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Grantaire was up bright and early for once. Enjolras grumbled as the usually laid back, sleep in until noon Grantaire bounce out of bed at seven in the morning. “Where are we going again?” Enjolras groan out. He needed coffee to be able to properly deal with hyper Grantaire. Lots of coffee. Strong, black coffee.
“Musée d'Orsay,” Grantaire said in an almost sing-song voice. “Like I’ve been talking about all week. They are opening the Van Gogh exhibit today. He is one of my favorite artists.”
“Isn’t he the one that went insane and cut his ear off?” Enjolras said, still attempting to wake up and figure out just what was so exciting about old paintings that were just blobs of paint.
Grantaire glared at him, “He is known for more than that.”
Enjolras muttered, “If you say so,” into his pillow.
Grantaire replied by throwing his own pillow at Enjolras. “Get up! This is important to me. I go to your rallies and listen to your speeches. You can come do this with me.”
“Guilt trip before coffee. You are evil.”
“But you love me,” Grantaire smirked as he left to go take a shower.
Enjolras rolled out of bed to go make coffee before hyper active pod people Grantaire got out of the shower.
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Grantaire held on to Enjolras’ hand tightly, practically tugging him along as he ran up the steps to the exhibit. Enjolras was still waiting for his coffee to completely kick in. He was also trying to comprehend the fact that the usually haphazardly dressed R is wearing a button up shirt (The one Enjolras got him two Christmas’ ago for when he interviews for freelance jobs.) and the only pair of non-raggedy blue jeans he owns. Grantaire has a knit cap pulled down over his head to control his curls some, and his eyes are downright sparkling. The smile on his face is so genuine and real, and one Enjolras usually only saw when they are alone and R is at his most relaxed.
Quickly speeding past random paintings, statues, and busts, Grantaire stops just before an open circular space at the end. There are a few people there, but it’s early, so it’s fairly empty. Enjolras recognized a strawberry blond sitting in the corner. “Jehan.
Of course Jehan is here. Why did I need to come then? Jehan likes this stuff and speaks the same language as you. Can I go home now?” Enjolras complained.
Grantaire rolls his eyes, “Stop whining, Apollo.” Enjolras sighed in reply as they walk towards Jehan.
Jehan looked up and saw Enjolras, and then looked at Grantaire, “How did you manage to get him here?”
“Bribery and guilt tripping him before coffee.” Grantaire looked completely impressed with himself.
Enjolras muttered, “I hate you.” Then he thought, “I don’t remember bribery.”
“Well, if you are good, you’ll see later.” R smirked, and Jehan chuckled. “Can you please just try to enjoy yourself, Apollo? Please?” Enjolras coughed out something sounding like fine.
Grantaire finally let go of his hand as they start to walk around the room. Enjolras hangs back behind R and Jehan. He half listened to their rambling at first. Enjolras was still trying to figure out why the impressionist paintings are so loved when they just look like someone painted them that couldn’t make a detailed shape. Grantaire and Jehan are fully engrossed in conversation with each other in front of each painting. Enjolras kept reminding himself that this is important to R, so don’t ruin it for him.
There was a tour guide speaking to a group that was nearing the art history lesson taught by R and Jehan that Enjolras was trying to tune out. He heard the tour guide talk about Van Gogh’s life ending too soon, and how he had no hope of praise or fame from his paintings. The tour guide went on to talk about how Van Gough was a commercial disaster in his life, yet now his paintings were worth tens of millions. Enjolras looked back at his torturers, and now they both had guide books. “Do you two even need those?”
They both glare at him. “Really, Enjolras, I’ve never seen you like this. Are you feeling okay?” R teased, and Jehan just chuckled.
“I hate you both.” Enjolras grumbled, but he kept following them.
They stopped in front of a painting that to Enjolras looked like a bunch of brownish yellow paint and blue paint slapped together. Grantaire and Jehan, however, were talking about how it was wheat fields on a clear day with black birds flying about. Enjolras stood behind them titling his head back and forth trying to see what the two of them saw so easily. “I don’t see it,” he sounded frustrated.
“How can’t you, Enjolras?” Jehan asked.
“I mean, how can you two sit here and analyze these like I do political debates? The same amount of detail. I just don’t see it.”
“That’s the problem. You won’t let yourself see it.” R huffed.
Enjolras was starting to feel even more out of his element than he did at the start of this adventure. Grantaire and Jehan could break each painting down into such detail when it came to technique and color usage, while he couldn’t see a single thing they were talking about. That really did frustrate him, but at the same time, it was neat to hear Grantaire in his element.
“He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world – No one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man, who roamed the fields of Provence is not only the world’s greatest artist, but one of the greatest men who ever lived.” The tour guide said about Van Gogh as he concluded his tour.
Enjolras just stopped for a moment as it hit him. He looked back at Grantaire, who was lost in front of another painting with Jehan, and he got it. “Hey R, can I talk to you?”
“Don’t start begging to go home, Apollo, it’s beneath you.” R didn’t even turn around, and he was starting to sound frustrated.
“I’m not. Just come here.”
“Don’t worry about me, R,” Jehan said as he walked on.
“I’m sorry I brought you here, Enjolras.” R said with a sigh.
“No, I’m sorry for being an ass.” Enjolras grabbed the guide book from R’s hands. “Which one is your favorite?”
“Do you even care?” R sighed. Enjolras loved how he looked with a crown of little curls fighting to get out of his hat.
“Yes, I do.” Enjolras really did, and he had begun to realize how big of an ass he had been all morning seeing the heartbreak on R’s face.
Grantaire took his hand, “This way.” He stopped in front of one that was a mess of blue, white, and black swirls with yellow dots. “Tell me what you see, Apollo.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes at R. “Paint.” Grantaire cocked his head to the side and sighed. “Stars,” Enjolras added.
Grantaire smiled, “Now, was that hard?” Enjolras bit his lip to keep the smart ass comment on his tongue from escaping his mouth. “This is called The Starry Night.” R pointed to a swirl near the center of the painting, “That’s the night breeze moving through the sky. Van Gogh saw all the colors of the world and displayed them on the canvas. Give me your hand.” Enjolras was confused but went with it. “What colors do you see when you look at your skin?”
“Just a peach type color?”
“Not completely. To make the color of the human skin, you have to mix so many colors from yellows, to greens, to blues, to pinks. Everyone’s skin is so specific and beautiful. It’s the same thing with the night sky. It’s not just blue. Its ranges of deep blue to light blue. Then you have the light of the moon and the stars, and any clouds their light might reflect off of. All of those colors hitting your senses at once to create the picture that is the beauty of Mother Nature.” R explained enthusiastically.
Enjolras just stared at him. He had never hear R talk about something like this in all the time he’d known him. Though, if Enjolras was honest with himself, he probably had, but he just tuned it out. Seeing Grantaire like this made his heart warm, and for as much as he hated art, he was glad he came.
“What else did Van Gogh do that you like?” Enjolras asked.
“Everything. I love how he took everything he dealt with mentally and still made something so beautiful and tangible with it. He painted Starry Night from memory while he was in an asylum, even though he preferred to paint from nature itself. I can only hope to make something this beautiful one day.” R was turning around looking at all the paintings.
“You do make beautiful art work, R.”
Grantaire turned to Enjolras. He was smiling from ear to ear. “Want to know one of my favorite quotes from Van Gogh?” Enjolras nodded, not knowing the words to really explain how happy he was seeing just how Grantaire was talking about this. “’In spite of everything I shall rise again. I will take my pencil which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with drawing.’”
Enjolras pulled Grantaire to him and kissed him. “I love you.” So many things about his lover were clearer after seeing him today.
R shook his head, a little confused at the response, but not fighting it. “I love you, too, Apollo.”
“Can you tell me about the rest of the paintings?”
“Of course!” R’s face lit up. He took Enjolras to each painting. Enjolras would never admit it, but he did enjoy himself by the end of the trip.
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As they walked into their apartment, Grantaire made a bee line for his art supplies, “I have to do something. That trip was rather inspiring.”
Enjolras decided to give Grantaire one more surprise for the day. “Do you want to draw me, R?”
The smile that lit up Grantaire’s face spoke volumes. “This is turning out to be the best day ever, and yes, I’d love to draw you.”