Meme overflow

[capslocking]

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Comments

[wouldhave]

Who says I'm ever sober?

[take the fucking hint, apollo. leave it]

[logomachist]

Do you not even believe in sex enough to take control of your life?

[wouldhave]

[The wine has run out, the pizza is cold, and his mood has soured. Just because you're the embodiment of passion made real doesn't mean you get to pick apart his life whenever you want to without giving anything in return.]

"believe in sex enough" are you fucking high

Sex doesn't fucking change people.

[logomachist]

It might. Anything might change a person. If inspiration to betterment had a formula, we'd be well farther along than we are.

[wouldhave]

What the actual fuck would you know about it.

[logomachist]

About inspiration?

[--or, more logically:]

Or about sex?

[wouldhave]

I've heard you enough times to know that you and inspiration are kindred spirits.

Of fucking course sex

[logomachist]

So I'll figure it out.

[wouldhave]

Fuck off

[logomachist]

Text me when you're sober.

[wouldhave]

I am fucking sober


This is why I don't fucking text you when I'm sober, since you insist on knowing.

[It's not. It's not even remotely close to the real reason.]

[logomachist]

[Okay, so, it's gonna sound like Enjolras is calling.




Because Enjolras is calling.

Pick up and don't be a dick, R.]

[wouldhave]

Fuck off.

[But he's answered the phone so...]

[logomachist]

[So that's something. Not much, but something.]

What do you actually want, hm?

[wouldhave]

[He feels wretched, because while he'd like nothing more than for Enjolras to fuck off and drop whatever it is he wants to talk about, the fact is that Enjolras is paying attention to him and interested and that's better than nothing.]

Another bottle of wine would be nice.

[logomachist]

Anoth--

[Everything crackles for a moment with the sharp rush of an exhale, the obvious shifting of weight on Enjolras's end. Grantaire can probably imagine the unhappy beginnings of an impulse to pace fretting through him.]

What does this-- do for you, exactly? All of this?

[wouldhave]

[He can picture Enjolras in his mind's eye. The frown, the shift of his shoulders.]

If you mean the wine, it helps soften the hard edges of the world into something bearable. If you mean the blowjob, well. You said you'd figure that out yourself. [Pause- and his tone gains a mocking edge.] I can't imagine what else you might mean, as that's all there is to me.

[logomachist]

[There's more. There's more, but it feels impossible to scratch the surface when his entire body is ready to throw itself back into the fray at even the slightest provocation.]

Why me, then? Why interrupt this specifically?

[wouldhave]

If I recall correctly, you're the one who called me.

[logomachist]

You texted me. [And, admittedly, he had texted back. And called. But still.] And you keep coming back.

[wouldhave]

I guess it never crossed your mind that I'd spend time with you lot just because you're my friends.

[And to him, that friendship is worth a fuckload more than your revolutionary ideas about changing the world.]

[logomachist]

[It mostly makes sense. It's mostly easy to love the group as a whole. But.]

Am I?

[wouldhave]

[He hesitates, the silence stretching into seconds.

Fuck. Why is he out of wine? He attempts to rally-]

When did you turn into a teenage girl?

[logomachist]

I'm trying to understand.

[Needs to, because it's currently logic-defying, but that isn't something to say out loud.]

[wouldhave]

Christ. You can be really thick sometimes. [He aims for sarcastic, but can't quite manage it.]

Sure, Enjolras. We're friends.