE!' And they were so sweet and wonderful -then eponine was really badass and marius and cosette came rushing out to see what happened when she screamed and cosette helped eponine up and there was kind of a moment of recognition there that was really cool -one day more was so great. So great. I know I'm gushing about marius and cosette but they were so good!! And then marius decided to fight with the amis and it was super emotional -on my own isn't one my favorite songs at all but eponine had an amazing voice and I got shivers when she sang 'I've only been pretending!' At the end of her song the barricade was revealed and it was her alone in front of it which was really beautiful. The whole set was beautiful -a little fall of rain was really depressing and afterwards marius just held her body and cried. Enjolras tried to comfort him but he flinched away -javert was real confused when valjean let him go quality acting -drink with me was so beautiful I almost cried, especially grantaire who ready to fight -gavroche's death was horrible and grantaire just screamed and cradled his body it was awful -the final battle broke my heart. A spotlight would shine on each amis and they would fall one after another and when javert came through after he sort of blindly climbed over them before stopping and praying at gavroche -it was so sad -idk how they did it but javerts fall into the Seine was really creepy it was like he was being pulled -empty chairs was so sad marius was limping all in black and alone and then the amis came in with candles and when he asked what their sacrifice was for, they blew them out and he turned to look but they vanished, enjolras last. The n marius blew out his own candle and raised it like a salute -the wedding was really cute and marius punched thenardier which was awesome -the finale was great, fantine and eponine came out to welcome jean valjean and sang 'to love another person is to see the face of God' and I got shivers, and then I heard the chorus singing in the background and it was so beautiful 10/10, beautiful, to die for, would cry again

[ayashiki-i-i]

The first time it happens they’re sitting in Bossuet’s cramped dorm room and Enjolras is having his hair braid by Jehan.

(This is a lie.)

They used to get together once a week in high school to talk about current events or help Enjolras and Combeferre practise for their debate club, and those two tended to blur together and Les Amis was born.

Not officially, but they don’t see reason why to stop this now that they’re in university and Enjolras and Combeferre are plotting something, Courfeyrac can always tell. They will be Les Amis soon, just not quite yet.

And Jehan always braids Enjolras’s hair. Courfeyrac knows Enjolras doesn’t like his hair touched by anyone (he cuts it short few months later when Jehan finds new victims), but it calms Jehan like nothing else so he suffers in silence.

The afternoon sun paint his freckles in gold and a curl Jehan missed is sneaking past his ching and kissing a collarbone peeking through an old, baggy t-shirt. His eyes shine with passion when talking to Combeferre, but soften in the next moment when they land on Jehan as he hands him an elastic to finish the braid over his shoulder, his entire expression melting into a sweet smile. Courfeyrac heart rate picks up and he wants to kiss him.

For the first time in his life he wants to kiss a boy.

(This is also a lie.)

Courfeyrac isn’t known to panic, but at this time, he panics.

He chokes on his apple juice, mumbls ‘’sorry’’ and runs into the bathrooms. Smooth.

So smooth, that it takes the rest of the boys all of five minutes to decide Jehan’s the best to send after Courfeyrac for emotional support.

(As if there was a different option. It’s always Jehan.)

“Are you okay?” Jehan asks as he hops on the counter next to Courfeyrac, who is attempting to drown in the sink.

“I want to kiss Enjolras,” Courfeyrac blurts in all his panic.

Luckily for him, it comes out in a garbled, choked mess as any attempt to speak through mouthful of water is wont to.

“Come again?” Jehan says, infinitely patient.

Courfeyrac spits out the water, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, feels a bit more composed. He leans on the counter next to Jehan and asks:

“Did you ever... Want to kiss a woman?”

“What?”

“I mean... Like, did you ever look at someone who’s completely not your type and suddenly sun hit them just right and you thought - well, I ​could​?”

“Oh,” Jehan’s smile is very small, but Courfeyrac is not looking at his face anyway, so it’ll do. “It’s Enjolras, isn’t it.”

Courfeyrac jerks his head up, eyes wide and mouth opening like a fish.

“How did you know? I mean... What? No!”

Jehan reaches to pat Courfeyrac’s shoulder with indulgence.

“Don’t worry. It happens to everyone.”

Courfeyrac looks at Jehan’s hand on his shoulder like he can’t quite believe it’s there, but Jehan’s warmth seeps through his shirt, drops into his stomach all sweet and comfortable. Jehan has that effect on people. Like camomile tea.

“Wait... You too?” he asks and something about that question sits wrong on his tongue. “When did that happen to you?”

“Oh, the first time we met!” Jehan says cheerfully. “I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“In love?!” Courfeyrac all but screams, because having a passing thought about kissing your best - male! - friend is one thing, but love quite another. Courfeyrac has a distinct impression that this conversation - this entire day - had run away from him a while ago.

Jehan only gives a happy little hum.

“It’s very tragic,” he says happily. “He’s so delightful to pine after! Of course, he’ll never love me back. Just as well. That, I couldn’t bear!”

Jehan laughs and hops of the counter, giving Courfeyrac’s shoulder one last pat and heading for the door. Courfeyrac follows him, confused but charmed, a well-worn feeling in Jehan’s presence.

“He’s just that type, our Enjolras. Everyone is a little bit in love with him, but you don’t want to ​actually h​ave him. Don’t worry about it my dear, poor, ​straight​friend. This type of love is quite painless, and uninvolved. You’re still ​normal.”​

And Courfeyrac might not see how Jehan doesn’t look him in the eye, or how his expression falls the moment he turns his head - he might even ignore it, now and always. But he can’t let that comment fly.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way, right?” he catches Jehan’s wrist. “That’s why I asked about you an women. ‘Cause it caught me off-guard. Not like I’m ​disgusted​ or anything. It’s just a bit... Shocking.”

“Is it?” Jehan says, looking down, and then shakes his head, smiles and gently pulls his hand out of Courfeyrac’s grasp. “Don’t worry about it, Courf.”

And so Courfeyrac doesn’t.

By the nightime, he’s almost a little bit ​proud.​He calls his sister that night to share the news. “Today I looked at a boy and I wanted to kiss him!” he says instead of greeting.

“Oh? Enjolras, right?”

“How did you know?”

“It happens to everyone. Even to my little straight brother.”

Courfeyrac laughs.

“That’s what Jehan said! Why is everyone so quick to reassure me I’m still straight? That’s not why I called!”

“Of course it isn’t,” his sister laughs and then sighs, a reaction Courfeyrac knows well from his childhood, that his sister regards all their siblings with, and often. “But just in case - take it from the proffessional; Passingly liking one boy, especially ​Enjolras​, doesn’t make you gay.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t.”

(And this is the third lie.)

“...So. When did you fall in love with Enjolras?” Courfeyrac asks.

His sister laughs, loud and unrestrained, just like Courfeyrac planned, and hangs up on him, just like he didn’t. He’s left indignantly staring at the phone.

(This is the truth: When Courfeyrac and Enjolras meet for the first time, it’s in the sandpit on a playground and they’re both seven years old. Enjolras’s hair is golden like of the princess in Courfeyrac’s grandmother’s fairytales, but his experssion is stormy and head held proudly as he stands before teary Courfeyrac and demands a much bigger boy to share the communal sand toys justly among all children instead of hoarding them for himself, and he’s just like a prince in the shining armour too. He’s perfect, and Courfeyrac falls in love right then and there. It takes just a second, barely a blink, but it takes much, much longer for Courfeyrac to realise it, to realise that love for Enjolras is the kind to last forever, and that Courfeyrac himself is the kind to fall in love once and forever. And sometimes he holds it tight and secret, and sometimes he doesn’t, and sometimes he falls in love with women and sometimes he falls in love with men, and it’s all good, because for Courfeyrac, every love is like a fairytale.)

It’s Sunday, post your vile Bossuet/Enjolras agenda

No, listen, not everyone is Grantaire, but everyone has had a moment of looking at Enjolras and going “oh shit”. This was Bossuet’s.

[cumbercookiebatchs]

ExR with 43? X ❤️

I’ve tried my best! I hope you’ll like it, and thank you so much for the prompt! <3

-------------------------

Enjolras woke up alone.

As unpleasant as it was to wake up in cold sheets and an empty bed, even more so after tumbling in said bed while in his boyfriend’s arms, Enjolras was soon able to locate the aforementioned boyfriend’s location in their apartment – their apartment –

The soft music floating through the air, the buzzing noise of their old stereo and the rich smell of amber incense revealed that Grantaire had retired to his studio – Well, not entirely his. Not yet, at least. The white, empty room was nothing like the old one, but ehy, the had moved in only a month earlier, and Grantaire was already leaving his mark inside the room, splattering paint and scribbling notes on the walls, his old desk and library due to arrive in a week or so.

They were still working to make the little apartment their own, to make it feel like a home, and just the thought of it – Their apartment, their home, their life together – had Enjolras giddy, squirming between the sheets on their bed.

 The faintest sigh escaped his lips and he rolled on his front, his face ending up in Grantaire’s pillow.

He sighed again. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand told him it was time to get up and start his day. It was Monday and, thus, his turn to go grocery shopping – Yes, they worked like that.

 On his way to the kitchen, Enjolras let his knuckles scrape lightly on the studio’s door, amused at Grantaire’s choice in music. He pressed his forehead on the door, smiling softly at Grantaire’s half- singed “Good morning”.

“Good morning. Are you really listening to Bryan Adams in there?”

The door cracked open and Grantaire’s smiling face peeked out to mock-glare at him, “There won’t be any Bryan Adams shaming in this household, young man.” Grantaire leaned in to steal a kiss, “You’re lucky I love you. I’ve lost friendships because of Bryan Adams Shaming, you know?”

Enjolras grinned, “Oh, really?”, he pecked Grantaire’s cheek, rubbing his lips on his stubble, “How lucky I am, then.”

Grantaire stepped out in the hallway, clicking the door closed behind him to lean against, “very lucky indeed.”

Enjolras flicked his nose, “You dummy, do you have time for a cup of coffee with me, before I Jump in the shower?” 

Grantaire gasped, and his hand flew to his chest. “You wound me! And here I thought you’d want me in the shower as well!”

Enjolras tilted his chin, pondering, “Maybe, if you’re good to me”.

 In the end, Enjolras showered alone, Grantaire slipping back in his studio shortly after their kiss-filled-breakfast.

Bryan Adams was still running in the background, and by the time Enjolras came out of the bathroom he had lost count of how many times he had to listen to the same song – Oh, yeah, It wasn’t the whole album, Just the same song playing on repeat-

It was still easy to shrug it off, Grantaire had his antics just as much as Enjolras had his owns.

 Grantaire had his antics, sure, but, as Enjolras opened the front door, hands full of bags filled to the brim, the same song was still playing in the studio.

Between grocery shopping and meeting up with Combeferre, the whole morning had gone away. Enjolras was a bit concerned at that point.

He disposed his shopping items and went to knock on the studio’s door, refraining from entering the room. Not that Grantaire would be angry, but more often than not it felt like intruding in such a personal progress that Enjolras tried not to step in, if Grantaire was in the middle of a painting.

“Grantaire?” he called, listening for an answer that didn’t came. “Grantaire? Have you morphed into a Bryan Adams clone yet?”

Grantaire’s head popped once again from behind the door, paint- stained and grinning widely, “not yet, but I think I’m almost there”

Enjolras huffed, “Grantaire, how are you seriously still listening to this song? I was gone for four hours!”

“It’s doing wonders for my work! You know, sets the perfect mood and all that.”

Enjolras smiled softly at him, eyes crackling, “You’re ridiculous”.

“And you’re adorable. Want to come in and see?” Grantaire moved aside, opening the door a bit more.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, my querido,” Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand, “come in”

 In the studio, the curtains were pulled tight, Grantaire acting like the most faithful of Friedrich’s students, and Enjolras still couldn’t understand how Grantaire painted so well in such little light. Bryan Adams was still singing as Grantaire guided him to stand in front of his easel.

Enjolras’s breath caught as soon as his eyes landed on the canvas , heart swelling almost painfully in his chest. Grantaire came to rest behind him, hugging his waist with his chin on Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah.”

Before them, Pont Ferret’s wild beach lived in quick strokes on the canvas, so real Enjolras could almost feel the wind on his face. He turned around in Grantaire ’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“How…why?”

“Well,” Grantaire said, “I know how much you love that place. I know how much it means to you. And, we’ve been trying to make this place our home but, you’re my home and, and, well, I thought it would’ve been nice to gift you something that could make you feel the way I feel when I look at you, when I hold you in my arms.”

Enjolras didn’t mean to start crying, he really didn’t but still, fat tears were falling down his cheeks. Grantaire brushed them away with his thumbs, smiling sadly down at him, “I didn’t mean to upset you”.

“You didn’t, you berk! You made me so happy, I can’t even- but,” he took Grantaire’s cheeks between his palms, “Grantaire, you must know that you, too, are my home.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, you are.”

Grantaire hugged him tightly, crushing him on his chest. “God, I love you so much.”

“Grantaire, Grantaire, can I kiss you?”

 That night, as they snuggled on the couch, Enjolras poked Grantaire’s cheek with his nose.

“Taire?”

“Mh?”

“You didn’t tell me why you were listening to that song.”

Grantaire grinned down at him, “well, my dear” and Enjolras groaned, waiting for the pun that was about to come, “that’s because, everything I do, I do it for you, too.” Enjolras blushed and smashed his face in Grantaire’s neck, “Oh my God, you’re so cheesy!”

“Only for you, my querido.”

Enjolras just snuggled closer, forcefully moving Grantaire’s arm to wrap around his waist.

“Just cuddle me, you oaf.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Hi! I'm sorry this might be a little strange but I remember you said you've done some theatre and I really love the setting. I wondered if you'd be up for a LesMis theatre AU sickfic? I love the Ida of E nearly losing his voice and R forcing tea on him to get through the show. Then E crashing when it's over and R taking him home and E feeling like he late every one down and R having done of it. Thank you sweetie ❤️

(Strange?! This is not strange at all anon I lowkey wanted to write this and I’m so glad I have the excuse to lmao..theatre au les mis is my fav and the multi part fic I’m working on is actually an actor!e and struggling musician!r so..YES. I LOVE THIS. HMU WITH ALL UR THEATRE AUS. Ok so for background the Les Amis are doing a production of Next to Normal and E is Gabe and R is the head of the tech department!! Tbh R is on tech bc it reminds me of that tech girl I had a crush on when I did Les Mis :“) )

Theatre was the art of losing yourself and taking on a new soul.

Enjolras loved theatre and acting since he was a child. There was something so enthralling to him about taking on somebody else’s skin and becoming a whole new person with their own individual thoughts and perspectives.

Enjolras finds human beings fascinating, at awe with how complex they were and how each person to exist had their own vastly different thoughts and a whole new perspective to his own. It is such a wonderful experience to see the world from different eyes.

He isn’t comfortable in his own skin. He can never feel like he is good enough, he always feels like something is missing inside of him, he doesn’t feel at one with himself and like he’s detached from his own body, hovering over it and wondering how he’s supposed to get in and understand himself. Enjolras plays other characters so he can learn from them, hoping that he can begin to understand himself by understanding others. It’s a euphoric escape to be someone else and get away from himself for once. Enjolras is pretty tired of himself.

That being said as Enjolras pours his heart and soul into bringing these characters alive, in the process he neglects himself. Sometimes he forgets he’s real.

Enjolras blends away at his stage makeup tiredly, feeling exhaustion basically seeping into his bones. The lights fade in and out of his vision, he feels heavy, and too weak, and fevered. He sniffles, and continues to pat the concealer on top his darkly coloured under-eyes, trying to hide his true state beneath all this makeup.

His throat itches, and he turns away from his mirror and coughs violently into his shirt sleeve, tearing up as his chest aches from his chesty coughs, spluttering. He blindly grabs for a glass of water, and gulps the little that remains down hungrily. He groans, looking back to see his watery, red eyes and reddened nose.

He rolls his eyes at himself as he tries to carefully dab away at the wetness of his face, as not to ruin the makeup that’s already there, and nearly messes up the whole thing as he jumps when someone suddenly bursts through the door.

"Fuck!” Enjolras croaks, his voice raspy and all sorts of husky. He cringes, and clears his throat to fix his horrendous voice.

“Didn’t know Gabe was a heavy chain smoker,” Grantaire teases, a mug of tea and strepsils in his hands.

He’s a pain in the ass, but Grantaire is one of the reasons Enjolras wants to be comfortable with himself, because in this world, Grantaire is in it. It’s the only bad thing about theatre, because despite how amazing being in a different world is, Grantaire isn’t in it. That is a world Enjolras doesn’t want to live in, a world without his sunny, shining smile is already a little bit darker.

Enjolras rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to shoot back a snide remark when his nose is suddenly twitching and he’s turning away from Grantaire and retreating into the crook of his arm to sneeze twice.

Slightly embarrassed and not wanting Grantaire to worry about him, he clears his throat and bounces back, “Sorry, I’m just allergic to your bullshit, ‘Taire.”

Grantaire searches for a comeback, but he comes empty and he sighs in defeat, “Okay, that was a good one.”

Enjolras smirks in victory as Grantaire shuffles towards him and shoves the mug of tea into his hands, and presses a sweet little kiss on to Enjolras’s nose.

“You’re losing your voice, dear,” Grantaire frowns as Enjolras slowly takes sips of the hot tea mixed with lemon and honey. He lets out a small sigh of relief as the warm liquid soothes his throat a little.

“No I’m not,” Enjolras insists, although he’s not really sure if he’s trying to convince Grantaire or himself. He knows deep down it’s for himself, but Enjolras can’t let this bring him down, and all his friends.

The Les Amis have worked to the bone for this little off-broadway show. This show that spoke so beautifully about mental illnesses, and Enjolras was honoured with the opportunity to portray a personification of mental illness and perform to the best of his ability, and beyond that. He needed to be able to convey how it was like, to connect to other people through his performance so that they can begin to understand those with mental illnesses. Then he will be closer to helping create a kinder world.

Every show counted.

Each person in that crowd meant something, and if someone was out there and was touched by it, and felt a little less alone, or came out of it a kinder person, any sickness was worth pushing through. This was much bigger than him.

“Hm,” Grantaire huffs, clearly not believing a word he was saying.

“Don’t worry–"His words come out in a strangled noise that strains and pulls at the muscles in his throat. Enjolras turns away from his boyfriend and raises his elbow up to his face where he coughs harshly, the sounds resonating from his chest.

Grantaire frowns and leans in to rub his back and coax the coughs out of him, and when Enjolras finishes he’s exhausted. He leans back against his chair and wipes away at tears, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

"That doesn’t sound too good,” Grantaire points out worriedly.

Enjolras opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out of his throat. There is only a light, raspy wheeze that escapes his mouth. His eyes widen, his blood running cold as he freezes in panic. He shakes slightly, his breathing picking up ever so slightly. He clears his throat aggressively.

Grantaire notices this, and he is just as alarmed and fearful as Enjolras but somehow he manages to keep a level head. He wraps his hands around Enjolras’s and intertwines his fingers with his, to keep Enjolras here with him and grounded. So he doesn’t float away.

“Enj, don’t panic. Have some more sips of this tea,”

Enjolras nods frantically and begins to drink more of the hot tea, and when he’s done he puts down the mug on his dresser. He clears his throat.

“Hi, is my voice back,” Enjolras croaks out, his voice is rough and husky but its there.

He clears his throat again, popping a strepsil into his mouth and lets out a shaky sigh, “That’s better, I guess.”

Grantaire looks a little more at ease at that, Enjolras’s voice is better then, with a rough edge to it.

There is a small silence that begins afterwards. It is calm, but suddenly Enjolras says quietly, sounding so small and afraid.

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

Grantaire softens, cupping Enjolras’s face and then presses a loving kiss against his cheek, “You won’t, baby. You never do.”

Enjolras manages a weak smile at him, “I love you.”

A blush dusts Grantaire’s face and a smitten smile spreads across it. They use the word sparingly, not rarely, but not excessively. It’s more special this way.

“I love you too,” Grantaire says softly, and then his radio is crackling to life, Bahorel’s voice calling Grantaire over.

Grantaire chuckles and confirms that he is coming, and looks back at Enjolras, “Bossuet probably fucked something up again. I’ve gotta go save their asses now–but good luck baby, drink up. You’re going to be okay.”

With that, Grantaire leaves the door and Enjolras is left staring at the door, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“All cast members please report to Val Jean’s dressing room for a warm up in 10 minutes, you have 10 minutes,” He hears Feuilly say over the intercom.

Enjolras nods, letting out a small sigh before he finishes up his makeup and hair.

When Enjolras walks into Val Jean’s dressing room, everyone’s eyes widen and jaws drop like they’ve seen a ghost.

He smirks, and sings softly, “I’m alive I’m alive I am so alive~”

He clears his throat and smiles at them reassuringly, “’Im fine. My point is I’m not dead, because you’re all staring at me like I am.”

Marius shakes his head, “Your voice is as angelic as ever, it’s just..”

Eponine clears her throat, “You look like shit, E.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes and laughs, “Oh well, the show must go on, as they say.”

Fantine frowns and walks up to him, and before Enjolras can even decipher what she’s doing her hand is placed gently on his forehead. He tries to squirm away, but she’s strong.

“You’ve got quite a fever, sweetheart,” She says gently. She is just as motherly to him on stage as she is off stage. Hopefully, off stage he’s a slightly better person than Gabe.

“It’ll be fine,” Enjolras says coolly, but Marius is trying to secretly text someone. He raises an eyebrow at the younger boy, slightly amused as Marius seems so sure no one is noticing him.

“Pontmercy, what are you doing?” Enjolras sighs.

“..Uh…” He says awkwardly.

Combeferre bursts through the door shortly after, and crosses his arms, clearly not very happy.

Enjolras turns white, “..uh..”

Combeferre basically slaps his hand onto Enjolras’ forehead and his frown is further deepened, and a few various pills are being shoved into his palm, as well as some more tea.

Enjolras groans, “I am drowning in tea, Ferre, I–”

The way Combeferre is glaring at him shuts him up and he’s popping the pills into his mouth and downing them with the tea.

Enjolras coughs, and he thinks it’s just a single, one off thing but the next comes spilling out of him, and the next, and the next. He’s coughing and he can’t stop, and it stabs at his chest and at his lungs. He’s expelling so much he’s not taking anything in, he can’t breathe and his body needs to. He feels faint, his vision darkening as the coughs force their way out of his chest.

He feels weak and faint, trying to reach for a wall or anything so his body doesn’t collapse in on itself, but he one powerful cough sends him toppling over, his body light as it free falls.

But thankfully Valjean is quick and there’s a strong arm around his waist, supporting him, and lifting him back to ground. When Enjolras looks up from his feverish, blearily haze there is a soft, concerned gaze looking down on him.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, kiddo? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling well,” Jean says worriedly, as he balances Enjolras back on his feet.

Enjolras rubs at his nose, stifling two sneezes before he responds, “I’m fine. Tonight is important. I can’t miss it.”

Everyone in the room looks extremely concerned, but when Combeferre sighs, not pleased but approving, they all straighten up to start working on warmups. As he turns around to leave, he suddenly leans forward and gives Enjolras a hug, rubbing his back lovingly and ruffling his golden hair.

When Combeferre pulls away his gaze is kind and caring, “You’re going to be amazing, E. You always are, please take care of yourself out there. Gabe is cool, but so are you, okay? I feel like you forget that sometimes.”

Enjolras’s eyes prick with touched tears, and he bites his lip to stop himself from crying any more. He smiles weakly at him, letting out a shaky exhale, “Fuck off, Ferre, you’re ruining my makeup.”

Combeferre can only laugh at that and ruffle his hair, before turning to leave through the door. He can’t help but spare a glance at Enjolras worriedly, wishing and praying that he would be okay, and he leaves through the door.

“Are we all ready?” Javert asks.

Everyone nods in agreement, and Marius starts to play the piano as they all harmonise and warm up their voices.

Grantaire finishes his double checks on all of the sound tech, and he sighs in relief. He’s done all he could possibly do. All he can do now, is relax and hope to whatever higher being out there that everything goes well.

He keeps his headphones in his ears and picks up a small cup of tea and makes his way to the left wing, where Enjolras is waiting at his five minute call to start the show. Fantine is already on stage in the dark, curtains still close. Grantaire is not an actor, but he is still always so fascinated with how when an actor steps onto stage, they are immediately a different person.

Grantaire carefully makes his way past and finds himself in the wings, and he finds Enjolras standing in the wings. He looks tired, sick, worried.

He approaches him slowly, gently tapping him on the shoulder, “Hey baby.”

Enjolras whips around and smiled at him, but a chesty little cough escapes him. He clears his throat, and he’s shaking ever so slightly and Grantaire doesn’t know if he’s nervous or just feverish.

“Hi,” Enjolras croaks out quietly, he looks down at Grantaire’s hands and takes the small cup of tea from Grantaire and sips at it slowly. He looks a little more relieved.

“Better?” Grantaire says softly.

Enjolras nods lightly, and tiptoes to kiss Grantaire’s cheek. Grantaire thinks this is the cutest thing.

“I’m scared,” Enjolras admits, his voice low and shaky. He’s trembling slightly, his voice cracking with vulnerability. He looks a lot younger like this. It breaks Grantaire’s heart. Enjolras is rarely ever this vulnerable.

“I can’t mess this up, you know that there are–”

“Yeah, there are important people here tonight but you are going to kill it. I know you will, baby.”

Enjolras can only manage a weak smile.

“Mics are turning on,” He hears Bossuet through his headphones.

Grantaire nods, and whispers softly, “Mic is on, E.”

Silence.

“Curtains are opening. You are going to be amazing, E. Remember that. Good luck, baby. And you are on stage in 1..2..”

Enjolras closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opens his eyes the light in them is different, shifting. He steps onto stage and when the light hits his face he’s a new person.

Any trace of Enjolras is gone, he has somebody else’s skin on and everything is fine.

Grantaire never doubted that for one second.

Every hair on Grantaire’s body stands with excitement and adrenaline, a exhilarating buzz boiling in his blood as Enjolras’s powerful voice booms across the theatre. His belt is as strong as ever, his voice so wonderful and satisfying, like the cold side of your pillow that feels amazing in the dead of night.

Enjolras is Gabe. He is perfectly portraying this complex character, the perfect embodiment. He has become this character, the way he looks at things is completely different. There is so much detail and depth behind every step he takes. He plays this character with this fresh nuance, played so lovingly and obviously painstakingly crafted. There is so much depth he embodies, a chilling performance that leaves Grantaire moved. Grantaire is unbelievably proud, it swells in his heart.

The act is coming to a close, and Enjolras sings. He’s so angelic and lovely, the light shining and framing him perfectly. But it is so chilling and eerie, his gaze is intense and bone chilling. His voice is this beautiful lyrical tenor and his vibrato is clear and satisfying, his voice steady and melodic in this incredibly angelic way.

Then the act closes, the curtains falling and the audience roars with claps and screams, whistling. Grantaire can’t help but try and peek through to see, and he can see people standing up as they cheer.

Grantaire awaits his star by the wings, and the moment the curtain falls he’s transported back into this world. He’s Enjolras, and he’s so weak. So sick.

He staggers weakly offstage, looking so weary and unwell that the moment Grantaire is in reach he collapses into his arms with exhaustion.

“Enjolras!” He exclaims as his boyfriend falls into his arms. Grantaire steadies him with some strength and pulls him into his arms. The younger boy weakly buries his face into Grantaire’s chest. He coughs harshly and sharply, his face scrunched in pain as he coughs.

Frantically, he feels his forehead and gasps at the intense heat radiating off of it.

“Fuck, E!” Grantaire hisses worriedly.

“Courf! Over here!” Grantaire calls over, and once Courfeyrac can see them his eyes widen and he’s running towards them. With his help, they manage to get Enjolras back to his dressing room.

“I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid,” Enjolras hisses to himself in self loathing, tears pricking at his eyes.

“No you’re not, E,” Courfeyrac reassures softly, trying to mask the worry in his voice.

Combeferre arrived shortly after with a damp towel and drapes it over his forehead. He is clearly shaken, very nervous and frantic.

“I failed you all,” Enjolras whimpers.

“What?! No you didn’t!” Courfeyrac insists.

“I can still perform, I promise. Just one more hour. I can do this. I promise, please,” Enjolras begs tearfully, stopping as Grantaire helps him drink more tea. He pushes Grantaire away shortly, to hack and cough powerfully, tearing up. He clearly looks like he is in a lot pain, and the sound of his coughing is awfully chesty and congested. It sounds horrible.

No one wants Enjolras to do this, but they all know Enjolras would never forgive himself if he couldn’t. They don’t want to see him in such a state. Courfeyrac and Grantaire look over at Combeferre for answers.

Combeferre looks conflicted, staring at Enjolras for a long time and sighs exhaustedly, “He can do it. But Grantaire, once you two get home you have to extensively take care of him.”

Grantaire nods determinedly, “Of course.”

The bright smile Enjolras gives them is undeniably precious.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac leave them alone, to which Grantaire sighs fondly and helps Enjolras drink more tea.

“You are a mess.”

Enjolras grins feverishly, “Your mess, though.”

Grantaire chuckles, and kisses his forehead, “Unfortunately. You are going to give me an ulcer, one day, you know?”

Grantaire doesn’t understand it–he believes it’s some type of magic or sorcery or witchcraft, the like–but when Enjolras is back on stage his symptoms disappear completely. He is energised and alive again.

Enjolras is so good that Grantaire forgets that just a short while ago Enjolras was breaking down backstage, sick as a dog. On stage Enjolras is at the best state he’s ever been. The audience could never have guessed he was running a borderline dangerous fever and what surely could become a chest infection.

The show comes to a close, and one of the last songs is this extremely powerful and moving exchange between Val Jean and Enjolras. They are both  talents, revelations, incredibly passionate. They are delivering a performance of a lifetime, pouring their hearts out to many. Grantaire can faintly hear soft sobbing from the audience. When they finish, the audience explodes into a series of claps, so touched and moved.

When the show closes, the entire theatre stands up and claps loudly. The theatre is exploding with cheering and whistling and clapping. Grantaire can’t hear anything but cheers. They can’t even start bowing because the cheering is lasting so long.

The small cast begins to bow, and Grantaire can’t help but start cheering too when Enjolras steps to the centre for his bows. He starts to tear up as the crowd goes wild for him.

When the curtains fall and the cast come out, they are bombarded by hugs by everyone backstage.

“You were amazing, 'Jolras! You’ve brought our show to life,” Courfeyrac cries, tears steaming down his face as he hugs Enjolras.

“You killed it!” Combeferre says proudly as he joins in the hugs.

But when Enjolras starts coughing again, bent over by the waist. His powerful coughs take what is left of his energy and he starts to tip slightly, and he’s leaning forwards too much and Courfeyrac is swooping in to catch him. That is when when everyone remembers that Enjolras is sick and needs to go home.

“We should go home,” Grantaire steps in, approaching his boyfriend and taking him from Courfeyrac.

“You’re right. You’ll inform us on how he’s doing, right?” Combeferre asks anxiously.

“Of course.”

“But Stage Door,” Enjolras says weakly.

“Oh my god, Enjolras. You are not in the state, everyone will understand. You need to go home,” Grantaire insists.

Enjolras becomes quiet and looks so miserable. Grantaire sighs and feels a bit guilty, helping him back to the car.

Enjolras sleeps the whole way back to their apartment. Grantaire’s glad, because Enjolras needs to recharge. Once he parks, he picks Enjolras up and starts to carry him up to the elevator. He finally makes it to their apartment, and immediately puts Enjolras down on their bed.

He is about to leave to get some supplies when Enjolras stirs and grabs for Grantaire’s arm.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras whimpers, his voice teary and obviously upset.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Grantaire coos as he sits at the edge of the bed to speak to him.

“I failed everyone, I did so badly, we’re going to get bad reviews and close early,” Enjolras chokes, a few tears beginning to spill from his eyes.

“What?! No! You were absolutely brilliant, baby. People were crying. Did you not see the standing fucking ovation at the end of the show? Fuck, there was one during your act closer! People loved it, Enjolras. Our message is getting out there thanks to you. So don’t you dare fucking tell me that you failed us. You’ve made us.”

Enjolras sniffled, inhaling sharply to sneeze harshly, then rubbing at his eye weakly, "I don’t believe you.”

Grantaire opens his mouth to bless him and to reassure him but his phone is beeping. Then again. And his phone is going crazy.

He pulls his phone out and quickly scans through the gibberish that is Courfeyrac’s recent texts, and when he scrolls to the original text his heart drops. Then it swells.

“Enjolras, do you want proof that you did not disappoint tonight?”

Enjolras only huffs.

“Enj, we’re going on Broadway.”

Enjolras eyes widen, and he starts crying again. He’s crying even more–but this time he’s happy. Enjolras forces himself up and throws himself over Grantaire and holds him close, hugging him tightly and continuing to cry. Grantaire presses a kiss onto the top of his head.

“We’re going on Broadway thanks to you, Enjolras. And I mean you. Not just the character you play. You. You made this all happen, and I know you aren’t always very happy with yourself and I hope this can help you start to see what I see in. I am so proud of you, and I love you so much.”

“It takes two, I thought one was enough, It’s not true, It takes two of us, You came through, when the journey was rough it took you..” Enjolras sings softly. 

“It took two of us. It takes care. It takes patience and fear and despair. To change.” Grantaire sings back. He’s a bit awkward, a little offkey, but to Enjolras it couldn’t have been more perfect.