Would just like to bring to everyone’s attention that in today’s matinée of Les Mis on the West End, Grantaire literally SLAPPED ENJOLRAS’ ASS AS THEY RAN OFFSTAGE AFTER DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING. As you were.
Concept: We sit together in the back of a cafe with our friends. It’s cozy and tucked away from the main road. We stay late into the night and talk over drinks and food; we talk about the world, and our world, and we enjoy each other’s company. One day, we’ll change the world, you say, but until then I’m content to ask you to drink with me.
me describing the person i secretly love to other people is like victor hugo describing enjolras in les misérables. he tries so hard to do it nonchalantly, like he’s describing just another character he knows things about, but fails miserably at hiding that he’s awfully in love with him and that he’s the best thing that ever happened to his life.
imagine that every summer on sunny days grantaire draws and sells his paintings on montmartre
enjolras hangs out there with him, they talk about art and argue about poetry and stare at the sky (and at each other) a lot and enj buys for r coffee and r gives him a kiss as a “thanks” and
they re so happy i cant