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A New Beginning

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

Enjolras stared at Combeferre, blinking repeatedly, not at all believing his friend’s words. “2017?” he repeated slowly. “That’s…” he shook his head. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.” he insisted stubbornly. He refused to believe it, how could he? That would mean one hundred and eighty five years of time missing. Enjolras would be long dead by that time, even if he had knocked himself out and managed to forget some of history somehow.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow curiously. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, sounding almost amused, if tired. “And what do you think the date is?” he asked, opening a cabinet to fetch a cup. He turned on the faucet to allow water to fill it.

“June 5th, 1832!” Enjolras announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but he stopped once he saw what Combeferre was doing. “How is it doing that?” he stared at the faucet in utter amazement and confusion. “It’s a waterspout inside of the house?” he asked, stupefied. “But how is the water pressure so…” he shook his head. It couldn’t exist. Enjolras was going mad.

Combeferre laughed. “Yes, I suppose that there are no sinks in 1832, are there?” he teased, a smile on his face as he filled the coffee pot. “See, this is the miracle of 2017, we have running water, electricity, and the internet.” he put the coffee grounds into the machine. “Welcome to the future.” he shook his head. “What’s gotten into you? You’re not usually the one for jokes.” he stifled a yawn.

Enjolras stared at his friend in complete bewilderment. How could this be? He looked around himself, at the tap that sprayed running water, at the light that hung overhead, but held no flame. Enjolras felt the world start to spin and he very slowly sat down in a nearby chair. He couldn’t believe it, and yet it seemed the only explanation. He was somehow in the future. He didn’t know how or why, but it was obvious that this was the case. He had to take several calming breaths, trying to think about how this could have happened. He put a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath his fingers. He remembered the dream. He had been shot. He had died. Was this some sort of heaven? Enjolras looked around the small room. Was he given another chance at life somehow? He shook his head, it didn’t matter how he had gotten here. It was clear now that this was where he was to stay, at least for now.

“Coffee?” Enjolras looked up and saw Combeferre holding a mug in front of his face, which Enjolras took gladly. Combeferre smiled and leaned against the counter. “It’s really late.” he yawned, sipping at his own warm mug. “We probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee.” he murmured. Oh well, too late now. He simply took another sip.

Enjolras accepted the mug and brought it to his lips. He’d never had coffee before. It was bitter and very strong, but Enjolras found himself enjoying it. “This is quite good.” he licked his lips. “Thank you.” he smiled at his friend and drank still more from the mug. He let the warmth fill him, it was almost calming. “You know all about this century, don’t you?” he asked, looking up at his friend. “You could help me. If I’m really in the future, as you say I am, then you can help me adjust.” he decided. “I’m sure things have changed, they have to have. After all this time, there’s no way things are the same.” he took another sip. “If France free?” he asked. “Do we treat the people with dignity and respect?”

Combeferre laughed at the bizarre way Enjolras was behaving, but he felt himself grow concerned. “We’re not French, Enjolras.” he took another sip of his coffee, glad that both he and Enjolras prefered it dark. “We’re American.” he pointed out with a roll of his eyes as he finished off the cup, rinsing it out and placing it in the dishwasher. “France is a democracy, if that’s what you mean.” he adjusted his glasses.

“Americans?” That made Enjolras even more confused. Why would they be in America? That made no sense. Maybe this was hell, taking Enjolras away from his beloved country. “But France is a democracy.” he smiled to himself. “The people have their voices heard. I am satisfied.” he decided with a firm nod. He finished his own coffee, handing it off to Combeferre, who took it and did with it what he did to his own.

“Yes, very good.” Combeferre nodded. “We can talk about equality and all of that at tomorrow’s meeting.” he yawned. “For now, just sleep.” he led Enjolras back into his bed, turning off the light before crawling back into bed with Courfeyrac. “Goodnight, Enjolras.”

Enjolras returned to the bed he had awaken in, crawling under the blankets. He spared a glance back at Combeferre, wondering why he would share a bed with Courfeyrac, but he shook it off. “Goodnight, ‘Ferre.” he murmured, closing his eyes and drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Enjolras awoke to a horrible screeching sound echoing through his head. He sat up with a start, clasping his hands over his ears. “What is that infuriating sound?” he cried, his eyes squeezed shut. All of a sudden, the noise stopped and Enjolras hesitantly removed his hands from his ears.

Enjolras looked over to see Courfeyrac turning off the alarm clock, doubling over with laughter. “That was the most dramatic reaction to an alarm that I have ever seen.” the boy hunched over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Oh my god.” he had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

Combeferre looked over at the younger boy with a fond smile on his lips. “Come on, leave Enjolras alone. He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” the taller boy was already dressed, wearing a nice shirt, a blazer, and a tie. His glasses were sharply polished and he was completely prepared for the day.

“You saw his reaction, didn’t you?” Courfeyrac was still laughing and he was still completely in his pajamas.

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Yes, I saw. It was very funny.” he shook his head. “Now, will you both please get dressed? We’re going to be late.” he threw a binder at Enjolras. “Out of bed, Sleeping Beauty.” he crossed his arms.

Enjolras barely managed to catch the binder. He stared at it, confused. It obviously wasn’t a shirt, but it wasn’t some sort of corset either. He stared at it in confusion. What kind of clothing did these future people where? “Uh, what is this?” he asked sheepishly, his face and ears turning a light pink.

Courfeyrac stared at his friend and started laughing again. Combeferre frowned, beginning to become deeply concerned for his friend. “You put it on under your shirt.” he explained patiently. “It’s your binder. It keeps your…” he gestured to his chest. “From being a problem.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened and he stared at the piece of fabric in his hand. The future actually had things that were designed to help people like him? He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to cry, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. “O-Oh.” he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Courfeyrac stood up, neither him nor Combeferre seemed the least bit bothered by Enjolras. Courfeyrac took off his shirt without a care, letting his soft stomach hang out. He walked towards the closet he shared with Combeferre, going through the clothes. He eventually pulled on a pink t-shirt. “I need to go shopping.” he decided.

“Courf, you have twice as much clothes as me.” Combeferre pointed out. “If you get any more clothing, there won’t be room in the closet!”

Enjolras watched as his friends continued to bicker before standing up and walking to his own closet. These clothes were nothing like the clothing he was used to. He looked through them, picking out the clothing he thought would be best. He looked around for a place to change, spotting the bathroom and making his way towards it. He locked himself in the bathroom and got dressed, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked the same as he always did. Being teleported to the future didn’t change him at all physically. He was just confused. He hated being confused. He was supposed to be the strong leader that everyone needed him to be. He hated not knowing anything about this future. He felt weak and stupid and foolish. He gripped the edges of the sink tightly. He sighed slumped back, running a hand through his hair. He unlocked the door, walking out in a pair of red skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red jacket. His binder fit snug against him and he had to admit that it felt much better than the bandages he had used in his time.

Courfeyrac looked up and wolf whistled. “Damn. I forgot how good you looked in those pants.” his eyes traveled over his friend’s body.

Combeferre hit Courfeyrac upside the head. “That’s enough.” he said firmly, glaring at the shorter boy. “Come on, we’ve got to get to class.” he led his friends out of the door and down the stairs, Enjolras looking around for anything strange and new. They walked towards the parking lot and Enjolras’ eyes widened when he saw the street, cars flying past.

“What the hell are those?” He asked, pointing at the vehicles. They looked almost like carriages, except not at all like that because they were extremely fast and ran on their own. Enjolras stared in shock, watching each car fly by at extreme speeds. They looked terrifyingly dangerous.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, following Enjolras’ gaze. “What are what?” he crossed his arms. “You mean cars?” he asked, very confused. “E, you know what cars are.” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows what cars are.”

“I don’t!” Enjolras insisted, becoming frustrated quickly by Courfeyrac’s attitude. “Maybe you think you’re the best because you know everything, but not everyone knows what you know! Stop acting so full of yourself and don’t you dare treat me like an idiot when you act the way you do!” Enjolras got in Courfeyrac’s face, towering over him as the younger boy shrienked in on himself. Enjolras knew he had been too harsh, but he was really frustrated and high-strung. He tended to take it out on other people, Grantaire specifically. He sighed and shook his head.

Combeferre glared at Enjolras, quickly coming to Courfeyrac’s defense. “What’s your problem?” he didn’t raise his voice, but there was definitely an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “You’ve been acting strangely since you first woke up and now you’re taking it out on Courf? He didn’t do anything to you. You need to stop taking things so personally.” he took Courfeyrac’s hand and pulled him towards one of the cars in the parking lot, Combeferre getting into the driver’s seat and Courfeyrac getting into the passenger.

Enjolras deflated, sighing to himself. He hadn’t meant to snap, he really hadn’t. He was just so confused and lost. He took a deep breath and climbed into the backseat, looking around the strange machine. He had to admit that he wasn’t looking forward to riding in this. He was actually almost scared. He sat back, holding onto the seat and closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Enjolras decidedly did not enjoy traveling by car. It was fast and loud and it made his stomach do flips. He found himself clutching his mouth to keep from being sick. Thankfully, it was over soon, with Combeferre pulling into the parking lot near the front of the school. Enjolras quickly opened the door and threw up on the pavement, clutching his stomach. He was thankful that he had decided to put his hair up, as that helped keep his hair out of his own sick. He coughed and wiped his mouth, still feeling quite dizzy. He slowly exited the vehicle, leaning against it for support to keep his head from spinning.


“Oh, no! Are you sick?” Enjolras looked up in time to see a very anxious looking Joly staring at him with a worried expression on his face. “This isn’t good at all! You shouldn’t be coming to school if you’re sick!”


“He’s fine, Joly.” Combeferre came to stand beside Enjolras, pressing his wrist against his head. “He was fine all morning and he doesn’t have a fever.” he assured his fellow medical student. “Though, that would explain why he’s been acting so strangely since last night…” he looked at Enjolras in concern. “How do you feel?”


“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Enjolras waved his friend off. “It’s just...the car.” he explained weakly, not knowing how to actually explain it.


Combeferre nodded. “See? It’s just a little motion sickness, nothing to worry about.” he rubbed Enjolras’ back.


“A lot of things can seem to be motion sickness!” Joly protested. “He could be dying!”


“Joly, relax.” Bossuet walked over. Bossuet was by far the tallest member of the ground, towering above everyone. Joly, being the smallest out of all of Les Amis, stood barely at shoulder height to Enjolras. Joly and Bossuet side by side painted an almost cartoonish picture. “Those medical books have got you paranoid.”  the taller man laughed, putting a hand on Joly’s shoulder.


Joly made a face. “You can never be too careful, Laigle.” he muttered under his breath.


“Come on now, baby. Quit that pouting.” A woman that Enjolras did not recognize stepped forward, though by her behavior, he could only assume that it was Musichetta, the woman that Joly and Bossuet talked about so often. Enjolras had to admit, she was quite beautiful, her curls spilling to her shoulders and down her back, her eyes glittering. She had a charm that seemed to surround her. She wrapped her arms around Joly, pulling him close and stroking his hair. “No one’s gonna die, sweetheart. Trust me on that, baby boy.” she kissed his cheek and he seemed to visibly relax.


Joly sighed. “Yeah, well, we’re still almost late for our classes.” he pointed out. “We’re going to have to hurry if we want to make it on time.” he adjusted his glasses.


Enjolras bit his lip. “Right and where are our classes, exactly?” he asked, prepared for the questions that would follow, most of them implying that Enjolras was a complete and utter idiot.


Everyone turned to stare at Enjolras in complete bewilderment. Courfeyrac opened his mouth, most likely to make a rude comment about how Enjolras should know better, but Combeferre cut him off. “The six of us meet here every morning.” he explained kindly. “So that Joly and I can go to our medical classes together, Musichetta and Courfeyrac can go to gender studies, and you and Bossuet can go to your political science class.” he was very patient and yet, not condescending. “You usually walk with Bossuet anyway.” he nodded.


“Is everything alright, doll?” Musichetta looked at Enjolras in concern.


Enjolras blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I’m fine. You should go to class.” he murmured before freezing. “Wait, you go to class?” he turned and openly stared at Musichetta. “But you’re a girl.” he blinked repeatedly at her. Since when did women attend colleges with men? Enjolras quickly shook his head, this was the future, things were bound to be different. He internally cursed himself for speaking like that.


Musichetta raised an eyebrow. “I’m a girl?” she acted shocked. “Really? I hadn’t noticed!” she said sarcastically, making the group of friends laugh. Enjolras only blushed a darker shade of red.


“Right, sorry.” Enjolras murmured, looking down. “I’ll see you guys later.” he turned around, hoping to walk directly out of this embarrassing situation, but he stopped when he saw a figure by the buildings. His eyes widened when he recognized the person in the shadows. “Bossuet, is that Grantaire?” he asked, memories from his past clouding his mind


Enjolras yelling at Grantaire right before the battle. All of the times Enjolras pointed out Grantaire’s flaws. Grantaire standing beside Enjolras at the end, standing tall and without fear. Grantaire asking permission to die beside him.


Enjolras snapped out of it, shaking his head. He barely managed to catch Bossuet’s reply. “Yeah, that’s R all right.” Bossuet’s eyes narrowed. “And he’s with Montparnasse.” he growled, sounding not happy at all about this fact. “But they’re not doing anything to you, so I recommend staying out of their way.” he continued walking.


Enjolras found himself staring at Grantaire from a distance. In the past, all Enjolras had done was call him out when he was being too loud, he had insulted him and mocked him. He had done so many things horribly wrong. He had to make things right, show Grantaire that he was putting faith in the right person. Enjolras couldn’t just let Grantaire die in vain, it didn’t matter if it was in a past life or whatever it was. Enjolras had to make it up to him. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” he started walking towards Grantaire when he was stopped by Bossuet’s hand on his wrist.


“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” he said sternly. “I doubt Grantaire is very happy with you after what you said to him at the last meeting. I would be very surprised if he wants to talk to you.” he crossed his arms. “And what exactly are you planning on saying to him? Are you just gonna insult him more?”


“What?” Enjolras was taken aback. This confirmed that there had been a future version of himself before he took his place, but Enjolras more or less knew that already. The fact that this version of Enjolras had done something to upset Grantaire was news to him. “What did I-” he decided against asking what he did, it would make more sense for him to just go along with things. “I wasn’t going to insult him.” he said. “I was going to apologize.” that seemed the best course of action, that way Enjolras could feel better about what he said in a past life and he’d be cleared from whatever this future Enjolras did as well.


“You want to apologize?” Bossuet eyed him suspiciously. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been harsh on Grantaire and I’ve never seen you apologize to anyone. Ever.”


Enjolras scowled, it was true that he allowed his anger to run away with him sometimes and he wasn’t known for apologizing, but he didn’t like when others acted like he’s never apologized in his life. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.” he muttered, taking a breath and walking away from Bossuet. He walked towards the pair, who were smoking joints.


“Well well, look who it is.” Montparnasse smirked, standing up from where he was previously perched on a pillar.  “It’s darling angel face, here to grace us with his honor.” he bowed mockingly.


“I’m not here for you.” Enjolras said coldly, not even turning to face the other boy. Enjolras was familiar with Montparnasse in name only and that name was tied to some dark things. Enjolras had no desire to get any closer to the boy than he had to. “Grantaire.” Enjolras’ voice cut through the air and it was only then that he noticed some form of tension hovering in the air surrounding them.


Grantaire turned around to face Enjolras and it took all of the blond’s willpower not to gasp. Grantaire looked awful, bags under his eyes, his face strangely hollow. It wasn’t the Grantaire that Enjolras knew, but he said nothing, waiting instead for Grantaire to speak. “What are you doing here?” Grantaire sounded defeated, empty. There was a sort of sadness in his eyes that appeared every time he looked at Enjolras, so he kept his gaze mostly trained on the ground.


Enjolras took a breath. “Grantaire, I’m here to apologize.” he said slowly. “For all of the awful things I’ve said about you. It wasn’t within my rights to say any of it and I was wrong. I was wrong about you, I always was.” he bowed his head. “You weren’t what I expected.”


Grantaire stared at Enjolras in contemplation for a few moments before a smirk graced his lips. “You’re apologizing?” he asked. “You’re apologizing to me?” he laughed, it was a bitter and hollow laugh that Enjolras did not like at all. “That’s a new one.” he put out his joint. “The Enjolras I know would never apologize, especially not to me.”


That made Enjolras angry for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. He balled his hands into fists. “Yeah, well, maybe the Enjolras that you know isn’t me!” he snapped. He hated how Grantaire’s voice sounded, the way he spoke, as if Enjolras normally wouldn’t even bother with someone like Grantaire.


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grantaire scoffed. “I’m supposed to believe that you’ve changed so much, mister high and mighty? Or is it that you’ve decided to show mercy in order to make yourself believe that you’re above it all?”


Enjolras gritted his teeth. “That’s rich, coming from you!” he was quickly losing his temper. “You say that I act like I’m above it all? Look at you, you don’t even bother dirtying your hands with any work!”


“Oh, I thought that was because I, what was it, am incapable of believing in anything?!” Grantaire’s words struck a cord in Enjolras and he suddenly remembered why he had come to talk to Grantaire in the first place.


He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. “Look, I came to apologize, not to pick a fight with you.” he said as calmly as he could manage. Grantaire only rolled his eyes in response and Enjolras fought the urge to get angry again. “Look, we can talk more after the next meeting.”


Grantaire snorted. “I thought you didn’t want to see my face there ever again?” he spat out, but his eyes held hope.


Enjolras sighed. “Well, I changed my mind, alright.” he looked up at Grantaire. “I would like very much for you to come to the next meeting.” this seemed to take Grantaire completely by surprise, as he wasn’t used to Enjolras saying more than two words to him that weren’t biting and hurtful.


Grantaire stared at Enjolras for a moment before nodding. “I-I’ll think about it.” he decided after a moment. He looked at the ground almost guiltily. “Yeah, I’ll come.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s today, right? Same place as always?”


Enjolras didn’t know the correct answer to that, so he just nodded, hoping that Grantaire was right. “I hope to see you there.” he turned around and returned to Bossuet, taking deep breaths as they walked to class in silence together. Enjolras’ head was buzzing with thoughts. How was it that Grantaire always managed to get on his nerves all of the time?  Would Enjolras even be able to make up for how he had treated Grantaire? Was this Grantaire even the same as the Grantaire that Enjolras knew? Enjolras sighed as he walked, he supposed that he would just have to find out.

Chapter Text

I'm sorry that this hasn't been updated in so long. My email account got deleted and as I was writing all of this on Google Docs, I lost everything. Also, looking back on this story now I see how poorly written it was, how hasty parts are, and I really don't enjoy it. So, what I'm going to do is rewrite the entire thing, or possibly do a new take on it. This one is discontinued, but keep on the lookout for a newer, better version. It will probably be titled "Tomorrow Came" and it will be similar in style and plot. Just letting people know so they don't have to sit around and wait for this one to come back.