THE BLOOD OF ANGRY MEN
Grantaire watched Enjolras' lips moving fast with the passionate fire of a revolutionary speech. He had finished the wine long ago and was incapable of comprehending the words the man spoke, but watching him contented and stopped the yearning for more wine for a while. Perhaps it was hours after when the passionate Enjolras leaned forward and stopped speaking. All around Grantaire, his friends were filing out of the café. Courfeyrac bent down to whisper in Grantaire's ear.
"You're quite drunk mon ami, it is almost twilight. Go home."
Grantaire laughed hoarse and roughly. He bitterly thought of the small dark room in the cheap inn he would sleep away the hangover in. No he hadn't been to his real home in months. His father had kicked him out and banished him disgusted with his drunken and cynical personality. It didn't matter, life was hell anyway. The painful reality was eased only with the antidote of Enjolras and wine. He had learned that wine was a friendlier companion by far, but to be in Enjolras' presence was much more addicting.
"Leave me." Grantaire said softly.
He felt the pressure of Courfeyrac's hand on his shoulder removed. He did not turn to watch him go, Grantaire was fully absorbed with Enjolras' golden head resting down on the table. Enjolras' hand gripped the table end and his strong knuckles turned white before relaxing.
"What troubles you Apollo?"
His head snapped up and he seemed quite surprised to see Grantaire, his blue eyes were wide for a second before they narrowed.
"Nothing of your concern drunkard." He said coldly.
Grantaire laughed, perhaps Enjolras could silence Feuilly or Comberferre with his sharp tone, but Grantaire was used to it. It did not scare him away; he persisted to speak to the man.
"You're words were quite inspiring tonight Apollo."
Enjolras' face turned pallor, "It was wasted on you. I see the glaze in your eyes Grantaire. I doubt you have taken in half of what I said and what you have you will forgot by morning."
"Half is quite a lot, I should have been lucky if I had heard ha-
"You disgust me."
"It's a common effect."
Enjolras' glare was icy, but it was returned by the soft admiring gaze of Grantaire. He reached for a bottle and brought it to his lips only to find it was empty. This action was not missed.
"You'll kill yourself with that you stupid-
"Do you care? Ask again. Tell me it is wrong to drink." Said mocking Grantaire. Perhaps in truth these words really were what he wanted.
"I'll do neither. I care not whether you live or die. Drink yourself dumb like a beast. Forgive my words; I see it has no effect on you. You'll not remember this tomorrow."
With a look of cold fury Enjolras threw his coat on his slim waist and within two paces was at the door. His hand was nearly to the handle when Grantaire realized this.
He couldn't let Enjolras go. Without wine or him Grantaire would be rendered quite stupor and depressed. His lips spoke the word wait before his mind could form them. Enjolras ignored the request and disappeared into the dark streets. His face angry and white. Grantaire leapt from his chair knocking the empty bottles to the floor. He fell upon the glass and cut his hands. Drunk and mad he tore upon the door and pursued the fading figure. He was panting by the time he reached Enjolras' side. The revolutionary stared at him and picked up his pace. Grantaire focused on putting a foot in front of another, but his balance was lacking.
"Damn him. The bloody fool." Whispered Enjolras quietly.
Grantaire grabbed Enjolras' shoulder. With strong arms, Enjolras threw him off quickly.
"Go drink or sleep but do not inflict yourself upon me. Leave me alone." Said Enjolras disgusted.
With quick steps Enjolras left Grantaire. As he was taking off his coat he discovered red stains on the shoulder of it. It was Grantaire's blood. Perhaps his words had been a little too cruel…
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