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Twins? Twins. || Twin!Verse/Little Cutie!Verse || Closed

volatilepoet:

asksweetheartjehan:


Jehan jumped as the door opened, running his fingers under his eyes to dispose of any wetness. The last thing he wanted was for his new roommate to think he was some kind of wimp. He pushed his bangs away from his eyes, then jumped about a mile off of his bed.

He was looking at himself.

"Who are you?!" Jehan demanded, frightened that he was hallucinating, but sure he must be dreaming.

"I’m Jean-Baptiste, but most people call me Jean." He supplied easily, putting his bag down on his bed and moving closer to see him better. He looked a lot like a doppelganger, an exact copy. Well, there were some differences. Different aspects of their young lives had shaped different parts of them, different skin marks.

He was excited though, this was something new and unexpected. “What’s your name? Are you a student here?” He wanted to know everything about this other him, this- No, they couldn’t be twins!

As the other boy came closer, Jehan leaned in to examine his face. It was all there; the faint freckles under his eyes, his nose turned up a bit at the end. His cheeks were even the same shade of rosy!

"Wow…" Jehan breathed, pinching his own wrist to ensure that he wasn’t dreaming. "I-I’m Jehan! I’m 11. How…how old are you?" This had to be some sort of a freak incident. This couldn’t be his long-lost twin brother, could it? Dad would have told him if he had a twin!

Twins? Twins. || Twin!Verse/Little Cutie!Verse || Closed

asksweetheartjehan:

With a single backpack, Jehan had been escorted to a room with a big oak door. When he shoved the door open, the room-his new room for the next few years- was empty. Dust swirled in the buttery sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains, but the beds (there were two…

Jehan jumped as the door opened, running his fingers under his eyes to dispose of any wetness. The last thing he wanted was for his new roommate to think he was some kind of wimp. He pushed his bangs away from his eyes, then jumped about a mile off of his bed.

He was looking at himself.

"Who are you?!" Jehan demanded, frightened that he was hallucinating, but sure he must be dreaming.

Twins? Twins. || Twin!Verse/Little Cutie!Verse || Closed

With a single backpack, Jehan had been escorted to a room with a big oak door. When he shoved the door open, the room-his new room for the next few years- was empty. Dust swirled in the buttery sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains, but the beds (there were two of them, so Jehan assumed he was going to have a roommate) were nice, and the wardrobes seemed big.

Setting his bag down on the bed he was nearest to, Jehan pulled himself onto the bed and rested his head against his knees. Saying goodbye to his older sister and his father had taken a heavier toll on his heart than he had anticipated; Jehan was sensitive beyond hope, but it was something he couldn’t help. His family was what made everything alright, but being picked on so badly by his old classmates is what sent him to this stupid school in the first place.

He felt so, so lost.

asksweetheartjehan asked:

Half an hour later, Jehan was drumming patiently on Grantaire's door patiently, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. He was humming.

icarus-burning:

asksweetheartjehan:

icarus-burning:

Grantaire opened the door with a grin, paint smeared and barefoot. “––Hi,” he greeted with a laugh, surprised that Jehan was here, despite the texting messages. 

"I love them!" He enthused, reaching out to tug Grantaire to the ground beside him. Jehan leaned his head against the shoulder of the other man. "Better than anything in the museums."

"Hardly," Grantaire replied dryly, leaning back on his hands and smiling down at Jehan. It was nice to hear compliments, even if they were wildly inaccurate; at least someone appreciated his art. “Thank you, though.”

"Shush." He grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Jehan loved art, all kinds, and this was some of the most breathtaking he had ever had the pleasure of viewing.

asksweetheartjehan asked:

Half an hour later, Jehan was drumming patiently on Grantaire's door patiently, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. He was humming.

icarus-burning:

asksweetheartjehan:

icarus-burning:

Grantaire opened the door with a grin, paint smeared and barefoot. “––Hi,” he greeted with a laugh, surprised that Jehan was here, despite the texting messages. 

Sitting down in the middle of the paintings, Jehan examined each with wonder. “I just…They’re so beautiful. And…and you made these.”

"You really like them?" Grantaire hesitated, before dropping down next to him. "I mean, I guess they’re okay, but I’m never really happy with them. You like them?"

"I love them!" He enthused, reaching out to tug Grantaire to the ground beside him. Jehan leaned his head against the shoulder of the other man. "Better than anything in the museums."

asksweetheartjehan asked:

Half an hour later, Jehan was drumming patiently on Grantaire's door patiently, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. He was humming.

icarus-burning:

asksweetheartjehan:

icarus-burning:

Grantaire opened the door with a grin, paint smeared and barefoot. “––Hi,” he greeted with a laugh, surprised that Jehan was here, despite the texting messages. 

"Am I special then?" He asked, casually bumping Grantaire with his hip, eyes roaming over the color-splashed canvases. "They’re beautiful! Where do you find the inspiration to paint all of this…this beauty?"

"Very special," Grantaire replied quietly, leaning back against the wall with a small, tentative smile. Jehan’s words had his smile widening, and he shrugged. "Oh, you know, here and there. Why?"

Sitting down in the middle of the paintings, Jehan examined each with wonder. “I just…They’re so beautiful. And…and you made these.”

asksweetheartjehan asked:

Half an hour later, Jehan was drumming patiently on Grantaire's door patiently, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. He was humming.

icarus-burning:

asksweetheartjehan:

icarus-burning:

Grantaire opened the door with a grin, paint smeared and barefoot. “––Hi,” he greeted with a laugh, surprised that Jehan was here, despite the texting messages. 

"I was kidding! That text was just a joke." Jehan chided, offering out his hand to the paint-canvas of a man standing before him. "Well? Are we going to stand here and chit chat, or do I get to see this masterpiece you’ve been working on."

"You swear?" He relaxed slightly, curling an arm around Jehan and tugging him in so that he could look at the few, mostly finished, pieces. "You’re the only one who gets to see them when they’re unfinished, you know."

"Am I special then?" He asked, casually bumping Grantaire with his hip, eyes roaming over the color-splashed canvases. "They’re beautiful! Where do you find the inspiration to paint all of this…this beauty?"

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