When you fall in love with someone and no one's around to hear it, do you make a sound? Do you hear it? Or is it some sort of distant music, like a distant drum in the background of your life that you discard and call "normal"? Somewhere, inside all of us, there is an embedded love for someone. In some people, it's deeper than others.

Enjolras is a blind man. Blind to feelings other than the exhilaration, fear, and adrenaline he feels when he's standing tall and proud, up at the make shift podium of the Les Amis de l'ABC, as they called themselves. To some, this was a silly little boys' game, but to Enjolras, it was everything in the entire world in one place. He assembled his small gang, a group consisting of about ten other young men. Grantaire, his best friend and the co-president, Marius, the man who kept their money- if they even had any, Prouvaire, the man who went out in search of activities, and then Gavroche, the littlest of them all. Gavroche aged at around 8 years old, and was a brave little bastard. Enjolras had never known anyone like him, and admired him- after himself, of course. It was no secret that Enjolras could be a bit over confident, and a little bit more apt to believing his own words over someone else's, but that was his charm.

"We must know," he says, wrapping up this meeting, in which only the most important members attend, and then tell the others, "If they will be planning an attack, or some sort of laissez-faire. Regardless, we'll have to plan out something for every little scenario we can think of. However, I think the barricade is probably the best plan of action." No one dared to disagree, and the room fell silent. They all nodded their heads and made small grunts of agreement. Then it was over- in a flash, they all gathered their things and left the old, shabby house. All except one. Grantaire flashed a knowing smile at Enjolras. He always thoroughly enjoyed his speeches, even if they weren't all eloquent and well structured.

"I agree, I think," he says, standing and grinning, brown hair bouncing when he stands. His hair is unlike Enjolras'. It has curls here and there, but it is all together wavy, while Enjolras' head is a halo of blond, messy curls, that have a tendency to get in his eyes. If he's irritated or busy, he blows it out of his face, something Grantaire has always loved. It's just so swift and clean, it's almost as though his hair obeys his every command.

"I think that the name of this group needs to change. It's a little childish, don't you think? The friends of the ABCs? I get it, we did create this group as young boys, but… More mature times call for more mature names. I don't think I like it anymore," he murmured, sitting in one of the chairs and sighing, unpinning his small, red, white, and blue flower-esque clip-on. They all wore one to showcase their loyalty to the group, and to let the public know who they were. "We're a political group, not a group dedicated to the ABCs for children," he snapped, looking up at Grantaire suddenly. Grantaire was startled with the way he was looking at him, but thought nothing of it, other than Enjolras seemed a little more… Rushed, than usual.

"Enjolras?" he said, tipping his head. When he decided he had his attention, he merely smiled. "Calm down, ami. We're fine, everything is fine. I don't understand your worry over the name of the group, when we have much more important matters to attend to. Now stop fretting, and turn in for the night." With a curt nod, he stood, placing his fingertips on Grantaire's shoulder for a few moment. He closed his eyes, heartbeat accelerating for moments, before he left without another word. A confused Grantaire stood and closed up, smiling at the thought of more little affections. Simple brushes of their hands, simple touches of shoulders or tugs of the hair reminded Grantaire that there was still hope that Enjolras would come around. Maybe not now, but later.

Back at his own little shack of a place, he entered and gave his mother a kiss on her cheek. "What's for supper?" he inquired, looking around at his two other siblings, smiling at them fondly. He would protect their rights for a brighter future, no matter the cost. He was sure the other members felt the same. All except Marius, who didn't seem to have anything to fight for yet. He hoped for Marius, though. He needed the boost that would get him into the game. His mother turned to inform him that they were having bread and butter, with a small side of potatoes. This was rare, so he decided to calm his siblings down. After supper, he went immediately to bed. He laid there and thought about him. The one with the dark brown hair and lively eyes. Little did he know, that guy was thinking of him, as well, in just the same way.

The next morning was similar- getting up, getting ready, and heading to the shabby shack. Enjolras cleaned up a little, although there was no meeting today. He just felt the need to make the place look official, like a place that resembled what a court for the upper class would look like… But not as rich. They had no marble, no gold. They had nothing. He heard someone enter and instantly became ridden with fear, wondering who on Earth would come in as early as he did. But he was greeted with a simple smile, a face he could only recognize as Grantaire. "Bonjour, mon ami," he greeted casually, walking past him to contemplate the setting of the whole thing. He wanted more drapes, more pictures, more everything. Grantaire wanted it to be out there, it needed to stand out and show their true colors. Enjolras wanted something understated, but elegant. They clashed on those opinions.

"Hey, Grantaire," Enjolras murmured, walking over to an old chest. He smiled at it and bent down, clicking it open. Grantaire followed behind him, sitting beside him and looking inside. Enjolras pulled out a red and a black flag, looking at them, eyes bright. "I had no idea we had these. Red and black, what do you think that means?" he inquired, head turning so quickly that his curls brushed Grantaire's face, and he got a whiff of them. He didn't smell good… Well, he did, but more organically so. It startled Grantaire, and his immediately reaction was to just stare at his lips while he talked, not hearing anything. Enjolras was so invested in his speech about the flags that he didn't even notice.

"Enjolras… Enjolras!" he bellowed, to which Enjolras fell silent, almost immediately. There was a whispered 'I love you', and then there was nothing but that pure love flowing between their lips, an even deeper love blooming. It was about time. When Grantaire pulled away, Enjolras had the most genuine smile he had ever worn. "Not even a revolution would change the way I feel about you, you know," he mumbled, a light pink color bleeding onto his cheeks. Soon, they were both grinning at each other, fingers against each other's hands, faces, arms. It was a love that no one had ever seen come from Enjolras. A love for someone, which was beaming brightly from inside of him.

As for Grantaire, they would never know how deep his love was for Enjolras until the revolution, when they died side by side.