I had never known anything until I met Enjolras. Granted, I was a bright boy. A poet, polite, friendly, and handsome. But, I had never truly known the world until him. At first, I couldn't bare the site of the man, at least two years older, and much, much worse off than I ever would be. But even so, he had an air to him, one of confidence. He was the epitome of grace, and seemed to float as he walked by, people showing their respect in anyway they could. He was king of the streets, and everybody (save for those with political differences) worshiped at he feet. He was arrogant, self centered, and power hungry. And for a short time, he belonged to me.

May in Paris. It's hellishly hot in my tiny cot, as I lay, near naked, to avoid the heat of another gruesome summer. I long for the allure of the red liquid in the cup next to me, but, I cannot bring myself to lift it to my lips. Suddenly, the door of my flat flies open, and in he steps, his dark auburn hair rapped tightly In a satin ribbon. He wears a blouse, that, if I stare at long enough, I can see through, but his dark wool pants are impossible, so I do not even try. He smiles for a moment, before looking on the table next to my bed, his sweet expression fading to one of anger.

"Grantaire," He sighs, walking over to the bed, and sitting down, the straw mattress crumbling underneath his weight. He places a hand to my cheek, and angrily, he pulls away. I am drunk again, and he knows it. He hates it when I drink, and it drives him mad. He pulls the sheet from my body, revealing a pair of wool breeches. He pulls me from the bed, and into the hallway. In the other rooms, the members of the tiny apartment no doubt sleep sound, even in this immense heat. He slings me over his shoulder, and drags me to a trough just outside the building, and before he says another word, shoves my head into the cold water. Although it feels good against my hot skin, he holds me under a little too long, and I scream under water for him to let me go. He pulls me out, long enough to catch a breath, then does once more, nearly strangling me. The buzz in my head is gone, replaced by a severe throbbing. Finally, he releases me, and I run a hand through my soaked curls, smiling at him.

"Must you be so forceful?" I laugh, leaning into him. He's warm, his chest firm. I listen to him breathe for a few moments, before he speaks. "I thought we spoke about this. I thought you were finished with all this." He said, looking down at me. "You promised." Nearly a month ago now, he had disposed of all the alcohol in my home, save for one bottle. That was now empty, and he would never again allow me to buy another. But, for him, I will at least try to stop. Try. He nudges me with his chin, and I smile, trailing my finger down his chest. Our eyes meet, and he leans down, kissing me softly. The kiss, in it's beauty, floors me for a moment, before I kiss him back with all of might, and we both rise to our feet. We locked hands, and strolled inside, locking my door behind us. He would leave before the sunrise, having collected his clothes quietly in the dark. As I awoke the next morning, I couldn't help but smile. He still loved me, regardless of the fact that I had broken his promise. Enjolras still loved me, and I was still his.