The Game of Views

ツ Louis’ POV ツ

“How can you possibly have more questions?”

I take a sip of my beer, smirking. My arse hurts a bit. We’ve probably been sitting for more than an hour, and I’ve probably learned all of the basics about her.

First I get a short tour of her home, via Ellis. Then I accidentally, more or less, get a tour of her body, via my eyes. And now I get a tour, for lack of a better word, of Ellis, via Q & A.

“I could ask for your entire life story, Ellis, and still have more questions,” I say honestly, because it is true.

She sighs and plays with the small amount of liquid left at the bottom of a shot glass. Her eyes watch it swirl and follow the motion slightly.

Shots probably weren’t a good idea. Ellis has had more alcohol than I have tonight, and we’re still drinking.

“Craziest thing you’ve done at school… or worst thing. Maybe both? And this is before university,” I wonder.

“Errr… let me think. What’s yours?” She asks quizzically.

The memory immediately surfaces.

“At my secondary school we had this one huge science classroom, full of animals and plants and shit; all very live stuff. So me and my buddies broke into school one night and opened up every cage and container,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes and harrumphs.

“There were rabbits shitting everywhere. A freed parakeet named Dubs flying around. I really liked that bird, he had spunk,” I recall fondly, “We had a lizard terrarium too; those buggers were on the wall. Oh! And some crickets and grasshoppers we’re free as well.”

I look at her shoulder, trying to focus on remembering the good fun bits of it.

“You and your buddies get in trouble?” She asks, of course.

I nod feverishly.

“Got caught?” I wish the assumption was true.

“Ha. I wish,” I mutter, “Administrator went for the weakness in our group: Stan.”

She frowns. I know Ellis likes Stan, thinks he’s a good guy and all that. She sets the glass down and positions herself closer to me. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Course everyone knew it was us, but couldn’t prove jack shit till Stanley quacked,” I recite, watching her face for reactions, “The group was pissed, turned on ‘im too. Like I’d let anyone lay a finger on Stan, he’s too sweet for his own good.”

It’s my turn to frown as I recall being beaten up for the first time, considering it wasn’t supposed to be me. It was awful. I was expecting a couple of punches after school one day, but that’s not what I got.

“What do you mean?” She questions suddenly.

Ugh, Ellis, not what you wanna hear.

“Just got a punch is all,” I respond nonchalantly, attempting a smile.

“Bull shit,” Ellis replies sing song, accentuating the ‘t’.

My fake smile drops. Her eyes seer into mine. Right cos this is fair and not hypocritical at all.

She raises her eyebrows at me.

“C’mon,” she prompts, nudging my knee with hers.

She rests it there and doesn’t remove it. I hold back my enjoyment, and a smile.

Ah what the hell.

“Well I was in a play at my school ya know. We all stayed after to practice and make the set and whatnot,” I tell her, “Then I’d walk home.”

She waits, expecting more, so I go on, “And one of the nights when I did, it happened.”

My voice lowers, “It happened the night Christmas holiday began. It was dark and they just sort of jumped me, I guess.”

“Your friends? Because you stood up for Stan your friends beat you up?”

I shrug. She grimaces.

“Fucking, can’t… Ugh,” Ellis mumbles with disgust.

“What?” I respond robotically.

She sighs, “It’s just fucking annoying. How people treat each other, I mean.”

I nod my head in agreement.

“I’m sure yours is cooler, do tell love,” I laugh methodically, trying to lighten the damp weight that now sits between us.

“Louis what exactly happened?” She presses, eyes glittering.

Her hand has fallen just above my knee, as if trying to comfort me. I’m positive doesn’t notice she’s done so. Otherwise, would it be there?

“Just some cuts and bruises. It was a fight Ellis, that’s all,” I lie, veering towards vagueness.

I clench my jaw. She runs a hand through her golden hair, dumping it onto her back, out of her eyes, which twinkle at me like dark amber.

“Really, a fight? You alone versus some other guys? Definitely sounds like ‘just a fight’,” Ellis relays quickly, sarcastically.

“Fine, fine,” I quip, “It was winter; ice and snow and cold yeah?”

I slowly inch my nearest hand to hers, still resting on my leg. I want to hold her hands and warm them, considering I can feel her ice seeping through my jeans.

“I fought back at first... Didn’t last long I guess. It was all really cloudy cos I hit my head on the ground pretty quick. I was really confused, but I remember getting kicked and shit.”

I find her eyes again. They shine into mine, patient and sad.

“I dunno I wasn’t that bad off when I got home. My mum cried and dragged me to the hospital of course. Hypothermia, cracked ribs, and a shiner,” I report to her, grimacing as I remember, “And a raging mother.”

Having a blue and purple eye that slowly morphs to black, then each of the colors of the rainbow is deffo embarrassing. I hid in the attic through Christmas with the relatives that year.

“Hypothermia?” She asks baffled.

I nod, “I was unconscious out there for a bit.”

“And they just… Left you there?” She’s beside herself now.

I nod again.

“That’s not right,” she states assertively.

I nod once more, then quietly, “Neither is what happened to you, Ellis.”

Just as my hand collapses over hers, she removes it. She didn’t like the comment, even turning her body towards the bar again. Ellis takes a big swig of beer.

“High school was… Uneventful. I can’t think of anything,” she says monotone.

Yeah right Ellis. She has to have- oh shit. I make a look of sheer panic as I feel it coming… And then I sneeze.

Her face goes blank for a second, but shortly she tilts her head back and lets out a huge string of laughs. People look at her, in awe almost. Her laugh is extremely contagious.

“Oh my god, what the hell!!! You sound like a sheep!” Ellis exclaims, breathless and still laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, moving on,” I conclude, irritated, but happy that the curtain of awkward has dropped.

“Favorite food?”

“Captain Crunch,” she replies with no hesitation, shooting me a bored look.

Right then. Up your game Tommo. I decide immediately what to ask and go for it.

“Why’d you stop playing?” I challenge with a light tone, words slipping quickly.

Her hand freezes on the glass, as does her body. Ellis turns to stone. I look into her eyes and they stand their ground. Her eyes look so dark that they could be black in this lighting.

“Why would you ask that?” Her words sting with biting accusation.

Ellis turns her chair so that she faces me yet again. I break eye contact and look at her lap. Her legs are tightly pinned together, suffocating her hands. She would be fidgeting otherwise.

“Why do you get defensive?” I return smartly, looking at her eyes again.

They’ve gone darker, as if caused by her anger.

Ellis chews on the inside of her cheek. Her eyebrows slope downwards and her nose crinkles.

“Cos it’s… It’s personal,” she replies slowly, stumbling, I wonder if it’s the alcohol.

I don’t hesitate, “And friends don’t talk about personal things?”

She spears me with her eyes, hardening with anger.

Good. That’s what I want. I want to see her body react to it. I want her to respond truthfully, without the scripted numbness she tries to pass on. I want to hear how she feels. I know she needs to talk to someone. If something like this happened to Ellis, bad enough to end her career, she needs someone to vent to.

“We’re not really friends.”

My eyebrows go up, “Oh? Is that why you’re spending your Friday night with me?”

I’m not going to have any of it.

She gets a dumbfounded look on her face, shortly melting into aggression once again. I have the tendency to anger her, and I like it.

Her eyebrows dagger down and her eyes pinch.

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?” Ellis says desperately, and loudly, I see a few heads turn.

I put my hand on her knee, hoping it’ll calm her a bit.

Her legs drop from the bar between the legs on the stool, my hand flies off. Guess not. I’m mad now. I hate her mind. She has it as a locked down compound. I have to cross barriers, cut fences, and break walls just to reach the outside of it. I take a breath and gather my thoughts.

“Why can’t you let it be Louis?” She pleads, voice shaking.

Good question.

I let my drunken, yet true thoughts do the talking.

“Because Ellis. I’m not a sodding idiot! It bothers you and you don’t talk about it? That’s ridiculous! Yeah, you probably don’t have people to talk to. Your family is an ocean away and who are your friends here? That’s right Ellis, you don’t have people,” the words spill out, firmly.

She stares at me blankly.

“But you have me,” I continue, “I won’t judge you! Ellis I got my knee swiped from me in a charity match with a crowd that booed me before, and after it happened. I’m in a boyband and am gay to half the world. What position am I to judge?”

Her mouth parts, eyes dart down. She focusses on my sweatshirt.

“I wouldn’t fucking judge you Ellis.”

I gently grab her hands and drag them to my lap. I watch myself encase them in my own hands, which fold around her ice cube fingers. They don’t move.

“It’s just me, Ellis,” I offer smiling.

My heart does a thing at the sight of her expression. She looks lost and sad and conflicted. Her cotton candy lips purse and release repeatedly.

Both of us let a few moments of silence pass. I don’t take my eyes off of hers, swirling with emotion.

“Lou,” she whispers, warning me, voice thick.

I won’t push it anymore, I can tell she’s done hearing this.

“Here,” I say getting down from the stool, and assisting her as well.

“Let’s go to my favorite place: No Name the bookstore.”

She looks at me with her puppy dog eyes.

"Okay," she agrees quietly.