Combeferre winces slightly at the sharp turn,
the movements of the car jolting him slightly
before he can weakly brace himself against it,
slumping back against the seat when they
straighten out once more. He keeps his eyes
open weakly to watch Enjolras, too tired to
bother attempting to stop him as he punched
at the car.He knows Enjolras is feeling guilty for this,
and he reaches out after a moment to grip his
arm weakly. “Stop— this isn’t your fault,” he
murmured, “If you try to get revenge you’re
just giving them what they want— don’t play
into their hands.” Because if Enjolras lost focus
and went after them on nothing but revenge then
he would lose sight of what was important and
they would get the upper hand of him.
:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::
Shut up, he wants to tell Combeferre.
You don’t understand– but maybe he does.
Maybe he understands damn well what it
means because it’s his body that’s mutilated.
It’s his skin they cut open. Enjolras finds the
pads of his fingers turning white with how
forceful he is at pressing down the edges of
the cotton bandage. If he didn’t, you would
probably see fine tremors in his fingers.
“They shouldn’t have gotten to you."
nowhere near close to a compromise but
this is all Enjolras can focus on, forces him-
self to focus on. If not, he’ll unravel. ”They
shouldn’t– we have a mole. Someone–
someone must’ve said.“ Something.
( A n y t h i n g .
It’s hard being undesirable #1. )