He was asleep for a while. He drifts awake again sometime late in the evening, becoming aware of dying firelight on his face, and low voices somewhere nearby. They are too quiet for him to make out the words, but the sound is melancholy music to him. Combeferre and Enjolras, talking with each other.
Grantaire opens his eyes cautiously. There they are, sitting at the next table with the light gleaming in their hair. Even as he watches, Combeferre reaches for Enjolras' hand and kisses it: reverent and tender. Enjolras smiles across the table, and goes on speaking.
He shuts his eyes again, listening.
There is a soft question; an answer even softer. A silence.
"Come with us?"
Grantaire looks up, startled. Enjolras meets his gaze, with that same small, kindly smile, and repeats the invitation.
He glances at Combeferre, sees -- something; resentment? fear? embarrassment? -- but no protest is forthcoming. "If you like," he says through the tightness in his throat.
Enjolras rises, holding out a hand to him.
This is a mistake, he thinks as he climbs to his feet.
Later, curled exhausted at the foot of the bed, flushed with their warmth, watching them gasp and shudder in each other's arms, he is sure of it. But he is no longer sure that he cares.
Grantaire opens his eyes cautiously. There they are, sitting at the next table with the light gleaming in their hair. Even as he watches, Combeferre reaches for Enjolras' hand and kisses it: reverent and tender. Enjolras smiles across the table, and goes on speaking.
He shuts his eyes again, listening.
There is a soft question; an answer even softer. A silence.
"Come with us?"
Grantaire looks up, startled. Enjolras meets his gaze, with that same small, kindly smile, and repeats the invitation.
He glances at Combeferre, sees -- something; resentment? fear? embarrassment? -- but no protest is forthcoming. "If you like," he says through the tightness in his throat.
Enjolras rises, holding out a hand to him.
This is a mistake, he thinks as he climbs to his feet.
Later, curled exhausted at the foot of the bed, flushed with their warmth, watching them gasp and shudder in each other's arms, he is sure of it. But he is no longer sure that he cares.