Enjolras, from the point of view of Grantaire. I wrote this a while ago, but thought it would be nice to post it now. I'm sorry, I PROMISE to have the next chapter of Prank Wars up soon! I really am working on it! I do not own Les Miserables.

You can tell.

You can tell he's the one. It's the way he stands, he walks, he shouts.

You can tell he's the leader.

None of us mind. He's the leader. So what? Less pressure for us. Just follow. Just listen.

None of us mind.

He's it. He's the guy. If he can't do it, no one can. He's the one who started it. He's the one who'll finish it. He's it.

He's planning something. Something big. On those late nights, the ones with those midnight classes and I actually remember what I did the night before, I can see his light on, from down the hall. Studying... Or something else? He's planning something BIG.

He's intense. I've never seen him laugh, not once. Sometimes, when we're joking around, someone'll shove him and he'll crack a smile. When we're at our back table in the cafe. He'll smile, but he'll never laugh. He's intense.

He loves her. The girl. The one who keeps coming back, the urchin girl. The one who keeps coming back for Marius. The one with the fierce look in her eyes and no smile. The letter-carrier.

He loves her.

I think he's scared of it. He hates to mention her, gets all squirmy and weird.
Uncomfortable. He's never been in love before. It's alien to him, like fear or submission or something. He's never had to deal with those feelings before. It must be strange. He's scared.

I wish I could comfort him. But he's the leader. There's no comforting the leader. He's the one, the only one. He's not just the leader, he's OUR leader. Ours. When he smiles, we smile. When he cries, we cry.

When he dies, we die with him.