It is magnificently strange, both terrible and beautiful, to see Enjolras so affected. The day the angels cry, the day the world cracks open and all of the questions are for once, if only for one glorious moment, silent.

And he can't hear them. The questions are silent, quelled by the actuality at hand, in his hands and in his eyes, the voice that fills his ears with unforseen triumph. It's too much, almost; he can't think about it, but allows himself to feel and follow the living pulse. In this moment, the world simply is, and Grantaire truly exists in it.

"Now know that you never will. So long as I am here, you need not meet the world alone, nor march without companionship. So long as I draw breath, I will remain. If all dances in chaos, I will ground it; I will form a fixed point of existence. Something... There is clarity here. And I almost do believe..."

But the thought is too far, and Grantaire is not in the mood for chasing it. "It was an honor, Enjolras, to stand by your side."