"Much here is worse, Much worse. You have not been here long enough. You don't know..." He shakes his head.
His lips part as if he might speak. There is a moment where he considers... what if he unburdens himself? Would some peace come from giving voice to his trial by fire? Would a sympathetic ear calm his soul at all. For a moment, his lips pulse with the breath of speech, but then it's gone.
He bites his thick underlip as Grantaire kneels. "It isn't service that I require. You know how we were in the Cafe Musain. None of us were ever without the company of the others. Don't kneel, don't promise me service. Eat! Drink! Speak! Listen to me as I do the same. Don't let me be alone.
I cannot lie, I am diminished here. But, if I keep my circumstances to myself it has everything to do with my own failings and none of yours. It is because I choose not to speak of it to anyone, not because I choose to hide it from you.
Please understand the distinction."
Yet even in the wake of these words, Enjolras withdraws his hand as it is reached for. There, in the inside of his wrist is a blue and yellowing bruise his cuff can't hide, stark against his white skin.
no subject
His lips part as if he might speak. There is a moment where he considers... what if he unburdens himself? Would some peace come from giving voice to his trial by fire? Would a sympathetic ear calm his soul at all. For a moment, his lips pulse with the breath of speech, but then it's gone.
He bites his thick underlip as Grantaire kneels. "It isn't service that I require. You know how we were in the Cafe Musain. None of us were ever without the company of the others. Don't kneel, don't promise me service. Eat! Drink! Speak! Listen to me as I do the same. Don't let me be alone.
I cannot lie, I am diminished here. But, if I keep my circumstances to myself it has everything to do with my own failings and none of yours. It is because I choose not to speak of it to anyone, not because I choose to hide it from you.
Please understand the distinction."
Yet even in the wake of these words, Enjolras withdraws his hand as it is reached for. There, in the inside of his wrist is a blue and yellowing bruise his cuff can't hide, stark against his white skin.