Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Grantaire looked on, watching as Enjolras preached of a new world. Knowing he would be sleeping alone that night. They had fought again; screaming at each other until they had grown hoarse, their throats burning and dry. Their hearts pounding and their blood boiling in their veins.
Tears had streamed down his face, a pain in his heart ached to no end. The anger had caused him troubles; worries in his head that wouldn't stop echoing over and over. Fury bubbling inside him. He hated seeing his Apollo angry, hated him at that moment, hated. Hated.
Weep, little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Enjolras had cried as well. Horror and anguish written on his features. Seeing him this way had made Grantaire cry even harder, the salty tears wretched and bitter. He was so tired, tired of all of it. It tore into him like a knife.
He hadn't looked at him at all. Avoided the corner in which Grantaire stood, staring steely up at his marble lover. That was the hardest part, not receiving the sweet, brief, and shy glances from his Apollo. The looks he waited for, lived on.
Rate yourself and rake yourself
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head
Grantaire had drunken himself into a stupor. His sorrows and fears taking stride for his actions. He watched Enjolras at the meeting, harsh and stoic, ignoring him. Looking from one man to the next, skipping him entirely, his eyes glazing over... Unresponsive.
The flat was cold and lonely without him, his Apollo. Warm and strong laying beside him. His arms around him, whispering in his ear. He would be back, late that night. Grantaire knew that for certain, but until then he was on his own. Without his support, without the man that held him together.
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
When Enjolras came around Grantaire was still awake, lying in bed with a bottle still clutched in his hand. When he saw him this way Enjolras' frown deepened. In sorrow or disgust he snatched the bottle out of his hands, Grantaire groaned, letting the visual of his lover fall out of view and into it again.
He swore loudly, starting his usual apologies. This time a bit more drunk and careless. He had heard it all before, yet Grantaire felt it needed to be said. Over and over, a problem on repeat.
Tremble for yourself, my man,
You know that you have seen this all before
It was useless to him, Enjolras didn't listen, starting again the arguments from the night before. Tears stung at his eyes again, tears he hated, willed to leave, but fell anyways. He pleaded, begged, cried until Enjolras fell silent at last.
Tremble, little lion man,
You'll never settle any of your scores
There was nothing more to say, nothing that could be said to change the way things were. They could not be saved. There was nothing to be done. His marble Apollo, resilient, defiant... Sat sobbing in the chair, no longer the strong leader of the revolution. Reverted to mere mortality. Raw and rushed.
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck
Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck
When he spoke, it was quiet and tired. Words of sorrow, fear, things Grantaire had never heard before. Things that should not come out of that beauty. Yet it did, fluent and constant. A stream of words that could not be reversed.
Grantaire held his head in his hands. Almost blocking out the things his Apollo muttered, sobered and worn. Waiting for the words he knew was coming, the words that would end it all.
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
He wanted to take it all back, to hold him again, to whisper sweet nothing's. Forget all of it. But they couldn't, not now.
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
The words spilled from his mouth. Hot and fresh. Terrible things that shouldn't be heard.
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
And then the fates are changed. Grantaire can't take it anymore. In a rush of desire and pain he is on his Apollo, forgive and forget. Forgive and forget. Forgive and forget. And he kisses back, reluctant at first but with more enthusiasm over time. Forgive and forget.
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
At least for tonight.