Jehan tucked a strand of their long hair behind their ear, sighing in disappointment at the piece they were working on. They crumpled the paper into a ball before throwing it across the room, not even bothering to aim for the trashcan. They let out a groan of frustration and threw their head into their arms, the force of the movement sending papers flying. Their hair hung in waves around them, hiding them from the reality of the outside world. Why did this have to be so hard? It was one art piece that they had to work on for class, it was such a simple assignment; a self portrait. That was it. All they had to do was paint a picture of themself and they'd be done, it should've been the easiest thing in the world. The problem was that it wasn't. It wasn't easy for them to paint themself because they hated the way they looked. They looked at themself in the mirror and saw someone that was dangerously close to being too fat, they saw someone with a million acne scars and with faded scars on their arms. They saw a disappointment, even though they knew this wasn't an accurate assessment of their appearance. They knew, logically, that they were actually rather beautiful. They knew that no one else noticed the acne scars, that the faded lines on their arms had become so light that no one could possible see them unless they were looking, and they knew, despite what people seemed to think, that they were dangerously underweight. They knew these things, but they couldn't accept them. That was the problem with mental illness, you could have all the thoughts presented to you, but still believe something that contradicted them.

Jehan lifted their head up and took a breath, brushing their hair back. They just needed to take a break and then come back to it later with a fresh eye. They could do that. They stood up from their desk, carefully pushing the chair in and tidying up the mess they made until the surface was perfectly organized. They walked downstairs to their kitchen, checking to make sure their parents were around to confront them or say something condescending. They got themself a glass of water and sat on the counter, scrolling on their phone through various social media sites. They couldn't completely distract themself from the looming dread of their art project, however, as the reminder of it kept creeping into their head. They sighed deeply and put their phone down, thinking to themself for a moment. Their mind drifted to their class, they really enjoyed their art class more than most others. It was calming and painting allowed for them to express themself with colors and shapes that were pleasant to look at. Their teacher was also kind and supportive and the students in the class were generally quiet, but kind. Grantaire shared that class with them, they recalled. Art seemed to be one of the few things that really captured Grantaire's attention and held it. Grantaire could just sit and paint for hours at a time and never seem bored, Jehan had seen it. His art was always absolutely astounding too, not that he ever seemed to agree with that opinion.

Jehan's mind drifted to their conversation with Grantaire earlier that day, if it could even be called a conversation. Grantaire had clearly been upset, so Jehan had confronted him, leading to the boy snapping at them, which resulted in them revealing their own rough history with mental health to him. They really, really wanted to help him. It was clear that Grantaire was struggling with his own mental health issues, but refused to accept aid. Jehan understood what he was feeling, they knew that it was scary to admit that something was wrong and it could feel humiliating to think that one needed someone else save them. It was tough and frustrating and a complete mess, Jehan knew that. They also knew that nothing could possibly get better if Grantaire refused to try.

Jehan chewed on their lip, pulling up Grantaire's contact on their phone and hesitating, just staring at the number for a bit. Would Grantaire even want to speak to them? Did Jehan even have an idea of what to say? They sighed, they really didn't have anything to lose by texting him.

Hey. Have you started on your self-portrait for art? ~JP

They were surprised when the message nearly immediately showed that the text was read and that Grantaire was typing.

Yeah. -R

Good! I'm struggling with mine. :( ~JP

Oh. -R

Do you need help? -R

I don't really know how you could help. XD ~JP

I could come over and maybe give you a new outlook on it. Art can benefit from a fresh take on occasion. -R

You'd do that? ~JP

Only if you want. It's kinda stupid. Don't worry about it. Forget I said anything. -R

No! No, I'd really appreciate that, thank you. ~JP

Yeah? -R

Absolutely! When can you come over? ~JP

Whenever you want, I guess. -R

Great! Could you come over now? ~JP

Jehan chewed on their lip, hoping that they didn't put too much pressure on Grantaire to come over immediately. They just didn't see the point in waiting if they were both free and they were excited to see Grantaire. Maybe they could apologize for what happened at lunch. There was a moment's pause before Grantaire wrote back his confirmation and Jehan sent him their address. They smiled to themself, feeling almost giddy about Grantaire coming over. They weren't quite certain why they were so excited about him coming over, but they were. They went quickly to their room, tidying everything up before returning downstairs so they'd be able to hear Grantaire knock. They stood around in the front room, fiddling with various objects in an attempt to busy themself.

The knock came not long later and Jehan was quick to open the door, being greeted with the sight of Grantaire, slouched over as usual and wearing his familiar dirty hoodie. "Hey." He raised a hand in greeting.

"Hi!" Jehan smiled warmly, brightly. "Come in, come in!" They stood aside to allow Grantaire room to enter.

He walked in and seemed immediately taken aback by the size of the house, whistling lowly. "Damn. I didn't know you were so rich." He mumbled, clearly not intending to be rude, on the contrary, he sounded impressed.

Jehan blushed and shrugged slightly, their shoulders barely raising. "My family is." They said dismissively. "I personally don't care for most of it, but I am rather privileged." They searched Grantaire's face for any hint of distaste. When they found none, they led him upstairs to their room. "I apologize for the mess." They said quickly, horrified at the sight of their room. "I tried to clean up before you arrived, but I didn't have much time." They flushed darkly, pale face burning red.

"Are you kidding?" Grantaire snorted. "This is probably the cleanest room I've ever been in." There was that tone of sarcasm, of joking, but Jehan could recognize the truth in his words and their heart sunk.

They nodded, not quite sure how to respond to Grantaire's jokes at times. "Right." They said lamely, standing awkwardly in a corner of the room, rubbing their arm nervously. "Well, we should start on the painting?" They suggested, hoping that a defined task would help ease the awkwardness from their interactions.

Grantaire nodded. "Yeah." He agreed. "So, let's pull up a canvas." He suggested.

Jehan nodded and grabbed their easel, setting it up and getting out their art supplies. They stood in front of the blank canvas, feeling it stare back at them, the emptiness across it mirroring their own lack of ideas. "I guess that I don't really know where to start or what features to draw attention to." They explained.

Grantaire shook his head. "Don't worry about that." He said quickly, coming to stand behind Jehan. "Don't think of what you look like, that just makes everything worse."

Jehan was so confused. "But the project was-"

Grantaire shook his head. "No. Shh." He took a paint brush and held it out for Jehan to take, which they did. "Don't think about the whole picture. Just focus on the part." He instructed. "What part of your face do you think looks good?"

"My lips." Jehan said immediately. "My lips and my eyes."

Grantaire nodded and the smallest of smiles pulled at the corners of his lips. "Then we'll start with that. We'll do the outline of your lips." He took Jehan's wrist in his hand, guiding their arm to dip the brush in paint before pulling it to the canvas. "Draw your lips, the gentle curves of them. Paint the way they quirk up when you smile or purse when you're thinking too hard." He whispered, face against theirs.

Jehan nodded and got to work, drawing the paintbrush across the canvas, tracing their own lips from memory, painting the curves like mountains, deciding in the moment to give the lips a smile. They focused on the exact lines, the dips and waves. They made sure to perfect them, making every detail perfect. By the time they pulled away, they weren't certain how much time had passed. The canvas was no longer white, but was a simple picture of perfect, clean lips.

Grantaire smiled. "There, you see?" He looked so proud, an arm around Jehan's shoulders. "Just lips. A beautiful pair of lips." He praised with a grin.

Jehan blushed. "They're just lips. It's not that great."

"Oh, hush. They're gorgeous." Grantaire hit Jehan lightly on the arm. "They're gorgeous because they're your lips." He said gently, eyes showing honesty and gentleness that Jehan wasn't quite used to seeing from the cynic. "Now, you said that you like your eyes? We'll work on those next." He stood behind them and was gentle, carefully helping them sculpt the eyes, helping them mix the correct colors to make the perfect shade, watching with minimal speaking as they created an image of stunning eyes. They stepped away eventually, Jehan feeling rather proud of the art they'd created.

"It's...beautiful." Jehan said quietly.

Grantaire nodded. "That's you." He reminded them gently. "See, when you start with what you like, you don't feel bad about it." He smiled. "It's getting late. I think that's enough for tonight?"

Jehan looked up at the clock hanging against their wall. "Oh! I didn't realize that so much time had passed." They blushed. "Yeah. Thank you so much." They grinned at Grantaire. "That was really helpful."

Grantaire just shrugged modestly. "It was no problem."

"It means a lot." Jehan insisted, taking Grantaire's hand and looking into his eyes. They wanted to see how much he was helping them. "Really. Thank you."

Grantaire looked incredibly flustered. "Well, you're welcome, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Text me the next time you need help?"

Jehan nodded. "Yes. Absolutely. I will be sure to do that." They assured with a smile. Grantaire nodded and moved towards the door. "Wait, Grantaire?" They called after him.

Grantaire turned around. "Yeah?"

"Can I text you just to hang out ever?" They asked.

Grantaire's eyes showed genuine surprise. "Uh…" He smiled, a warm and genuine smile. "Yeah. Yeah, you can do that."

"Thank you, Grantaire. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jehan."