When Montparnasse entered the apartment, he was startled by the sight of a pair of legs sticking up behind the couch. He knew immediately it was Jehan—no one else in his circle owned and wore (especially since it wasn’t the holidays) socks with a pattern of birds kissing under a mistletoe.
He walked around the sofa and stared. Jehan was sitting or lying—Montparnasse was not sure which to call it—upside down, their feet thrown over the back, their head dangling from the front. Their hair, loose, pooled on the floor in a stream of copper. They were holding a book up with one hand. The other was draped across the length of the couch, palms turned upwards. Montparnasse could not help but remember that scene from a musical where a woman lay on the edge of the stage, her arms not unlike Jehan’s, while three men sang of their desire for her. The image disappeared as Jehan moved to run their fingers through their hair.
“What are you doing?” Montparnasse finally asked.
Jehan lifted—or lowered?—their eyes, placing the book down in their chest. “Reading,” they replied as if it was the most obvious thing.
Any other day, Montparnasse would have been curious about the title, but not this afternoon. He barely glanced at the book. “Like that?”
“Yes.” Jehan evidently could not see the problem.
“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
Jehan smiled. “It took me forty-five minutes to find a comfortable position. And I have.”
Montparnasse eyed them sceptically. “Isn’t your head hurting?”
“Not yet. I’ve been like this for the last hour and a half and have not felt a thing.”
“What about your arm? Isn’t it tired, holding the book like that?”
“It’s fine. I alternate.”
“And how the hell are you getting up later?”
“We’ll see. Maybe I’ll roll off or something.”
Montparnasse said nothing. He had no more protests, yet he still was not convinced. Jehan looked at him, clearly amused. “You should try it.”
Montparnasse scoffed. “If I want a stiff neck, sure.”
Jehan smiled. “Suit yourself,” they replied. “Come sit. Don’t you have reading to do too?”
Montparnasse nodded. He dropped his bag by the couch and pulled out the book he needed to finish, plopping down next to Jehan. Jehan stretched their arm back up, returning to their book. Other than that, they did not move.
As Montparnasse read—seated normally, holding his book with one hand—he started feeling a little restless. He brought a leg up, then put it back down a minute later. He shifted slightly. From the corner of his eye, he knew Jehan had shot him an amused look. Montparnasse pretended not to see. The thought of draping himself the same way briefly crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He’d wrinkle his clothes just trying to get into position (and when he would have to “roll off”), not to mention what could happen to his hair. And it was simply ludicrous. No, he would sit upright like normal people.
Montparnasse shot Jehan another sideways glance. Jehan was not looking at him, concentrating on their book. Montparnasse could now read the title, despite its tilt. He smiled fondly in spite of himself. Jehan might not be normal people, but Montparnasse was extremely glad for it.
Quick sketch and quick writing piece. This took me literally ten minutes to sketch, then like an hour to write... Hmm... But then again, I didn’t work that illustration as much as my writing. This was meant as a shorter break from my studying, oops! Also good practice on perspective I guess.
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