He wanted to say it.
Grantaire had said it, and he knew it was true. The way Grantaire looked at him, the little sighs he gave as he snuggled just a little closer every night, the way he pressed his lips a little harder against his when they kissed, as if the moment would fade into oblivion as soon as it was over, but he wanted to revel in it forevermore, he certainly knew.
He knew he felt the same, but knowing it and saying it were two entirely different matters to Enjolras. He felt things in extremes; say, his passion for France, or for the republic. And of his passion for Grantaire?
Should he voice that passion, it, too, would become an extreme. A constant in his life.
And that was a frightening move to make.
He trusted Grantaire. He knew he could, and he should, and that Grantaire trusted him. He knew saying those words would only strengthen them, what they had become. Saying three simple words should not be so worrisome. He was able to give speeches to his friends at the Musain, was he not?
And yet there was… he could scarcely think them. It was so foreign, to think them, to think of saying them, and yet to say them to Grantaire would be to make himself complete.
Enjolras remained lost in his reverie for quite some time, but was jolted from it by a knock at the door. He sent a glance at the clock- it was nearly ten- and smiled.
Grantaire allowed himself inside, shutting the door and holding his hands behind his back with a sheepish grin. They had become so used to being in each other's presence, they'd taken to simply allowing themselves in the other's residence, and to be quite honest, Enjolras didn't mind as much as he would've, were it anyone else. Instead he rose from where he sat in his makeshift parlor and walked up to Grantaire, his smile not yet faded. It never entirely did these days.
Such was the effect their relationship had on his life.
"Working?" Grantaire inquired in a murmur, head tilting and causing Enjolras' smile to widen at just how puppy-like he could be.
"I was," he replied. "Rather… I've been thinking."
At this Grantaire's eyebrows furrowed, but slightly, cautiously. "What about?"
Enjolras didn't respond. Instead, he reached around for Grantaire's hands, pulling them forward and holding them against his chest where his heart would be. Grantaire allowed a bemused grin, still rather curious and confused, but now neither spoke.
He wanted to say it. He had to say it. It was how he felt, how he really, truly felt. His heart pounded, as if his chest could barely contain it any longer, but not out of fear, not entirely. He didn't notice that his breath had caught, that the only sound in the room seemed to be the thudding of his heart, ringing in his ears. All he could think was Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire.
Slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Grantaire's. His eyes held a familiar glint, one usually reserved for passionate speeches, or heated arguments of politics and the republic, or his love of Patria. Love.
His eyes locked on Grantaire's, and for an excruciating moment there was nothing but the sound of his heart and Grantaire's hitched, anxious breathing.
"I love you."
Enjolras froze, shaking his head, but not moving an inch away from him, and corrected himself. "I am in love with you."
Silence. Grantaire's eyes widened considerably at his words, staring into his in pure awe, taking a moment to let his words sink in fully, to understand them. "Enjolras…"
But there was no need for words. Enjolras was kissing him again, with a passion he always knew he contained but didn't think could ever be used kissing him, and that was more than enough. Words could wait until later.
A/N: Another shortie, but bABIES AHHHHH 3
