Bob Ross is telling R and Jehan to add a little "naked" tree to their Island in the Wilderness painting the next day; Jehan does so happily, thinking this is the best birthday party he's ever been to (not that the list is very long.) He peers at Grantaire over his canvas and easel with a smile.
"What are you looking at? We're almost done, pay attention!" Grantaire flicks the end of his paintbrush at his friemd with an intensity Jehan wasn't expecting. The seriousness with which Grantaire has been taking this has altogether been unexpected, although, to be fair to Jehan, none of this afternoon could be called expected.
Feuilly and Bahorel took Grantaire out for drinks last night to celebrate his birthday. The four of them had all gone back to Jehan's place after the meeting to play video games and eat a Heaven and Hell layer cake Jehan had spent all Friday night and Saturday morning preparing – it was well worth the effort for the taste and the looks on the other's faces ("Jehan, you're, like, a proper chef!" "Where have you and your baked goodies been all my life?!")
Once it was deemed late enough in the evening, the three partiers had set out and Jehan had set to cleaning. He'd been invited to join their revelry, of course, and he had tried to entertain the idea of going, but he just wasn't there yet. Maybe someday, when Jehan got a handle on house parties, he could attempt a bar. But not yet. And certainly not on the eve of his best friend's birthday, where Jehan's anxiety and overall lameness would be the worst kind of buzzkill he could think of.
The price for opting out of the bar night was coming over to Grantaire's house as soon as R was alive the day of the birthday proper and doing whatever Grantaire wanted, no questions asked. This struck Jehan as very fair, but he wasn't going to lie and say he hadn't been a little nervous.
Two large easels, a full set of painting supplies, and a Bob Ross painting tutorial on R's TV had not been anticipated AT ALL, but Jehan is having the time of his life.
Bob Ross is now telling them to sign their respective paintings in bright red. Grantaire is still zealously adding "little twigs and trees" with his painter's knife, but Jehan thinks he's done with the details. He's surprisingly pleased with how his painting turned out, which is a feeling he can barely remember from his pre-teen years, before he learned enough about art for his perfectionism to set in and plague him with every paint stroke; he doesn't want to add anymore trees and ruin it. Jehan signs the canvas with a flourish, then saunters over to see what Grantaire has accomplished. The end credits of the Bob Ross video are now playing and Grantaire seems to have finally finished with his knife trees.
"R, that's beautiful!" Jehan says. Grantaire turns with a smirk.
"You don't have to sound so surprised, man."
Jehan rolls his eyes. "I'm not surprised it's beautiful, I'm just baffled by how different from mine it is!" It is striking how different the results are, even though they've been using the same paints and tutorial. Jehan's shades are all very bright and strong, his strokes thick and full of paint. He's surprised to see that Grantaire's is all soft lines and shades, much more similar to Bob Ross' own painting from the video.
Jehan gets closer to appreciate the talent of his friend, swinging his arm around Grantaire's shoulder for good measure. This will make a great compare n' contrast poem later, he thinks. Friends come in all and any hues…
They're silent for a moment. Grantaire rests his head on Jehan's shoulder, unprompted but never unwelcome. Then Jehan's overwhelming excitement about Grantaire's present rears it's head, after having so successfully squashed it to focus on the paintings.
"That was a lot of fun!" Jehan chirps, and pushes away from Grantaire's leaning head. "Present time?"
Grantaire almost falls over, but regains his footing with an affronted look. He wags a paint-splattered finger. "Not so fast! My plans are not yet done, young padawan!" He sets his paintbrush down and runs off to his room. When he comes back he's brandishing his bong like it's a trophy.
Jehan bits the inside of his lip to keep his face muscles still. "You wanna smoke?"
Grantaire makes a tsking noise. "Oh, ye of little faith. We're not just going to smoke! First, we're going to take pictures of our Bob Ross masterpieces, then we're going to smoke, and then," he waggles his eyebrows, "we're going to turn our paintings into new and creepy versions of themselves, the creepiest we can come up with!"
Jehan pretends to hesitate, fake hemming and hawing while his mind is going through as many morbid and haunted ideas as he can think of. Finally, he releases his lip from his teeth and lets himself smile.
"Well, alright, let's do it! And then present after, yeah?"
"Uh, yeahhhh?!" Grantaire seems perplexed, like he was anticipating having to remind Jehan of the Birthday Agreement™ and fight with him to do all this, probably on the weed front. Jehan gives no further comment and no context, just runs to get his phone for a 'Before' picture. He has a feeling the 'Before' and 'After' images of these paintings are going to be veryyyyyyyyyyy different.
Grantaire watches avidly as Jehan takes a hit. Grantaire's already done his, taking such a long inhale that Jehan is sure he was both a) trying to show off and b) thinking he needed to show Jehan how it's done. Jehan's (few) high school friends would find this hilarious on so many levels.
Jehan just raises on eyebrow, takes a steady inhale, and sets the bong down, maintaining eye contact with Grantaire all the time.
"You didn't cough at all!" Grantaire sputters. Grantaire's incredulity makes Jehan giggle.
"It's not like I've never smoked before!" he cackles. "I used to hang out with the stoners, dude!" Grantaire's laughing now too. He shakes his head.
"I guess I just assumed 'cause you don't drink." Jehan shrugs and looks down. He's not averse to telling Grantaire why he avoids alcohol like the plague, but now is certainly not the time, even though his high has yet to set in. It shouldn't be too long now, considering he's already feeling a little floaty. His time in uni has really shot his tolerance, not that Jehan's surprised.
He asks, "Is that why you wanted to do this? To 'introduce' me to being high or whatever?"
"Nah. Just wanted to see what you were game for and what you're like stoned."
Jehan relishes the familiar feeling of letting go, like he is being lifted in a hot air balloon above all his anxieties and insecurities. He hasn't smoked in a while, since…well, since…
"I don't really know what I'm like," he murmurs. Jehan then feels the need to start humming, and so he does, swaying a little. He can't remember the name of this song, but it's been stuck in his head for the past three days. Oh well.
Grantaire smirks (he's still waiting for his high to kick in, loser.) "What song is that?" Jehan shrugs.
"Can't remember." He looses himself in trying to hum the song as accurately as possible, and the next thing he knows, Grantaire is on the other side of the room, languidly moving his arms.
"What're you doing?" Jehan calls. Grantaire feels so far away now.
"Interpretive dance!" Grantaire calls back. At that, they both start giggling giggle and blink at each other for a few moments more before they remember what they were going to do.
"To the paintbrushes!" Grantaire suddenly declares. His over-the-top gesture of raising his pointer finger to the sky makes him stumble, and sets Jehan off laughing all over again.
It's an hour later, and they're finally sitting down so Grantaire can open his present. Jehan's excitement and nerves have cleared the final vestiges of his high.
"Stop jiggling your legs!" Grantaire reprimands. "I am a very easy person to please, I will like whatever you've gotten me!"
Jehan just bites his lip and shrugs helplessly.
It is immediately determined that Grantaire needs scissors to undo the twine Jehan used as ribbon, so he goes to see if he can unnearth some, leaving Jehan to admire their now-haunted Bob Ross paintings.
Again, their creations are very different. Grantaire's gone for a very dark look, blacks and greys and browns. His island now has a mausoleum standing atop, and crawling out of the (black) water towards it are these humanoid things that look a lot like the Inferi from Harry Potter (though Grantaire swears up and down he's never read the books or seen the movies.)
Jehan's very proud of his painting. The sky is blood red and the lake has become a mish-mash of colour, in paint so thick you could peel it off. His trees are much the same as pre-haunting (Grantaire stripped his bare) but wreathed in flames. Through the sky swoop things that could be demons or dragons or dinosaurs…maybe all three. His island has become a floating and bloated dead face.
"Dude." Grantaire had said when he'd seen it. His high had worn off much earlier than Jehan's, so he'd just stood there behind him, impatiently waiting for Jehan to finish his inebriated work.
"Found 'em!" Grantaire returns with the scissors, taking the corner into the living room so fast that Jehan has to bite back a warning about running with scissors in an effort to avoid sounding like Nan. Grantaire cuts through the twine and begins tearing into the paper. Jehan knows he has nothing to be nervous about, but he can't seem to help it: his leg starts jiggling again. Grantaire either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because he's lifting the books from their box.
"Jehan," he breathes, "are these…?"
"Those Snoopy collectable books you wanted?" Jehan finishes for him in a rush. "Yeah." Grantaire is gaping, and instead of making Jehan happy like it did when he and all the Amis sang, it just makes him flush beet red. Maybe the books are too much? Maybe Grantaire will be embarassed?
Grantaire flips through them. There are four of them, numbers 11-14 of the Coronet series of Charlie Brown books. They're the only ones he didn't have in his collection (yes he has a collection, Jehan has seen it. It's fabulously nerdy!) His awe as he rifles through the pages is quickly reassuring Jehan that this was a good call.
"Jehan, I…I don't know what to say! Thank you! Where did you find them?"
Jehan demures. "It's wonderful what you can find on Etsy these days." He doesn't add that he spent an all-nighter one Saturday hunting down the Etsy shop most likely to have these editions in stock right after Grantaire complained about lacking only four books. Some things are best left between Jehan and his computer.
"Thank you," Grantaire says again. He slings his closest arm around Jehan's shoulder. Jehan's chest blooms with warmth. They lean back on the couch, he notices Grantaire admiring their paintings.
"This has been the best birthday I've had in a long time," Grantaire whispers after a few minutes, and squeezes Jehan's shoulder.
"This is the best birthday party I've ever been to." Jehan sees his side look and amends, "Not that the list is very long, but…" and R snickers.
They're quiet for a few minutes more. Jehan thinks that his dead floating face is really quite terrifying; he is very proud. He keeps thinking the warmth in his chest can't get any bigger and then it does, rounding out the peace of the moment.
The silence doesn't feel heavy when it's with –
"These paintings are fly as fuck," Grantaire says suddenly. "But where are we gonna store them?"
Jehan tilts his head to examine their masterpieces from a different angle. "Your bathroom?"