*UGHGHG THIS TOOK SO LONG WHY IS JOHN SO HARD TO WRITE AS?

I hope you freaking love this chapter because it's taken up so much of my life oh my god seriously.

This was originally going to be the whole of the story so far from John's POV but I ain't got time for that and the chapter would be like 10,000 words so.
Here's the beginning of it.
Enjoy!*

When John Laurens got into work on that grey Saturday afternoon, he was in a worse mood than you could possibly imagine. He was fuming with the combination of his terrible blind date, the prospect of dealing with Charles Lee, Jefferson getting under his skin even more than usual, and not even being able to rant to his friends about it because he was stoically ignoring them. He was well aware that this last factor was entirely his own fault, and that he could just accept their apology and move past it… but… Well, he'd already been doing the 'ignoring Laf and Herc' thing for almost four days now- hard as it was- and it was the principle of the thing. He couldn't give in now. That would be losing. It was an exercise in self discipline. Totally not a petty, childish strop.

These were the thoughts that flitted around his brain as he numbly served a steady stream of customers their coffee, punching in the prices without even looking at the register, until a pair of raucous voices made him look up with a considerable amount of dread in his stomach. Lafayette and Hercules laughing and teasing him was not what he needed right now. His two friends headed straight for the counter, talking loudly with their arms around each other- John had a moment to appreciate the blush on Herc's cheeks- and sat down right in front of him immediately.

"John!" Herc cried, beaming down at him. John didn't reply, didn't even look at him, moving to the other end of the bar to clear some glasses.

"I think he is still upset with us." he heard Lafayette murmur, followed by a grunt of assent, then a call. "Mon cher- please talk to us! We cannot be the Revolutionary Trio with only two people!"

"Yeah, c'mon dude- we need you!"

"We miss you, mon ami!"

John didn't acknowledge that. He walked back to them with a carefully neutral expression and took the pen from his pocket.

"What can I get for you today, gentlemen?" he said evenly, looking at them without even a flicker behind his eyes. Those acting classes had been good for something, at least.

"Well…" Herc began, glancing up at the menu. "I'd like a nice hot mug of your fucking friendship, dude."

"I'm afraid we're out of stock at this time. Anything else I can get for you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe some simple human compassion."

"Do you sell any forgiveness here?" Lafayette put in. "I hear it goes very nicely with the spare bed in our apartment."

John stopped short at that. No. They wouldn't do that, surely-

"Okay, Laf, maybe let's not go quite that far." Hercules muttered.

"I do not see a reason." Lafayette replied haughtily. "If we are not friends, why should he stay in our house?" Hercules sighed.

"We can't subject even an enemy to Jefferson, Laf, our honour dictates at least that much."

"Your honour, maybe. Mine, on the other hand-"

John closed the cash register with a snap, cutting Lafayette off.

"Lee, take the counter, I need to use the bathroom." he said, and headed off through the back door.

Once through, he groaned and kicked the wall, which did nothing except hurt his foot.

Why did they have to be so infuriating? They couldn't kick him out. Could they? Would they? John didn't think he could stand staying in Jefferson's apartment every night- the guy was a menace. Trying to let go of the tension in his shoulders (Madison was always talking about that- getting rid of unwanted tension. He said that John's shoulders were almost completely locked up, that that was where he "kept his anger", whatever that meant) he sidled into the store cupboard- it smelled overwhelmingly of coffee- and sat down on an upturned bucket before rummaging behind the stacks of boxes for the one thing he knew would calm him down.

Angelica had bought him the sketchbook for his birthday that year and, coupled with the pencils he'd got from Burr, it was basically his portable therapist. He'd been surprised that Burr got him anything, let alone something as nice as these were- they weren't that close- but the man's simple smile and "I knew you liked drawing, so I thought…" had made him realise that he didn't give Burr enough of a chance. He was just pretty shy- reserved, but he was kind, and reached out when he felt he needed to. He'd been the one who calmed Angelica down enough not to actually kill Charles Lee in cold blood after she found out how he'd been treating his girlfriend, after all. And the one who helped Madison through the worst of his panic attacks.

Thinking of Burr, John suddenly realised that he'd started to sketch out the man's face unconsciously. The soft, dark eyes were already there, along with the slumped shoulders and thin scarf he so often wore. He tried to relax into it, rough lines framing the outline of his signature polite smile: not showing his teeth, his eyes unaffected, but grew frustrated quickly. Burr's face was a tricky one. He lost count of the rubbings out and re-drawings and, after a while, realised that it was only stressing him out more. He'd have to finish it another time- wait until Burr came into the shop and try again. Now though, he needed something easier. Shifting on his bucket-seat, he turned the page and flexed his fingers. Pick someone. Anyone. He leaned back against the wall and began to draw.

Soon, the large sheet was crowded with a group of familiar faces, ones he had memorised, drawn over and over. He sketched out Lafayette's teasing face, then Herc's. Madison's shy smile. Thomas, laughing- he was cute, John had to at least admit that- his hair was tedious, though. He abandoned it half way and instead formed the basics of Lee's cold sneer, but moved on quickly to Angelica's laughing frame when he grew disgusted with his own pencil.

Drawing Angelica was always fun. She was so vibrant. He remembered trying to explain that to her- that some people were just more interesting to draw and that no, he wasn't flirting, it was just a fact- and how puzzled her expression had been. That was really how he thought of it, though. Most of the people he saw on the street were boring and bland- nothing worth putting down on paper- but then someone would catch his eye. It wasn't always that they were particularly nice looking- that they were hot or cute or stylish- some people were just different. Interesting. Like that girl who'd sat near him on the subway last week. She'd had a wide, flat nose and pale eyelashes, blonde rats-tail dreadlocks hanging around her thin shoulders, and her fingers had been weighted down with thick jewelled rings. She'd been completely relaxed- a kind of lazy complacency in the way she slumped against the back of her seat, the way her low-lidded eyes had drifted over the other passengers. She'd grabbed his eye immediately. He'd managed three rough profiles before she'd got off, and had tried to do the rest from memory, but he didn't think he'd done her justice. That would have taken more time. Angelica, however, he knew. He could form the basis of her face in a few short strokes, the easy way her shoulders moved when she laughed- she was familiar. He saw that laugh every day- and drew it almost as often. He barely had to look at his paper.

He was detailing the few short curls that always sprung out of her ponytail when a shout came from the shop.

"Laurens! My shift's over so you're up." called Lee's voice- reedy as ever. John glanced at his watch and winced- he'd been in there for almost two hours. Damn it- he'd forgotten Lee only worked a short shift this afternoon.

"Coming, coming" he muttered, shoving his way out of the cupboard- knocking over a couple of brooms- and he was pushing through the door to the counter when Lee finished his statement.

"You can stop being pathetic- I thought you came out of the damn closet a while ago, fag!" he called. John flushed with anger immediately- how dare he- but it was the last sneering jibe at Lafayette- "Come make up with your slut boyfriend!" that forced his fist into contact with Lee's face. He sent him sprawling with a yell, and found himself on the other side of the counter without really knowing how he got there, his knuckles aching a little from where Lee's nose had met them.

"Fuck off, Lee." he hissed, watching as the man all but bolted from the shop.

It was then that his eyes fell on someone very interesting indeed.

The man was barely four feet away, standing poised as if to run with his hands bunched at his sides, and the first thing John noticed was that he was buzzing. Not literally, of course- but he was shifting from foot to foot, chewing on his lip, as if he couldn't bear to stand still, and his eyes were dark and wide and sharp, and- John realised a second later- they were fixed on him.

He looked away hurriedly, wondering why his cheeks were suddenly burning. He'd barely glanced at the man, but the swoop of his jittery stance was etched behind his eyes. That hadn't happened for a while.

"John, you cannot go around punching anyone who does me wrong." Lafayette remarked from the bar, and John snapped himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes I can." he muttered.

"No, you cannot. You will get arrested. And we're too broke to bail you out this time."

"See if I care. And you're not forgiven, by the way." he glared hard at his friend, wanting to make sure he knew that, though John was talking to him, he wasn't off the hook just yet. Hercules threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Oh, come on, John. We thought you'd like him!"

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that time I told you that sexist, transphobic, bigoted racist assholes were totally my type." He started walking back behind the counter, but Lafayette took a step towards him, reaching out a hand, and said:
"Wait, mon chéri! Please, we are sorry- you must believe us! Besides- we have someone you must meet!"

Great. Another potential date?

"This had better not be another attempt at a set up-" John turned grudgingly, but stopped short when he saw just who Laf had pulled to his side.

The mystery man was twisting his hands together now, swallowing every few seconds, practically vibrating. John, on the other hand, was frozen. Laf was saying something else, but the words didn't seem to be entering John's brain.

Mind blank, he could only stare at the guy under Lafayette's arm, his artist's eyes instinctively flitting over his form, drinking it in. He was short: shorter than John- and stockier too, with a baggy grey hoodie that slouched over his wide hips. Dark strands of hair had escaped from his loose ponytail, hanging just long enough to brush his shoulders, to curl around his ears, and his scrappy facial hair was peppered with thin red scratches from a razor. He was shifting his weight continuously, as if on edge, ready to run. His sharp brown eyes, alert and moving perpetually, were running rapidly around John's own features, and he felt uncomfortably like he was being analysed. Those eyes could see everything, he was sure. When they flicked from his apron back to his face, John felt a lurch in his stomach that prompted him out of his daze. He smiled, not sure whether it was coming out as a grimace, and held out a hand for the man to shake.

"Hi, I'm John Laurens. I'm sorry about that-" he nodded in Lafayette's direction. "I've just had some bad experiences with this one here." He wasn't sure if he was talking about the blind date or Laf in general at this point. How could he shove such a fascinating man in front of John and expect him to act normally?

Squeezing out of Laf's half-embrace, the man took his hand and shook it. His fingers were warm, his palm cold, uncut nails digging lightly into John's skin, and his handshake was quick and firm. His face was relaxing slightly, a small smile forming on his bite-marked lips. John found himself wondering how he could capture him on paper. Soft pencils? Or watercolours- no, too pale. Charcoal?

"Hi, I'm Alex." the guy said- and his voice, too, was mesmerising. A little hoarse, a little nasal, with a tremor in it, like everything else about him. He licked his lips before he spoke again; John's eyes followed the movement. "You – uh – you know Lee well?" It was really hard not to stare.

"Unfortunately." he heard himself say. Hercules, apparently taking John's monotonous answer for dislike, chipped in.

"Don't sweat, John. Alex is a good guy. He was about to take Lee out himself before you did it."

He was? John didn't have much trouble believing it- Alex looked more than ready for a fight. He glanced to Herc and back to Alex again, watching his now anxious expression.

"Really?"

"Dude, he basically launched himself at the counter."

John found himself almost giggling at the image of tiny Alex jumping Lee from behind and tackling him. Alex himself looked a little panicked, however.

"N-No, I-"

"Do not be so modest, mon ami." Lafayette interrupted him. John looked from him to Alex again, feeling a fondness flicker in him at the expression on the young man's face.

"Well, anyone ready to kick Lee's ass is a friend of mine." he said. He smiled, trying to make it look as reassuring as he could, and Alex flashed a shaky grin at him in return.

John was about to say something else when the sound of knuckles rapping on the counter made him turn. A small queue was forming next to the register, and a snooty looking girl with a dog in her handbag was drumming her fingers, staring coldly at him. He cursed inwardly- of course, something had to drag him away from this riveting newcomer- but a job was a job. "I'd better get back there- looks like some chick's about to order." he said, backing away. "Maybe I'll catch you some other time?"

Alex only nodded, and John walked quickly back behind the counter to get on with his job, trying very hard not to eavesdrop on his friends' conversation.

After he'd taken the girl's order, he glanced over to them again, trying to make an excuse by getting a cup from their end despite the large pile right next to him.

They were whispering and sniggering, not unusual, but Alex's face was bright pink. He looked really cute- snap out of it, John. Oh god, were they teasing him already? Damn it, those two were going to scare him off before John had even really talked to him.

He considered grabbing his sketchbook and drawing Alex right then, but couldn't even begin to think of having to explain what he was doing. It was bad enough when strangers caught him doing it- a mutual friend would be a hundred times worse: how do you say "Oh, I just think that everything about you is utterly fascinating and I couldn't go another minute without drawing you in case I never get this opportunity again" without sounding creepy? At one point, he actually went and got it from the cupboard, but he chickened out before he actually started drawing, instead shoving it into his bag along with the pencils. Too soon, John, too soon.

In between customers, he sidled over to their table, trying to salvage the situation before Alex decided to run for the hills. He couldn't hide a snort at Hercules' face when Alex asked if Laf and Herc were dating, and at Lafayette's far-too-firm yell of "Non!". He leaned on the bar next to them, butting in with "They bicker like an old married couple" just to make Herc blush more. Sweet, sweet revenge.

Turning abruptly at the words "turtle fetish" at one point, he was in time to see Alex choke on his drink, letting out a kind of spluttering laugh, and found that he couldn't seem to look away. The man's face was strained, his eyes wide and incredulous. He swallowed his mouthful with difficulty and gasped.

"A what?"

John's eyes went wide as they travelled over his face- Alex's eyebrows were almost through his hairline, his mouth slightly ajar, hair even more dishevelled around his shoulders. His own hands were itching for a pencil- desperate to get the image down on paper- but he was distracted by a patronising cough from a middle aged woman at the counter. He dragged himself away again, catching the words:

"Oh- je suis désolé- was that not the correct expression?"

He was half flattered, half annoyed at how often he seemed to come up in the conversation. Mostly, it seemed to be Herc and Laf complaining about his eating habits, how lazy he was, and how he was always staying over at their apartment- not exactly a glowing representation, he thought with some annoyance. It wasn't like he could deny any of the things they said, but he did wish they'd pick something else to be Alex's first impression of him. Though he directed comments and quips to Alex, watching with far too much interest as the man laughed or muttered something back, he still did his best not to directly acknowledge the other two. He kept up his charade of hatred, barely glancing over them and flipping Laf off when he blew him a kiss.

As usual, it was almost dark by the time the pair got up to leave, calling "See you tomorrow, squirt!" and "Adieu , ma petite tortue!" over their shoulders. Alex went with them, a little to John's disappointment: he had hoped to have a proper conversation with him when the other two had gone, but he supposed Alex probably didn't really consider him a friend- hardy knowing him. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as he left the shop, however. The room seemed a little duller without him… wait, what? What kind of gay ass shit- he'd barely spoken to the guy. He was being ridiculous.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the message with little interest.

From: Asshole™

going 2 maddies so apartments free

Well, at least he could head there and not to Laf and Herc's. He was still mad at them, and, on top of that, he was sure that they'd noticed him staring at Alex. That was not something he wanted to discuss. He had made it clear to them that set-ups were completely forbidden due to the disaster that was his last blind date, but he didn't think that that would stop them trying, especially with a mutual friend. Alex did not deserve to be shoved into that. Hell, he didn't even know if Alex was queer. He doubted that would stop Lafayette either, though.

Not that he'd be particularly unhappy about going on a date with Alex… his small, rounded frame and anxious smile were certainly cute, his willingness to fight an asshole like Lee even more attractive- and the lurch John had felt when he'd looked into his eyes probably hadn't had anything to do with his empty stomach- but that didn't mean anything. So what, the guy was attractive. And interesting. And had an adorable laugh. And- nope, nope, nope. He didn't even know him.

Trying to distract himself, John started scrubbing at the counter, never mind the fact that he still had twenty minutes of his shift to go. If he kept his hands busy, he wouldn't be thinking. He un-stacked and re-stacked the cups. He mopped the floor behind the bar. He emptied, cleaned and wiped down the coffee machine. He straightened the tablecloths. But no matter how hard he tried, the image of Alex- jittery, anxious Alex with his spluttering laugh and big dark eyes just would not leave his head.

Finally, the door swung wide and Angelica breezed in, a book in one hand and her handbag slung over the other, bringing the familiar scent of her floral perfume with her. John breathed a sigh of relief and pulled off his apron, handing it over quickly.

"Hey, Angie." He slung his bag over his shoulder, kissed her cheek, and headed straight from the door. "Bye, Angie."

"Hey, hey, hey-" Angelica stopped him short, grabbing his sleeve. "What's the big rush? Got somewhere to be?"

"Uh- home. Bed. Tired."

"Don't give me that, your eyes are popping. Wait-" her eyes widened. "You saw someone special!"

What? John spluttered for a reply- how did she know?

"What? I- I- How did you-?"

"I know you, John Laurens; you met someone interesting and you want to run home and draw them! That's right, isn't it?"

John groaned inwardly. Damn Angelica and her psychic powers. The woman herself beamed, taking his silence as a yes.

"Angie-"

"Oh my gosh, who was it? A customer? It was a customer, right? What were they like? Were they cute?"

"Angelica, cut it out" he half laughed, half groaned. She was clutching his arm, her smile smug and teasing.

"Not until you tell me about them! Who's caught your eye this time?" she stared at him expectantly, and John was very glad that the shop was nearly empty. It was an odd thing to attract attention for, after all.

"He's-"

"He? Oh my god, a boy? Do you like him?"

"Angelica, please."

"Ugh- get on with it!"

"I would if you would let be speak!"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry."

John took a breath, making sure she was actually done before he continued.

"His name's Alex., and he's a friend of Laf and Herc's. He was in here with them earlier. He's just…I don't know. He…" John struggled for words. "He's so interesting. He was always moving- like he couldn't stand being still- he kept tapping and shifting and…ugh." he cut himself off with a groan. He couldn't quite put it into words. "He was cute, though." he admitted. Angelica's grin widened.

"What if-"

"You are not setting us up, Angie." he cut her off. "Absolutely not."

"Aww, John!" she whined. "Come on, you're always complaining about how sad and single you are."

"I am not!" he protested. "And anyway, we both know how well my last date went."

"But that was a total stranger!"

"No, Angelica"

"Fine." Angelica pouted, folding her arms. "But only if you make a move on him. If you take too long, I'm taking matters into my own hands."

"Hey, wait- slow down! We literally just met. We hardly even talked! I don't even like him. Ok?" Angelica looked unconvinced.

"But you are 'interested' in him?"

"Don't you use my own words against me. A person can be interesting without me being in love with them, alright?" he frowned at her, wagging a finger. "I mean, he could be straight. Or a serial killer. Or a Trump supporter."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I'll leave you to pine all you want." She rolled her eyes, heading to the counter. "For now."

"Bye, Angie."

"Bye." She waved him through the door with a wink. He flipped her off, but couldn't keep the grin off his face. He wouldn't have expected anything else from Angelica.

His journey home was short- he and Thomas' apartment was only a couple of blocks away, and he walked as briskly as he could. Giving in to his thoughts, he let the image of Alex fill his mind, deciding that, if he was going to try and draw him, he'd better start remembering the details. The picture slid easily into his mind's eye. The way his hair had framed his face, how smooth his skin had been, the fire in his eyes and his shifting fingers. How his face had lit up when he'd laughed, albeit awkwardly, and how beautiful the blush had looked on his cheeks. His stomach twisted slightly as he pictured Alex's eyes. They had been so alive, so bright- they'd fixed on his own with an intensity that made the back of his neck prickle. How on earth was he going to get a picture to do that?

As soon as he reached the flat, he kicked off his shoes pulled of his jacket. Thank goodness for Madison- he could have some peace and quiet. Jefferson's bed was made immaculately, a photo of a girl John had never been able to get any information about on the bedside table, a shirt hanging up so it didn't crease- the man was irritatingly tidy. John entertained the idea of messing it up- but no. He had to get on with this. He sat down at the desk, reaching into his bag and pulling out the sketchbook. Sitting back at the desk, he lay the book down in front of him, took a pencil and steeled himself to start. His nails dug into his hand around it. For some reason, drawing Alex was sort of… frightening? He didn't want to get it wrong. He was going to get it wrong. He always did, at first. So why the hold up? He bit his lip.

Just start.

He started.

He couldn't do it.

After almost an hour, all he had managed were a few crudely sketched faces, and none of them looked like Alex. It made him want to scream. Why couldn't he do this? Why couldn't he draw him? He'd rubbed out and restarted so many times that the page was permanently scarred, his eraser was breaking down the middle, and there was a small mountain of pencil shavings on the edge of his desk. This was impossible.

In the end, he gave up. Admitting defeat, at least for now, he threw on his pyjamas- strewn on the floor where he'd dumped them a couple of days ago- and crawled into bed, feeling his eyes droop almost immediately. He pulled the covers right over his head so that he was in a warm cocoon, burying his face in the sheets with a yawn. He could ask Laf and Herc for Alex's number, call him to meet up… no, that was creepy- and he still wasn't talking to them. Maybe he'd come into the shop again… As he dozed off, a certain pair of dark eyes remained etched into his brain, and John smiled into his pillow as sleep overtook him. He dreamed about Alex, laughing.

*Rest of John's POV up tomorrow if I can. Love you!

-update:

LOL
#theniwasinspired #nowimsadandtired*