Of course. Of course it makes sense that Enjolras would say that, and Marius had little complaints about dying. To resurrect again, however? To continue a cycle of living and dying, when even one life is pointless, unbearable, godforsaken enough without Cosette?

He barely even hears what Enjolras has to say next. His eyes sweep the streets and the buildings and the people of the Capitol but he stares right through them, his mind slowly consumed by darkness and confusion, and then suddenly he is desperate to believe that this is not his fate, that this is some elaborate nightmare conjured by a muddled and fevered mind.

This is not real. It is impossible. He doesn't know what he would do to himself if it were.

He glances back at Enjolras, looking a little bit lost. "I am sorry, but this seems all a dream to me."

And yet there's a hint of hopefulness in his voice—and he finds it strange that he's still capable of hoping, and that it is in the desire that he might still wake up in a world with a death that is permanent.