"No one knows what it's like to be the bad man. To be the sad man. Behind blue eyes."
Grantaire could always feel the heated glares of the other students, bore into his flesh with scorching heat. They saw him as a waste of space and a waste of flesh. He was neither for, nor against their little rebellion – he was completely for his closest friend Enjolras, however. That's why he was there. He had to remind himself that at times when he would hear a student like Joly or Courfeyrac make some smart remark about him drinking his waste of a life away. He was there to support Enjolras' ideas. He idolized him for being everything he was incapable of being.
While Grantaire wasted his life buried in the arms of a woman and drowning in ale, Enjolras was carving a place for himself in history. The ideas of freedom and liberty would carry on through Enjolras' efforts while nothing would come from Grantaire's efforts at finding the bottom of a keg of ale at some hole in the wall establishment. Enjolras saw hope where Grantaire saw despair. But he had very realistic dreams as well, dreams that where so stifled and stunted by the effects of alcoholism that they were unseen by the common observer. They were dreams for Enjolras to succeed. Above anything else he wished for in the world, that was what he wished for.
"But my dreams they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be."
Grantaire found himself wasting away in a sea of despair and loneliness. No one stuck around in his life, none except Enjolras. He was the one kind face he had to turn to. Enjolras could read Grantaire's sad, empty, blue eyes faster than even his long deceased mother could have. There was a calm sort of captivation in Grantaire's blue eyes – at least that's what the women said. He'd hire them for the night to fill the void that threatened to consume is very existence. He was incapable of succeeding in life, caught in the tangles of the decisions he had made throughout his twenty-eight odd years. Instead of working at something tangible or useful he sat, drunk, night after night in tavern after tavern buying women to sooth his pains. He spent his painful mornings cringing in the sunlight at the Café Musain, struggling to keep up with the fast pace world of the students, four or five years his juniors. But a reassuring pat from Enjolras would be enough to remind him that eventually everything would work out.
Enjolras' fire was contagious. Perhaps Grantaire was too sloth like to catch the fire and run with it himself, but he was determined enough to cup the flame carefully and protect it from gale-force winds that were determined to oust the flames of rebellion. He envied the youthful, prosperous, intelligent, and determined students that surrounded him on a day to day basis. But he was too stuck in his life to desire a change. He was who he was and it was too late to change. If Enjolras looked at him with hope, then he could feel that there was a purpose to his existence. The rebellion would come at a cost, one he was willing to pay anything to see through.
"I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free."
Their whispers stung him more than the ale that burned his throat every evening. They didn't know what the words did to a seemingly ignorant man. Grantaire seemed rough around the edges but inside he desired to connect with another human being on that most basic level. Mind, body, soul. Enjolras patched that gap in his life, while he searched for his meaning in the world. The reassuring nature of the rebel eased the pain of life. Grantaire had been his second rebellion, one that he saw himself loosing on a daily basis. Grantaire was a lost cause that he wasn't willing to give up. To Enjolras, he was the only man he'd trust with his life. A foolish sentiment to most of the students, but a real heartfelt feeling to Enjolras. Grantaire was not a determined soul, but behind his blue eyes was a true soul. Behind blue eyes was a world that needed the right explorer to discover its mysteries and unfortunately Enjolras knew Grantaire would never find it. A man like Grantaire was too determined to ever let his guard down enough to fully let someone in. Enjolras desired the best for Grantaire just as he desired the best for Paris.
Grantaire's life had changed when he met Enjolras. He could no longer ignorantly roam Paris and pretend that nothing was wrong with the world. He saw himself as the emblem of so much of the evil and immorality in society. An angel of virtue such as Enjolras had fallen just enough to let his wings brush across his brow, enough to knock away the blindfold of ignorance and allow him to realize his wrongs. He was changed forever by meeting Enjolras.
"No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings like I do. And I blame you."
