Anonymous said: jsyk "kevin" was listed as a character on the les mis holiday exchange sign up and i totally requested him, so there may be kevin fic forthcoming.
I don’t want to clutter things up too much around here or on your dashboards, but I think I have to answer this ask if only because the torrential disapprobation is bubbling out of me like a frothy mountain rapid of emotional upchuck. Dear anon this is horrifying and you have made a horrifying decision. I hope that for everyone’s sake you receive some other fic that has nothing to do with this so-called “Kevin” and that you do not mar your holiday season in this horrifying manner
But in the event that you truly are a horrifying person who wants horrifying things for themselves, I have written you this fic to assuage your horrifying demands:
[…] never realized that the air in the land of the living tasted so bright, tasted clean and sharp and cutting as a knife. Grantaire sucked in a thirsty lungful of it, letting it quench him from the inside out. It’s over, he thought, I did it, I won, and the absurdity of it made him laugh— a shaky exhale at first because he couldn’t quite remember how, still a little too strangled and a little shy of the sun. I did it. Wasn’t that funny? Had he ever really done anything before?
But the air was clean and the streets were dry and next to him, Enjolras touched his palm to the cobblestones, like he didn’t know where they were. Or like he knew exactly where they were, and exactly how preposterous it was that they were there again, back with the soil and mud and flesh. Grantaire saw him clench his hand, a shallow fistful of god only knows what filth. Paris was a shithole and as beautiful as the rest of the entire fucking world, and he was the most beautiful thing in it, twenty-six, unbroken. Made again of blood and bones.
"We’ll do it better," said Grantaire, warding off the bullets. "This time, we’ll make it count."
He covered Enjolras’ hand with his own, just to feel the flutter of his pulse. Before Enjolras could do something stupid like thank him or apologize — because he definitely was going to do at least one of the two, that idiot — Grantaire leaned his head into the crook of Enjolras’ neck, and yeah, that felt like the ending he’d been waiting for. The sulfur and smoke still lingered on their skin, but that would wash away. It was over.
"Who’s Kevin?" asked Enjolras.
"What?" asked Grantaire.