granxaire:

Damn Galileo and whoever else stated the
earth must revolve around the sun.
                             Damn them to hell.

Grantaire would like nothing more than to stare
at the sun, Apollo, Helios, and he’s burned for his
trouble while the sun keeps shining, ever blind to
the dull earth caught in his gravity.
                           Damn them all to hell.

He puts his glass down before it shatters in his
grip, before he throws it across the damn room.
He lifts his head to say something, anything more,
but Enjolras was already turning away, already
having his fill of Grantaire for the evening.

                       (  Was it your mocking that sent him away?
                                            Your drinking perhaps?
                             Or was your very existence enough for that?  )

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

           It rolls, a putrid green sick in his
         stomach as he stumbles across the
         bar. The door swings  w i d e , bangs
         into the wall with a rattle that threatens
         to take it off the fucking hinges but it’s
         not like Enjolras cares.                                              He heaves over a bowl,
                                                                                 eyes pressed shut as he finds
                                                                     the verbal poison burn on its way out. 

                             (   Enjolras can’t find it in himself to get up.   )

           There is something to be said about
         the POWER of the human mind. Its 
         ability to twist memories, to paint the
         current in a shade it likes. Logic does
         not hold a candle to the depths your
         mind can go to when it believes–                                          dear Enjolras,
                                                                              you believe in the wrong thing.

               (   He doesn’t come back. Fresh air seems like a better idea.   )