"More Than Friends" by Gabrielle Aplin.

As sung by Enjolras and Grantaire.


As the moon rose high over the barricade that night, Grantaire sat, propped up against a broken piano and thought. His white undershirt was stained with grime and sweat and alcohol and dirt. He glanced at his fellow...men. A couple of them sat, hunched over, next to each other, busily whispering. A few, like Feuilly and Lesgle, were slumped over a piece of furniture and had fallen fast asleep. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, so he set his bottle aside and quietly sung to himself.

"You've been awake for hours,
I've been awake for days.
My eyes to feel like I'm asleep
stuck inside an empty dream.
Question if this is even real,
a cliché way for me to feel.
Unfinished messages to send,
I told you I never want to end"

Grantaire took a deep breath and continued bravely, not noticing the volume of his voice had risen a bit from the low tone he had intended to keep it at.

"I've watched you break yourself in two
and try to give me half.
And I seem to wonder what it takes to work,
to make this last"

Enjolras heard the whisper of a song drifting over the barricade but couldn't tell who was singing. He had always been a one for song, and it bothered him he didn't know who was composing such things. He suspected Jean Prouvaire. After excusing himself from Combeferre and Courfeyrac, he nimbly made his way down the barricade, searching the utter darkness with icy blue eyes for the voice, which had now stopped. For the life of him, Enjolras couldn't fathom why he felt compelled to join and see the singer, but for once in his life he payed no heed to logic. Instead, he sang a rather random verse, following the abstract tune of the first two.

Only two more days,
to kill the mess we've made.
And give the lions something to hunt for.
Cause now the ace is played,
the desks are under queen of spades.
There's nothing left for us to hope for.

From his tucked-away corner on the wall of furniture where he didn't really belong, Grantaire heard a familiar voice and his heart rate quickened with his breathing. Could it be that Enjolras had heard and was joining in? Enjolras, the man he admired and worshiped and was shunned by? He couldn't be sure, and so he sung some more. Singing was like alcohol, he realized. It can take away your pain. Sometimes.

"And I'd run to the furthest place I need to,
just to hear love.
Cause I need to find out
how it feels to be broken in two hearts.
Ohh"

Unable to pinpoint the source of the sound, Enjolras sung another line. It has turned into almost a competition, a back-and-forth passing off of a song.

"And do you think that I've run out on you now?
Cause I still yearn, if we pretend."
Grantaire picked up the last line and the two voices blended together.
"Can we go back to where broken things only needed plasters to mend?"

Enjolras stopped and while Grantaire sung the next part, he busied himself with climbing over the ruined furniture to the piano, where, oddly enough, the familiar voice was singing from.

"Let's stay awake for hours,
just like we did back then.
When you draw pictures on my hand
in permanent marker pen"

Upon reaching the piano, Enjolras was startled to see that Grantaire was there. Grantaire, of all people was the deep, mysterious singer? The man of marble felt touched by the fact that the cynical drunkard, the "wine cask," had cared enough to take his place with them. Rather unsure of what to do next, he eased down across from Grantaire and softly sang another verse.

"We watch the sun go down,
but never feel the end"
Grantaire was more than amazed that Enjolras had bothered to sit right across from him and sing -to?- with him. They both sung the last verse together, a pair of clear blue eyes drilling holes in tired hazel ones.
"'Cause I know the sun and darkness are
more than friends."