Three Things that Never Happened to Grantaire
1.
Grantaire always agreed with Enjorlas' politic opinions. He always fought for Enjorlas' idea about the revolution, the voice of people, also the right of Enjorlas ended a passion speech, Grantaire would raise his Brandy bottle high for his Apollo and speak loudly with the friends of ABC,"All rights belong to cattle-like human, All glories belong to mighty revolution and all blesses belong to our respectful hero! All for Enjorlas." Grantarie was fancied in looking directly at his marble statue while finishing all wine in bottle, with some pretty bright colour appearing on Enjorlas' cheek, maybe the inevitable influence of alcohol or the temptable effect of his flattering, Grantaire rather preferred the second guess. To be honest, he actually enjoyed blessing and glorifying his most beautiful and brightest Apollo, while he also actually enjoyed setting his eyes on his lover of dream before him benevolently to smile, to talk and to drink.
"Grantaire, next time."Enjorlas said to him with some hesitate also lots of effort, "I did not real blame on you, not find fault. I just suggest, could you...",He held down the bottle in Grantaires' hand, gripped his wrist tight and made himself look into his eyes," could you put some opposite views on the next gathering, to avoid the uncontrolable fever of our friends."
Grantaire tried to get rid of the Enjorlas' grasp with a big smirk, first nodded his head and then shook it.
He was buried so deep in the feeling of love that Grantaire forced himself to agree the each word of Erjorlas which he would normally oppose every syllable in these sentences when it was from other friends. He hated the sense raised from his own soul to betray, but he can not ensure himself to stay away the feeling caused by the affair with Enjorlas.
Grantaire knew they would soon all die one day, but he adored himself with the scene that he would follow the calling of Death peacefully before Enjorlas' smiling, lovable and keen eyes.
2.
Grantaire looked straightly on the Brandy which had been set steadily on the table for two or three hours. He felt intolerant headache caused by hangover but he could remember only a bit of what had happened last night. The first moment, he assured, appeared that he was filled with wine and perceived so sick as suffering in hell. And next, Grantaire lay, with Enjorlas' cloth as blanket, beside his half naked friend, whose hand was smoothing his burning stomach with tender motion. And Grantaire could now still recollect the blue anxious eyes staring him and the pale soft lips relaxing him by gentle sound nearby his ear. At this moment, Grantaire, the drunken man, determinded the alcohol to give up.
But the world without wine is a DOOM, Grantaire found himself no another word to describe the dirty, gray and demon-damned view occupying he eyes. He cursed the whole city where tiny, miserable things could only creep over and crowd every streets desperately to earn a life or die hard. He hated the sense of pity which was caused by seeing these malicious people so clearly away from the protection of wine. His head was hurting, ears buzzing, and heart sinking.
It had been a whole week since Grantaire promised the wine to turn in. Everyday became a punishment for his years-long ignorant of the true world, he could do nothing but shifted his sight random in the Corinth and gave up thinking but only observing. It was a regular meeting night. Joly talking with Courfeyrac, must complaint about his poor heath. Combeferre sitting in the corner where Grantaire often stayed after he finished his second bottle before the meeting for a best viewpoint to watching his Apollo, wrote his endless letter. All was prepared and Enjorlas was expected.
The gathering ended soon as even Grantaire had warned, that no matter what they wanted, a revolution or another, a turn point must stay there and before that, all what they could do was merely wait. Then everyone began to relax, began to chat and certainly the wine was served.
Grantaire quitted the long table, returned his corner seat, just sat there and refused the world to pay attention to.
"I personally did not prefer the Bible." it was his Apollo's soft voice before him, "But some myth of it was real wise." Grantaire opened his eyes. Enjorlas wore a sweet smile and just stood there, "For example." , holding his hand with two bottles of Brandy, "even God need a rest on the seventh day."
Grantaire never laughed so heartily in his whole life.
3.
Grantaire never suffered such a silence, silence often means abandon, abandon often means aloneness and aloneness often means, for him, death. He perceive the head heave as a stone due to drunkenness, which he was so used to, but he did not familiar with the damn silence, especially in Corinth. Sometimes such quietness also attacked his apartment when the prostitutes across the street did not bargain the price or finished the business early. In such days he would rush into Corinth and dive himself into the sea of wine, he preferred ABCs around him as well as the loud noisy of bar crowded with younger.
Grantaire rose from the empty long table, looked around with dizzy sight and chose the stairs to walk up.
He actually imaged and predicted such picture in his mind for hundreds times, meanwhile Grantaire knew this would be the true and no-doubt end of this youth fantasia, but he never thought it would arrive in such a horrible picture.
All his friends were lying on the floor, movelessly. Joly and Courfeyrac behind the table, Combeferre leaning on the stair bars , and while holding a desperately hope, Grantaire at least found Enjorlas, hanging over the window, with blood covering his white shirt.
He could hardly think, also could he hardly breath. Grantaire ran for the body with steps of drunken man out of intense. He never thought Enjorlas would die, even Conrinth had always collapsed and the so-called revolution had always failed in prophets and dreams. Grantaire had the faith that at least Enjorlas would narrow escape the fate, because he was the marble statue, the immortal Apollo and the unbeatable God.
Grantaire fell on knee and embraced the still warm body, then he heard sounds from the stairs. Two soldiers appeared behind the broken chairs, holding the guns steady and aiming at him.
Grantaire also saw his end well, in the first day of the gathering he had already aware it, but he did not fear it, never.
He look down at the pale face of Enjorlas, if he could hear him, Grantaire would feel it hard to say the quest, but now...
"Do you permit it？"