Okay, I needed to get this out. I was listening to Rent, and then I heard that Renée used to be in it...So yeah. This kinda sprung out of me!!! -C
Slowly, John jots down the title at the top of his page. His old sketchbook has gotten full of prepared sketches. This brand-new one is more of a...Photo diary, he supposes. He draws to get all of his emotions out. Pictures of his friends, of his situation...Of practically anything to be frank.
'December 24,' John Laurens quickly writes. He picks up his pencil slightly, glancing towards the clock. '9 PM, Eastern Standard Time.'
He then smirks at his paper and lifts his head slightly. "From here on in, roomie...I'm winging this! No more me forcing people to sit still so I can draw out their faces...No more impromptu trips to the turtle pond to sketch them out. I'm actually just winging it, going about this as I go...It's more...A reflection on life this way! Maybe I can actually make something out of this instead of the usual. Wouldn't that be nice?"
John swivels on his chair, grinning brightly. He examines his roommate, hunched over his own notebook. His pencil drags on the paper hopelessly, writer's block crippling him.
Quickly, John connects his pencil with the paper and starts sketching him out. "First drawing in my new portfolio...Aaron Burr! Trying desperately to actually write something rather than just stare at his paper...Like he's done all year."
"I have writer's block," groans Aaron frustrated, breaking his pencil lead once more.
John smirks at his roommate brightly, happily capturing the sneer on the paper. "So I can see!"
Aaron snorts and looks up at John. He immediately sees the paper and groans, ducking his head once more.
After awhile, John has everything he needs...Except for shading and coloring. That's why he brought his trusty bag of colored pencils! Underneath, though, he starts writing a caption. 'Suffered from half a year of withdrawal.' He really wishes that it wasn't true, but hey. Heroin is hard...Ugh.
Maybe he'd be better off not writing it? Then, John could completely forget about it.
No, this has to be actual reality. The sketchbook is supposed to capture the grittiness of his real life...Not some fairy tale that he had painted for himself!
"Are you writing about me?" Aaron snaps slightly. His dark eyes flash in the dim lighting of the room. He has already pushed the only lamp they have as close as he can to him on the coffee table...To see the blank sheet of white paper continue to mock him. It might not be the smartest idea, and John needs light too, but who is John to protest?
Mischievously, the curly-haired man shakes his head. "Not at all!"
Aaron flicks his pencil at him.
Reaching upwards, John snatches the pencil out of the air. "I think you need this to write stuff down."
"Okay then," Aaron replies, catching the pencil as John flicks it back. "I'm still not sure what I'm going to write about."
"When are you ever sure...About literally anything?"
"You're hilarious."
"Fine, then. Tell me what you're doing."
"I'm writing-"
Their phone suddenly rings. Aaron smiles brightly. "Saved!"
"We screen. Just talk over the answering machine," John shoots back. "I'm so interested about how this crippling writer's block is preventing you from writing any poems. You used to write them high on heroin."
