Of course he wasn't going to tell Grantaire that a number in the city had watched his death. Deaths. It was hard enough when your life was a work of fiction. Especially when that included your death as well. But to know that people you knew had seen the terrible things that could happen to you? It left an uneasy feeling in him and he didn't wish to share it.
He let Grantaire pull himself up and offered a supporting arm as they walked. "Will you be able to take the stairs or do I have to deposit you on the couch?" There it was. The tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. Maybe they would manage to get through this. Together, the way they should have done long ago.
Or maybe, the voice of doubt that often taunted him murmured, he was just grateful Grantaire needed him for once. But no. He shook that off. Pan was not coming back to this world with him, not even in memory.