Grantaire looked away, because the way Enjolras was looking at him was too much to bear. How could he see this as a good thing? How could he be anything other than happy that Enjolras was here, alive? He wished he could reach out to touch him, to reassure him of that fact, but he knew he couldn't.
There had been that moment, when they had been drinking, when Grantaire had confronted him about why he was so willing to give his life. Enjolras had embraced him, and for a shining moment it had felt like he understood, like he could see how much Grantaire cared and believed about him. He patted his back before moving back quickly but Grantaire really had thought...
Clearly, it hadn't been enough. Enjolras hadn't mentioned it, he clearly hadn't understood. What he had said had taken more courage than Grantaire could ever muster again and he knew he wouldn't be able to repeat it. So he cleared his throat.
"Not immediately. They're working on it, though. Apparently they will return us to the second we left, if we wish it."
Grantaire knew Enjolras wished it, just as much as he wished for anything but that.