We had won. And we had won loosing very few people. The few we that we did lose how ever left a gap in the Friends of the ABC. We were all mourning for those we lost. Courfeyrac awoke from nightmare of his lover, Jehan Prouvaire, being shot and falling blood flowing down his head and the between the creases of his eyes. Joly locked himself in his room for days on end refusing comfort from anyone including those he loved the most. He felt strongly responsible for the death of Comberferre, who had given his life to save Joly's. Joly still lives the vivid memories Comberferre pushing Joly out of the way and watching three bullets pierce Comberferre, two of which entered his heart. The last of the fallen saddens me the most. I would never feel those golden curls, softer than the down feather of a baby duck. Never again would I feel his soft lips graze mine. My light, My Apollo was gone. The great god had fallen. Eight. Eight a number I have come to hate. Eight the number of bullets that entered his chest. Eight the number of bullets that pierced his heart. Eight.. The number of seconds I was too late. Enjolras had fallen and I was too late to stop it. I was instantly snapped out of my drunken stupor, and the memories left my mind but I knew soon enoug they would be back, when Courfeyrac's scream rang through out the cafe. I look at him as tears ran down his face. A spot on his forehead red and shiny from falling asleep on the table stood out against his dark curly hair. I walked to him slowly sobering up and put a comforting arm around him. He clung to me needing the feel of another living being. I had never been any of the Amis' favorite, aside from Enjolras, but in the light of tragedy they even would welcome the comfort of a drunkard like me. I left Courfeyrac as he fell asleep again on the table and walked slowly to my flat. The memories of the barricade replying over and over again in my mind. I arrived at my flat and went straight for my stash of the strongest liquor I owned and down bottle after bottle. I looked at my art. Paintings of Enjolras adorned every canvas. I finished the bottle I was drinking and smashed it against a table breaking it to shards. I grabbed one and ignoring the blood running down my hand I slashed every single canvas till there were none left. I looked at my bloody hand and the blood covered shard of glass. I had nothing left to live for nothing. My light was gone. My world was gone and when that light left this world so did a part of me. It was time to rejoin that part. I took the shard and pressed it against the soft flesh on my forearm and slowly ran the shard deep down my arm to my wrist. Slowly the blood rushed out. I blinked a few times feeling light headed and looked up toward the light that was slowly building to a blinding white light. I blinked a few more times as my eyes adjusted. I saw my Apollo there reaching out to me. I reached out and I took his hand.