NOTE: This chapter is a little bit shorter than the others, but I was able to upload this ahead of schedule because of that. I think Chapter 7 will be about the same length.

MORE ANGST GUYS WOO.

That little vacation we had ended quickly, and soon we were back at school. I was happy to be amongst my friends again, and Enjolras seemed just as happy. We spent less time together and more time with friends, but we often went out. Some time was spent on double dates with Marius and Cosette, and some time was even spent pranking the head of school, Javert. It was fun.

And I was apparently Marius's gay best friend.

I don't exactly know how it happened, but we were suddenly going out on weekends. Whether it be shopping or just going for a coffee, we spent a lot of time together. I found myself making jokes about it on tumblr, calling him my "white girl" friend.

One weekend we spent the morning at the local department store. There was a party coming up and he wanted to look nice, and employed my help with picking out an outfit. I cursed being in love with the latest fashions, and the fact that I was an artist made him want to know "what his colour was." I loved it and hated it.

It was evening, nearly time for dinner. There was a loud ruckus coming from the area near our dorm. Exchanging very brief glances, we hurried towards the dorm to see what all the commotion was.

I dropped my bags when I saw what was going on. There was a huge pile of furniture piled in front of the dorm's front entrance, and on top was Enjolras. He held his most prized possession above his head, a flag as red as blood. I barely heard his shouts of revolution, I was so mortified. People cheered him on, laughing and shouting his name. Monsieur Valjean and Monsieur Javert put aside their usual arguing to coax him down from this makeshift barricade.

Before I knew it I was stumbling up the side of the creation, reaching for his hand. I'll never forget how happy he looked up there, spreading the word. I knew from that moment on he would never love me the way he loved the Patria, but I didn't care. I had to get to him, to make sure he was safe.

Then there was a shot. Everything suddenly moved so slowly, like a slow motion scene in a film. His fingers were barely out of reach when it happened. My heart stopped and my eyes widened.

Something hit his chest….

His eyes closed; he fell back….

I screamed, scrambling to get to him….

Arms grabbed me as I cried, tears already streaming down my face….

The flag hit the ground, a hole pierced through the heart of it….

Blood poured from an open wound on his body….

"Enjolras!" I yelled, struggling against whoever held me. By this time my tears had blinded me and I could hardly see a thing. "Enjolras!"

Sirens could be heard in the distance as Valjean hurried to my fiancée's side. I continued to squirm, but whoever held me back was much stronger. The look on Valjean's face told me it was too late, that my beloved was gone.

I finally threw back my elbow, hitting the man who held me back. I stumbled on a chair, heart beating rapidly in my chest. "No, no, no, I can't lose him, I can't, I can't, I can't…."

A puddle of blood had already formed, and my hands began to tremble. I wasn't ready for this, I wasn't ready to see him dead. He was seventeen, he was too young to die. I fell beside him, the blood splashing under my knees. I picked him up in my arms, shaking my head.

"Enjolras, my Apollo, please…Please don't leave me…"

He stirred slightly in my arms, a little bit of blood spilling from between his lips. His lips turned upwards in a smile, weak as it was.

"I-I'm not going…going anywhere my Di-Dionysus…" A hand reached up to touch my cheek, and I leaned down to kiss him, blood covering my lips now. I didn't care. My fingers clutched onto him tightly.

"Stay with me," I murmured. "Please, Apollo…"

His hand fell from my face, once again falling in slow motion. It seemed as though my hearing grew stronger as well, because I swore I heard his hand hit the ground. My heart sank. "No...No!"

"Move it, kid," said one of the now approaching EMTs. "Get outta our way."

I was reluctant to leave Enjolras's side. I couldn't bring myself to let go. Finally Valjean pulled me away, and I shivered in his arms. My heart was aching, I couldn't stand this. They carried Enjolras to the ambulance, and I shook my head quickly and pulled from my teacher's arms. I ran to the dorm, grabbing my car keys and two unopened bottles of wine. Once I was in the safety of my car, I clawed at one of the bottles until the cork came out and I took a long, much needed drink.

I had to be by his side. I needed to know if he was alive or not. At my rate, though, and the amount of wine I was drinking along the way got me thinking. Maybe I wouldn't even make it to the hospital; maybe I would crash. I would either find Enjolras in heaven - or likely hell - or be alone and find he had in fact lived.

As it was, I made it to the hospital alive but had finished the first bottle. I cracked open the second, starting it almost immediately. Within a period of fifteen minutes, the bottle was empty and on the floor of my car. Stumbling, not caring how drunk I seemed, I made my way into the hospital.

"Edward Enjolras," I asked the receptionist. "Where is he?"

She didn't say anything about my being drunk, but gave me an odd look. "Visiting hours are over. Family only."

"I am his family," I said. "He and I are engaged."

Regarding me with a skeptical eye, she pointed to the elevator. "Second floor, room 4601."

I nodded, hurrying to the elevator. I pressed the button, and once it arrived on the correct floor I hurried out. I got a nervous feeling again. Looking around, I finally found the correct room, but the door was closed. What if there was a blanket over his body? That would mean he was dead.

I pushed open the door all the same, and was relieved to see that he was in the bed and not under the sheets. He was scowling, shouting obscenities at the television. I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame because I was watching him and felt sick. There was another person in the room, on the other side, and he sent him glares until he finally threw a pillow at Enjolras. He made a surprised sound, tossing the pillow right back.

I was getting married to a child.

The other man said something in French — more obscenities — before pointing out that Enjolras had a visitor. He turned to look at me, then smiled.

"Hey!"

"You twat, I was worried sick about you."

"Why? I told you the other day, I'm never leaving you. Come here, I'm lonely."

"You have a roommate."

"You mean Courf? Nah, he's a dick, it's okay."

The man threw the pillow at Enjolras and he caught it.

"You've known him for five minutes and you call him a dick?"

He snorted. "We were kids together, it's okay."

I raised an eyebrow as I crossed over to the bed, taking his hand in mine. I glanced at this Courf fellow. Not too bad looking, but I was taken. He looked to me, then beamed.

"Qui êtes-vous et que je peux vous prendre au lit avec moi?" he asked, grinning.

Enjolras answered him by throwing the pillow at him, hitting him in the face. "Va te faire foutre, Courfeyrac, il est à moi."

"No need to start a war over me—"

Courfeyrac interrupted again. "Je ne vois pas un signe de lui qu'il est le vôtre."

"Il porte ma bague, vous chauve-souris aveugle. N'avez-vous pas remarqué?" He took my arm and held up my hand. "Il est pris, Courfeyrac. Cesser de flirter avec mon futur mari, parce que vous allez le regretter." He turned to me. "You better not hook up with him, I won't be happy."

I laughed, but then stopped when I saw him wrinkle his nose. He leaned over, tugging me down so his face was close to mine, and sniffed me. He pushed me away.

"Come back when you're sober."

I blinked. "Enjolras, what the hell—"

"Get out, I want you sober."

I didn't move, and he sat up and put his legs on the side of the bed, looking as though he was about to get up. I made a surprised sound, reaching out to hold him back. But despite this, he stood up. For an instant, I swear to God, I saw a flash of pure anger in his eyes. His eyes locked with mine, and suddenly I felt really small. He was a good four or so inches taller than mine, so you can imagine why I was afraid. He took another step closer, I swallowed nervously. He was no more than an inch away from me.

"Get out and sober up," he said in a low voice.

I cleared out my throat. "No," I said defiantly.

It barely registered as it happened. My breath had hitched and I had taken a step back because of the force. My cheek stung like a bitch. I said nothing more on the matter, pushing him away and running out of the room. I heard him call after me, but in the middle of shouting my name he stopped. I only turned when I had made it to the elevator and pressed the button. He was on his knees, face contorted in pain, and a nurse and Courfeyrac were at his side. I hurried into the elevator and closed the door, clutching onto myself and sobbing.