Okay, so, I figured I should write a mini-fic inspired by this very very tragic gifset what I made. Because we all agree that the 1957 version is utterly heartbreaking AND I WANTED TO FIX IT

Hit the readmore for what couldn’t not be called ‘Nobody’:

The risen man made his way steadily across the room, and chilled them all into silence once more. A few of the guards even lowered their guns slightly. It’s awful to see a person condemn himself to death, no matter how noble the circumstances, but it’s far worse to be his executioner. They wished for him to turn back and run away.

“Finish both of us,” said the man, “at one blow.”

He was facing them then, head held high. The friend whom he wished to follow into death was staring at him as though not quite sure he was real. One of the soldiers found within himself some hidden vein of courage, not enough to be of any use perhaps, but enough to speak out of turn and ask, “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” said the man. He said it straight away, as if he didn’t even have to consider it, but this made his comrade cry out-

“No, you fool, you brave, loyal fool! I won’t have you die belittling yourself. Come to me, Grantaire. Take my hand.”

The smile that burst across Grantaire’s face was enough to make the men doubt their actions still more, but they knew how little choice they had. They readied their guns.

“Do you wish your eyes bandaged?” the sergeant asked him, perhaps seeking to draw things out as long as possible and hope for a miracle.

“No,” he said, firmly but almost kindly. “If Enjolras can look death in the face, so can I.”

“Very well.”

No miracle came, but looking at Grantaire’s face anyone would have thought it had. He kept his eyes on Enjolras as he fell.