Work Text:
Grantaire flicks his brush over the canvas, splotches of colour coming together and slowly forming recognisable shapes. He starts with dashing red, fiery and passionate, and spreads the paint across the canvas in delicate swoops of colour. He brushes the paint in abstract lines and soon he’s got the beginnings of a figures on his canvas.
He works on skin; goes for a light colour, contrasting the red in shade but consistent with that same brightness, that same passion. The blonde hair he paints flows loftily, cascading down near his shoulders and this figure might as well be the sun personified. Next he decides to take a turn – piercing blue eyes. The contrast is good, the portrait is actually not looking as rubbish as his other ones, and—
Oh. It looks exactly like Enjolras, doesn’t it?
Grantaire sighs in frustration, dropping his paint brush and staring with hatred at his easel. He always manages to do this. No matter what goal he has in sight, he feels like a good lot of the time he’s just mindlessly capturing their leader in paints, or charcoal, pencil, whatever. He can’t see the colour of red without thinking of his blazer, or look at the summer sky without wondering how Enjolras’ eyes are even brighter.
Without waiting for the paint to dry, he roughly grabs the canvas and chucks it to the corner with his other Accidental Enjolras’. The paint splatters and is sure to stain, but Grantaire can’t find it within himself to care so much. His landlady is the only one who’d be upset by it, and Grantaire doesn’t fancy her so much anyway.
He wanders idly to the kitchen and automatically reaches for the liquor cabinet, pulling out the first bottle of alcoholic whatever that his fingers land on. He relaxes a bit as the liquor moves down his throat, giving it that warm feeling only alcohol provides. Unbothered with getting a glass, he brings the bottle to his easel and gets started on another painting, hopeful to not let Enjolras taint this one with his angelic figure.