Chapter Three: Enjolras

'Joly, does this man study medicine with you?'

Joly looked at Grantaire's face with a slightly surprised look. Then Grantaire established eye contact and tried to send out a plea. Joly turned away and answered coldly.

'Yes.'

Grantaire could not believe his luck. The waitress nodded at him. Joly put his hand on Grantaire's shoulder and, with a firm grip, started to lead him away towards the light and voices coming from the other end of the passage.

Grantaire was about to speak but Joly shushed him and took him down another side passage that led outside.

'I don't study with you,' Grantaire confessed as soon as they stopped and Joly was looking at him expectantly.

'I am aware of that,' he answered with a smile. 'But why did you say so?'

'I really wanted to get into your meetings, and I heard you mention Enjolras and-'

'You know Enjolras?'

'No! Well, yes. Kind of. But… he doesn't know me.'

Joly blinked.

Grantaire decided to go for it.

'I'm from the future'.

Joly did not laugh, as expected. Instead, he questioned him in an unchanged tone.

'When in the future?'

'Er – 2016. You believe me?!'

'I don't know yet. I'm trying to decide.'

'What will it take to convince you?'

'The truth.'

'But – how will you know what is the truth?'

'Just tell me the truth and I'll believe it.'

'Alright then. As I said, I'm from 2016. I learnt about the June Rebellion – that is, what you're planning – for a history project at school.'

'Did you learn about me?' Joly interrupted hopefully.

'Er – no, we didn't actually learn any specific names…'

'But then, how do you know about Enjolras?'

'Damn, you're sharp. I… well… don't freak out, ok?'

'O - k…' Joly repeated this unknown phrase cautiously, but he thought he understood the meaning.

'Oh yeah… that's a few years later, and in the US'

'Just a new word is not enough to convince me, Grantaire.' Grantaire tried to recall if he had given his name at any point in the conversation, 'But, I like it: O-K'.

'Anyway, don't freak out, but,' he took a deep breath, 'I found his name on a gravestone'.

Joly laughed.

'That's O-K then. Don't worry, I know there is no human alive now who will be alive in 184 years.' While impressed with his quick calculations, Grantaire had to correct him.

'You misunderstand. The tombstone was dated 1832.'

The smile immediately disappeared from Joly's face.

'Well, that means the rebellion was a failure. There is no way the rest of us would survive if Enjolras did not.'

'That doesn't seem to bother you'

'My friend, we all knew when we joined that there was a high chance we would die. That is a risk we are all willing to take in order to free the French people.'

'But – what if it doesn't do anything?'

'I'm sure we will at least manage to inspire future generations. Do you know if there is a successful rebellion after this?'

'Well, I suppose 1848 was-'

'See, there is nothing to worry about. Now, come in and meet the rest of the group.'

They stepped back into the warm passage and went towards the cheerful voices. Joly pushed the door open and led Grantaire into the room.

Amidst the bright atmosphere, no one noticed their entrance, and Joly took Grantaire to a table where the man he was with earlier – Bossuet, he believed – was sitting.

'Bossuet, meet Grantaire' Joly said while pushing Grantaire down onto a stool. 'He'll be joining us'.

'It's a pleasure to meet you.' Bossuet shook his hand. 'Hopefully you're more up for a laugh than certain other members.' He winked.

'Bossuet, why don't you offer our friend some wine while I talk to Enjolras about it?'

'You're not going to tell him about-?' Grantaire glanced at Bossuet.

'There is no need, at least not yet. I will explain it to Bossuet later. He will believe me.'

Bossuet poured Grantaire some wine and ensured Joly was a suitable distance away before he looked at Grantaire quizzically.

'So, my friend, what is this secret we are not to tell Enjolras?'

'I think, maybe, Joly would explain it to you better than I can'.

Bossuet, kindly, did not press the matter any further and gossiped to Grantaire about all the affairs of Les Amis until Joly came back with, he assumed, Enjolras.

But this Enjolras could not be a man. He had to be an angel, a god even. He had a halo of golden locks, a flawless complexion, and most of all, stunning blue eyes that Grantaire could not take his own eyes off. He gaped at him in admiration, until Bossuet kicked him under the table with a snicker.

'You wish to join us?' Enjolras asked.

'Yes,' Grantaire answered, stunned by Enjolras' strong but kind tone of voice.

'Will you, in all honesty, devote your life and death to our motherland?'

This question filled Grantaire with inspiration, as if he had an insight into Enjolras' mind.

'Yes,' he answered earnestly and without hesitation.

'Then you shall join us.' Enjolras smiled slightly and walked away. Grantaire found himself reaching out after him until he quickly stopped himself and yanked his hand away.

Joly and Bossuet exchanged a knowing glance.

'You seem to be quite taken with our leader.'

Grantaire blushed.

'No – I, well, um-'

'Don't worry, we won't tell anyone'.

'That is, if you don't betray yourself,' Joly and Bossuet smirked.

Grantaire felt his face rapidly growing red and downed his glass of wine, before turning to gaze at Enjolras.

After a while, he realised, the blue eyes were staring back at him.

Then he heard him speak.

His words were powerful and confident, and he had no need to call for silence in the room once he had started to talk. They conveyed a strong passion, like a burning fire, that seemed to spread from person to person like trees in a forest fire.

His hope was like untrodden on snow – it looked so pure and convincing. No one in the room suspected it could get trampled on so easily. No one but Grantaire.

At that moment, he believed Enjolras' words completely. Had he not known the outcome, he would never have suspected they were lies. All lies.

Lies that would eventually cause all of his followers' deaths.

But he is not to blame, Grantaire thought to himself. He is deceiving himself also, and he is not even aware that he is doing it. I can feel no resentment to him. Only sadness.

Then, the most resounding thought of all came to him.

I wish his words were true.

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E :)