Forever in your eyes
The revolution succeeds, but at a price. Many lives were lost and the people of Paris tremble. The men of the barricade remain traumatized, forever hearing the deafening scream of their allies. Some may even be driven to the brink of madness.
Opening his eyes to blinding light, and everything felt warm. The sheets that lay beneath him upon the sturdy metal-frame bed were almost comforting. The light that poured in through the window was like clear honey, radiant, beautiful, and fresh. The room had a homely smell of tobacco and burning toast. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was better than the smell of fresh blood and gunpowder…something that just seemed to drift within the young revolutionaries head.
Enjolras blinked his eyes, adjusting to the atmosphere. He didn't remember much. He was at the barricade, when an uproar broke out, and everything seemed to burn a bright white…after that, he passed out from God knows what, most likely blood loss, considering the circumstances. His entire body was aching, but there was warmth in his heart that he couldn't possibly ignore. He sat up slightly, groaning as a searing pain shot through his shoulder. His hair was no longer covered in filth, and his bloodstained clothes had been changed to a set of white slacks and a shirt, which made him feel a little more secure.
"You're up. I was beginning to think you'd never wake." Enjolras almost jumped in slight shock and turned his head towards the voice, noticing the stiffness of his neck. A familiar tall young man with hazel hair and silver spectacles stood by the windowsill, within the line of golden light. He wore a smile that Enjolras had never truly seen before.
"Combeferre…" Enjolras seemed dazed for a moment, his throat almost too dry to speak. He blinked his eyes once more and placed a hand upon his chest, checking that he was actually breathing and that this wasn't a dream from heaven. "But…how are you..." He couldn't find the words he was looking for no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't piece himself together.
"You've been out for a while now." He said in a low tone. It was strange. Combeferre was covered in blood and bruises and scars that'd probably never heal, and yet, he'd never looked better. He still wore the sign of revolution upon the chest pocket of his waistcoat. "I was starting to worry."
"…Where are the others?" Enjolras questioned, for a moment, unable to keep his breathing in tact, as though he were underwater, trying desperately to stay above the surface…but the drowning was within his own mind…his own memory. It seemed almost impossible to escape.
Combeferre didn't answer his question directly. Instead he turned to the light from the windowsill, and smiled once again. "The world has never looked more peaceful…so much beauty seems to grow in Paris…but you never really notice it until everything else has been washed away by the clear lines of blood that paint the floors of Paris. It's like everything you've known about the world completely changes…" Combeferre turned his head towards his old friend, almost appearing as a spirit within the view of the new sunlight. "I'm proud of you Enjolras. I never doubted you for a moment."
Enjolras felt as though he was going to faint, like his body was ready to collapse and float into the welcoming world of heaven. Why wasn't he dead? He should have perished at the barricade; instead, he sat here…breathing…his mind swimming in a pool of disbelief. Everyone knew it was going to falter…so why was he still here?
"If you're worried about them, don't be. Most of them are in a better place now, free of suffering, where they can dream all of their peaceful days away, under the wondrous shade of slumber…it's the ones still alive I pity the most." Combeferre seemed to drift into a trance of his own kind, as his head began to spin in thought.
"…What are you saying? Why do you keep speaking in such an unadorned way? You…don't seem like yourself." Enjolras questioned, his heart pounding furiously within his chest.
Combeferre turned on his heels, taking his eyes off of the rising sun for a mere moment. "We've won Enjolras. There's nothing to fear…not anymore. It's all over."
"I know…it's just…" Enjolras felt as though something here was wrong. It just didn't feel right. Combeferre didn't feel right. Nothing felt right.
"What's wrong Mon Ami?" Combeferre asked softly, leaning against the window ledge beside Enjolras' bed. When Enjolras didn't reply, Combeferre's smile disappeared. "Hey, you mustn't forget the promise you made to me Enj'."
"What promise?" Enjolras almost hissed in irritation. He just couldn't deal with this situation…not now…probably not ever. His head just seemed to fill with thoughts and memories that he couldn't piece together.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten already." Combeferre smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's so like you Enjolras."
Suddenly, the entire atmosphere seemed to shift, like Enjolras had just jumped from one place to the next, from heaven to hell. The entire room seemed to grow cold as ice, as the straight wooden door to the entrance of the private hospital room was swung open, and in the doorway stood Courfeyrac, as young as he was, with a red-stained bandage round his upper arm. His entire look of composure seemed to shatter like a fallen glass in less than a second. He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes not leaving Enjolras for a single moment.
That was when Enjolras noticed Courfeyrac's left leg…the fact that it wasn't there. In its place, a well-carved slide of wood shaped similarly to what was supposed to be there. He looked fairly sick, his skin being as pale as fresh fallen snow and his eyes darkened from restless nights. "Enjolras…you're…oh God…"
"Courfeyrac, you're alive…" Enjolras seemed to let a sigh of relief escape his lips.
"I could say the same for you!" Courfeyrac's voice was sharp and shaken. He could hardly breathe, like the entire room was running out of air.
"What happened…and…your leg…"
"Forget about my bloody leg!" Courfeyrac snapped as he ran a hand through his tussled hair. His face was covered in scratches and dark bruises. He took one more deep breath to calm himself, though he was still unable to speak without a shake in his tone. "…You don't know how close we were to loosing you Enjolras. Your heart literally stopped…I'm just…I can't believe you made it. I rushed over here as soon as I heard." Courfeyrac walked over to the side of Enjolras' bed and took a seat beside him.
"How long's it been?" He asked.
"Four days…"
"I…don't remember anything." Enjolras said honestly. Getting a closer look at Courfeyrac, his eyes had lost its youthful colour. He seemed to be a different man, like all the life and hope and glory he used to see within his soul had been completely drained away.
"…Do you remember who we lost?" Courfeyrac asked, his voice barely a whisper. He turned his head away from Enjolras, not wanting him to see him cry. He felt his heart begin to burst at the very thought of them, all of the memories rushing back in one moment. They'd been though so much together…it just wasn't fair. "Feuilly…Joly…Lesgle…Bahorel…Combeferre…they're all gone." His eyes stared without a single flicker, and he couldn't help but hold his breath.
Enjolras turned his head back towards the windowsill where Combeferre had been standing…but he wasn't there. There stood nothing but the bright summer light, glistening like a thousand crystals. And upon the ledge of the aging window, sat a pair of familiar silver wired spectacles, a clear crack running straight through the left lens. And then it hit him. What exactly? Well…all of it…everything…and suddenly, he realized. They were all late. They were never coming back. He'd never hear the sound of their laughter, or their cheesy jokes or their caring voices…ever again…
And it was all his fault.
Something deep inside of him just seemed to snap. Like, he knew that he should have been the one to die, not them…what had they ever done wrong? What did they do to deserve a bullet to the head? They'd been sent to sleep in hell…because of him.
"The only survivors were Marius, Jehan, Grantaire, you, and me…it's just us now…" At that moment, Enjolras did something, that even in a moment of agony, Courfeyrac would have never expected from the man of marble. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac and hid his face upon his shoulder, breaking down then and there, crying silently through the everlasting pain within his chest which cut through his heart like a searing blade…but it wasn't the bullet wounds or the bruises that was making him quiver…it was them.
And that was when the marble cracked.
Enjolras sat upon the edge of the barricade; fiddling with the silver handgun Joly had given him moments ago. He turned his head up towards the crystal canvas of the night sky, admiring its pure beauty that seemed to show so clearly on such a shaken night. Everything was so quiet. Most of the men had gone inside to tend to their wounds and just to enjoy the few remaining moments they had left.
Perhaps he was naïve for believing so passionately in his cause…but nevertheless, he intended to see it through to the very end. He'd never give up on Patria. He promised himself he would not break, even if it meant the death of him…but he had not considered the death of others.
"Enjolras," The young man looked over to see Combeferre standing from the side of the barricade, placing a broken barrel within the whole that'd been created by the national guard's firing. "Why are you still out here?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" Enjolras questioned. "Someone's got to stay on guard, just in case they come back. I feel the need to take responsibility."
"Is that so…" Combeferre adjusted his glasses, which had now gained several cracks within the left lens, "In that case, I shall stay with you." Combeferre climbed down and heaved himself down to a comfortable position next to their great leader. There was a moment of silence from the both of them, as they admired the night's everlasting beauty. Who'd have thought the most peaceful skylight would fall upon a day such as this?
"Am I a fool?" Enjolras asked seriously.
"At times." Combeferre admitted with a friendly chuckle, "Though, I believe it's nice to have a few faults within our 'oh so mighty leader'. It proves your human nature."
"Well…I feel as though I've been a fool my entire life." Enjolras stated, though not seeming to care for his own words too much. "I feel as though…I shouldn't have been so blind as to lead us here…we're all going to be sleeping with the dogs soon…and yet, they still sing, as though everything's okay. That's why I love them so dearly…and to see them die will probably break every ounce of strength I have left in me."
"For what it's worth…" Combeferre smiled, as he turned his head towards his companion. "…It's been an honor knowing you, 'Jolras."
Enjolras smiled back. "A toast to friendship."
"It'll evidently last forever, whether you like it or not." The two of them laughed together, as they always did. Even when they were kids, they understood each other more than anyone else could. "…Enjolras, will you promise me something?" Combeferre asked, his tone growing a little more serious.
"That depends on what it is." Enjolras stated.
"…No matter what happens…when the sun rises, you have to promise me you'll always stay strong." Combeferre seemed unable to look him in the eye as he said those words. "I…I know you as the man who could not be broken…and no matter what happens don't let anything break you. If you promise to stay strong until the end, then so will I. Whether you die or not makes no difference. You have to stay strong...can you promise me that?"
"…Okay, I promise." Enjolras replied, and Combeferre seemed to lighten his emotion.
"Thank you."