He had yet to even open his eyes, perhaps in part because he was worried still that he might wake up and find this all some horrible (wonderful?) dream. But he felt his friend kneeling beside him, felt how close he was. Still, in contrast to himself and their friends, Enjolras had never shown affection physically, so it was a struggle to bite back the sound of surprise when he was pulled in to a strong embrace. It took all of his effort not to simply sag against him wearily. There was a such a sense of calm about Enjolras, there always had been. Even amidst his passionate ideals, he was so steadfast. So sure. So opposite to Grantaire in every way possible.
"I didn't think I was either," he admitted. He lifted one arm to eventually return the hold, albeit with much less strength, before his friend pulled back again. He could hardly resist. Even if he dreaded when the moment would pass and Enjolras would be cool and reserved with him again.