Grantaire drained yet another bottle. It wasn't as if he liked doing this, he hated what he was doing to his body, but it was nothing compared to what Enjolras was doing to his soul.
He couldn't help it. The golden boy... Man, well, that was a problem. He was twenty-two, but he didn't seem older than seventeen, making Grantaire unsure of what to label him as. What ever he was, he was doing something to Grantaire.
Currently, Grantaire's interest was making a speech, about the people. Grantaire didn't understand it, there was enough trouble in trying to look out for yourself, why bother to look out for someone else? Enjolras didn't see that though, he was too interwoven with the ideals in his head. The people will rise, he said, as if he knew it.
How did he know it though? How, my dear Enjolras, Grantiare thought, How will people without enough energy to get food have enough energy to survive?
Enjolras didn't see that either.
The boy finished his speech, and then everyone started to disperse. This was Grantiare's least favourite part of the evening, when everyone left. Usually, although very few people noticed this, he would be left alone with Enjolras.
Two people did notice, one of them was Jehan, who would give the drunk a small understanding smile as he would slide on his coat, which was a horrible shade of orange, and leave through the door.
The other was Combeferre, who would be the last one of the Amis to leave, other than the two of question, of course. Combeferre had shocked Grantaire the first time he had noticed, as all he had done was look between the two of them, chake his head, and leave.
No one else knew, and Grantaire would like to keep it that way. Not even Enjolras knew.
Now those two were gone, leaving Enjolras and Grantiare alone in the back room.
"E-Enjolras." He slurred, causing the golden boy to look up.
"Go away," The blond replied harshly, "You're drunk, until you can be of any help, leave."
"No," He said, he refused to leave now, it had taken him the entire night to gather this courage, "I want to talk to you."
Enjolras' head jerked up, and he narrowed his eyes, "Then talk, I need to get this done, talk all you'd like, I can't say I'll listen, but talk."
Grantaire started into a drunken rambling, not paying attention to where his speech was going.
Then Enjolras' eyes grew wide, "What did you just say?"
Grantiare tried to think about what he had been talking about, "I – I can't remember,"
"You said you loved me," Enjolras murmured.
"Did I?" Grantaire asked. Had he really said it, after all this time?
"Yes... Yes you did." Enjolras said, starting to close his books.
"I – I didn't mean to." He said quickly, sensing Enjolras was about to leave.
"So it isn't true?" The blond asked, cocking his head, and grabbing his coat.
"No – yes – I – It is true, but I didn't mean to say it." Grantaire stuttered.
Enjolras picked up his books and started towards the door, "Goodnight wine-cask."
"Wait! Enjolras – I – I'm sorry." Grantaire shouted after him, but the student kept moving.
Grantaire ran after him, and right before he reached the door, grasped the blond's head, and kissed him.
"I told you to wait," He murmured against Enjolras' lips, before kissing him again.
Enjolras was still for a moment, then returned the kiss with a passion. But, after another minute, he realized what he was doing.
"I – You're drunk Grantiare, you don't realized what you just did, do you?"
"Yes," Replied the wine-cask, with sincerity ringin through his voice, "I know exactly what I did."
"No," Enjolras muttered, "No, no you don't. It was a drunken mistake..."
And then he ran from the Cafe, more afraid of what he was feeling then what he had just done.
A/N: For Yeliah, who kept telling me to write a R/Enjy fic. So I did, mainly to prove I'm not dead.