"I? What would I change? What could I change? Ever at odds and singular, I amount to little enough.

"Had there been welcome..." A shrug. "What use in suppositions? We wrote our lives up to the end. Here, we may write on. Our lives carry on, and we must find our ways."

Without further reflection, Grantaire moves to kiss Enjolras on the forehead, a gesture long-awaited and lacking hurry, light and deeply honest.