“Grantaire added to the eccentric accentuation of words and ideas, a peculiarity of gesture; he rested his left fist on his knee with dignity, his arm forming a right angle, and, with cravat untied, seated astride a stool, his full glass in his right hand, he hurled solemn words.”
hello students welcome to les mis university and more importantly: e/r theory au application 101 aka How E/R Works In An AU Setting
i, professor dan p gigs, will be your instructor
so heres whats what with my deal with e/r ok i get freakin BUGGED when i see people write total complete 100% flat out requited e/r because quite honestly that is impossible and illogical
just imagine you are enjolras and there’s this guy just following you around all the time wanting to touch your butt and you dont really agree with him on a lot of things and hes really annoying and gosh sometimes you just have to blow your freaking top because it gets so annoying and
okay do you really think you can have 100% requited feelings for someone like that
ive thought long and hard about this and no the answer is no
you see e/r isnt like that ok if you want that then there’s marius/cosette you can go read some of that somewhere else
e/r isnt requited and e/r isnt normal and e/r is FUNCTIONAL its highly dysfunctional and its a mess and its something you look at and you just go
oh dear oh dear
and thats kind of how enjolras feels about grantaire i guess
theres a lot of head shaking involved with e/r and enjolras does all of it and well a lot of what grantaire does warrants gratuitous head shaking and judging because grantaire is a freaking mess
there is just so much freaking desperation on his part and omg its so sad it makes me want to cry because wow give the guy a break except it is all his fault i mean hes not really being the best that he could be and mAYBE
enjolras wants him to be the best that he could be (heck enjolras wants everyone to be the best that they can be and he expects them to do so) and maybe he pities him an awful lot and well come on who DOESNT pity grantaire hes really rather pitiful
so yeah its just awful amounts of pity and maybe they were pals once and grantaire just vaguely spiralled downwards and started doing things enjolras didnt agree with and maybe enjolras feels responsible for that and maybe enjolras is nice sometimes and its a horrible pattern of positive reinforcement and gosh grantaire is just a freaking puppy who needs to be loved ok please lOVE HIM except he pees on the carpet a lot and enjolras doesnt like him because of that
so yeah i kind of forgot where i was going with this but basically e/r cant work as 2 + 2 = 4
e/r is more like
and its really complicated and its really unhealthy but its really
see, he wakes up and he can smell it before anything else. that terrible thick iron scent filling his nose and mouth, and he knows exactly what has happened, and god, the last thing in the world that he wants to do is open his eyes, but he does anyways, because he knows that he has no other choice.
and he sees his friends — just a couple, those who managed to get into the cafe — broken on the floor, crimson-soaked, and it’s more blood than he’s ever seen at once before, and the same grey dizziness as always begins to swarm through his skull, now matched by a plummeting sickness in his stomach, because he can see joly and combeferre and courfeyrac’s faces, and he knows that they aren’t breathing.
and he could give up there — he could let himself fall beside them; he’s far gone enough that he knows he wouldn’t feel the impact of hitting the ground. but instead, trembling, he looks up.
and across the room is enjolras, and he is untouched — red, as always, but not with blood. his eyes are bright and steady as they meet grantaire’s, and they pierce him, right through his head and his heart, electrifying him with just enough silver lightening to hold the faintness at bay, to bring him to his feet, even.
and of course he’s shaking as he crosses the room, but he holds onto the brightness of consciousness, and he knows that he won’t have to force himself for too long, anyways.
he says something. something like i am one of them, or they are mine, or i am theirs. his lips are numb; he can barely feel the words upon them.
he reaches enjolras’s side and scarcely manages to get out a desperate request before enjolras’s fingers are twining with his, holding him steady, filling his tingling cold skin with a strong, gentle warmth.
he sees enjolras begin to smile. he knows he’s done enough, and the dizziness is closing in on him.
his knees start to buckle, then, and the bullet pierces him before he can hit the ground.
imagine enjolras and grantaire at junior prom. imagine they’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks and haven’t kissed yet, and everything’s still kind-of new and awkward (especially since neither of them have really had a relationship before.)
imagine they go outside for some fresh air and grantaire looks at the ground, and looks at enjolras, and says, “so, um, there’s something I’d really like to do with you.”
and enjolras doesn’t say anything, so grantaire continues, “could you maybe, um, help me out a little here? so it isn’t really awkward?”
enjolras nods, cautiously.
“do you know what I’m talking about?” grantaire asks, his face flushing bright red. "what … um … what I think we should do?“
and enjolras’ whole face lights up, and he says, “of course! we should start a revolution! if we go back inside and start explaining the true potential of the rule of the proletarian, maybe we can convert everyone and –”
(he keeps ranting, and grantaire just stares at him, like, this is it, this is where I have laid my affections.)
imagine grantaire getting drafted and he doesn’t tell enjolras until the day before he has to leave because he knows neither of them can do a thing about, so why even try? imagine the desperate kiss enjolras plants on him as he’s about to leave- “god, please- please come home”- and imagine the smile grantaire gives him, bitter and sweet and sad all at once.
“only for you, apollo.”
imagine.
imagine letters from grantaire- bored and sarcastic like usual (all “i’ve just been sleeping all day, they’ve not let us on the front lines, i haven’t seen any of the fighting yet”) just stop, one day. and enjolras is fighting and fighting and fighting for peace, goddamn it, and he’s giving this speech all proud and fierce on top of a table when a letter comes through, and
grantaire’s missing, presumed dead.
and. enjolras keeps fighting, because of course he does (he can’t give up now even when it’s too late for grantaire because there are so many others and he would die before he let the same thing happen to them) but grantaire’s gone.
grantaire’s dead.
except- one night enjolras comes stumbling home alone (he doesn’t go to bars because they stink of alcohol something in him breaks at the smell but he appears as one, keeping hours so long they turn into day and night and day again, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling) and-
and grantaire’s sitting on his bed.
at first enjolras thinks he’s a hallucination, because he’s so tired (so tired) and grantaire’s dead (and he looks dead, too, ghastly pale and thin and shattered) but grantaire speaks before he can even think to.
“you look awful,” he mutters, and enjolras can’t hold back a laugh because really? grantaire’s crawled out of a war and enjolras the one who looks bad?
but he’s crying, too.
and it takes a while to get used to it again. neither of them are okay- neither of them are even close– but god, they have each other and that’s something that’s so beautiful in of itself and grantaire’s at enjolras’s side (and enjolras is at grantaire’s) and they never. stop. fighting.
A request (kind of) for @undibujillo. They mentioned that lines of a song like “omg this hurts me if I think of Enjoltaire” And me, a good friend, thought: “Why not make it more painful with a DRAWING? *insert evil laugh*”
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