We will share thy fate.

It’s too late for me to write a title || Combeferre and Grantaire

Combeferre was running tirelessly through a list in his mind of everything he needed to check. Lamarque’s funeral was tomorrow morning; their moment of rebellion was upon them. And still, there was so much more to be done. Enjolras, being the perfectionist that he was, had him double and triple checking to make sure that every little detail was perfect, as they had planned. And rightfully so. If things did not run smoothly tomorrow… Then they stood no chance.

He was walking back and forth across the small space of his flat, gathering things. Combeferre had been keeping a good number of carbines hidden in his home for this day, along with a supply of gun powder. It wasnt enough to fill all the guns… But there was more somewhere… Wasn’t there? And how many guns were there? How many men would stand at their barricade? Would they have enough to make sure everyone was armed? And what else was he supposed to bring?

These swirling thoughts spun in his head late into the night, until he was distracted by a knock on the door. A bit disgruntled, he brusquely went to answer it. “Grantaire?”




  1. thoughtsfromacynicbackup reblogged this from le-philosoferre and added:
    Grantaire dipped his fingers into the bowl if oil, and slowly slid one into Combeferre
  2. lonely-damnit reblogged this from thoughtsfromacynicbackup




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