dear_mun | Grantaire, put the bottle down

All dead?

[Grantaire hadn't put faith in the barricade, but it is still a shock to be told the fate of all of his friends... including the one standing in front of him. The weight of drunkenness had been slowly lifting as this conversation progressed, but now Grantaire's head seems to clear. He crosses to boldly lay a hand on Enjolras' shoulder.]

I do not know the reason why I do not know this, but believe me, if you never believe another word I say, it was not the drink. There is no amount of brandy that would ever have made me forget standing at your side.

[Enjolras takes his wrist and removes his hand.]

Why?

You were never one of ours.

[Thus chastised, he just lets his arms fall by his side]

Despite my lack of belief, I have always been counted among Les Amis. Whether or not you acknowledge me, I was their friend as well as yours.

That's why.

Grantaire... You asked me if I would permit it. I said yes, and took your hand. I thought we were finished. But now, finding myself here in... whatever this place is. Facing you again...

[Enjolras drops his eyes]

The others died for the same reason I did, to bring justice to the world. But you... YOU. You died for something else.

You died for me.

I can't carry that with me.

[Grantaire hadn't been liking the way this conversation was turning because he hadn't any intention of explaining himself to Enjolras. And how could he? It wasn't something Grantaire thought of. It was simply something that was. The whole process made Grantaire thirsty, but if he reached for more brandy, Enjolras would surely become even more cross with him that he was already.]

That weight isn't your burden to carry. They died for what they believed in. Apparently, so did I. [So says the skeptic.]

[He never lowers his eyes, gentle and pleading, from Enjolras]

You gave that much to me. Can I not have it?

[Enjolras presses his lips together, his blue eyes fixed on the floor. His lips part as though preparing to speak, then stops again. His brow knits, as the words not coming when he needs them is not something he is used to.]

It seems I have no choice. I owe you at least that.

It feels like such a small thing now. I hate death, but I had to make use of it. Now we both felt it, and here we are.

I would have thought that there was nothing more to say, and yet I find myself in this place, no different than I was before.

I did not expect that.

I did not expect a lot of things.

[Grantaire didn't believe in anything, so it doesn't bother him at all to find that "death" was just about the same as "life" but in a different place.

[What bothers Grantaire was the expression on Enjolras' face. Uplifting words are not R's skill, but nevertheless, he wishes there was something appropriate he could say]

Think instead of the symbol: what your deaths did for the patria. Surely no one died a martyr's death more beautifully than you for your cause.

I am content that it should be so. But alas, now we go in circles. It is not myself that I mourn.

You should leave the mourning to the living. The others would not want you to feel such for them.

And what of you? You never did answer.

Why did you do it? Do not speak to me of les amis. Speak to me of yourself.

[There's that question again. Since it appears Grantaire can't continue to dance around it, he takes a moment to think before answering as plainly as he is able to this man]

You have made it abundantly clear that I am worth less to you than anyone while, on the contrary, standing in your presence meant the most to me.

Perhaps, as you said, I am indeed incapable of life and of death in any proper fashion. Do not mourn this fool.

Grantaire... of all the brave and faithful souls on that barricade. The only one who would have done such a thing is you.

[But his tone and his face are unreadable]

["Brave and faithful souls"? Despite the headway they appeared to be making into having an actual conversation, all Grantaire wants at the moment is a stiff brandy, perpetuating the self-sabotage at which he was so adept. So have a drink he does, straight from the bottle, even knowing how much Enjolras disapproves.]

You will call it foolishness, no doubt, but I do know my own mind.

Then help me to know your mind as well. Please.

[He steps close, and his long white hand curls around grantaire's wrist, moving the bottle away. But suddenly, he seems almost gentle.]

[The touch gives Grantaire a start because he wasn't expecting it. His eyes go a little wide at the sudden change in proximity. He isn't used to gentleness from a man he'd assumed was made of resolute marble.]

I...

[and where was that mind now, R? Finally being given Enjolras' full attention, he doesn't know what to say]

Yes?

[His tone stays uncharacteristically mild.]

[He looks away, feeling way too sober for this conversation]

Without you there, who would I be? Certainly no one worth living. You think that of me already. Where else would I go if not all the way to the end with you?

You could go home. Meet a girl. Have a family. Do all the things the rest of us did not do.

No. No I couldn't. I only had one place in the world where I belonged, and it was with you.

[Enjolras knows he's repeating himself.]

Why me?

You can die by my side, but you cannot speak to me?

Apparently not.

[E's repeating himself because R isn't answering. Grantaire knows this, and yet he's having trouble breaking the cycle.]

You do not want to hear my reasons why. It will not help you understand.

I asked, didn't I? Try me, please.

[Enjolras is dimly aware he's still close, and still lightly holding Grantaire's wrist.]

[Grantaire is acutely aware that Enjolras is still close and holding onto him but hasn't made a move to change that. He takes a deep, sobering breath]

You don't see yourself like others see you. You can't. It isn't possible. How do you tell Phoebus Apollo what it's like to view his radiance? And why would the god listen to what a mere mortal has to say? I cannot share in your belief, but you have enough to spill into ten men. Is it truly so surprising that your capacity sustains my lacking? Without it, there is nothing left of Grantaire but this bottle, and what a torturous mistress she is.

I'm no God, I'm a man. I'm no better or worse than any other, and that includes you.

[Enjolras still doesn't understand. His alabaster brow knits, as if he's straining to understand.]

You miss my metaphor. You are no god, but you are not a mere man either. Your character became more than that, and Les Amis rallied around it like moths drawn to lamp light. For me, life was empty that when I first met you-- I doubt you remember the day-- I never wanted to be in the dark again after that. That is why I love you. Why I stay, even when I cannot fight for your cause. Without your conviction, the world becomes as dark as Dis.

[Having said this, Grantaire takes a step away from Enjolras, fearing his reaction, and gently presses to have his wrist freed.]

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