Arc-en-ciel

Chapter 24: Shakespeare Said

Elliot stands there, a half exasperated, half reluctantly amused (it's mild amusement, thank goodness) look on his face. He has a long arm wrapped around his shoulder- one that belongs to a figure that can barely stand straight.

"Annabeth," he says, his voice apologetic, "Someone um, wanted to see you."

The sound of my name makes him look up.

I don't want to look at him. I really don't. But the moment I do involuntarily look at him- I can tell that there's something wrong. I can't tell what it is- but something's very very wrong with him.

Because he never looks at me like this. Eyes full of warmth, hope, awe even. Like the only thing he can see is me and like I'm the only thing that matters at that very moment.

And then, for the first time since I've known James, he smiles at me.

He has dimples, is my first unwilling observation. Very deep ones too. His eyes crinkle when he smiles, is my second.

But the third observation makes me gather myself because he never smiles. That's what proves that something is most certainly wrong. It even has Bethany's cuss dying down for a second, because she is undoubtedly as shocked as I am.

"Evans," he says happily before he clumsily slips out of Elliot's hold.

He takes one step, maybe two, and then his arms wrap around me in a tight hug. He buries his face in my neck, letting out a little content sigh- all while I stay frozen, and my friends stare on- equally shocked.

That's when I know what's wrong. Aside from his usual scent, woodsy with a hint of mint, he smells like alcohol.

My first instinct is to panic. Alcohol was associated with some very bad memories for me. My friends know that too, judging by the way Elliot's eyes widen and Bethany inhales sharply from behind me.

For whatever reason though, I don't panic. I'm not sure why.

"He has five seconds to get off, or I'm breaking his skull," I hear Beth say finally, her voice tight. "Five. Four. Th-"

"Wait-wait," I manage to stammer out. This whole situation has me so confused- I'm not even sure how to proceed. "Elliot, what-what is he doing here?"

"No clue," Eli shrugs, a perplexed expression adorning his features, "All I know is that he's sloshed. Completely sloshed. He's an absolute dumbass when he's drunk too- almost like a little man puppy. Oh, and he insisted that he wanted to see you."

The 'man puppy' in question lets out another happy little sigh, burrowing further into me.

"A drunk man," I hear Beth say, while I stand there still unable to process the situation at hand, "You brought a drunk man to our room, knowing very well what Annabeth feels about it and knowing that she's already upset? What the fuck is wrong with you, Elliot?"

"Beth," Elliot straightens, miffed, "I'm not stupid. He's a man puppy when drunk- and he isn't going to hurt her. And from what I just heard from Tyler on the phone- he has a huge aversion to alcohol. Which means," he hesitates- glancing at me for a second, "Annie isn't the only one upset, for whatever reason. Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending him- but..."

He trails off, just gesturing to the both of us.

"Maybe they should just talk it out or something?" he suggests weakly, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know, I just feel bad for the guy."