To be rather frank, Grantaire had few intentions of ever going to a rally with the Amis. The idea of being shoved around by a mass of people who couldn't even see him seemed discouraging. But, the passion that Enjolras had propelled Grantaire to the rally on one particular afternoon.
In the two months that Grantaire had quietly observed the Amis, he had found himself becoming more alert. It was like he was living again, in a way, he had things to look forward to. He loved to listen to the little arguments between the friends, to watch Barhorel and Feuilly arm wrestle, to hear poetry spout from the lips of Jehan, and most definitely the blunt certainty that filled Enjolras' speeches.
"He's like a god." Grantaire had told Joly and Bossuet on more than one occasion. The pair would often be found sitting in the back offices of a psychic's office by those days. They had met Musichetta, the psychic, and a bond had formed almost immediately.
"How strange it is to hear him talk of love." Joly would joke.
"Or of god." Bossuet would finish.
"I don't love him, I find him interesting." Grantaire would always defend. "Anyway, even if I did love him, I'm dead- and I'm old."
"Making excuses." One of them would laugh.
When the rally came around, something about lowering the price of college, a Grantaire found himself near the head of it. Of course, it wasn't like he did much for it, but the view was fantastic. He found himself a spot on the platform near Enjolras, and the way the crowd reacted to Enjolras blew Grantaire away.
"My friends," Enjolras began his speech by saying. His voice shook with power, and perhaps a nervous edge. As the speech followed, his voice became more confident and the crowd drew closer. When it ended, the crowd erupted and Enjolras fell into it, becoming a part of the sea of people that he loved so much. Grantaire couldn't help but smile.
Grantaire stayed on the platform for some time, watching as other speakers took stage. The joyous cheers of the crowds turned to screams of terror nearly an hour later. Grantaire didn't even hear the initial shots ring out, but as the crowd parted, he could hear them echo between the campus buildings.
Energy surged through the clearing, taking form in pure panic. Grantaire alone seemed to be immune to this panic, as though he were still trying to register what had happened. After moments - whether they be seconds or minutes- passed, Grantaire began to wander through what was left of the crowd. Many students had fled into dorm buildings and the student union, but perhaps fifty of them remained of the near 500. They churned around the area loosely, like ants.
A few smaller groups huddled together and Grantaire approached one. He pushed his way into the center, where there was a single body laying limp. The woman was tan, her glass eyes a vivid brown. She wore a loose shirt that had three small piercings in the chest. They oozed red.
"Oh my god..." A voice gasped behind Grantaire. He turned to face the source, surprised by the sudden outburst. He half expected a relative or friend of the dead girl, but rather it was the girl herself.
"Oh, god." Grantaire mumbled.