A/N: Just a short little book based thing I had to get off my mind.
They might have been brothers had it suited the world. They could have sat side by side in their likeness, blonde hair, blue eyes, solemn face, and it would have been as natural as breathing. They could have smiled quietly at some half heard joke, and it would have been fine. They could have laughed over a glass of wine like the boys they were. It would have been right.
He stood, raising his carbine slowly to his shoulder and aiming at the blonde haired sergeant who stood by the cannon, no less a man that Enjolras himself. This man, this brother, was scrutinized down the barrel of a rifle for no less than an instant, but the shot was longer in coming. How could one kill this man? Finally, the trigger was pulled and the brother fell, and Enjolras felt the bullet as if it was traversing his own body to tear into his heart. A tear fell from his eyes, those blue eyes that would never see their own again. And as he looked down to reload the cold metal in his hands, they were eyes that had lost just a little of their fire.
