Something to Believe In
"You had so little faith in me today that I hardly knew what to make of it," Grantaire's voice sounded behind him. The blond man did not turn, but merely continued to stare out of the window as one fixated on an object only he can see. Noting this, the drunkard moved closer. "Something so simple, Apollo. Did you really believe me to stupid to finish the job?"
Do not answer him. If you answer him, he'll probe more. Stay silent and he'll go away.
Perhaps not.
Grantaire knew what tricks were to be played that evening and he pulled a chair up, scraping it across the floor with a horrible sound to it, and sat down to wait the other student out. He sat backwards in it, his arms folded over the chair's back and his chin resting against them. His eyes were visible over it and they bore into his leader's back. "What do you expect to gain from this?"
"From what?" Blast! Keep your mouth shut! If you ignore him he'll go away!
"Everything," the other answered vaguely.
"Are you drunk?"
"Not this time."
"Surprising."
"Even to myself."
"Go away, Grantaire," the revolutionary leader snapped, his blue eyes sparking with something unknown to his companion.
"You, sir, are an ingrate, did you know that?" There was a smile on his unshaved face.
"Yes, you'd mentioned that once this day."
"And it seems to be needed again." He shifted, but did not stand. "What do you hope to gain?"
"Freedom," Enjolras breathed, not realizing he'd done so until it was too late.
"For you?"
"For them."
"And for you."
"What do you mean by that?"
A cynical smile crossed the drunkard's face and Grantaire stood, scooting the chair away from him. "I'm not a fool, Enjolras. Drunk, yes, a good deal of the time, but not a fool. And neither are you."
"Where are you going with this?"
"You know you won't live through this. Not if you attack now. You have people to back you, yes, but not enough. You have weapons to use, yes, but not enough. The king's men will squish you and you won't even go down in the history books."
"Then why follow if you don't believe in our cause?"
Grantaire shrugged. "I try not to believe in anything," he said lightly, but then his voice turned deadly serious. "But you changed that, didn't you? You… Do you know why I follow you?"
"Do enlighten me," the other said with dry sarcasm.
"Delighted to. You believe so fully in your cause. In yourself. In these idiots that you fight for… I don't know why you do, because heaven only knows you'll get nothing in return except a bullet meant for you head or your heart that will strike you in the middle instead, bleeding you slowly to death. Don't look at me like that, Apollo. You know that this will not be a pleasant death and you know that you will die." A small smile returned. "A martyrs death, isn't that right?"
Enjolras watched him, blue eyes wide as the other man moved past him.
"But still you're steady, knowing all this," Grantaire continued, voice low and he sighed. "That's why I follow you."
"Even if you are to become a martyr as well?" Enjolras murmured.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you gave me something to believe in, even if I didn't want it."