Note: this is only a part of the 7th chapter "You. Always". I will post the rest of it later. Thank you so much for reading, I am incredibly happy that people like this)) For my amazing MsTonksLupin

The reunion part has been great. They've laughed, sung, played silly games, watched "Casino Royal" and eventually fallen asleep in each others hands, lying on the armchairs and the sofa. Jehan is sleeping with his head on Courfeyrac's lap, hugging Gavroche. Combeferre's fallen asleep on Joly's chest, his right hand on the paranoiac's belly. How five people could sleep on a rather small couch will always be a mystery.

Feuilly's sitting near that sofa, his head is resting near Jehan's shoulder. Bossuet, curls on the floor beside him with a pillow under his head.

The tangled figures of Cosette and Marius are lying on the armchair; Marius's face is near Cosette's neck and as he breathes he tickles it.

Grantaire is sitting near another armchair, watching Enjolras breathing in his sleep. His chest rises and falls steadily. Golden curls rest on his young face. Grantaire smiles. He can't sleep. New and new memories are invading his brain. Some of them are blurring, some are short, like pieces of the broken wine glass.

He didn't drunk last night, but now his hands are trembling terribly. Grantaire feels himself as a drug addict. He bites his thumb, trying to hide a withdrawal.

His gaze travels around the room, catching the sight of his friends. As far as he can remember he was a drunkard and a cynic. He always argued with Enjolras. Why? To prove him wrong? Maybe. Or maybe because Enjolras didn't need someone to prove him right. But to prove that he is wrong, to make him, Enjolras, work harder, more desperate. Maybe Grantaire was that person. But that meant that Enjolras hated him. He must have.

The memories of the protests and riots return. Now R is waiting for the new actions. Will he join them?

He chuckles quietly, looking down at his trembling hands.

Of course he will.

Grantaire carefully shifts himself and put his head near Enjolras's chest.

"Grantaire?" a sound of sleepy voice reaches the ears of cynic.

He smiles, the darkness hiding his face. "What is it?"

"Come here. To me." Enjolras turns his head and looks at Grantaire.

"On that" R points. "armchair? It's small for one person and you are aski_"

Enjolras says something hardly understandable as he climbs down from the armchair and sits on the floor near dark-haired student. He puts his head on his shoulder, yawning. Grantaire runs his hand through the golden hair, enjoying the softness of it. They sit like that for some minutes.

"Grantaire?"

"Mhm?" he asks quietly.

"How much do you remember? Why don't you ask me? I want to help you." Enjolras whispers.

That doesn't look like Enjolras – an activist, a leader, a revolutionary. Something has changed.

"I don't want to know." He whispers in reply, caressing Enjolras's cheek by his fingertips. "I died in that accident. And now I am starting a new life." The trembling of his fingers betrays him. Enjolras presses their foreheads together, taking Grantaire's hands in his own. "You've changed, I can see that. There were many issues between us. I am sorry for hurting you, Enjolras. That's why I don't want to remember." He breathes deeply, enjoying the other man so close to himself. "I will be another. I promise I won't spoil your speeches and actions with a poison of my bloody cynicism…"

Enjolras sighs, closing his eyes, tangling his fingers in dark curls. "Shut up, I don't want you to change. Don't argue with me. Please." Grantaire chuckles in reply. "Can I kiss you?"

The heart of the cynic stops for a second. "Why are you asking me? It's not like you always did."

The golden-haired leader carefully moves forward, for a couple of centimeters and touches Grantaire's lips. The touch is so slight, but Grantaire enjoys that. Enjoys the taste of Enjolras's lips and his tongue. Enjoys his neck under his fingers, his racing heart, his whispers, his touches.

His Enjolras.

The leader of ABC slowly slips down to Grantaire's neck. He kisses him several times, tickling his skin and then pulls down on the floor and hugs tightly. R laughs quietly, trying not to wake up the rest, sliding his hand around Enjolras's waist. "Sleep. You must be tired. And drunk." He adds, smiling.

"No, I am not. Can't I just kiss you when I am sober? I am always sober, you genius."

Grantaire takes Enjoras's hand and kisses his fingers. "I just can't get used of you being this sweet and romantic. But I like it." The leader sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head on the artist's chest, listening to his heart beating. "Not like. But love. You. Always. Even when there was more alcohol then blood in my body." Enjolras runs his fingers up and down Grantaire's belly. "Will you help me? In overcoming the addiction?"

He asked that so desperately, that Enjolras has felt the pain in his voice. He looked in his eyes. "Of course."

The leader of ABC squeezes hand of his friend, feeling the slight trembling. Before the accident Grantaire never admitted that he had problems with drinking. Many things have changed. But some are the same. Enjolras still will try to change the society and Grantaire will always be there, reminding him of his human nature.

With his strange soul: wild, talented, a bit of broken, he reviles mine.

Enjolras listens Grantaire's heart beating. He thinks of the protests in Greece. The Greek parliament has passed a bill which will see 15,000 state employees lose their jobs by the end of next year. The whole Europe is suffering because of the unemployment. Slowly it is going to touch their University. They have already heard about possible losses. Jean Valjean can be fired. Because of his age. Nonsense! He is the best History teacher in the whole Paris.

"Can you stop concerning and just sleep?" Grantaire chuckles with his eyes closed, his hand around Enjolras's waist.

"I am just thinking about things that were and what are now." The second man explains, yawning.

Grantaire just hugs him tightly in reply.

Enjolras smiles. He can't explain what has changed him so much. The slow realization. The constant failure in their attempts to change the political situation, to make people actually care…

I will never understand you. The abilities of your soul to fall on the very bottom of the abyss, trying to make changes in place, where all the laws of the Universe lose their original form, hoping for a rapid raise to outrageous heights of freedom and equality. You start just like a warm, tender sun. But then you are uniting people, making companies of the soulmates, waiting for a sign, forming them, teaching, encouraging them. You start feeling time only when you are waiting, waiting for the most important, lost in the chaos of a modern life. You, Enjolras, are waiting for people to arise to follow you, to understand you and help. The only one thing that you want is to tear apart your own chest and trough it in the name of your Idea. You are not afraid of death, you don't think about it. Enjolras, you are ignorant of fear or doubt. You are lost between the obvious and the imaginary. But you are combining the responsibilities of the individual choice with an impulse of angry men.

Everything else doesn't matter to you. It's so insignificant. My arguments are so offensively logical. Admit that. I will never understand you, Enjolras. No, I will never dare to look in the depth of your soul.

Enjolras can't say if he is sleeping and having a dream or it is Grantaire's whispers. Maybe both.

Cosette wakes up as the sun starts dancing on her lips, stealing kisses which exist for Marius and only for him. Her beautiful blue eyes gently watch the young man, sleeping by her side. She smiles, letting the sunlight to see her happiness. Cosette carefully puts her legs down and stands up, making her way to the kitchen. Soon her friends will wake up and there will be breakfast for them.

She walks bare feet to the kitchen, trying really hard not to sing. Cosette recalls Grantaire's singing. That gave her chills. As the fair haired girl enters the kitchen she noticed a photo camera on the table. Cosette can't remember anyone taking photos last night. She takes the camera and as she picks it up, her eyes catch a note, which has been lying under it.

Cosette feel sharp pain in her chest, when she recognizes the handwriting of Eponine. On the sheet of paper are written only three words "Your happy life". With bitter she turns on the camera.

Combeferre, chasing Jehan, who is running away with Ferry's glasses.

Gavroche, yawning.

Grantaire, singing.

Feuilly with a funny face, eating a cake.

Courfeyrac, hugging Jehan and Ferry.

Enjolras's face with strange mix of emotions.

Marius, smiling so happily, his hand around Cosette's waist.

That last picture is blurred, like if the hand trembled when the picture was taken. Cosette closes her eyes, breathing heavily. It's not her fault. Marius has made his choice. She gasps, turns off the camera and hurries to make a breakfast.