I hope you enjoy this one. Lots of Enjolras POV, who is a little more difficult for me. The best way I can describe these two in this chapter...magnets trying to stay apart and then slipping and clashing together! Thanks for reading! (Chapter title inspired by the Mumford and Sons song.)

Soliders. French. The smell of gun powder. The cries. Bodies. Mes Amis. Enjolras. Bloody. Red flag. Guns pointed at him. "…Permets-tu?" Enjolras' smile. Enjolras' hand grabbing mine. Gun fire. Blackness. Grantaire woke up covered in a cold sweat. Of all the nightmares he had been plagued with, that was the first one that had been that clear. That real. He grabbed the sketchbook from his bedside table and began to draw before he forgot. Grantaire zoned out drawing and didn't hear his cell phone beep at him multiple times while he drew.

When Enjolras hadn't heard from Grantaire over twelve hours later, he texted him. Nothing. Another, and nothing. Four more times over the next two hours. Nothing. Enjolras paced around his apartment. His brain fought over the feelings he was having, what was reality, and just how drawn he was to Grantaire. "I shouldn't have left him alone last night," he scolded himself. Enjolras grabbed his keys and headed out to Grantaire's apartment.

The knock on the door sent panic down Grantaire's spine. "Shit," as he grabbed his cell phone and saw the missed text from Enjolras. Grantaire looked down and saw that he was still in the same clothes as yesterday. He remembered going to bed almost feeling happy. That high was now gone and replaced with the fear of what Enjolras must think – will think – when he sees him like this. Grantaire closed his eyes for a moment and desperately tried to calm his heartbeat. Even though he wanted Enjolras here, surprises never went well in his brain. Ever.

When Grantaire had managed to muster enough courage to go to the door, he heard Enjolras, "Please be okay," he was whispering.

"I am," Grantaire faked a smile as he opened the door.

"Why didn't you text me back?" Enjolras said, looking frustrated.

Grantaire gulped. "I'm sorry. I got caught up drawing." He looked at the floor as Enjolras walked past him.

"I was worried about you." Enjolras looked exasperated.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire still hadn't moved.

"Stop apologizing." Enjolras lightly touched Grantaire's shoulder, making him jump. "What did you draw that was so important?"

"Nothing." Grantaire's body tensed, and he felt jittery. Enjolras was so close. Why am I so drawn to you?

"I don't believe that." Enjolras turned Grantaire's head to face him. His hands tickled the stubble that painted Grantaire's neck and cheeks. Grantaire clenched his fists shut to keep from reach out to touch Enjolras back. "Look at me, please."

Enjolras' chiseled features were softened, and his eyes had this warmness to them. His blond curls landed at the collar of his button up shirt. Grantaire wondered if he wore anything but dress shirts. He stood as still as he could keep his now shaking body. Grantaire wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hug Enjolras. He wanted to talk to him. But he can't. His frozen in between what he wanted and what he fears. Enjolras moved the hand on Grantaire's cheek to remove a dark curl from in front of his eyes. Grantaire closed his eyes. "Talk to me, please." Enjolras' whispered, and it sounded almost like he was begging.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid you'll find out how broken I am." Grantaire still had his eyes closed.

"Tu n'es pas seul" You aren't alone.

"Je sais." I know.

Enjolras slipped his fingers into Grantaire's curly hair. Grantaire leaned his head against Enjolras' palm. "Talk to me please. What are you thinking about?"

"How much you being this close to me feels right. How much that scares me. How I feel like walls are crumbling in my head, releasing a flood that I don't know if I can keep afloat in." Grantaire felt the tears roll out of his still closed eyes. "How bad I want you to hug me tightly. Squeeze me as hard as you can to make it feel like something is holding me up and keeping me here. Rub my back and tell me it will be okay, even though you don't know what's happening either. Tell me we'll figure this out. Treat me like a human being instead of a mental patient. See that there is more to me than the drinking." Grantaire was sobbing, but he couldn't stop. Enjolras kept his hand in his hair. "To tell me I'm not insane. That the vivid dreams I'm having mean something. To help me figure out what is going on, and why I feel like I've spent a lifetime with you even though I just saw you two days ago. To have someone that will stand next to me on my darkest days when everyone else abandons me. To just."

Enjolras interrupted Grantaire by doing just what he asked. He grabbed him and squeezed him tightly. The pressure against Grantaire's sides hurt, but it was something to focus on. He buried his face into Enjolras' neck as he felt a hand rub his back gently. Grantaire felt himself start to relax slowly. Enjolras didn't move or stop rubbing his back, and they stood like that until Grantaire completely relaxed. "Better?" Enjolras whispered in his ear.

Grantaire looked up. "Yes." Enjolras still had his arms wrapped around his waist. Grantaire finally made his arms move and returned the embrace, which cause a smile to appear on Enjolras' face. "What is happening?"

"I wish I knew, Grantaire." Enjolras whispered, his breath tickled Grantaire's face. "I feel like I've found something I've been looking for my entire life." Grantaire loved how Enjolras always sounded so sure of himself. He envied that.

"Me, too." Grantaire replied. "And I'm terrified to lose you." I didn't mean to say that, he thought as he felt himself blush.

"I was scared you had done something stupid last night after I left." Enjolras admitted as his voice briefly cracked.

"Don't cry. That's my job." Grantaire chuckled behind a sniffle.

Enjolras smiled and gently leaned in to kiss Grantaire, whose body tensed briefly as he fell back against the door. The kiss was tender, gentle, loving. Grantaire returned the kiss, realizing just how bad he had wanted this. He reached his hands up and played with Enjolras' golden curls. When they broke apart from the kiss, Grantaire pushed past him. "I'll be right back." He walked into his bedroom and locked the door. Grantaire slid down against the door, running his fingers over his lips.

Enjolras looked in the direction Grantaire walked off in, sighing when the door slammed. His heart was racing. This was not what he planned for today – at all. He feared he scared Grantaire by pushing too far, but he felt him return the kiss. The world was upside down lately, and his lack of sleep was not helping him to process any of it. He ran his hands through his hair, letting out a groan of frustration.

Grantaire's apartment in the daylight was a mess compared to his more organized one. Art supplies took up most of the living room. A small tv was on a stand in the corner, and books were stacked up randomly. There was a pile of spiral and leather bound sketchbooks at the end of the couch. The one from last night was still on the coffee table. Enjolras sat down on the sofa and picked it up to flip through. The pages were covered with detailed sketches, random writing, and thoughts from Grantaire's mind. Enjolras was speechless at the juxtaposition of the pain and beauty on the pages.

"Put it down." Grantaire's voice startled him. "You have no right to look in that. Put it down, Enjolras."

"I'm sorry, R." He knew his face and ears were flushing. "I'm sorry." Grantaire came and grabbed the sketchbook from him and nodded. Enjolras felt horrible looking at the panic back on Grantaire's face. He had another sketchbook in his hands.

"Read this," pointing at a note written on a piece of paper that looked to be ripped from the sketchbook, "And then look through this one." He hugged the sketchbook he had rescued from Enjolras. "I'm not used to people looking through my sketchbooks. Stuff for freelancing and my classes in college – sure. Not these sketchbooks. Not this one," patting the one safely in his arms. "Please respect and understand that."

Enjolras nodded. "I should have thought it through." He sat the book Grantaire handed him on the coffee table and walked over to him. "Can I tell you something though?"

Grantaire went as white as a sheet for a moment. Enjolras cupped his face in his hands. "It was beautiful. And if that's what your mind is like, it's beautiful. Completely beautiful. I didn't see much, but what I did was amazing."

The dark haired man bit his own lips, "Insanity isn't beautiful. I'm not beautiful. It's hard to believe anyone finds the shit in that book beautiful." The words were sharp and pointed – like a wounded animal striking out at the one person that wanted to hold it.

"I know you aren't going to believe me, but I have this feeling that I won't give up on you, Grantaire." Enjolras felt the other man's cheeks warm when he said that. "I hope I didn't overstep earlier by kissing you. It's not what I had planned when I came here. I just, you were just," and this time, Grantaire interrupted him. Keeping one hand on the sketch pad, Grantaire pulled Enjolras to him with the other, fingers tangling in his blond curls.

Enjolras had never kissed someone until ten minutes before hand, and now this. His heart felt like it was coming out of his chest. Grantaire's lips were soft against his, and every moment of both kisses felt right. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire again and hugged him. "I liked that," he whispered in his ear when Grantaire broke from the kiss.

Grantaire buried his head into Enjolras' chest. "Me, too. I'm going to go take a shower and change." He pointed at the sketch page on the coffee table, "Please read that while I'm gone, and don't disappear."

"Okay, and I won't." Enjolras sat back down. When he heard the bathroom door shut, he put his fingers to his lips. They still tingled and tasted faintly of the whiskey that was still on Grantaire's breath from the night before. He opened the letter. Grantaire's writing was easy to read, even though he could tell it was quickly written.

Enjolras -

I'm writing this, because I know if I try to say it, I'll stumble over my words and forget half of what I want to say. Ever since I've met you, the dreams are becoming clearer. You are the only thing that's crystal clear, now. This sketchbook contains all the sketches I've made from the dreams. I was even having them before. They scared me then, and still do some now, but they feel right. I don't know if I'm making sense. Just look. I hope I don't scare you away.

~R

He opened the sketchbook and the first page was an old cobble stone street, with buildings lining either side going two to three stories high. At the middle of the image, a café with the name – Musain. He turned the page. A barricade with figures. Young men. Flags. French Flags. Enjolras felt his hand shake as he kept turning the pages. A smaller figure, maybe a little boy? Canons. Forms in the shape of faceless dead bodies on the ground. Enjolras closed his eyes, and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He never cried. Why am I crying?

Enjolras kept flipping through the pages, until his heart sank and a lump formed in his throat. He ran his hand over the image. Tears flowed freely now. "…Permets-tu?" His hands couldn't stop shaking. Enjolras got up and walked around the living room looking at the picture. He and Grantaire, holding hands, and Enjolras held a red flag in his other. Three bodies in front of them – dead.

He looked up to see Grantaire looking at him from the end of the hallway. "There is something missing from this picture, R." His voice cracked.

Grantaire walked towards him. Enjolras could see the gentle, yet troubled look in his blue eyes. "What?"

"A firing squad that you sacrificed yourself to for me…" He tried to stop crying but nothing was working. "Why? You could have left. I sent you away. Do you remember?"

Grantaire took the sketchbook and put it tossed it back to the sofa. "Yes."

"Why, Grantaire?"

"I couldn't let you die alone," Grantaire said, stepping closer. Enjolras closed his eyes trying to focus. "I don't know all the answers. I wish I did, but for now it seems like we got a second chance."

"Why us?" He wrapped his arms around Grantaire. "What about the others?"

"I don't know. They are becoming clearer in my dreams. I would like to hope they are out there somewhere." Enjolras could feel Grantaire's warm breath on his neck and the coolness of his wet curls. "I'm glad I found you at that bus stop."

"You know, there were easier ways to get me to believe in fate, R." Enjolras chuckled. "You died for me."

"You let me," Enjolras could tell Grantaire was grinning slightly.

"Promise me, no more dying. I don't want to waste this second chance."

"Promise." Grantaire pressed a soft kiss into Enjolras' neck.

"You proved me wrong, Grantaire." Enjolras whispered.

"How so?"

"You know how." Enjolras didn't want to let him go.

"What do we do now?" Grantaire was rubbing his back.

"Not let go of you. And you want to know something else, R?" He moved so Grantaire would look up at him.

"What?"

"I know in my heart this is something I wanted to say for a while, but I never did so I'm taking the chance while I have it." He paused, "I believe in you." The smile Grantaire gave him was priceless. "There is one more thing." He kissed Grantaire softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Apollo." Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras let out a soft groan, "Still not sure about that nickname." They both chuckled. "Do you want to try to find the others?"

"Yes." Grantaire answered. "Can you do one thing for me?"

"Anything."

"Be patient with me. I still have demons to deal with."

"Tu n'es pas seul" Enjolras repeated from earlier. "No matter what we have to go through."

"Thank you," Grantaire whispered as he gently kissed Enjolras.