Life

There was only so much alcohol to be had really, and there wasn't enough in the world to completely dull the sound of the gunfire that night, though there were many who wished it could. Death echoing off the pavement stones on a Parisian summer night. Grantaire knew how to drink to forget about a lot of things, in fact he considered himself quite the expert. Give him a bottle of brandy and a floor to sleep on and life was perfect once more. But this, this was harder to ignore. Death on your doorstep, loud and messy, it wasn't the kind of thing that led to many peaceful nights of happy sleep, just noise and colour, swimming in an angry haze til the guns reached you at last.

So when the shouting and the running and the gunfire finally reached the door, there was no ignoring it any longer. Peeling himself off the floor of the liquor shop was easy by then- seeing what ran in the door less so. Enjolras burst in, his regal red coat drowning in the spilled red blood of his fallen friends. The gunpowder burnt into his hands and forearms looked deathly wrong against the pale young skin. He slammed the door behind him, looking around wildly for something to barricade it with and instead saw-

'Grantaire!' His mouth fell open, shaking his head in disbelief. He ran over and pushed Grantaire down forcefully, back behind the counter of the shop where he'd found himself when he woke up and crouched down next to him. 'Look, they don't know you're here and if you stay quiet they won't know, for god's sake Grantaire please don't let them know you're here. Marius is wounded but he might yet live, and you can too, I know you never wanted this anyway, it's me they want really. You don't need to die here. Are you understanding me?' he half shouted, taking the other man by the shoulders roughly, a desperate look coming into his eyes.

Grantaire thought, mind swimming hazily through a mist of wine, blood and the dim light of lanterns in the dark Parisian streets on summer evenings. He thought, and nodded slowly. 'I don't need to die here' he repeated, voice stronger and surer than he had expected. It hurt to see his leader, his perfect beauty, his friend so upset. They had all known really, that it would come to this, but death is never as neat and honorable as one expects. 'I don't need to die here, no. But you might give me the pleasure and privilege of dying by your side, if you would permit me to.' Enjolras's mouth opened to protest just as the door flew open and a dozen haggard looking young soldiers rushed in.

In the end, Grantaire realised, there was only one gift large enough to give the man he loved so much. Besides, what was left after he was gone? More nights at the bar, making small talk with people he hated and women he had grown to despise? No. If anyone deserved his life, it certainly wasn't him. What better way to go anyway, than hand in hand with the one person he cares about in life and make him smile one last time as they die for the cause he cared so much and so little about. He checks, one last time. Permets-tu? Whispers breathlessly in his ear one last time before the shots go off, just to feel the strong hand tighten around his. Prends ma vie. Il est tout pour vous. He is content to die, proud even.

In the end, there was only one gift that Grantaire was able to give to Enjolras. But it was the biggest one of all.

Translation:

Permets-tu? - Do you allow/permit (it)?

Prends ma vie. Il est tout pour tu. - Take my life. It is all for you.