Enjolras moved first, until his arm was brushing against Grantaire’s shoulder. When he turned his head, his eyes were pensive, and warm, and Grantaire’s heart skipped a beat. He stood still when Enjolras’s lips pressed down against his forehead, but his hands were shaking.
“What’s that for?” He managed to ask.
“I don’t know,” said Enjolras, kissing his brow. “I think I just appreciate finally seeing you.”
I’ve been here for years, Grantaire didn’t say, because deep down he understood what Enjolras meant. In a way, he felt the same, rediscovering all over again everything he’d thought he knew by heart about Enjolras all this time. His belief for the world; his fight for his country; his love for his friends; his quiet moments, and his brightest; his laughs; his speeches; his touches.
The kisses, however, were brand new. Enjolras’s lips were on his cheekbone, now, and their noses bumped gently against each other. Grantaire let out a shaky breath. His fingers went to rest upon Enjolras’s chest.
“Enjolras -” he whispered, overwhelmed.
Enjolras froze, but didn’t move away. He raised a hand, slowly, until it was resting upon Grantaire’s neck, his thumb caressing Grantaire’s jaw ever so slightly. Grantaire’s eyes fluttered.
“Yes?” Enjolras asked.
“Yes.” Said Grantaire. “Yes, yes, yes -”
Enjolras’s mouth was on his in a moment, stopping him from making a fool of himself. His lips were soft, but the kiss held no hesitation at all, and Grantaire, as always, felt his whole being swallowed by the firmness of Eniolras’s decision, his skin burning, his mind illuminated, his chest expanding, more and more and more -
“Enjolras,” he said again, but this time there was nothing but naked love in his voice, and Enjolras’s answering smile before he moved to kiss him again was the best answer he could have hoped for.