As Enjolras hung the call, Marius sighs and looks at the window.
When Les Amis has appeared? Long ago, like it's been always here. I know Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Eponine, Joly, Jehan for ages. And of course R. My whole Uni life is connected with these people.
And with Cossette.
There is a photo in his laptop with Cossette and himself. They are sleeping on the same couch, their legs tangled, Cossette's head resting on his chest and even in her sleep, she is smiling.
Combeferre made this photo last month when all of them were on holidays in Marius country house.
As he thinks about the girl, on his freckled face appears a genuinesmile. Cossette is not just a girlfriend for him. It's his life. She is a part of him.
The same I can say about Grantaire and Enjolras.
He sits on the very edge of the windowsill and thinks.
He remembers one day, when all of them had the History class (they are in different faculties, but History – is a common subject to all of them). The topic was the Human rights Freedom of speech.
Enjolras, who just started a student organization, sit with shine in his eyes. He loved that class, usually making lots of notes and after lectures he could spend an hour or two with their Professor – Monsieur Valjean, Cossette's father, discussing different aspects of the modern history.
When Marius, who was sitting next to Enjolras, turned his head, he noticed a dark- haired guy- Grantaire, who was an Art student, whose works which usually were signed as "R". He waved his hand and smiled to him.
Grantaire winked and showed a paper with a sketch on it. When Marius narrowed his eyes, he saw himself, hugging Cossette. The picture looked lovely and warm. R chuckled as he watched the reaction and then passed it to him, but Marius noticed another piece of paper near R. He was not sure, but it looked like a figure of Enjolras, but he, of course could be wrong.
As Marius quietly thanked him and returned back to the Human rights, he didn't see Grantaire, looking at Enjolras with strange gaze.
The lecture ended and Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire and Joly joined Marius and Enjolras.
"Are there going to be a meeting today?" Courfeyrac asked, as he walked near the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC.
"Yes, in two hours. I have an idea, because of the recent accident with a journalist in Siri…"
"Yeah, yeah, we know and we are not on the meeting right now, so let's talk about something good and nice, shall we?" Courfeyrac grinned and shouted loudly. "GRANTAIRE! Are you coming?"
Enjolras frowned as he saw R walking to them through the crowd of students, who hurried in their business. The tired figure of Grantaire with dark skin under his eyes appeared in front of them.
Marius noticed a strange hostility on Enjolras face, which he couldn't understand. Grantaire was not that bad. Well, he drank sometimes, but everyone had their own problems.
Grantaire smiled and patted Courfeyrac's shoulder. "What is it, my merry friend?" he met Enjolras gaze. "Hello, there, Apollo."
The coldness in the gaze of the golden-haired man was so visible, that Joly whistled quietly.
R only shrugged and talked again. "So?"
"In two at Musain. You are in?"
Grantaire smirked. "How can I refuse?"
"Beware, Grantaire." Enjolras said seriously as they walked pass the University Library. "We are going to be busy, I don't want to hear you drunk madness again."
"As you wish. But I thought you are a defender of Freedom of speech." He yawned lazily, in his voice sounded a mockery as he spoke. "Seems like I was wrong."
A shade of anger appeared on the leaders face, but he said nothing and the group of people continued walking down the stairs.
As they reached the front door, Enjolras quickly went away, not turning back. Grantaire walked another way, a piece of paper, which he threw in the bin, missed it and fell on the floor. No one except Marius noticed that, so he picked up the crumpled sheet and examined it. It was indeed a picture of Enjolras. His eyes looked so real. Beautiful, but cold, like a winter sun.
Marius watched the retreating figure of R.
Two hours later Enjolras stepped to the café Musain, shivering from the cold outside. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw his friends: Combeferre was sitting near the window with his notebook on his laps, reading an article with a serious face. Jehan was chatting with Courfeyrac, who was lying on two chairs, his head on Jehan's knees, laughing loudly from time to time, Cossette was showing Marius her new phone, as he watched her with love-drunk eyes. Enjolras doubted if he understood a question which Cossette asked him twice. Her blonde hair was falling on her shoulders and Marius played with one lock.
"Enjolras!" Bahorel came with bottles of beer and cup of coffees in his hands. Everyone waved hands and cheered to their leader.
Enjolras smiled, feeling himself home.
"Bradley Manning is under charge now. The maximum possible prison sentence for this charge is 52 years. It was announced that the original charges were added to another 22, the maximum penalty for one of them can be a death sentence."
The silence fell as Combeferre read the article aloud. All of them were supporters of WikiLeaks and the work Julian Assange was doing. Bradley Manning revealed a large amount of secret documents and sent them to WikiLeaks. Enjolras sit on the nearest chair and thought.
"I hope the international discussion, debates and reforms. If it does not, then we (humanity) are doomed as a species." Enjolras quoted him quietly.
" I am tired of being stuck in the secrets, which governments spread everywhere successfully. Censorship. " the leader stood up. "Our University magazine was closed, because of unappropriated articles we've asked them to public. We talk about the corruption in our government and conditionals in which people in suburbs live." His eyes flicker.
Courfeyrac sat on the chair and took a sip of his beer."Why didn't they public your last work, Jehan?"
Jehan looked sadly at Courfeyrac then at Enjolras. "Because I wrote about a homosexual couple and how people react on their relationship: baseness in their actions and pure disgust to those who are bit different then they are." he sighed. "Too cruel and nobody would be interested in such topic. That what they said."
Enjolras snorts disdainful. "It is the role of good journalism to take on powerful abusers, and when powerful abusers are taken on, there's always a bad reaction."
"That's a quote of Julian Assange" they heard the voice at the corner of the café. Enjolras turned his head to see Grantaire with a glass of wine in his hand, coming to them. "Assange's greatest problem is that he ruins, but gives nothing back." Grantaire sat on the edge of the table across Enjolras.
Cossette, caressing Marius's cheek took a deep breath. He told her his concern about those two. Enjolras and Grantaire were two absolutely different types of people. The second one was cynical and a nihilist, the opposite of Enjolras, in whom lived high spirits of freedom.
"He is broking the faith of people in the government." He crooked his head. "Why? We all know that there are nothing good left in the modern society. What's the point to remind us of all the dirty secrets that presidents and ministers hide?"
Enjolras bit his inner side of the cheek, trying hard not to roll his eyes. "He is showing on his own example, the importance of truth. Many people raised and changed the political situation in their countries."
Combeferre shook his head as Grantaire continued. "Don't tell me you mean Arab Spring. "
Enjolras stood up jerkily and made a step to R, looking at his face. "I am talking about the protest in which we are involved now. I am talking about our meetings and ideas we spread." his voice sounded dangerously calm. "We fight for the free journalism. We explain people the basis of Human Rights_"
"It would be better, if you give them homes and food." The cynic's lips curled into a bitter parody on a smile. "Everyone can talk, Apollo. Actions are rare."
Courfeyrac glanced at Marius and they both agreed that there were two possible scenarios. Or Enjolras hit R or he would do nothing, because he considered himself cleverer.
Combeferre looked back at the screen of his notebook. Grantaire wasn't right. Well not about everything. Enjolras gave lots of money to their organization, "the Society of Action", whose work in helping of those who didn't have education and roof above their heads, was already noticed by the Paris newspapers and TV channel. But Enjolras's main efforts were aimed on the fight for Freedom of speech and freedom of journalism.
The golden-haired leader stood still. He shook his head. "Do you believe in anything?"
Grantaire's ironic smile faded a bit. "Yes."
Enjolras laughed humorlessly. "Really? You, a person, whose absence of moral core and moral sharp bend lead only to alcoholism and_"
"In you I believe."
Enjolras froze.
Grantaire sighed and turned away, walking slowly to the exit. As the door closed everyone tried not to look at each other. They felt themselves guilty for being present there and listening what Grantaire said.
He walked home, ideas of a new picture popping in his head; a rain started, cold drops fell on his cheeks.
Grantaire thought of something. Maybe he recalled Enjolras's last remark.
"A person, whose absence of moralcore and moral sharp bend lead only to alcoholism… "
The student sighed once again and took a cigarette. A dim light from the lighter lit his face and a moment later, smoke hid it. Grantaire walked quickly. Then ran, knocking people, without even noticing them.
He couldn't remember when he arrived home. It was dark outside. His haired smelt of cigarettes' smoke and alcohol.
It was 3.00AM in the morning, when R walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There stood a bottle of a cheap wine. He grabbed it and then walked back to his small room.
The condition of the room was poor indeed, though it didn't troubled Grantaire at all. In that mess, he knew exactly where his stuff was lying.
He scanned the place, thinking about something, eyes flickered, his chest fell and rose quickly. He opened a bottle and made several sips. It tasted horrible. Sometimes R asked himself why he drank so much. The same answer came to him.
He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Near him laid gouache and a piece of paper. Grantaire almost desperately grabbed those and started painted. His actions were sharp at the beginning, but slowly became calmer.
Then his mind changed again: he threw papers and the brush away, standing up, searching for the wine. His hands were shaking and the bottle accidently fell on the floor, breaking into pieces.
"Great." He muttered and noticed blood on his right arm.
Bleeding arm, lack of wine, bad mood, Enjolras who was always annoyed with him, time, that he was wasting. Everything stuck inside his skull. Grantaire stood still for some minutes.
Marius rubs his eyes. His phone beeps. A message from Cossette.
Enjolras still didn't say anything to him?x
He looks at the name "Cossette". He wants to hug her so much.
No. He doubts. Afraid, I'd say. X
Don't blame him. They will be fine. X
When I wake up it's dark outside. Carefully I sit up. Carefully, but not because of the ache, but because Enjolras is sleeping, curled on the hospital chair. I reach for my blanket and cover his shoulders. Then I notice his sleeping face expression and shiver. If he has been awake, he'd probably cry. I hesitate. Maybe he is having a bad dream.
I've never felt myself so alive, it's a strange feeling.
I look at Enjolras's face. I think I am a pessimist. Or maybe a nihilist. Anyway, I am someone who is not worth him. I'd like to touch his hand, to feel its warmth.
I hope he's loved me back, before all of this.