The Place to Be - John Laurens x male reader

Chapter 4

Unfortunately, for some reason, I am again awake before sunrise. I don't know how it happened. My body just doesn't like sleeping. But I'm literally tired. Yet I can't sleep. What the actual-

At least I stayed in my tent this time. It's kind of cold out there and I think it would be best if I stayed by my oil lamp. God, another long day of training, and I don't have a day off for ages. (Do Lieutenants even have days off? Please correct me if I'm wrong)

 Looks like another stressful week ahead of me. Hooray. At least I kind of get to stand at the side and watch the soldiers this time. But then again if I joined in with the exercise then it would help get my mind off the war. Despite us literally training for war.

I wonder if John Laurens is awake. He was awake strangely early yesterday, he might be today. For a brief moment, I consider going over to his tent to see. But it's so dark, I don't know where his tent is. And why would I even want to see if he's awake? 

I suppose it was strange having someone who actually understood and respected that I didn't like eye contact and physical touch. To be honest, it was strange for me to actually have a sincere conversation with another human being that was not about work. Is John Laurens my friend now? How many sincere conversations do you have to have with someone for them to be your friend? Like three? What qualifies as a friend? Does he see me as a friend? Am I overthinking this? Yes, definitely yes. I'm notorious for overthinking things. 

I sigh, staring at my oil lamp, wondering if anyone is actually awake. Am I alone? It gives me the creeps as I stand up and look outside my tent.

"Hi,"

I yelp and jump about a foot in the air when I see someone standing outside my tent. I go to punch him (what can I say, instinct) but he doesn't really move out of the way in time. I hit his cheek rather hard, something that looks like it must hurt. He bends over a little, clutching his cheek.

"Oh my God - I'm so sorry!" I whisper, careful not to wake anyone up. "I'm so sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" 

"I'm fine," John Laurens reassures me. "God, you're strong."

"Sorry," I mutter, instinctively moving to put my hand on his shoulder before snatching it away. "It's instincts, you terrified me - what are you doing? How long were you standing out there? You must be freezing! Come in!"

Laurens smiles as I usher him in. "Sorry about the mess," I say.

He looks quietly around the tent. "There's no mess."

"Yes there is!" I reply, pointing at the few books and stray papers I have on my small side table.

"That's not mess," he chuckles softly. I look at him. How is that not mess? What is his idea of mess? The entire tent might not be mayhem, but that table is.

"Does your cheek hurt? Aren't you freezing? You're not even in your uniform!"

"Stop mothering me, Washington," he says, looking at me. I notice he's focusing on my forehead, which I'm thankful for.

"Thanks. Sorry," I reply, trying to keep my voice low. "Are you sure your cheek doesn't hurt?"

"It'll ache for a bit, but I'll be fine."

I immediately feel extremely guilty. Great, I punched the one person who actually seemed to like me, and punched him hard enough that it will hurt for a bit. God, I feel terrible. What if he doesn't even want to be my friend anymore? What if-

"Hey," he shakes me out of my thoughts, putting a hand on my shoulder. I look at it and he hurriedly takes it away. "Sorry, sorry. I'm fine, seriously. Don't worry about it. You're very strong, that's not something to be guilty of. Also, it's my fault, I was the one weirdly standing outside your tent. It was only for a moment, I was wondering how to knock on a tent."