Enjolras took a deep breath, looking around himself. This was it. There was nowhere he could go from here, he was completely surrounded by officers, he had watched each of his friends die around him. He was alone. He looked at the officers before him, raising his head. He would go down with pride, with strength. He would not give up in his final moments. He held the flag tightly in his fist, his chest heaving. He looked into the main officer’s eyes with a sternness he was honestly surprised he could hold. He was ready to die like this, alone, but unafraid, until he heard a voice.
“Long live the republic.” a low voice called from the doorway, heavy footsteps approaching Enjolras. “Long live the republic, I am one of them.” Enjolras couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched Grantaire, the cynic, slowly approach him. Enjolras wanted to scream at him, tell him to leave. Grantaire was not one of them, what was he doing here? “Finish us both with one blow.” said Grantaire, taking his place at Enjolras’ side, his voice holding a certainty that the leader had never heard from the drunk. Enjolras stared at Grantaire in shock, his anger quickly fading. Grantaire’s face turned and Enjolras found himself looking into his eyes, such a gentleness to them that Enjolras had never cared to notice. “Do you permit it?” Grantaire’s voice was so soft, so gentle, so hopeful. Enjolras felt his heart shatter. How many times had Enjolras doubted Grantaire? How many times had he berated him, mocked him? Yet, here Grantaire was, asking permission to die beside him. Enjolras had no words, so he clasped Grantaire’s hand in his own, giving him the slightest of nods. He was greeted by the warmest smile he had ever seen and he began to return it when he heard the order given. He heard the gunshots, but did not feel them. He was falling backwards, a singing in his ears when
Enjolras’ eyes snapped open and he lurched up in bed, his body soaked in sweat. His hands sprang to his chest, searching for bullet holes, but only finding the fabric of his clothes as well as the same painful reminder as always of what he was. He grimaced, taking gasping breaths. He wasn’t wounded, there was no blood on his clothes. He closed his eyes, taking several steadying breaths. Had that all just been a dream? A horrible nightmare born from fear of what might be to come? He shivered, it had felt so horribly real. He decided that he needed water to help calm himself down. He pulled the covers off of himself and stood up, frowning as he did so. Under his feet wasn’t the wood that usually made up his floor. In its place was something soft and fuzzy. He looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He quickly discovered that this wasn’t his room. Where was he? He saw another bed not too far from his own. He frowned and made his way to it, slowly looking over to see the sleeping face of Combeferre. In the same bed, wrapped in Combeferre’s arms, was Courfeyrac. Enjolras frowned. What were they doing here? He slowly and gently shook Combeferre.
“Hm? What’s going on?” Combeferre’s words came out slurred. He looked around. His hand reached out, feeling around a small table beside his bed until he found his glasses, quickly putting them on. “Enjolras?” he murmured, squinting. “What are you doing? It’s only…” he looked over at some sort of...thing with glowing numbers. “One in the morning.” Combeferre yawned. “Why are you waking me up?”
Enjolras was frustrated that Combeferre wasn’t more concerned about wondering where he was. “Ferre, listen to me. Where are we?” he hissed in a whisper, pulling his hair behind his back.
Combeferre blinked at him for a few moments. “What?” he whispered, sounding exhausted. “We’re in our dorm, where else would we be?” he yawned loudly, snuggling closer to Courfeyrac under the blankets. “Go back to sleep, Enj.” he took off his glasses, setting them back down on the table. “We can talk in the morning.” he mumbled, closing his eyes and burying his face in Courfeyrac’s hair.
“What? No!” Enjolras hissed. “You said we’re in our...dorm?” he asked, even more confused. “What does that mean?” he was more frustrated now, because Combeferre obviously knew where they were, but was unwilling to share that information with Enjolras.
“Enjolras, please let me sleep.” Combeferre begged, it coming out as a whine. “We both have to get up in the morning.” he muttered, not sounding happy at all about that fact.
“Combeferre, please.” Enjolras whispered. “I need your help.”
Combeferre groaned, obviously giving up on sleep. “Fine.” he buried his face in a pillow. “You win.” it came out rather muffled. He put his glasses back on and stood up, revealing that he was,
“You’re naked!” Enjolras stared at his friend in shock, Combeferre’s bare chest revealed to him.
“What?” Combeferre looked down. “Enjolras, you know I sleep in boxers.” his face was undoubtedly a shade darker than it was previously, that could be seen even in the dark. “There’s no need to tease me. I’ll get dressed, relax.” he mumbled, flushing. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He yawned and walked into a small area, flipping a switch and everything suddenly becoming bright.
Enjolras winced at the light. “What the hell?” he murmured, blinking repeatedly. “Where is the lantern? The candles? Where did the light come from?” he stared at the lightbulb in complete confusion.
Combeferre snorted. “Yes, Enjolras. You’re hilarious. Now, why did you wake me up?” he rubbed his eyes.
Enjolras shook his head, deciding to figure that out later. “I had a nightmare.” he admitted. “Where the rebellion went horribly wrong. You...we all died.” he stared down. “We must prepare to the best of our ability. We can’t afford to let anything go wrong!”
“Enjolras, what are you on about?” Combeferre looked mildly amused. “What rebellion?”
Enjolras stared at him. “The revolution that we’ve been planning for years! The revolution that Les Amis was formed for!”
Combeferre laughed. “You definitely need some sleep.” he decided. “Last I’ve checked, we aren’t planning for any revolutions any time soon.” he shook his head. “And Les Amis is literally a gay club, so the only revolutions we’re having is probably playing Dance Dance Revolution when no one shows up for our meetings.” he snorted.
“What?” Enjolras didn’t understand anything that Combeferre was saying. “No! In my dream, we had the revolution on June 5th!” he insisted, sounding frustrated. “General Lamarque died, so we had the revolution at his funeral!”
“You mean Professor Lamarque?” Combeferre asked. “Yeah, he died a few days ago. Tomorrow is June 5th.” he yawned. “Well, actually today is, since it’s past midnight.”
Enjolras stared at his friend. “What?” he was so confused. “Slow down. What’s the date?”
“June 5th, 2017.”