Alex Ham the orchestra man

Chapter Seven

Alex looked around at the table at his friends; it had been a week since he and Laurens made up, and their casual interactions were back to being full of easygoing laughter. He liked it this way, cheerful and happy. He and Eliza were doing pretty well; if she'd seen John and him cuddling then she hadn't mentioned it, and she was just as perfect as usual. Eliza was too nice. He supposed that was why Angelica took such care of her, because Angie could see the worst parts of people when Eliza saw only their best parts. He really didn't deserve her, but he was in too deep to escape now. He knew Eliza relied on him, legitimately cared for him, and for her sake he'd stick around. And for his own health. It was safer this way.

Carried on eating his meager school lunch without thinking about it or tasting it.

Eliza looked up from her tomato-sauce-and-pasta lunch, a smear of sauce on her nose. She shoved the last bite into her mouth, wiped her face. "Can I play with your hair?" she asked abruptly, albeit cheerfully. Nearly everything she said was cheerful.

He looked at her in silence, still chewing, cocking his head towards her. She wiped off her hands before turning him gently in his seat so he faced John, running her fingers through his hair. He made a grotesque face at John, who promptly reciprocated. They giggled. Eliza retaliated by tugging his hair. "Don't wiggle, Alex, you'll mess me up." He nodded solemnly, fighting a smile, and received another yank. He winced. John smirked at him. He stuck the rest of his indeterminate lunch in his mouth, smearing it on his face. Tried to turn back around to get a napkin, but Eliza pulled at his hair, hard. Tears rose up in the corners of his eyes. "Alex."

"Ouch, Eliza," he complained, grimacing.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt? Maybe you could stop moving then," she said brightly, adopting a lilting, teasing tone. John stretched his arm out and snagged Alex's napkin, waving it in front of his face, just out of reach. "John! Give that!" He grabbed at it, Eliza jerking at his hair. "Okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop moving," he apologized.

"Sit on your hands," Eliza ordered. He tried to turn and look at her. "Go on," she said, nodding. He groaned and did so. John smiled at him innocently, still shaking the napkin, and reached forwards to wipe his face. He twisted away and received another tug. "You really cannot keep still, can you? You're gonna mess up my French braid, Alex," Eliza scolded, as John put his other hand on Alex's face to hold him still. Alex stopped short, trying not to hyperventilate at the palm that was suddenly cradling his cheek and miserably failing. John wiped the rest of his face gently as Eliza worked behind him, humming gaily to herself. He listened more carefully.

"Eliza, is that... Simple Symphony?"

"Uh-huh," she said, mouth full of bobby pins as she artfully inserted them into his hair. "John, keep doing whatever you're doing, because he's not moving any more," she instructed. John's eyes widened just the slightest bit, but he nodded and kept his hands on Alex's face. Alex was now inwardly screaming. Don't blush don't blush don't blush -

Eliza leaned around him to look at his head from the front, studying her masterpiece. "Alex, you're blushing," she remarked, raising one eyebrow.

"Mmph phh mph," he mumbled into John's hand. John released him, also looking like he was trying not to blush. "No I'm not," he said again.

"Yes, you definitely are," she answered, "it's cute."

"I'm not cute!" he said indignantly, stopped by John's muttered yes you are under his breath. John definitely was blushing now, looking in the corner and avoiding both their gazes.

Wait, did John actually just say that?

Eliza scowled at John, but it was clear she was teasing him. "Stay in your lane, John." Who then flushed bright red and left promptly, excusing himself with a trip to the bathroom. They stared after him.